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  ...and a bucket of Vindaloo – 03/03/05

The last time you heard from me I was recovering from a behemoth Gujarati thali from the Gopi Dining Hall in Ahmedabad. Well, strangely I am sending this one immediately before heading to Gopi Dining Hall in Ahmedabad for another thali. So really this email should be entitled Full Circle, but Mr. Palin already stole that tag. Drat.

After recovering I managed to get down to Mumbai, check into the Salvation Army hostel and wait to be joined out here by Ali, who has flown in from England. On the days prior to her arrival I visited the less salubrious areas of town including the Mahalakshmi dhobi ghat where 5000 men beat the dirt out of thousands of kilograms of clothes brought from all over Mumbai each day. I also strolled along Marine Drive, Chowpatty Beach and up to Malabar Hill. It was so strange to finally see all these places that have appeared in so many novels I have read over the years. I have to admit to feeling a bit of culture shock in Mumbai. All of sudden there are no rickshaws (only "real" taxis), a semi-respect for the highway code, everything is clean and almost organised, there are very few farmyard animals wandering the streets and the touts take NO for an answer first time! Add to this the flee of double-decker red buses and it becomes a rather surreal 'inter-zone' between the East and West, in a similar way to Bangkok but in a totally different and infinitely less cool manner.


Mahalaxmi dhobi ghat

Ali arrived with a bang and without a wallet so that gave us something to sort out early on. Being fresh blood for India we eased in gently by taking the boat trip out to Elephanta island, site of some temples cut into caves and in a perfect location on a jungle covered island about 20km offshore, littered with monkeys and all things exotic. Our final day in Mumbai was spent relaxing in the Nehru Park and the Hanging Gardens up on Malabar Hill, before returning to the beautiful example of colonial architecture that is Victoria Terminus train station - it does have a new Indian name but to be honest it the building is about as colonial as can be so lets stick to VT – and fleeing Mumbai on the Konkan Kanya Express bound for Goa.

First stop in Goa was Arambol, a northern beach which seemed to be drawing crowds recently. The beach was nice, the hut was cheap, the food was good and the beer was cold. It was also a handy base in order to be close to Anjuna for the Wednesday Flea Market. This is where Ali and I realised the full potential of this travelling partnership as she is incredibly talented at shopping and I have developed a ruthless, even brutal, capability for bargaining. Although the beach was quite busy there was still room for the ubiquitous herd of cows and also a rather lost looking camel to wander past.

After another couple of days of sunning ourselves at Anjuna we made a break for Palolem in South Goa. Due to a slight bout of heat exhaustion we decided to take a taxi all the way, about 100 miles, which cost almost fifteen pounds! Even better, we got to play CD’s the whole way. Palolem is paradise – white sand, crystal water, palm trees, blue sky and hot sun. Add to this a stilt hut, an incredible friendly guesthouse family – the husband Sanjay and the wife Sandhya were really concerned for Ali while she was ill and helped every way they could – lots of drinks and a tasty menu. I was over the moon of course to find a well stocked supply of red wine and developed a taste for the local tipple of Honeybee, which is fruit flavoured brandy. Of course it all goes on the tab as well so it seems as if it is all free! Palolem is supposed to be Goa's paradise lost and in a way this is true. Instead of the secluded beach described in the guidebooks it is rather shaping up to be a full on beach resort, albeit one where the only accommodation is in rickety huts. But that’s the way I like it.

Beach performers at Palolem

After a few days we hooked up with a group of guys who had discovered a proper secluded beach and we decided to camp out there. Troy – an ex-US Army soldier, Paul – an Aussie who got caught in the tsunami and had to swim out of his hotel at Unawatuna in Sri Lanka, and Rob – a troubled British artist looking for a bit of peace and shanti. We slung hammocks in the trees, cooked food on the fire and got drunk under the stars. I could feel an Alex Garland situation developing and this was confirmed when the four boys decided the best thing we could do would be to would be to construct claymores and mine the edge of the tree line. We were speculating what we could explode – hoping for a herd of cows and a few fishermen. Unfortunately the absence of any explosives, shrapnel or fuse put paid to this idea. Spending a day on the beach in isolation drew me further into the grips of insanity as I carved a face in a coconut so I would have somebody to talk to. In AG’s honour I named him Daffy.

Sunset at Turtle beach

Returning from the beach it became increasingly hard to leave Goa and we changed our leaving date again and again, even trying to change it on the morning we left, but of course – Cancellations not permitted within 24 hours of departure. I did manage to finally eat a Vindaloo in their place of origin, though it did mean eating pork as it is the original recipe. Damn tasty, damn spicy, damn good. We left on a sleeper bus, a new experience for me, a rather weird mode of transport in that it has no seats but rows of berths, of course this works on a train because it goes in more or less straight lines, trying to stay in your berth as the guy takes a sharp right-handed at breakneck speeds is another matter.

We did have to leave and I have had an extended case of Deja Vu (and not the Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young album) as I have revisited Pune and now Ahmedabad. In Pune we did the Osho tour and Ali had the same feel for the place as I did the first time, only perhaps even more cynically! After another, much more uncomfortable, sleeper bus we arrived in Ahmedabad where we have spent today hanging out with Sophie from Munich and visited the Dada Hari Wav well, which again was very impressive, and the Gandhi ashram. All that remains is to get down to Gopi Dining Hall before finally heading further north, first stop Udaipur.