After over two weeks of hustle and bustle - Romain and Marine's departure, Goa trip-planning, Goa and post-Goa fatigue, and Berty and I racing against time to spend our last moments together before he returned to France early yesterday, it's now too quiet here at the Silveroak hostel.
And of course, my body chooses this time of inactivity to finally heal itself. I'm still battling the remains of the weird stomach virus that has left me nauseous and heavy-headed the past five days, but I don't feel the urge to hug the toilet bowl or fall into bed anymore.
If anything good is to come out of this unsettling quiet, it'd be that I finally have the chance to sit down and blog about Goa proper. So here you go dear readers - I present to you my Goa escapades.
This was home for our first three nights in Goa's Palolem Beach. Chattai Beach Huts weren't on the beach as I'd imagined, the infrastructure was a little too flimsy, and power cuts happened way too often and lasted way too long. Nevertheless, it was charming in its own odd little way.
That's me, Kash and Nuria lying in the bed we shared while waiting for the boys to be ready for breakfast.
This is Rendezvous Bar/Cafe, one of the many similar beach shacks lining Palolem Beach. The rest of our first day in Goa was spent bumming around on the beach, soaking up the sun and taking sunset strolls.
Our second Goan dinner was at Cafe Del Mar, where we relished seafood and BEEF for the second consecutive night.
Erwin, B and I then headed to the "nice lounging place" we saw on our first night, where we proceeded to drink too much and sleep too little.
This is Erwin reeling from the strength of the Irish coffee.
This is me, a little too happy after my Mojito.
And that's Erwin and B discussing my worth in camels.
B and I talked through the night, and climbed a dog-infested mini hill to watch the sunrise. And yes, after the pre-Goa periods of guessing each other's feelings, we finally got our act together that morning.
While Erwin continued to snooze, the rest of us headed out to sea to spot dolphins.
He didn't miss much, for all we saw were brief flashes of fins.
While B slept most of the afternoon away, Erwin, Nuria, Kash and I headed back to Rendezvous where they feasted on crabs while I futilely attempted to get some shut-eye. We spent the evening in the sea where I had to hang onto my bikini each time a wave tossed me around (which was every five seconds), and a good part of the night waiting out another power outage. I hadn't been sleeping well since a week before Goa, but some post-dinner hot chocolate and a late night beach stroll had me dead to the world the minute my head touched the pillow.
We continued our journey North along the coast line the next day. Here we are at Papillon beach shack on Colva Beach. The next few pictures are copped off Erwin.
That's Nuria in green and Kash in orange, with Nuria giving her now-trademark fake smile haha.
We spent the evening shopping around the flea market and at random stalls near our resort, before ending the night on a scoop each of creamy Baskin-Robbins goodness. Ahh... Bavarian Chocolate - can't seem to find the flavor back here in Ahmedabad!
We rented scooters the next day and braved the Indian traffic to visit the disappointingly boring town. No big mishaps, though I did burn my right calf on the engine while hopping off the scooter on which B was pillion-ing me, and Erwin had to bribe a cop with 500 rupees (roughly S$20) for driving without a license.
We scooted (pun intended) off soon enough to spend the afternoon at Varca Beach where B taught me to "jump" waves and I added a couple more injuries to my sea-battered body. Our afternoon of bliss abruptly ended when we realized that the two creeps we met en route to the beach had sabotaged and punctured our scooter tyres. It's incredibly immature and stupid, but we all managed to get back to the hotel safely.
Just before returning the scooter, B and I zipped by Soul Vacation, the dreamy but fully-booked resort we wanted to stay at for one of our last two nights in Goa.
White-washed walls and poolside cabanas.
Pretending that we're staying at the resort - it's never bad to dream no? And I like how this shot captured the essence of how I felt that very moment. Having spent the day with the wind in my hair and sea salt drying on my skin, I was truly happy and content, even with the throbbing injury.
We traveled further North to Baga Beach the next morning, and headed to the famed flea market on Anjuna Beach that afternoon. That's us fueling up before conquering the stalls.
Kaleidoscope of colors. This shot of fisherman pants flapping in the sea breeze is copped off Erwin.
While the rest of us trawled the stalls, these two non-enthusiastic shoppers spent a good amount of time drinking and hiding in the shade at the cafe bar.
