Mandrem Beach to Mahad

Our favourite neighbours arrived home at 3am again this morning. I was excited when I woke at 2:45am and hadn't heard them. I thought perhaps they had come home quietly. Wrong. Luckily they didn't muck around too much so we got a fairly decent sleep. Still, when the alarm went off at 6am there was no way we were getting up. It was quiet for once and we took full advantage for another hour.

We left Mandrem Beach thinking we would take the NH4 road all the way up through Pune and on to Mumbai, despite hearing mixed reviews on whether this was the best route. As it was pretty much a straight line, and we were checking the phone maps regularly, we did not expect any navigational difficulties. As usual, we were wrong. We somehow ended up somewhere in between the two main roads heading North. So, figuring we were already going in a different direction, we would change our route plan. We took the NH17 and were pleased that we did.

We were passed by two guys on fast motorbikes with all the gear on who gave us the thumbs up of mutual respect as they sped past at a speed much greater than Big Red's top speed. This became a trend as numerous groups of bikers in the full get up rode past as we journeyed North. Must be the place for long haul trips. The appearance of riders, not unlike ourselves, wasn't the only thing to change. Donkeys now scattered the road side as well as the usual cows, dogs, goats and water buffalo.

We stopped in for breakfast in at Kolhapur for a breakfast omelette (because that's the only thing the guy running the place seemed able to say) and continued on our journey. Lunch was a feast of fruit that we picked up from a local market and ate in the shade of a roadside tin roofed bus stop. A lady herded her cows down the road and spoke to us, for some time, in a language we did not understand. One curious cow, the one with the largest horns, took a liking to Chris and came over for a pat.

Polluted river

Lauren and Big Red resting under a tree

We followed what looked to be a very picturesque river for a while and ventured down off the road for a pit stop and a closer look. Like so many beautiful places in India, a close up shows it has been ruined by rubbish. And when you see people go to great effort to actually bag up their rubbish and carry it on a motorbike so they can throw in into the river, you know something is very wrong.

We wound our way up and down many a mountain wondering all the while how, with this many mountains, India still lacks rain. Crazy drivers overtook on blind corners, we saw a truck jack knifed and crashed off to the side of the road and eight out of ten buses showed some kind of damage from having been in a crash. We took it easy.

We travelled 352km in 9 hours and our bodies knew about it as we rode into Mahad. Our backs and bums ached and Chris was exhausted. While the roads had been good for the most part, the other drivers, the heat, the wind and the dust had taken its toll. It seemed that as soon as we crossed the border from Goa to Maharashtra the landscape became significantly drier and the temperature spiked. For the first time we were hot even as we rode at 70km/h. The red dust seemed to coat everything within reach. Even the roadside trees had red leaves thanks to a coating of dust. Well, what leaves were left anyway. Plenty of the trees had begun to shed their leaves unable to cope with the heat. Remnants of fire scarred the land and we melted as we rode.

Dinnnnnnner

Riding in to Mahad we saw a couple of resorts/hotels but we continued in to town to see what was going on and to possibly find the hotel Chris had seen online early. There was not a lot going on in this little town but we did manage to find the hotel. 900 INR with breakfast and a pool. Well...sort of. Dressed in our swimmers and Chris shirtless, we went downstairs after directions to the pool. They sent us out the front into the street and laughed as we wandered out looking lost. Deciding we should probably get Chris a shirt before gov any further we headed back upstairs. By this stage we were over it and decided a shower was an easier option. Good thing too as the reception guy came up to our room (obviously hearing of our search for the elusive pool) and explained it was a kilometre down the road. Not exactly what we imagined when they advertised having a pool. Oh India. I wonder if breakfast is down the road too? Only time will tell.

