Griffs in Goa

Friday 22nd
Excellent day, we finalized the apartment with Jacinto and went bird watching with Sheeba. Dawn and Paul left and are threatening to come back in March.

We were up at 6.30 and went bird-watching with Sheeba at 7.00. He is quite an interesting chap who originates from the neighbouring state of Karnataka. Anyone who has been to Benaulim or Colva for any length of time will have come across him probably at night, in one of the beach shacks where he sells postcards, rents his bicycles and canvassing customers to go on his very individual walks. He usually introduces himself by asking which country you come from and then which town, then he will give you your postcode. Sheeba memorizes postcodes, he also collects ‘T’ shirts and he also speaks fourteen languages. He is self taught and he is a genius. The fascinating bird-watching/nature ramble lasts for about three hours and encompasses the history of Benaulim, Greek and Roman grammar, Hindu mythology, the benefits and difficulties of eco tourism complete with political criticism of Goans and their leaders. We crossed paddy fields, walked through people’s gardens and discovered all kinds of flora and fauna such is the richness of Goa’s habitat.
Sheeba is worried about the environmental destruction that is rapidly going on in the area. He is especially concerned about the immense Banyan Trees that are being indiscriminately cut down to make way for tourist accommodation. These trees if left alone will grow for ever and are the home of many reptile, bird, insect and mammal. He puts much of the land-grab of the jungle down to greedy Goans disregard for nature, ignorance and worst of all a total lack of enforcement of property and land regulations by the authorities. He explained that, in effect, the Goans feel they have a free rein to do whatever they like when building. The usual Goan developers trick is to destroy more habitat than was on the original plan which then enables them to grab more land. If an environmental group lodges a complaint with the authorities it could take up to twenty years to go through the courts by which time, the development is well established and the land lost forever. This illegal activity is very often sanctioned by the local panchayat (council) leaders by a favourable backsheesh payment.
Sheeba is not greedy man. He will only take two people on his nature tour as he wants the individuals to get his ‘undivided attention”. The total cost for all his knowledge for morning 400/- (4.70p). Priceless!!!!
A good morning with 32 different species of bird spotted, 5 types of butterfly various trees and plants and a Mongoose.
White Throated Kingfisher, White Breasted Waterhen, Cattle Egret, Collared Dove, Braminhy Kite (m & f), Asian Koel, Black Kite, Black-Rumped lamebacked Woodpecker,  Golden Oriele (m & f), Green Barbet, House Crow, Swift, Small Minivet, Little egret, Paddy (Pond) Heron, Black Drongo, Coucal (Crow Pheasant), Spotted Dove, Magpie Robin, Common Sandpiper, Green BeeEater, Braminhy Starling, Jungle babbler, Chiff-Chaff, White Browed Wagtail, Black Winged Stilts, Bronze Winged Jacana, Blue Tailed BeeEater, Pied Kingfisher, White Breasted Munia, Purple Sunbird.

We met up with Jacinto again who confirmed that he we could have the apartment.  He informed me that he wanted three months rent in advance, which we are OK about but I declined his idea of an extra 5000/- (59.00p)deposit for breakages. I declined, mainly on the grounds that there is nothing to break and I also suspect that I would have a devil of a job getting the money back from him. I have brought a good padlock with me from the UK which I will be fitting to the front door, Jacinto may be trustworthy but I have no idea who he has lent the front door key to in the past. Better to be safe than sorry!!

We spent the afternoon on the beach and watched the sun go down. I had a great conversation with an Irish guy called Derek who sings and plays guitar. We discussed the lack of musical integrity of musicians who play along to backing tracks. Most of the musicians do out here because the pitiful amount of money the shack owners pays would not support a full band – a bit like playing in England really!

We had dinner at the Malibou restaurant which was good and early to bed after a full and interesting day. Time goes by so quickly here, we really are enjoying ourselves so much.

