The End of Another Goan Tourist Season

April 22^nd – May 6^th, 2012

Being a Canadian and specifically a Vancouver Canucks ice hockey fan, I was looking forward to April, the commencement of the NHL playoffs.  The Canucks lost in game 7 of the Stanley Cup finals last year, the closest to ever winning the cup in their 40 year history.  This season they finished first in the league in the regular season so things were looking good.  Last year I had a slow Internet connection and could only listen to the games on a radio feed but now with the new 3G network, I looked forward to actually watching the games.  The only trouble was that I can’t receive a signal from my home, the Magic Villa, and with most games starting early in the morning (due to the 13 ½ hour time difference), I’d have to figure out something.  My solution, hike up to the top of the ridge and find a comfy spot sitting against a rock and cheer on the Canucks.

Catching the action at predawn:

You can't watch hockey without a beer!

Sadly the team bowed out in the first round to the Los Angeles Kings...oh well, I guess I won’t have to wake up early and have more free time, but come on Canucks, you better do it next year!

Disappointed...but that's the life of a hockey fan: 

With the temperature and humidity increasing and the monsoon approaching, fewer tourists could be found on the beaches and more and more restaurants and guesthouses were closing up shop.  The majority of the small number of foreigners left enjoy the quieter, more peaceful atmosphere in Arambol...who cares if your dining options become a bit more limited, empty, chilled beaches are fantastic and it also means that I don’t have to share the sky with as many pilots.

Speaking of pilots, my first (and so far only) paragliding student Pradeep returned to Goa from his home of Mysore in the south.  Pradeep told me of a small paragliding festival was being held at Anjuna Beach, about half an hour south of Arambol.  I’ve never flown there as the hill is quite a bit smaller than Arambol so it seems like a stupid place to hold a festival but I decided to meet Pradeep there regardless.  It might be a good chance to meet some more Indian pilots.

I arrived at Anjuna shortly before the opening meeting was scheduled but it took me a while to locate Pradeep and the main venue.  Well in true Indian fashion, nothing went as planned.  There was no meeting.  Instead Pradeep had heard that the paramotor guys were setting up to fly at a large field at the north end of the beach so we headed there on his motorbike, only to find no one there.  I called the president of the Indian Paragliding Association (and the organizer of the event) and he stated they were at the south end of the beach.  So after about an hour of running around we finally located some pilots up on the hill including Anil, the prez.  The wind was fairly light but it was flyable but due to the tiny size of the ridge, only 4-5 pilots could be in the air at any time...this is why I couldn’t understand why they’d have a festival here.

Anyways, I watched pilots cruise back and forth and then I eventually took to the air.  It’s always nice to fly a new place and I enjoyed checking out the views to the south of the busy Baga Beach with a number of people parasailing behind powerboats.  Becoming bored after 15-20 minutes of cruising back and forth avoiding the other wings in the sky, I set up to land on the lower plateau on the ridge.  The only “competition” of the festival was to be a spot landing (as there was no option to do anything else).  I saw a discarded flip flop on the ground and picked that as my target...might as well practice for the contest.  Well I was quite pleased to hit it spot on...but couldn’t help but think “There’s no way I’ll do that tomorrow when it counts!”  While packing up my wing I briefly chatted with an Indian pilot who asked if I had seen the “porno shoot” behind the big rock at the south end of the ridge...damn, no I hadn’t! 

The competition was running for the next couple of days but due to its lack of organization coupled with the poorly chosen venue, I decided not to attend.  Instead I flew in Arambol, sharing the much larger ridge with only one other pilot...a much better option.

After the festival Pradeep came to Arambol to continue his training for four days.  During that time his skills continued to develop and by the end he was performing the odd 360 on the ridge, small wingovers and his landing approaches were quite good.  Well done Pradeep.