We went out in search of dinner to fill our empty bellies and were rewarded with our walk. Tadka paneer mutter masala (quite a mouthful) may just be our new favourite. Ad the butter dahl fry was pretty darn amazing also. Add to that a gorgeous veg biriyani and some tandoori roti and we were happy campers. Much happier than the overpriced malai kofta had made us last night. As we walked home, ten or so people lined up outside an ATM, waiting for it to open. Gosh we really do take some things for granted back home. Like running water too. The majority of people we pass are still gathering water from a communal well and carrying it in large buckets on their heads.

BBB (Big Beautiful Beard) now with added hair clip

 

Mandrem and Arambol Beaches

At midnight a group of Indian guys checked in to the hut next to ours. I asked them to please be quiet as our woven hut walls just aren't the best at blocking out noise. They headed out, hit the town (I guess) and arrived back louder than ever about 3am. This time it was Chris' turn to kindly ask them to shut the hell up. Thankfully, they passed out soon enough and we got another couple of hours before the sun snuck through the gaps in the woven walls of our hut.

We checked out the main road for brekky food but decided, as it really was all the same, to stick with our guesthouse restaurant. We had a couple of bowls of muesli, fruit and curd (after snacking on last night's leftover pizza) and watched the tide change.

Deciding we should get active we wandered South along the beach about 800m, past some fishermen and their boats, and found a pretty little river. We had forgotten the camera. Back we went. After grabbing the camera we went back to the river and took some snaps before wading across the mouth of it and on to yet another beach. This pattern of wading and walking continued as we went around headland after headland seeing beach huts and their patrons stretch on forever. We took a swim in a little lagoon that a sandbar had created and watched kids play as their parents lazed under umbrellas.

We walked the couple of kilometres back to our guesthouse and then it was planning time. Tomorrow we head North on the long trek to Mumbai. We enjoyed yet another pizza, and chips, while we spread our map, Lonely Planet and iPad out and tried to sort out our next few days. We had some success but quickly realised that Mumbai was more expensive than most places.

We took a nap to mull it all over and then headed North for a walk towards Arambol where we planned to grab dinner. We got about a kilometre down the beach, fighting off necklace salesmen, before realising we had everything but the wallet. Back we went.

Take two: we made it to Arambol after a long walk then explored the market stalls which line the main road. Seeing much of the same stuff we saw at Palolem, plus some more hippy oriented items, we decided against contributing to the commercialism and returned to the beach. Chris did however get a beard compliment from a young local guy who wanted to know how much time had gone into creating such a beauty. And we did get to see a dreadlocked girl throw her empty can of drink by the side of the road, prompting us to question how many of the hippies here were really just folk in Goa to take a whole lot of drugs rather than learn and teach about sustainability and the like. The fact that we stumbled upon two syringes on the beach added to our pondering.

I attempted some yoga on the beach before deciding, unlike the man in the g-string, I wasn't a fan of the stares. Despite pretty much every other person doing something much stranger than yoga, I just couldn't do it. Proof that I really am just a pseudo hippy after all.

We picked Horizon for dinner where Chris finally got to try out the tandoori chicken and, after my calamari was unavailable, I settled on Indian food in the last place we'll be offered Western cuisine for a while. The malai kofta was substandard and, while one piece of Chris' chicken was uncooked, the rest was apparently delicious.

We settled our bill and headed off into the darkness to walk the two kilometres home along the beach. As we walked we came across a gathering in the darkness of bongo players, poi twirlers, singers and lots of crazy dancers. We enjoyed the star lit sky as we passed others doing the same, crossed the bridge over the river and returned home.

 

Palolem to Mandrem Beach

Chandor Mansion

After deciding to sleep a little longer than we planned it was packing time. It seemed we had somehow acquired more possessions as we gazed upon our things sprawled across the room. Once the massive task of packing was accomplished we set off towards the northern beaches of Goa with a quick detour through Chandor to look at the old Portugese mansions. We stopped in Quepen for another one of our 'stand around until someone signals us to sit down' breakfasts (which are always the best). Parota and some sort of masala curry, delicious.

On the way into Chandor we spotted a couple of rather grand houses and then one very large old mansion. We stopped to take some photos and I followed an elderly lady inside only to be told a tour of the antique house, which was apparently quite a tourist destination, came at a fee.