Shack Review

We have not yet been to all the Beach shacks along the coast but we have been to all of them in Benaulim, All shack owners make you feel welcome, however, some have that special something which makes you want to return again and again. We are old hands at sussing out what we like and we take with a piece of salt the friendly questioning about where you come from and where you are staying. The latter is insurance so that if you do decide to run off without paying the bill, they know where to find you. Goans are genuinely friendly people but the bottom line is that all tourists are seen as walking money, so if you accept that and the fact that you are not really anybody special, then you can feel free to go to eat where you please. There is nothing worse than seeing tourists on a two week holiday that go back to the same shack or bar time after time because the owner has spent ten minutes with them and made them feel special by giving them some special tip on where to buy the cheapest boat trip or who is the best and most reliable taxi driver to use. Both the former and the latter will have some family connection. To date the best beach shack to eat in during the day is the Seaview. The food is excellent, especially the seafood and the service is friendly and efficient. The worst shack is Domnicks, it’s overpriced, the live music is poor and the ‘party nites’, dreadful. Pedro’s shack at the entrance to the beach by the car park serves good quality food and the Meridian in the village is absolutely superb for a wide range vegetarian dishes and it’s cheap too. The standard of the other shacks range are all a bit the same. However it must be added that all the food is excellent, it is all a matter of degree. We have not had a bad meal yet!!

My emerald departed company from my gold ring last today – so much for artisans!!!

Saturday 16th
Last night we had worst the most bizarre meal yet at a place called ‘Flipees’ near the crossroads at Maria Hall. The restaurant was recommended to us by a lady called Sue who when talking to her I thought I could trust her taste. She said the food was good but the service was a bit ‘iffy’. In fact, it turned out to be the other way around. It was also a Goan Karaoke bar. It was busy and full of Goans, hardly any tourists. It is the first time I have heard Portuguese songs being sung here. The Goans take it very seriously with the Mike being passed to them at the table; some of the women had excellent voices indeed. I would not recommend an evening there mainly because all the beer was warm.

Monday 18th
Both Theresa and I woke with a hang-over, mine is not helped by a resurgent head cold. I am beginning to think it is not a cold at all but a reaction to the ceiling fan which Theresa insists on having set at the fastest speed. It creates enough downdraught to lift a Chinook helicopter. My hangover, as anyone who knows me will testify, is due to my total inability to stop drinking when I am enjoying myself.
We really did have a full day down at the beach yesterday (except for an hour when we went flat hunting). At the Seaview shack for 9.20, Theresa had a fresh pineapple juice for breakfast and I had a banana lassi (a yoghurt drink). At 10.00 we met Jacinto who took us to view an apartment that will be available in January. It has two bedrooms, two bathrooms, living/dining room with cable TV and a kitchen with a two-ring gas burner and a fridge. We have agreed to take it and now I am sure we could have got it cheaper but we are happy with the price which works out at 505/- per night just less then 6 pounds. The only downside is that it is in a complex and it does not have a balcony as it is on the ground floor. We are awaiting Jacinto to get back to us with confirmation from the owner who lives abroad.
We had Tong fish steaks cooked in butter garlic with chips and salad for lunch. It is a peculiar fish, this one was about four feet long and about four inches in diameter. It also had green bones which were quite off putting. The meal was washed down with 3 very cold Kings (me 2, Theresa 1) and a litre of mineral water. At present we are only drinking about four litres of water between us a day, it really should be four litres each.
Arranged to meet Paul and Dawn at 7.30 for a meal, their a couple in their late thirties who are good fun. We are back at the ‘Oshin’ for 5.30ish for cold shower and fresh clothes. Theresa has really been very patient with the water situation at the ‘Oshin’. I hope the apartment comes off as she really wants to move there. I am not bothered, I love the view from our balcony up in the trees.
Before Dawn and Paul arrived at the Seaview we had two Pina Coladas (get the third one free). They eat there most nights which I find a bit boring even if the food is excellent. They have a vested interest as they prompted the owners to have a set menu list to get extra custom – the idea has worked as shack seems to be getting busier.  They have been far more adventurous than us while they have been in India and have already traveled to Rajasthan, Kerela and the Maldives (which are not part of India). We had a couple of different vegetable curry dishes with jeera rice and a butter parotha. More mineral water and more beer for me and a G & T 4 T. We then all moved on to the Tiger shack where there was a gig/party going on. The musicians had finished but the DJ was at full volume. There were all nationalities there and a lot of very attractive, tall and scantily clad Russian women who were dancing while swinging long rope torches in each hand. The were, in effect, a bit like three foot long flexible sparklers. The visual effect with the music was quite hypnotic. More Honey Bee brandies and coke for me, T has 1 more G & T then more mineral water, something I should have done. The drinking meant that we went over our daily budget the whole day. All day with food and drinks cost 1250/- (14.70p). Mustn’t grumble !!!
We spotted a Eurasian Marsh Harrier for the first time – an impressive bird.