One by one, the guesthouses around the Magic Villa became vacant and were then prepared for the approaching monsoon season with dried palm fronds strapped across the front of their balconies, door and window hinges greased and mattresses aired out and then stored in the driest of rooms.  I was the last holdout, enjoying the added peacefulness of having no neighbours.  I did have some visitors though (apart from the occasional monkey jumping on the roof in the early mornings).  First was Andrew, an English fellow that I met through a mutual friend.  We duelled in chess and he was a formidable opponent, winning the majority of the games.  Next was German Robin and not only did we battle in chess but I introduced him to Carrom.  I enjoyed the company of both of these interesting and nice guys and will hopefully see them again some time.

Robin...please with his move:

Meanwhile, a cricket match was breaking out below while we were playing:

Unfortunately the ball was hit into this well...I thought the game would be over but no...send the little guy down!

It’s time to get out of Goa for some time...I’m going to head north to the mountains of Himachal Pradesh as it’s time for some real, thermal paragliding!

Pradeep Learns to Fly

April 17th – 21st, 2012

One morning I was walking by one of the cliff side restaurants and stopped to say a quick hello to a couple of guys I know. One is Jiwan from Nepal who was a waiter up in Manali at the place I stayed last May and the other was Michael (really Mischa but he tells his English speaking friends to call him Michael), an excellent tandem pilot who hails from the Ukraine. With them was an Indian man in his late thirties who introduced himself as Pradeep.

As I was leaving Pradeep approached me and inquired whether I would be interested in helping him to learn paragliding. He told me that he’d already had a few tandem and solo flights along with a couple of days ground handling with a couple of other guys in Arambol. I explained that first off, I didn’t have a tandem wing and I’m not even fully certified to fly tandems (although I had partially finished a tandem course back in Canada a few years ago). I also noted that I wasn’t an instructor although as part of my tandem qualification I had participated in an instructor’s course. And the third important item for him to be aware of was that my wing was an intermediate level wing, not typically a good one for a student to learn on...kind of like learning to drive in a Porsche... Pradeep seemed unfazed by these factors and asked whether we could work together over the next five days, beginning with ground handling and just see how it goes. I figured why not.

We met the next morning on Sweet Water Beach and after unpacking the wing, Pradeep began some practice on the beach known as “kiting” or “ground handling”. It’s a very important skill to develop as a beginner and to continue practicing throughout one’s flying career. Some say that every hour of ground handling is worth 10 hours of experience in the air and I think I agree.

It was obvious that Pradeep had had some previous practice as he was able to get the wing above his head a few times but couldn’t consistently keep it there. His technique for his reverse launch was different from what I had learned and he told me that he had just kind of figured out a system on his own. Well hats off to you Pradeep for being inventive but it wasn’t the greatest method as it required him to let go and grab the opposite brakes part way through the launch which I’m not a fan of. In strong wind you could find yourself in trouble at the point where you have no hands on the brakes and therefore no control. I walked him through the way that I was taught and realized that he was a quick learner, often only needing to be told something once and it had already sunk in.

Pradeep figuring out what line does what:

"Run to the right...run to the right!"...Pradeep kiting on Sweet Water Beach:

I later learned that he is from Mysore and he is a contractor who primarily takes staff from IT companies, often from Bangalore, on outdoor team building exercises such as rock climbing or rappelling. No wonder he was picking up things quickly and also very safety conscious.

At the end of the second day, with about 6-7 hours of ground handling under his belt, there was a notable difference in his skill and after some discussion we agreed that he could try a small flight from a rocky bare patch on the hill just above some beach restaurants. The flight would be short and the landing simple. All he would have to do is fly out over the restaurants, turn slightly right and he would have a long, open beach to land on. My one concern was that the launch was a bit steep and so his reactions on takeoff would have to be quick. Pradeep seemed unfazed by this so we set up the wing and he got prepared.

