One afternoon while sitting at a beach restaurant table with Naomi, two Israelis that Naomi shared a taxi with from the Dabolim airport (Goa’s only airport) to Arambol wandered by. After a short discussion, the option to join Iftach and Iren, a recently married couple, in a taxi to head to Palolem Beach about 80 kilometres away presented itself. Why not, it would save us 1000 rupees and they seemed like a very friendly couple. So today was the day we would head south.
Iftach and Iren hired the taxi from their guesthouse and the driver was a young fellow by the name of James. As most young men are, James was a speedy driver and coupled with the fact that it was Sunday afternoon we made great time transiting from one end of Goa to the other (in relative Indian travel terms). Like most other Indian drivers, James believes that the horn is an integral tool in driving a vehicle. He had honked at least a dozen times in our first kilometre of travel. Ironically, the one time when I thought he should have used the horn, when we were a mere foot from hitting the tail of a motorbike...he didn’t!
It was a hot day out and we began the trip with all windows rolled down and I was lucky to be in the comfort of the front seat (being the old man of the group) and we all agreed that it was time for air conditioning. It was then that James informed us that it would be 400 rupees extra ($9) for A/C....what!?! C’mon, I know it consumes more gas but not that much! We didn’t spring for the extra luxury to begin with but the outside temperature climbed by 5 degrees up to 34 C by the time we passed the Goan capital Panjim and we then opted to stave off the heat and agreed to the extra charge.
The terrain changed as we neared Palolem. It became hillier yet extremely lush with green vegetation. The road serpentined up and down with many ramshackle shelters housing vegetable sellers situated at many of the curves. We turned into the paved yet narrow road into Palolem Beach road. Being a backpacker, you can’t help but feeling like “fresh meat”. Showing up with your luggage and the look of disorientation on your face makes you an instant magnet for locals badgering you to stay at their guesthouse or beach huts.
We dismissed the first couple of pushers and walked down towards the beach hoping to first get the lay of the land however we did agree to check out one guesthouse that this older man with a bicycle wanted to show us. But first....WOW! What a gorgeous beach!
It’s a sandy, sheltered, crescent shaped, palm tree lined cove of utter beauty. At the north end a small, tidally influenced river spills into the sheltered bay. At all but high tide it is easy to walk to the end of the beach where a narrow gap in the land allows glimpses of the rocky headlands that remind me of some shorelines back home in British Columbia.
Now back to the accommodation search... The inn was set back from the beach about 100 meters and the ladies thought that was too far so we continued our search. After about an hour of reconnaissance (performed mostly by Naomi and Iren), we ended up returning to the original place.
Our view from Fernandez:
A couple of old men walking by:
In Fernandez:
After hanging out in a chilled restaurant on the beach called Fernandez, Naomi and I explored part of the north side of the beach. We were approached by a local fellow sporting green rimmed sunglasses who mentioned a one hour boat ride up a river that we could do for just 150 rupees ($3) per person. He walked with us as we approached the small river whose level was rising with the tide. A boat, his boat, was just pulling in and the two tourist occupants disembarked. He couldn’t have asked for better advertising as the dark fellow that could have been of Jamaican descent raved of the tour. An SLR camera with a lens about the length of my forearm hung from his neck. I joked with Naomi that she must have camera envy as hers, still very impressive, was about 6 inches shorter in length. After some photography shop talk, we parted ways having booked our excursion for 9am the next day with the sunglasses fellow on his 15 foot, basic wooden boat, the River Princess.
What I think of Palolem:
Okay, maybe Naomi doesn't get the concept of the jumping photo shot...a bit too close no?
This is more like it:
Naomi and I then sat down on the sand and I attempted my first meditation session. Naomi leads a group at work in weekly meditations so why not take advantage of her services as a teacher/guide. We sat facing each other on a sarong that we spread on the sand as she began to explain the concepts, procedures and goals of our meditation. I was impressed with her guiding ability and I committed myself to giving it my best effort at my first foray towards “zen-ness”. I focussed mainly on the lapping of small waves at the mouth of the creek but there was a myriad of sounds to choose from ranging from various chirping birds, bigger waves rolling in and of course some human activity. Being just after sunset, we both could have done with some insect repellent and that was the main detractor to my ability to truly dive into the realm of removing all conscious thought from my mind. I felt it was a good first attempt though so thanks Naomi!
Another gorgeous sunset:
That evening we joined Iftach and Iren for a meal at an Italian restaurant called Magic Italy. The ambience was nice, much more upscale than anything in Arambol but I was quite disappointed with my pizza and the service was pretty tragic...at least the company was fun and some good giggles were had! Iren was the only one who enjoyed her meal so I don’t think this place will see a second sighting of us. Oh well, sometimes you win...sometimes you lose...
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