People come to Goa for the raves and waves.
On the way, Kenny Rogers followed us everywhere we went. I’ve heard “The Gambler” more times the last couple days than I have the last couple decades. The song has staying power. Who knew that India could get the country music into me? Tonight, we were also treated to the wonderful sounds of Glen Campbell “Rhinestone Cowboy”. After wonderful night in Mumbai yesterday, but a harrowing day today, where I was mistaken about our flight times, missed our flight, bought a ticket to the next one, drove over an hour to our beachfront hotel only to find out it was four km from the beach, a little Kenny and Glen (with some food and beer of course) was exactly what this doctor needed.
Fast forward to this evening with the sounds of the Goan beach behind us, people sitting on lawn chairs around us, a cricket match on the giant-screen and techno music in front of us, brings us back to the centers of our universe. Every night we’ve lived in India has been different. And this particular night, we lived on the beach.
What they say about Goa is more than true; it’s very true. Insert Indian head shake which I’m becoming a big fan of. Our cab driver said, “once you come to Goa, you will always want to come back.” As I mentioned, we were expecting a room along the beach. Though disappointingly that didn’t happen, we didn’t let that stop us from making this night our night. And our night, a night on the beach.
We had dinner at Brittos (which we lucked upon, but in looking at notes from a girl sitting next to us on the plane earlier today, she had it ranked number one, “touristy but the best Goan food”), and had the Goan fish curry and the best fish vindaloo I’ve ever had, washing it down with a big bottle of water and a pitcher of King Fisher. The beach was teemed with people, but from what we gathered, in significantly smaller numbers than the height of the season in January where Goa turns into little Europe.
I split the time sitting down to watch the cricket match and walking up to and standing into the salty Arabian Sea. The sounds were loud and heavy, the waves soothing amidst the dark night sky. The salt strong under my nose. A couple times, I pulled an Andy Dufresne arms outstretched looking up to heaven, only this time, there was no rain befalling me. It was still exhilarating.
We watched the end of the cricket match, the Chennai Kings had beaten the Punjabi Super Kings and were set to take on the Knightriders (owned by the famous Bollywood actor Shahrukh Khan) for the championship in a couple days. In a very short time, we had become very interested in the game, though still somewhat clueless as to its rules. Behind us, men out on a show playing with fire. Afterwards, we walked the beach and then the strip, thought of staying up and out at another club, but decided against it.
“You’ve got to know when to fold, know when to walk away…”
The next morning, we awoke early, drove thru the quaint town that collected people, clothes, sandals and food into one giant marketplace sold along its roads (the clothes, sandals and food, not the people). We came back to Brittos, had breakfast and enjoyed a couple hours under the Goan sun, laying on the beach. I wasn’t used to the women keeping all their clothes on; and men stripping down to their tighty whiteys, but this is India, and I guess that’s what they do. Though I covered up (I always cover up trying to avoid the sun on my skin), the warmth was serene. I was half asleep as the waves lulled me into a trance. It was too short a time before we had to leave.
Onto Cochin and beautiful Kerala “God’s Own Country” where my family awaited.
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