The Toddy Tapper  
The Toddy Tapper climbs the coconut tree twice a day to collect the toddy juice which looks like frothy cows milk. They get more in the morning than they do in the evening for some reason which was not explained by the tapper. The juice is then fomented to make the local firewater known as Feni. The same procedure is used to make the even more lethal Cashew Feni. The tapper climbs the tree with one hand, the other carrying the toddy pot and they make use of the footholds which have been cut out of the trunk of the tree. They seem to ascend and descend with such ease which hides the fact that it is a very precarious pastime.

Property Hunt
Well I don’t seem to be any further ahead than before I got here. Mixed messages prevail. The only one true fact is that property prices have rocketed. I went to see Chuni at his house. He is one of my Indian contacts who is project managing a large complex. A new off-plan three bed roomed (all ensuite) property is now costing 53K. http://www.homes4living/aquamarina.htm  These are not detached but what Indians call a cluster and we call a terrace. The four bed roomed detached villas are now 88K! The complex will have shops, a swimming pool, 24hr security, purified water on tap and solar heating. The only problem for me is that it is in Colva and neither T nor myself are convinced we would like to live there.
Chuni played the promotional CD (dreadful backing music) and showed us the layout of the complex but the drawings did not have any dimensions of the room sizes, they only gave the total price for the area e.g. 170 sq mtrs = 53K. Chuni promised to forward all the information, that was over a week ago and nothing yet! Tomorrow we go to Margoa to track down a different developer called Micron who are building in Benaulim.

Tuesday 19th
A real coolness in the air first thing this morning with a heavy dew. It is hard to believe in the heat of the day when it is above 30 degrees that we are in the depths of the Indian winter.
We ate at the new Raj Mahal beach shack last night – not very impressed, warm beer and dreadful music The Nolans ‘I’m in the need for dancing’ played several times. On the wayback up the beach to our digs the fishermen were out pulling in the nets again. The sardines were leaping, they created an eerie picture with their silver airborne bodies against the jet black of the sea and the might sky. It looked like it was going to be another bumper haul and again we did not have the camera.

In Margao this morning routing out shops which sell pots and pans, cutlery etc. The new apartment if we get it doesn’t have them. We found a place where we can get everything for about 10 pounds.
We found Micron Developers in Margao but on both times during the morning that we visited the shutters were down with nor a hint of any activity. Just getting information about properties seems really difficult – does not bode well for purchasing!!

Thursday 21st
Spent most of the day on the beach except for an hour or so typing up my blog. This was curtailed by yet another power cut, fortunately there is five minutes grace to back up any items not saved.
This morning the dolphins just off shore gave a fantastic display, leaping six foot out of the water with such grace. They are such magical creatures.
Left T at the Oshin. I had to get into Margao for six p.m. to pick up my repaired ring. It was rush and crazy. The bus was absolutely rammed full. I love it. The Hindi film music was deafening, the very animated bus conductor repeatedly shouted totally incomprehensible bus stop names while waving his arms at passengers to move down the bus while whistling even more strange signals to the driver who stopped and started to his birdlike calls. At the front of the bus it said’ Standing Room only for 11’. There were eleven in the stair well alone and it only had three steps. I was the tallest and fattest on the bus!!!
The ring had not been repaired and the bus trip back was an even more compact affair. I shall never moan about British Rail again or maybe I will, at least this round trip only cost 17p.
Nothing is ever ready at the stated time in India.
 

This is Ambresh. He is ten years old his mum is dead, his father lives 20 kilometeres away with Ambresh’s younger brother and sisters. Ambresh works in our guest house as a room boy, this entails sweeping, cleaning and helping with all the other chores. He is one of the lucky children that come from out of state to find work, Inacio the owner of our guest house and his family look after him well, he is clothed fed and he seems very happy. Makes you think how lucky kids are back in the UK.