“Ok, ready.” Pradeep stated as he began to pull the wing up. The paraglider shot up quickly and before Pradeep could turn around he was lifted off the ground still facing back towards the hill...oh shit! He seemed to have his fingers stuck between the crossed risers as he flew off twenty feet over the restaurants. Oh no...what have I done?!? I felt like a mother duck who had just pushed my duckling out of the nest but he wasn’t quite ready for it yet. I yelled out instructions to Pradeep as he worked on getting himself turned around. By the time he was facing forward he had uncontrollably and inadvertently turned too far right and was now over the small fresh water lake (hence the beach’s name). The lake is only 2-3 feet deep so I wasn’t too concerned but all the gear was going to be soaked.

He started to fly forward towards the beach side edge of the lake which is separated from the ocean by a long stretch of sand. There were some young coconut trees interspersed in the sand by the lake but more alarming was the small power line that ran over to the one beach restaurant in the middle of the lake. I knew there was probably no threat of electrocution due to the feeble electrical system here but knocking the line off of its poles was not going to make us any friends.

Amazingly he landed on the shore and the wing fell forward over some of the small trees instead of back into the water! By the time I rushed down to him with adrenaline still coursing through my veins he had extracted the wing from the trees and had walked out to a sun bed and still had a smile on his face. It seemed as though I was more shaken up by the flight than he was. We sat down and debriefed what had happened and I realized that really I, as the instructor, had made the crucial bad decision of allowing him to take off from that steep spot. In the end, no harm, no foul. As Pradeep reiterated, from that height there wasn’t any chance of any major injury which was true...but had he crashed through a restaurant’s roof or taken out the electrical line it wouldn’t have been cool. Afterwards, we spoke with Michael, the Ukrainian tandem pilot, and he offered some good advice and also was receptive to us borrowing his radios so that we could have Pradeep fly off from the top of the cliff where the takeoff is flat and much bigger, more suitable for a beginner and the radios would allow me to talk Pradeep through the landing phase.

Ukrainian tandem pilot Michael (Mischa) and his girlfriend Lena:

The following day we returned to kiting and there was a large improvement from yesterday’s practice. Unfortunately the wind was too strong for him to fly later in the afternoon but the following day, after an hour of ground handling we hiked up the main ridge to the takeoffs that face Kerim Beach to the north. While we were setting up on the west launch Michael arrived with some tandem customers. We allowed him to go first and then Pradeep attempted unsuccessfully to launch a few times but eventually he was in the sky with the instructions to turn to the right, follow the ridge but stay out in front of it. Meanwhile I quickly sprinted 50 meters to a spot where I would visually be able to talk him through the landing.

I asked Pradeep a couple of times to kick his legs together if he could hear me on the radio which he did. However I later learned that he couldn’t hear me as the radio had fallen back over his should during takeoff. No wonder he hadn’t fully obeyed my instructions. No matter, he had performed a nice approach and landed safely after a 3 minute flight. I could tell he was a happy camper as he jumped around with glee on the beach down below...I love seeing the joy of flight in new pilots, it’s something special.

On the last day we hiked up to the same launch.  It took more launch attempts before he got in the air than the previous day but nonetheless he was soaring again.  I decided to talk him through some ridge soaring as there were no other wings in the sky and he seemed to be comfortable in flight.  The wind began to pick up a bit and I didn’t think the conditions would still be launchable for him by the time he landed and walked back up so instead he continued to ridge soar under my radio instruction.  After 40 minutes of flying I coached him through the approach to land on the beach and he performed it perfectly.  I walked down to the beach and he was grinning from ear to ear and gave me a big hug.  Well done Pradeep!

Pradeep soaring above Kerim Beach:

Pradeep high above the ridge...loving his ride:

The wind picked up in the afternoon but he was happy to try some more “extreme” kiting and I have to say I was very impressed with how much his skills had improved in five days. I couldn’t have asked for a better first student.

One happy student:

Welcome to the world of free flight Pradeep!

