Goa Girls!

The rain of the burgeoning monsoon accompanies our train into the evening, along the edge of the Western Ghats.  Already Goa, the Byron Bay of India, has become a memory; a mirage of mixed cultures, contexts and messages.  Mostly a collection of yoga, simple local food, stormy beaches and hot showers, on our girls’ trip to Goa.

Within the cloisters of the Portuguese heritage property, Casa Severina, India fades away and we create whatever we want.  Talking until midnight drinking tea, yoga at 7am, flowing into breakfast til 10am.

Two on a two wheeler with flimsy German army helmets, rain jackets and sunglasses.  Of course this was the day the rain came.  Intrepid or just determined we visited Fort Aguada (Red, naturally!) and its lighthouse, then scootered to the Ritz Classic for Rava Fish Thali for lunch ... which was more classic than ritzy.  Thoroughly authentic.  Soaked, dripping and shivering, jackets and helmets in hand, we didn’t even stand out.  We maybe I did with my short blonde sticks for hair ...

The lunch crush was peaking as we arrived at 2.30pm.  Last orders are at 3pm, and the speed and mindlessness with which the locals can devour the Goan specialty, is matched only by the production line efficiency with which the thalis are dealt from the kitchen.  Each is an exact plating of rice, two rava coated lady fish (innards still in, head still on), cabbage poriyal, fish masala, pippis in their shells, and a raw onion and coconut salad.

Well fed and still wet, but No coffee, madam, our next stop is for coffee and cake Indian style.  Note:  It is best to go with the local cuisine.  Indian coffee with coconut barfi and besan ladoo is always going to be better than some attempt at a processed western equivalent.  Fortified, we retrace our ride from Old to New Goa again, and the haven of Casa Severina.

... and so the train speeds us back to Udupi, where we alight into a gentle drizzle on a Sunday night ... and step back into India.