As we approached the northern beaches of Goa we were dumbfounded by the scene that unfolded before us. We thought Palolem was touristy! The road frm Candolim to Baga blended into one long strip of Western, touristy, overpriced hell. We tried to check out the beach but the locals were even demanding money for parking. We quickly continued North and into Anjuna. While not quite as full on we had seen, Anjuna was overrun with markets selling all of the same stuff we had already bought in Palolem. The only beach we saw was undergoing some serious construction and, apart from a guy offering to pull soap from my ear, Anjuna was not a stand out. Maybe it was because we were hot. Maybe it was because we had been kept up all night by barking dogs. Either way, we were looking for something a little more wholesome.

River Side: Our hut

We continued North and stumbled upon Mandrem Beach where Chris found a nice little beach hut that had our name all over it. Before we could commit, we had to check out Arambol to make sure we wouldn't be missing anything. As we rode into town Arambol quite quickly made it clear that it was Palolem on steroids. The same shops lined the road but the road just went on and on, winding its way down to a beach packed with the usual shacks. One thing was different though...the hippies of Arambol, unlike those of Palolem, were the real deal. Dreadlocked individuals riding scooters with babies strapped to them with slings. Wile Arambol definitely had charm, we returned to River Side at Mandrem and settled in.

Our accommodation is the first real hut we have stayed in on this trip. And when I say hut, I mean hut. The walls and roof are made of woven palm leaves, the door barely shuts and the bathroom door is a shower curtain. Thankfully, a mosquito net was provided.

After wading across the river, which runs along the beach, we took a dip to cool off. Then it was exploration time. We walked North and, intrigued, continued far enough to reach Arambol by foot. Our walk confirmed that we had found the Goa we were expecting. The beach was scattered with all kinds of people doing all kinds of things. Hula hooping, tai chi, yoga, kite boarding, dancing solo, cycling, swimming, topless sunbathing, fire twirling, juggling and arm swinging were just some of the sights.

Mandrem Beach, sunset

After returning to River Side we found a table at our guesthouse restaurant, surrounded by pillows which made relaxing far too easy. We watched a stunning sunset over the water as the tide came in and enveloped the river. Pizzas were the order of the evening, after battered veggies, beer and juice. Dogs played on the beach, lanterns glowed, lovers snuggled on the pillows and reggae played endlessly.

Mandrem Beach, sunset

Miscellaneous observations:

We have seen far too many dead animals on this trip so far. Cows being gutted, cows mourning over other cows, a man carrying a dead cat, road kill dogs and bikes almost invisible thanks to the dead chickens they are carrying. No wonder there's such a vegetarian population here.

Mandrem Beach, Sunset

 

Shopping and beers in Palolem

Palolem Beach, sunset

Loot! Ring, anklets and dress

When we rose this morning I was feeling slightly under the weather. Whether it was last night's delicious meal, the fact that I used tap water to wash my mouth out last night or something completely unrelated we will never know.

When I gathered myself we decided that today would be a day for shopping. Shopping for both ourselves and for those we love so....keep your eye on the post ladies and gents. Like pro shoppers, we scoured the main street up and back and up again to gauge prices. To mull it all over we needed sustenance and found it in the form of a long awaited Deadly Nachos back at Cafe Fiesta. Then it was buying time.

We went all out for once and got ourselves some souvenirs and some souvenirs for a few of our nearest and dearest. We bargained, bargained and bargained some more, determined not to pay what the less informed tourists have paid. We relished in the fact that a guy had quoted us a good price for some clothes yesterday so we used that as a good starting point, scoffing silently at those who tried to rip us off but, knowing deep down, we were just like everybody else.

Puppy love

After a few trips home to dump our loot, as to not show the next shopkeeper just how much shopping we were doing, we had collected enough. And, our plan to not show where we'd been or what we'd been doing didn't exactly when one shop keeper openly told us he'd seen us shopping elsewhere. Darn it! And my sparkly new anklets were probably not helping our cause.