Friday 9th Dec
I am reading the Duff Cooper Diaries edited by his son, John Julius Norwich. Duff was one of a thankfully a bygone era, his life entailed Oxford, money, snobbery, servants, hedonism, indiscretion and politics. He was a sort of forerunner to Alan Clarke but achieved greater things in his political career. Clarke was born into money whereas Cooper married into it. I find myself liking and disliking Duff in equal measure. Unfortunately, to my horror I came across some people while having lunch in a the Holy Fish shack that reminded me of Duff’s way of life. A very elderly chap came into the shack with a young man who turned out to be his son, he was probably about twenty five and the former about seventy five. The old man spoke with annoying plumminess and even more volume. Daddy was informing Johnny that mummy and daddy had decided to invest various capital and in addition, their estate to him. It was extremely embarrassing to all the other diners at the shack. Where do these people come from?! I despised their indiscretion and even more I had utter contempt for their arrogance.
Spotted several juvenile and female Eurasian Golden Orioles and a Rufous Treepie. I thought Rufous Treepie would make a great name for secret agent.
Started with a cracking head cold today.

Sat 10th
The howling of the dogs woke me this morning at about just after 7.00 a.m. There are dozens wondering about. They all belong to somebody and are mostly used as guard dogs and seem well fed if a little mangy. The howling ritual (or mad half hour as Theresa likes to call it) is performed twice a day, first at around midnight and the second, just after dawn. They start by forming packs, followed by a great deal of howling, barking and dashing about. It can be quite intimidating to the uninitiated, however, they are harmless to humans and rarely attack each other.
We moved rooms a couple of days ago, we are now in the only room on the third floor. It’s brighter, breezier and very private. There is also a resident Ghekko which Theresa has named Art, it lives in the electric junction box and comes out at night. We have decided to stay here until after the New Year. I feel guilty that I should want to see the rest of India but cities and monuments have no appeal to me. Theresa is quite happy to stay by the coast as journeying any distance by train or coach would inevitably result in her suffering from severe travel sickness. Anybody that has traveled any distance on Indian roads will tell you it is arduous and not recommended unless truly necessary.
We have booked a two bedroomed apartment with all facilities for February through to the end of March. They even offered a TV for an extra 300/- a month which we declined. So if anyone wants to come out we have a place ready and waiting.
We are successfully keeping to within our budget of 1000/- rupees (11.76) a day. One necessary lapse, I bought a mobile phone as the one we brought out does not work even with an Indian sim card. The new phone was twenty three pounds, a necessary outlay and it is far superior to my phone back in the UK.
Tip: if you want to buy a sim card or a new phone you have to take to the shop your passport, a recent photograph and Xerox copies of any visas you have in your passport. This has been introduced as a ludicrous attempt by the Indian government to fight terrorism.

Sun 11th
The weather was quite cool last night and the this morning the hotel room boys had thick pullovers on. I suppose it is all relative!
Prices are very cheap here. In November, the emerald became dislodged from my gold ring, fortunately the stone was not lost and I decided to bring them over here to be reunited. Last week in Margoa I spotted a jewelers that I thought might be ideal for the purpose. It was down a side street, it had an open front, no door, quite basic with one wooden display case with various gold items in it. The little old man who ran the shop wore very thick glasses which magnified his eyes, a grey thinning bouffant hairstyle and a rather fragile demeanor. He set about the repair immediately using antiquainted gadgets while we watched sat in two plastic chairs. The job was done in twenty minutes and he banged the ring on the table to prove that the emerald was lodged back in it’s rightful place. while he was doing the work I was wondering how much it was going to cost. I came to the conclusion that it would be around 500/- (5.38p). He stunned me by wanting just 20/- (22p). I gave him 100/-, he was very happy and me also. It is always best to search out the proper artisans rather than go for the glossy and superficial.