Martin & The Magic Villa

April 3rd, 2012

Way back in late November I was sitting in the Olive Garden restaurant and lo and behold, who walked in?!? It was Martin from Sweden whom I had met here last year! What a great surprise.

He and his girlfriend Ida stayed in the Classic Huts over the New Years last year and they had shared in the hilarious game of charades with the Russians from Vladivostok in the wee hours of that night. They then returned in February from traveling south to Kerala and Naomi and I went with them to the Anjuna market. It was a great surprise to see him as I didn’t know that he was coming back to Arambol.

He sat down for a beer and we caught up our lives from the last 9 months. Martin was planning to stay in Arambol until April with the goal of writing a book, a fiction comedy about the nonsense of borders, the imaginary lines that we humans draw on maps to segregate ourselves. He was focussing on the Swedish/Norwegian border. Unfortunately he planned to write his book in Swedish so I wasn’t going to be able to read it. Meanwhile Ida would be staying in Sweden to focus on a new job in a fancy restaurant where she was in charge of the wait staff but she would be visiting for a couple of weeks from Christmas through to the new year.

Martin was staying in Classic Huts again and I was all but ready to move there at the start of December without even knowing that he was there. I had been staying in one of the buildings run by the Om Ganesh Guesthouses since Naomi and I returned from Kerala back in mid October. The price of the room was going to be at least double over the holiday season so I thought it made sense to move back to the cheaper huts. I had moved most of my stuff (I have definitely been accumulating things while I’ve been here) to the Olive Garden in the previous few days but on my last evening Martin finally accepted my invitation to come over for a game of chess around sunset time.

Well he was gobsmacked by the beautiful view and peacefulness of the place and suggested that he should move over here instead. We spoke with the pot-bellied manager Raul and worked out a price of 450 rupees ($9) per night for the entire season provided we stayed through the quieter months of March and April. Classic Huts’ rate was 350 so for $2 extra per night, it was a no brainer. Unfortunately an older guy from Finland or Norway had just moved in next door to me and was planning to stay a month but I think thanks to some slight influence from Raul he switched to a downstairs room and a couple of nights later Martin moved in next door as my neighbour.

The building consists of two floors with two rooms on each floor. The top floor has a nice balcony running the length of the front of the building that looks out at the ocean through the palm trees. I was quite excited to stay here for the next 4 months with a neighbour who is a good friend. Soon after moving in, Martin dubbed our place: “The Magic Villa”.

The Magic Villa - My room is on the top right:

Looking down at the Villa from the ridge:

I had recently purchased a hammock from the Olive Garden and Martin decided to get one too. This became his “office” for writing his book. Later a Swiss guy downstairs who had acquired a fridge from an Indian friend left and we moved the fridge to our balcony as a nice addition to our little piece of paradise.

In the first few days we decided to hunt for a decent chess board as we were both interested in playing. Most of our dinners together became venues for all out warfare on the black and white squares of the playing field. Initially I was winning all of the games but thankfully Martin took it in stride and stuck it out and finally on our tenth game he won. As the months passed, we became equals in the game.
 
One of many heated chess battles:

I also introduced him to Yaniv, an Israeli card game that I had learned in Manali last May. It’s a great game in that whether you are two people or five, it still works and is fun to play.

This was followed by what became one of our staple games, Tropic Euro, which Martin preferred to call “Plantation Nation”. It’s a game I downloaded for free to my laptop and it mimics a board game that I used to play with some friends back in Canada called “Puerto Rico”. The concept is that each player has an island with plantations of various goods such as bananas, cocoa and coffee. You plant various crops but also construct buildings that can either gain you money or victory points. To stop short of fully geeking out here, it’s a cool little game and Martin seemed to agree. Many of our evenings either started or ended with a game of Plantation Nation.

Ida arrived on Christmas day and it was wonderful to see her again. She is a kind, intelligent, beautiful Swedish blonde and I think that Martin has hit the jackpot. They’ve been together for over 3 years and they really suit each other.