After showers to wash the grime of haggling off, we headed to the beach for some refreshing beers at Cafe del Mar. It was a delightful afternoon of people watching while we drank and ate chips and tempura vegetables. To enhance the evening even further there was a pug dog puppy. We eyed each other across the room and then enjoyed some cuddles beachside. Then....the inevitable happened. Just as we thought about ordering dinner the music suddenly took a turn from classic 70s, 80s and 90s to trance. We moved on.

Ewwww...trance at dinner time

Mama Rita's, Palolem Beach

After some photos of the beautiful orange sunset, with fishing boats dotting the scene, we found Mama Rita's playing Bob Marley and Michael Jackson. Yes please! We settled in with the sand between our toes, the sun setting and candles burning for our last Western dinner at Palolem. Burger and pizza. The trance wasn't just at Cafe Del Mar and tried its best to infiltrate our dining experience but we tuned our ears to the pop and reggae of Mama Rita's.

Palolem Beach

 

Exploring Southern Goa

We got up this morning and thought that today should be about Big Red. He has taken us almost 2500km across Southern India already and today...it was going to be all about him.

We started with a thorough service which included an oil change, cleaning the air filter, changing the brake fluid and a whole lot of oiling and lubricating. In addition, Big Red had his spark plugs and spark plug cap changed in the hope that it would help him become more of a morning person.

As a reward for what a brave bike he was we took Big Red on a cruisy outing up the coast. We made it to Benaulim for lunch. The prices of restaurants on the beach matched the bulky wallets of their ageing European clients so we settled for rice and curry off the beach. Delicious. We took the waiter's recommendation and enjoyed a Goan Caldin (green curry), a veg fried rice and a couple of tasty lassis before getting back on the road.

Mobor area, Goa

We explored the peninsula down to its end at Mobor. It's a surreal place where you ride through a whole lot of nothing and then, out of nowhere, a kilometre or so of the road is lined with resorts, souvenir shops and tourists before it goes back to nothing again. Or exploration of the peninsula was limited by the giant resorts which took up the beach with sunbeds and umbrellas for the Europeans to laze on. If they felt really adventurous there was a strip of carpet laid in the sand which led them to a restaurant on the beach outside the resort walls. Craziness!

Leela Resort

As we headed South again Chris tried his very hardest to throw me off the back if Big Red by hitting an unmarked speed bump at speed. Although maintaining that it was absolutely an accident, he did a pretty good job at almost losing me as I bounced up and almost off Big Red, coming down on the metal on either side of the seat. Nice try Chris. But you're stuck with me for now, leg bruises and all.

Cola Beach Lagoon

On our way down the coast Chris spotted a dirty road he had wanted to explore when we passed it earlier. It was a rumbling, tumbling ride along the rocky, red, dusty road until we could ride no further. We took off on foot, down the hill, and were rewarded for our efforts ten fold. We had stumbled upon Cola Beach.

Cola Beach, Goa

While the ocean itself wasn't ideal for swimming, a fresh water river turned into a lagoon as it approached the ocean and made a wonderfully refreshing spot for a dip. We gazed jealously at the delux 'tents' (which were really more like houses) and the Europeans who could afford to stay in them. After a quick swim we grabbed Big Red and headed down yet another dirt track. We found somebody to ask about staying at this delightful Cola Beach only to be told they were here on a retreat (with yoga mat in hand) and were therefore unsure of the exact cost. Of course!

Cola Beach River Inlet

Palolem Beach

By the time we got back to Palolem to retrieve our clean laundry (yay) we had time only for showers before heading out to take photos of the sunset. Our intentions of heading to the beach North of Palolem by foot were halted by a high tide and instead we stuck to the main drag. Chris snapped some photos before we settled in for some dinner with the sand between our toes. Until we realised we had no money that is. And that the only ATM was 4km away. Off we went, forever known as those tourists who didn't even have enough cash for dinner.