The Sardine Catch
Last evening on the beach we witnessed the fisherman bringing in the net they had laid out earlier in the afternoon. It was around 4.30 p.m, when they marched past us, some were nearly naked except for a G string. They all carried aloft six foot poles which they used to drag out the net the net is laid in a semi circle with men with poles at each end of the arc. the full length of the net being about one kilometre. They gradually pull the net closer and the arc diminishes. It totally dominates the beach. Anything that is in the way of the being retrieved is moved unceremoniously, sunbathers and beach beds , chairs and tables. The catch takes precedent. While the men on the beach are polling the net in their are two others who are up to their waist in the sea holding the net aloft and shouting instructions to the men on the beach. The two in the sea are pelted wit panic stricken jumping sardines which miraculously skip over the net and continue being airborne for some distance, disorientated many head for the shore where local children and out of town Indians scramble to chase and catch the beached fish. they then literally throw hundreds of them up the beach to waiting family and friends who continue to pile high their piscine contraband in carrier bags. It was quite a spectacle to be in and I wondered whether had lost an eye by being hit by a flying sardine. Try telling that to your doctor back home!
They did not fully pull the net in but left it pegged in situ so that the fish were trapped and still alive. The reason for this was that the best market price for the fish is in the morning and the fresher the higher the price. The net would be hauled in around 5.00 a.m. the haul was estimated to be a couple of tonne at least. My only regret is that as usual at times like these I did not have either my camera or my video with me to record the event.

Tuesday 13th
We went to Cavelossim on the scooter which we hired yesterday. we’ve got the bike for three days at 150/- a day. Mira Fernandez , the owner of the bike told me after I had paid her that it wasn’t insured, a small oversight over here. We decided to go south down to Palolem via the Cavelossim river ferry. Unfortunately and typically, when we arrived at the crossing we found the dilapidated ferry motionless at the opposite side of the river.
“No working” said the one and only person sat at the jetty. Typical India, no signs or prior information warning of the defunct ferry. The road to the ferry from Cavellosim is long and hot , I pity any unsuspecting cyclist. the alternative route to Palolem is to retrace our steps back to Benaulim, go into Margao and then use the highway which Mira warned me not to do. The police on the highway see tourists as a rich source of backsheesh, so we decided to give up on Palolem.
We were thirsty and we found an exceptionally good spot on the Sal estuary in Cavellosim called surprisingly the ‘Riverside Restaurant’, unfortunately for me they did not have lime sodas so I had to settle for a beer ( my earliest yet at 10.30 a.m) Theresa had a freshly made pineapple juice.

Cavellosim is not really worth writing about, it is full of Russian tourists who I think are still learning to be tourists. They are so dour looking and they hardly ever laugh. The Indians love them for their money but hate them for the way they treat them, which is with arrogance, rudeness and contempt.
We spent the rest of the day on Zalor beach between Cavelossim and Varca. A very quite unspoilt place with four beach shacks, a few sunbeds and about twenty people on a beach that stretched as far as the eye could see. The Kingfish steaks in butter garlic we had for lunch was OK but we have had such quality food here in Goa that even a meal a little below standard really stands out.

Left home on Friday morning at 4.30 a.m. after a very fitful sleep. I am always the same before I set off on a trip. Tossing and turning and a million inconsequential thoughts flashing in my mind like lightning in a tropical storm. The truth is that it does not really matter one iota whether I keep the dishwasher plugged in or not but Thursday night my brain thought about it at least a hundred times.

One of the best reliable taxi drivers I know, a Mr Dennis Pimblett, took us to the airport and on the way the topic of flights and upgrades came up. Theresa and have never had an upgrade mainly because we have always flown charter and I scoffed at the idea because that sort of fortuituos event always seems to happen to someone else. However, Friday turned out to be different.

British Airways have taken to e-commerce with a vengeance. Customers can now book online, book a particular seat online, change the date of the travel and make special requests online. I booked the first leg of my journey from Manchester to Heathrow online but at the airport I did not pursue the electronic avenue of self check-in as I wanted to talk to a human being so I could be sure that our bags went straight from Manchester to Bombay via Heathrow. The lady at the check-in desk seemed a bit flustered. The conveyor belt where the bags are initially weighed was not working properly, it was also the first flight out of the day and perhaps she was just feeling a bit jaded. She seemed to be taking quite a time over our paperwork.

“Is there there a problem?” I enquired.  ” No” she replied after she had realised that she could not forward the bags all the way to Goa because the final leg of the journey was with Indian airways.

“Do you know you have an upgrade?” she said rather sharply and looking at us as though we did not deserve one.

“No, what sort of upgrade” I replied.

“Well you’ve been upgraded to Club Class, I’ll have to check, it doesn’t seem right”, reinforcing the notion of being non-deserving.