Ida stayed for the next couple of weeks and I was soon introduced to a new card game called Halsta, a Swedish gem that is not widely known as it has been passed down from generations to generations in Martin’s family. Poor Ida has had to rise to the challenge of many a game in Martin’s family’s summer cabin where heated and wine fuelled games test the mettle of all. Friendly yet intensely competitive games combine sly play with blatant propaganda. I think she proved herself a worthy partner of Martin’s to his family with her card play. I hope someday that I’ll get to experience an Eklund family. If one successfully gets rid of all of their cards in one go (which isn’t too common), they get to exclaim “Nu Ar Ni Dar!”...roughly meaning “Now you are there”. I can’t wait to introduce my Canadian friends and family to this serious yet entertaining pastime.

Ida and Martin enjoying the view from the balcony:

Ida’s time in Arambol was short but it was great to celebrate a second New Year’s party with her and Martin, even though this time we were missing the charading Russians. It was sad to see her go but her

Ida's last night:

Our wonderful seafood dinner at the Outback restaurant:

Martin and Ida at the Olive Garden:

Ida's sendoff:

On one trip to Mapsa I decided to pick up a new game for Martin and me to play....Carrom. Back in Canada, my friends and I play a variety of games, one of which is Crokinole. It’s an octagonal board with a round playing surface where you flick these little pucks with your fingers and thumb. It’s kind of like mini curling or shuffleboard...yet slightly different. Well Carrom is the Indian version of this Crokinole.

Carrom is almost like pool or billiards crossed with Crokinole. It’s a square board with pockets in each corner. There is a “shooter”, a heavier, bigger puck than the other black and white pucks...oh, and there is one red one known as the “queen”. You flick the shooter at the other pucks with the intent of sinking them in the pockets. There are two main types of games with Carrom and we started off with the basic one where black pucks are worth 5 points, whites 10 and the queen 50. It’s simple in that any puck can be hit by either opponent. We eventually graduated to the more complex game which is more like pool where one person plays the black pucks while the other shoots for white. In the end we found this game more entertaining yet definitely more challenging. Martin and I were fairly evenly matched in this pastime but I’d have to give him a bit of an edge over me.

Playing Carrom:

Nice shot Martin!

This is Smiley, one of our canine friends who would visit us (I think the cookies and water we gave him helped). He gets his name from the smile he gives when he first greets you...it scared Martin at first as it looks like Smiley is baring his teeth but it really is just a smile:

Not everything is happy in the Magic Villa...at least not for this gecko:

I moved the gecko out of my room where the tiny ants were feasting on him and when we returned from supper, the big ants had almost finished him off:

By the end of his four month stay here, Martin managed to crank out over 120,000 words for his book and was very close to finishing his first run through of the story. He says it will take him a fair amount of time to edit it but I was impressed with what he’d produced (even though I couldn’t read it!).

Martin relaxing in his Ali Baba gear:

Then Martin decided to get us matching outfits for our gaming sessions...and no, we did not go out into public looking like this:

Martin leaving for lunch one day:

Martin with Cock's Town waiters Vijay and Sunny:

It was sad to see Martin go as he was a good neighbour, fun opponent in a variety of games and a great friend. Take care buddy and hopefully we’ll catch up for some more gaming one day...

Our parting shot:

Happy Holi!

March 8th, 2012

Holi (pronounced “holy”) is a Hindu religious festival known as the “Festival of Colours”. It is held on the last full moon of the winter season. This day is considered to be the happiest and most colourful day of the year promoting the brotherhood among people and after experiencing it I can say that it does just that!

Last year I was in Panchgani around this time and somehow missed it and although Goa is not the epicentre of Holi activities, it still does happen here (but I am jealous of my friends Brett and Belle being in Mumbai!).