Dinner: Attempt One

Dinner: Attempt Two

We grabbed Big Red, grabbed some cash, and found ourselves Crunch...the perfect place for dinner. Crunch is located at the end of our street, on the opposite corner to Cafe Fiesta where we enjoyed our Mexican last night, and looks to be one of the more reputable restaurants in that its foundations are permanent rather than ready to be blown down in the next monsoon. We enjoyed calamari and kingfish and were pleased to see that, for the money paid, our meals were a great size and great quality. And, even better, we got to listen to some good reggae tunes while we dined. Washed down with a Mr Majestic (vodka/watermelon cocktail) and a Mothers' Ruin (gin/lime/soda cocktail) we were ready for bed.

 

 

Murdeshwara to Palolem

At midnight a group of Indians checked in to our hotel. As per usual they loudly chatted, watched TV and rearranged furniture with their door open (until Chris went and shut it for them) and took about an hour and a half to shut up. So, when morning came, we weren't too happy to be rising early. And neither was Big Red.

When Big Red wouldn't start we drew a crowd of seven guys who wanted to help or stand there and watch. When Chris wistfully relinquished the reins to a couple of the onlookers we were unimpressed to watch them flooding the engine while trying to kick it over. Chris remedied the situation by sneakily turning off Big Red's petrol in at attempt at damage control. Or helpers did finally get Big Red started and proceeded to rev him like crazy. We drove off saying "they just don't know Big Red like we do...they don't know that he's sensitive and you've got to be gentle with him."

Along the way we stopped for some brekky and may have found the best yet. We basically stood there looking confused for long enough that they motioned for us to sit down and gave us what everybody else was having. Puffy yellow bread served with a delicious potato concoction. And some chai of course. For 45 rupees we couldn't be happier as this breakfast is up there with a masala dosai.

Beating most of the traffic and on good roads we rode into Goa ahead of schedule, despite taking it very easy after seeing a smashed up bus. The border crossing into Goa was bathed in incense smoke and we were officially in hippy country. We took the backstreets and checked out Patnem Beach (very chilled but not the nicest for swimming) before riding on to Palolem. As we rode we passed a scooter with to white folk on board. We gave them a big wave before continuing on. As we drew closer to town we saw more and more scooters of white people and realised, it was quite normal. In the six weeks we've been travelling the more remote parts of the Indian subcontinent we had become more local than we realised...we were now stopping and waving at tourists as they passed. With scootering being the norm we were happy to be on an Enfield with our luggage strapped to the sides as to maintain some level of credibility.

Palolem was not what we were expecting. It is essentially one main street which is crowded with souvenir shops and a beach which is crowded with identical beach huts and shack restaurants serving very similar cuisine. Within seconds of arriving we had been offered more rooms than we could count. While we checked out basic looking hut we settled on Pritam's Cottages. Set down a side street off the beach but with hot water, wifi and peace and quiet we were happy.

After a quick shower we strolled to the beach swatting away offers of taxis, boat rides and elephant trips left right and centre. We found a beachside restaurant and settled in for a beer, a burger and a chicken enchilada...India style. After a walk up and down the beach we had a dip in the water and a laze on the sand.

We have come to realise how hard we are to please. So far, we have spent our time in Palolem talking about how amazing the beaches in Sri Lanka were and how wanky the tourists who have come to 'find themselves' in Goa are.

We returned to our guesthouse for a rest, after a quick look at the shops, before heading back out in search of Mexican and beer.

After a quick walk down to the beach to see where the sun was setting, so Chris could take some photos tomorrow, we found Cafe Fiesta. We got some good (Indian good) burritos, chimichangas and a couple of Kingfishers to wash it all down. We are soon discovering that in touristy places, where competition between guesthouses it great, you pay little for accommodation but make up for it in food costs. The opposite is true of the rest of India. In more ways than one Goa feels nothing like India. There is little honking, the jewellery that's for sale is silver rather than gold and the dogs aren't scared of you. One thing remains constant though...there are cows everywhere.