Theresa and I had no idea what Club Class was. We soon found out. Club ‘allows’ you (normally at a high cost) into the ‘Lounge’, a cold, sterile area with free everything, drinks, food, comfy chairs and internet use. But what is most important is that you are away from the ‘riff-raff’. At Machester airport, the ‘lounge’ is a circular room on the second floor, similar in shape to a polo mint but with a glass viewing area where the hole should be, so the ‘loungers’ can look down on the ordinary folk below but more importantly, I think they can be seen from below.
The lounge at Heathrow was similar design without the glass hole and it was full of loud American women discussing their recent shopping requisitions in London. Club class ‘lounging’ is not for me, however, Club class flying is a very different experience.

Our flight down from Manchester to Heathrow was not upgraded because I had booked that leg of the journey seperately. However, it was greatly improved by the company of the lady who was sat next to us. Helen Tse is a very entertaining Manchester lass whose roots are in the Chinese community. She has a great laugh and an infectious sense of humour. She informed us that she was on her way to the Cayman islands to work as a financial lawyer. Helen has just had a book published which is available in January called Sweet Mandarin, it’s about three recent generations of women in Helen’s family and  the trials and tribulations of moving from the East to the West.
If the book is written in the style of her personality then it should be a good read. Check out the restaurant www.sweetmandarin.com
We all transferred to terminal four, said our goodbyes, swapped email adddresses and promised to keep in to keep in contact. We were given seats that converted into beds on our 747 400 series jumbo. It took off an hour and a half late. we were delayed boarding because the plane was hemmed in somewhere else in the airport and BA could not get it to the gate. The other reason was that some duffer had checked in his/her bags and then forgot to get on the plane, so the baggage handlers  had to search for the miscreants loaded bag in the hold and retrieve it. I think the selfish tosser should be shot but thats another matter.
Unadultereated luxury is the only way to describe flying ‘Club’. If you have flown with Monarch or any other charter you know how discracefully uncomfortable flying can be. I am not at all sure how much extra club is but I’m sure it’s not a couple of quid! We had a constant supply of free champagne, an excellent choice of food, served by a very attentive steward who should be commended by the airline for his immaculate service. There was an old very infirmed, deaf Indian lady sitting across from us and he contended with her demands and her attention grabbing cutlery banging with patience and care. He even cut her food up into small pieces for her – attention far above the call of duty. I hope BA pay him well. He served the crayfish sandwiches with grace and finesse and the tea was poured with little finger cocked. He was as camp as a row of tents and his mannerism became essential to the theatre of his job.
I am a nervous flyer but for the first time ever I slept on a flight. When I woke we were a couple of hours out from Mumbai, more food arived and we eventually landed at 2.30 a.m local time. We were informed at the airport that we had to transfer to the domestic terminal for Goa, this meant the usual labyrinthine beaurocracy, lots of ticket stamping and more scanning of bags even though they had been scanned thoroughly in Manchester. A rickety old bus took us to the terminal where we treated to the same ticket stamping, bag checking procedure again. Not the best way to treat tired and irritable travellers, however, we can’t complain as we introduce the Indian nation to formality and beaucrocracy!! We boarded the very old scruffy looking Indian Airways Airbus 320, were fed on the brief flight and landed safely at 6.30 a.m. An hour later we arrived by taxi at our digs, the Oshin Holiday Care guesthouse. From door to door it took 22 hours.
Priam the room boy said, “the rooms are all taken”.
“No, I booked by email in May and reconfirmed last Wednesday”, I replied.
A blank stare greeted me. ” Boss be here soon”, he mumbled.
Inacio the boss duly arrived and we were told that there were no rooms left except the most expensive room which had air-conditioning. I remonstrated explaining that we booked explicitly requesting a room with a fan and no air-conditioning and that i was annoyed that no other roms were available. We eventually settled for the room with the aircon for the same price as we agreed by email and that we would move when the next available room wes ready. It was not a brilliant room even though it was the most expensive in the block. It was dark because the aircon unit had been located in the space where the side window had been, the toilet seat was wonky and there was no hot water from the shower. On the plus side the view from the balcony was just what we had expected, rural, peaceful and full of birdlife. Within a couple of hours we had spotted White Fronted Waterhen, Pond Heron (Paddy Birds), Egrets, Common White-Breasted Kingfishers, Red Wattled Lapwing, numerous wandering Water buffalo and a pig wallowing in the mud. Even this beautiful vista belied the harshness of Indian life. We later found out that the pig that we thought was blissfully lying in the mud had been injured. It had been hit by a taxi when it darted across the lane and it’s hip was smashed. It was just languishing in the mud before our very eyes, unable to move, unable to eat and dying a painful, very slow death.
 
