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.