The principle of the festival is quite simple. Buy some brightly coloured powder from a store and walk around throwing it at anyone you like or smear it on their face, arms...wherever. For some reason, this activity just can’t help but make everyone cheerful as everyone exchanges a “Happy Holi!” greeting.

Martin and I had gone for lunch separately and although I saw a lot of the carnage with colours spattered along the path and colourfully smeared Indians and tourist alike I somehow I avoided the gauntlet on my 5 minute walk around the cliff side to a restaurant whereas Martin sat at Deepo’s restaurant with some lovely pink smudged on his face. I joined Martin and almost felt like a bit of a stick in the mud as most people passing by on the path where coloured up. Eventually a couple of Russian women who were making the rounds with their bags of bright colour finding victims to decorate, zeroed in on us and we gladly welcomed the addition of some colour to our mugs. I was finally initiated to Holi.

Martin and I decided to get into the action and after a brief return home we decided to play some pool at the Rice Bowl followed by some beach restaurant hopping. On the way to the Rice Bowl we fell victim to a few of the vendors along the path (we walk by them every day so know a number of them) who cheerfully added some new hues to our existing pink. Anand, a young teenage boy whom we’ve befriended, was more than happy to colour us up and we again were glad to oblige.

With Anand, a 13 year old shop vendor we've befriended over the past view months:

As we were playing pool and having a few beers, two multi-coloured Turks, a couple we think, and an English woman joined us. They were fully embracing Holi too. We played a few games with them before moving to a beach restaurant called Opinhall which sports a nice bar with tall stools with massive round seats. There we met an Australian man named Hamish who was in the same mode as us with his face completely covered as he instructed the bartender on how to make him a fancy dry martini. We chatted him for a while and then continued our bar hopping and then hiked up the ridge to catch a lovely sunset.

Shooting some pool at the Rice Bowl:

Martin concentrating:

Some new Holi friends, this guy is from Turkey:

And she's from England:

And another Turk who played pool with us:

In Opinhall for a drink meeting an Aussie guy named Hamish:

Not a bad look:

Checking out sunset:

We ate at one of my favourite restaurants on the beach, Om Star, where the pizzas are fantastic and the waiter Johnny is the best server in Arambol. This Nepalese fellow is always happy, friendly and actually hustles at providing great service (not exactly the norm here!). We finished the evening at the Olive Garden with some Jenga and a few more beers. What a day!

Back at Opinhall en route to dinner:

At the Olive Garden to finish the night with Ram and Pinku:

Martin mentioned that the Swedish government is considering including some holidays from other religions than just Christian ones into their calendar and he thought Holi should definitely be one of them...I couldn’t agree more, I wish we had this back in Canada!

Happy Holi!

Scootering the Goan Coast

February 20th, 2012

With my Canadian friends leaving last night, it was time to check out of my small room at the “Soul Mate Guesthouse” which at least had a hot shower (my first in many months) and head north to Arambol. I checked my Lonely Planet Goa guide and decided to take the scenic route, at least in the south of Goa, along a route I haven’t taken yet.

My first stop was Agonda Beach, the first beach north of Palolem. It’s a sleepy beach with a long expanse of sand running north south. I imagine in another 10-20 years it will become another Palolem. I walked on the beach for a few minutes, snapped a few pics and hopped back on the scooter.

Looking south at Agonda Beach:

Groovin' on Agonda:

A church in the small Agonda village:

One of many lovely coastal scenes I saw:

The road heading north was a fun one to ride with smooth pavement, sweeping turns winding up and downhill. I soon arrived at stop #2 of the day: the Cabo da Rama Fort. This Portuguese built fort has little history as it didn’t see any real action. It was briefly occupied by the British from 1797 to 1802 and again a year later until 1813 but it never really served the Portuguese in a meaningful way. It became a prison until 1955 and now just a church is the only functioning building within the fortifications.