Saturday was a bit of a blurr, tiredness and the unaccustommed heat took their toll.

It’s Sunday we were fine again. It is the first time I have been to Goa so early in the season. Some of the beach shacks are still being constructed and their seems to be a lot more Indian tourists here.
The weather is different too. It’s not so oppresively hot, there is a cool offshore easterly in the mornings and in the afternoons it turns to a westerly. The paddy fields still have lots of lying water and every where is lush and green. The sea has been big. This afternoon a westerner pulled an unconscious Indian man out of the sea. There was a big commotion, about fifty people were surrounding the man. When I went over to see what was happening a few westerners were administering aid and an Indian was massaging his feet. A doctor arrived after about twenty minutes and he grabbed the unconscious man by his ankles and lifted him upside down as though he was doing a handstand, bile and sea water spewed from half dead man’s mouth. He regained consciousness then drifted away again. Myself and other onlookers alike thought he was done for but about ten minutes later he staggered up the beach aided by his drinking partners from Panjim. Indians do not seem to have respect for the sea, especially when they have been drinking. The local Navhind Times recently reported that 15 Indian people had beed pulled dead from the sea.
That night the combination of a full moon, a strong onshore breeze and an already strong sea created the highest tide I have seen in Goa. We were in the Little Tiger beach shack listening to a couple of guys (one Russian, one British) playing a mix of trance and reggae when the sea started to get closer and closer. One lady commented that the sea was starting to make her feel nervous. I’m sure I wasn’t the only one who briefly thought of the 2004 tsaunami. Diners in other beach shacks were one minute sat enjoying their meal with the sand around their feet, the next minute the sea was four inches deep around them. Tables were quickly vacated and moved to higher ground. After an hour or so the sea started to recede, however, it was a stark reminder that you cannot mess with the ocean!! The music was OK but I’m not a great fan of reggae so we left after a couple of hours.

On Monday we went to the Stepping Stones Drop-In centre in Margao. Our neighbours in the UK knew that in the past we have visited a childrens home in Assagao in North Goa so before we left they kindly gave us a donation.

We are staying in Goa for a few months so our spending regime is completely different from our other holidays here. On short stays, time is a premium and consequently you us the quickest transport accordingly. We are not in a rush so we now take the bus. The bus is cheap and always an experience. The ten kilometre round trip cost 24/- (rupees), about 27 pence for the two of us. It was rammed full, we were standing, it was hot, bumpy and intimate. The Indians take this everyday experience with good grace and humour. I just wondered whether this intimacy stopped Muslim women catching buses, I can’t recall seeing any in Islamic dress on a bus.
Margao was even more chaotic than usual, the traffic was nearly at a standstill and was exacerbated by the roadworks which have just started coincidentally and rather synically just before the elections next week.
One of our quests while we are here is to suss out the situation regarding buying property. We have already spoken to two different foreign owners on seperate occassions and their advice was the same; ‘Don’t do anything yet’. They unanomously stated that it was very difficult now and that it was best to wait until after the elections and everything had settled down. They confimed the confusion that continues regarding foreigners and property i.e. lawyers are giving ambiguous and contrary advice and government ministers are pandering to nationalist dogma. The word on the street is that this government will be ousted. The Goans are fed up with them, the Indians are fed up with them and so is the whole tourist industry. We shall just wait and see. 

We headed straight for the El Shaddai Stepping Stones centre where we were greeted by Annie, the centre project coordinator, her assistant who took our details and Mavis, a friendly, attractive middle aged English women who has been living in Goa for the past two years and been volunteering at Stepping Stones five days a week. Stepping Stones is for street kids – it’s well run and a sanctuary for kids where they can get some basic education, a square meal, company, love, clean clothes, escape from abuse from alcoholic parents, everything indeed that most kids in the UK take for granted. www.childrescue.net                              
We stayed for half an hour and we were shown around the building which had a kitchen, play area with a TV, showers and an office. Outside one of the male co-ordinators was cutting the kids hair. It is a happy place and well worth supporting.