And as distracted as I was by the shopping, I had enough good sense remaining to snap a picture of the gorgeous sunset. I probably would have had nicer shots if I walked down to the beach, but the stalls were too tempting to resist.
We lugged our buys back to the hotel, and headed to the much-recommended Restaurant Infantaria for dinner. The food was not bad, but frankly not rave-worthy.
B and I got up early enough the next morning to hunt for boardshorts, and after a post-brunch swim in the hotel pool, we headed to meet up with the rest at Swally's beach bar.
This is the popular but also over-commercialized Baga Beach, picture courtesy of Erwin once again.
Balmy winds, heart-melting kisses and the sun setting beyond the horizon. I experienced my epitome of bliss.
Our last dinner as a group before Kash headed back to MICA the next morning for Holi. This is us at Tito's Restaurant.
That's my tuna steak.
Breakfast at the German bakery the next morning before Kash hurried off to catch her flight. We headed down to Calangute to take a look at the cupboard that caught B's eye, then hopped into a taxi to Panjim city only to find out that all the shops were closed for Good Friday.
Erwin and Nuria left the next day for their 25-hour bus ride back to Ahmedabad. Here's B helping me with my packing just before checkout by jamming my buys into his new bag.
I was constantly amused by the sheer amount of food he eats while on holiday. This is our breakfast for TWO at Britto's restaurant on Baga beach, just before we headed to the ridiculously expensive Sur La Mer resort.
This is Sur La Mer on Asvem Beach. The place is luxurious yet homely, and drop-dead romantic.
The gorgeous sunset skies after the afternoon of heavy rains. We gave up our plans of scooter-ing around the island and instead lay in bed listening to Bubbly on my iPod.
After savoring a long-drawn dinner on our patio, I took what I thought would be a short nap while B did some work before our planned moonlight swim. I awoke at 5 a.m., still in my bikini and bathrobe, to a darkened room and a sleeping man.
Silly perhaps, but it was terribly endearing how he didn't wake me and left me sleeping.
We awoke to the bluest of blue skies the next morning, and went off on a quick scooter jaunt before we checked out. The beaches of Mandrem and Arambol are very much more untouched and gorgeous, as the following pictures would attest to.
The resort owner's teething pup attacked me when we returned, adding one more injury to my already abused legs. I thought B's one-liner summed up the state of my battered legs perfectly. He looked at my legs and said: "Baby, I don't know what you do..." and trailed off in baffled amusement.
LOL!
I started feeling nauseous when we left Sur La Mer for Casa Brittona, and I spent the 45-minute bumpy journey taking countless yoga breaths. Just when I thought we were done with traveling for the day, the manager at Casa Brittona informed us that we had been transfered to Casa Vagator (which we initially wanted but no rooms were available then), and I had to endure another 25-minute grueling journey.
It was a pity that I was hit by the untimely bug that had me hugging the toilet bowl while B tried to teach me how to puke. Casa Vagator was gorgeous, and I really regret not being able to fully enjoy it.
The pool I never got to dip in.
Thankfully, I felt better after a bit of rest and we took a walk down to Vagator Beach for sunshine and strong ocean winds.
Alas, my lucky streak didn't last for long, and after another futile session hugging the toilet bowl, I had just enough energy to shower and crawl into bed when we returned at sunset. I slept through a tropical rainstorm, but according to B, I was repeatedly tossing off the covers he tucked me in, and waking up and telling him ever so often to wake me in five minutes. I have absolutely no recollection of either, and I was really bummed that I fell asleep on him two nights in a row.
Having eaten next to nothing the day before, I was ready to scarf down our last Goan breakfast.
One last snap while waiting for the delayed flight back to Ahmedabad.
And this is us in the auto back to MICA, breathing in the now-familiar but unwelcome dust of Ahmedabad.
Goa was not the hippie beach paradise I was expecting. While it had all the prerequisites of my dream destination - beach shacks, sun, sand and sea - all of us agreed that there was something uncanny about the place, though we couldn't quite figure out what it was.
Still, destination details aside, this was possibly one of the best holidays I have had in a long while. Enough said. For now, I can only hope that the past two weeks of bliss would be enough to draw on from for the next three months.
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