The entrance to Cabo da Rama Fort:

One of many gorgeous views from within the fort:

I was surprised by the size of the fort, definitely the biggest Portuguese fort that I have visited in Goa. For the first half of my visit, I seemed to be the only tourist in the place. It was probably almost a kilometre walk from the entrance to the furthest point west where there was the concrete remnants of a building. Luckily it had a small one storey square tower that had a staircase running up around the outside that permitted a beautiful view of a palm tree covered spit jutting out into the ocean to the west and a view of the jagged coastline to the south and the long expanses of beach stretching to the north.

The peninsula facing west:

Looking north:

Walking back along the old main road:

Walking back toward the entrance, I followed an overgrown service road and couldn’t help but imagine the Portuguese soldiers 250 years ago plodding along the path, baking in the sun and sweating copiously in their maladapted uniforms...poor dudes.

There were dead leaves everywhere in this forest...

Not sure what killed the leaves but they looked like they were made of spiderwebs:

The overgrown fortification:

A few cannons still aiming out at non-existant foes:

The shot across the front door:

The still functioning church:

Gobsmacking vistas:

I doubt the Portuguese soldiers enjoyed the view:

I continued north and as the road started inland to skirt around the wide outflow of the Sal River, I realized that I probably should get some gas. I ended up on a two land divided road and thought that I must have missed a turn to cross the river and get back to the coast. I stopped and asked a guy walking on the side of the road for gas and the way to Varca Beach. He instructed me to head back the way I came and go about a kilometre back for gas, then backtrack from where I came and turn at the church in the town of Chichinim. As I took the fork in the road towards the gas station I was immediately waved over by a traffic cop on the side of the road. It turns out that I had accidentally turned onto the National Highway #17. By law the driver of a motorbike or scooter must wear a helmet (although any passengers don’t...figure that one out). I had my paragliding helmet with me as I was aware of this law but had it strapped to the back of the seat. I explained to the officer that I had accidentally turned onto the highway and didn’t know it (sign posting is not a forte of India). He checked my licence and in the end I had to pay a 100 rupee fine ($2)...not bad.

Rice terraces on the high plateau:

Hmm...something seems out of place here...tough to see here but the little red thing on the roof is a satellite dish!

Gassed up, helmet on, I cruised back to Chinchinim and found the right junction and really wasn’t surprised that I had missed it the first time. Just before arriving to the coast, I passed through the small town of Cavelossim with its high end shops and eccentric hotels. The Holiday Inn looks to be an old converted cathedral with an attempted modernized look while another one was shaped like a fat freighter boat with the windows of the rooms being portholes in the side of the hull. I couldn’t imagine the rooms being that nice nor why you’d want to stay there. I turned south down a 3-4 kilometre spit to Mobor Beach where even fancier hotel resorts can be found but all the general public gets to see is fancy gates, colourful flowers and stylish looking guards.

The Holiday "Cathedral" Inn:

"All aboard!"

The expanse along Mobor Beach:

Heading north I drove near the coastline for about 25 kilometres, occasionally stopping in to check out a beach. I reached the peninsula where Dabolim, the only airport in Goa, is located. The dirty port city of Vasco da Gama is at the end but I didn’t venture that far. I had enough of the incredibly polluted industrial suburb area after five minutes or so and headed inland to the highway to travel across northern Goa.

I love the air pollution sign on the left (a bit difficult to see)...good idea but perhaps we should pick up all of the garbage on the ground first! The air pollution sign wasn't on anyways.

Yup, not the prettiest part of Goa:

After passing Panjim I decided to head towards Baga Beach. Yes, this may sound a bit sad but Baga has a Subway and I had a hankering for a sub (good sandwiches are tough to find in India). As I was enjoying my sub inside the restaurant, I couldn’t help but smile as I saw an elephant pass by on the road...oh India, you do have your charm.

In Subway, watching an elephant pass by (on the right):

I arrived back in Arambol around 5pm having just driven almost the entire length of the Goan coast on my scooter...what a great day of riding!