Goan Travelling with the Tribe

Travelling from Pune to Goa in India by car with four children eight years and under, including a baby, while sounding frightful at first instance was really very enjoyable, but I would recommend against undertaking the entire journey in one day. Pune is approximately 500 kilometers north and slightly inland of coastal Goa but it took us nearly eleven hours each way, not including breaks. We hired a Chrysler Tavera which came equipped with enough seats for 10 people, theoretically we thought, although we did pass one on the way with seventeen occupants. It also sported a roof rack, a DVD player and a driver named Mauli. We had booked the car for 5.30am in the hope it would materialize by 7.00am and sure enough, at 6.30am our driver knocked on our door with a vague apology for his tardiness justified by the fact he had “needed more sleep”. The six of us and Mauli were very comfortable on board and the DVD player was a brilliant means of occupying fidgeting youngsters along the way. If I don’t see Pooh Bear and his friends or Robin William’s Genie ever again, I won’t be sorry. In hindsight, I would also suggest taking as many of your own CDs as possible if traveling by car, otherwise it is apparently driver’s choice and here, nasal, screeching Hindi rock saturated in saccharin is all the rage.

India is a gorgeous, astounding country and the kaleidoscope of images moving past your car window is well worth the more tedious aspects of undertaking the journey by road. There is a timeless quality to the Southern Indian countryside and, but for the occasional hum of vehicles along the narrow roads, the rural surrounds and their occupants do not align themselves with any particular century or era. Even the national highways meander through bustling villages that evolve out of the misty rain like sub-continental Brigadoons. They provide an invaluable insight into the interactions of communities on a small scale, long forgotten in the western world.

The landscape of Southern India on the cusp of the monsoon in mid June is a visual feast of lush and vibrant plains. The farmers and laborers go about their duties at a gentle pace appropriate to the sticky heat and with a graceful simplicity no longer prevalent elsewhere. Their rainbow of saris and turbans pepper the fertile fields like sequins on emerald silk. Oxen undertake the tasks of machines and the tools and ploughs are roughly fashioned out of trees and other available natural materials. It is clearly hard work, but like most things in India, it is undertaken with good humor. Groups of straight backed women elegantly balance huge parcels on their heads as they stroll along interweaving paths while farmers chat and laugh in their small working teams, ankle deep in rice paddies, and shepherds huddle together whispering conspiratorially under umbrellas that shelter them from the intermittent sun and rain.

The Western Ghats cut through the states of Maharashtra and Goa and the road that conquers them is long and narrow and winding. There are the occasional corpses of burnt out buses and cars along the way that advertise the very apparent treachery of the crumbling edges and blind corners of these spectacular hills. Mauli, our driver, who had steadfastly maintained a speed of 10 kilometers below the limit on the straight wide highway leading to Kolhapur, tackled the bends climbing up to the peaks at a bewilderingly fast pace. Between his driving and his choice of music, all of my senses, not to mention my stomach, felt abused and nauseated. The children were also fairly pale and reserved over this stretch of the journey as their lives flashed before them and their lunch came up to meet them. But Sebastian slept peacefully through the entire ordeal. Fortunately Mauli realized our discomfort near the highway’s pinnacle. He turned off his music and drove in a far more sympathetic fashion on the descent. We rallied sufficiently to enjoy the magnificent panorama of rolling hills embracing valleys of villages and even had a giggle at the Guard of Honor formed by the hungry monkeys on the walls straddling the road.

Our car and our driver were both Maharashtran born and bred and this proved to be very telling once we crossed the boarder into Goa. Mauli may as well have been traveling blindfolded such was his lack of familiarity with the new state and of course, he had no map to assist him. Fortunately Chris has an innate capacity to find his way around any terrain in any country and he quickly assumed the mantle of navigator as our driver became increasingly confused and distressed by the alien surrounds. Our Maharashtran licence plates also made us the subject of much scrutiny among the local constabulary of whom there are many with apparently little order to keep. In fact it seemed we were the closest to renegades many of them had encountered, at least since the Christmas peak period. Our driver was initially fined as we crossed the boarder for not possessing an important piece of pink paper, presumably a permit to enter from another state. As anyone who has ever traveled through India will attest to, paper permits are required for nearly everything from buying a sim card for your mobile phone to opening a bank account, so the lack of an appropriate permit in any circumstances is much frowned upon. I knew the situation was hopeless when Mauli started searching through the First Aid Kit in the vain hope that it might miraculously contain the magic pink paper. It didn’t and after much debate with the guards at the boarder crossing, our driver sheepishly returned to the car with a nasty piece of paper purporting to demand the equivalent of a day’s wages from him.

We crawled through Goa with both driver and navigator frequently stopping for directions to the resort that was our destination. Mauli spotted a wise looking local out of the corner of his eye and did not hesitate to attempt an illegal u turn in the middle of a congested intersection to gain quick access to his target. The two police stationed at the intersection were not impressed with this tricky maneuver and our driver was signaled to pull over. It quickly became apparent that not only was he to be fined for his imprudent driving but also for the fact the vehicle was not registered as a tourist car in Goa (another absent piece of paper). By this stage we had been traveling for over eleven hours and enough was enough. Our young chauffeur was gallantly arguing his case to the police but his futile attempt to bribe them with the equivalent of less than AUD1 was not getting us to our destination. I decided desperate measures were required. I wound down the tinted window and held the bouncing baby on my lap. Seb’s fair face and juicy limbs immediately caught the attention of one of the constabulary and he could not resist the opportunity to greet a little white Buddha. As he approached, he noticed there were three other faces with pinchable cheeks in the vehicle and he sought the attention of his colleague. Within seconds, both police were enthralled by the children and all was apparently forgiven. Although the officers did make some mention of a payment from Chris but upon observing our aghast faces, they did not pursue this request and sent us on our way.

We arrived at the Resort Dona Sylvia at Cavelossim Beach in Goa at 6.45pm, over twelve hours after our departure from Pune. The Staff at the Resort warmly welcomed us with a refreshing drink and that gracious hospitality so common among Indian people. With our bags unloaded we sent the exhausted Mauli to rest with additional rupees to cover his day’s transgressions and turned our attention to our sumptuous environs. The Resort is nicely situated on Cavelossim Beach and is comprised of very well appointed sound proof cottages with both air conditioning and ceiling fans. The beds are soft and comfortable particularly by Indian standards, the bathrooms are very clean and well equipped and there is cable television, a bar fridge and tasteful furnishings. We found ourselves in a delightful two room cottage with a large shaded porch overlooking the ‘largest pool in Goa’ and closely situated to the main resort restaurant. The staff were consistently warm and attentive to all of us. Our children assessed our situation as “Paradise” and we were happy to agree.

We had booked a package at the Resort that included all meals at the main restaurant. The fare was mainly Indian buffet with an impressive continental breakfast and a western children’s menu for fussy eaters. The dishes were delicious and plentiful, with the local fish specials a particular highlight. The package included two tours. The first was a seven hour tour to North Goa, including a boat trip, which we didn’t take because we had just spent an eternity in the car the previous day. The second was a four hour tour of South Goa which included a trip to Colva beach and a tour of the Big Foot museum in Loutolim. We took this tour and concluded it was okay but fairly limited. It was very handy having a driver for the week and we really enjoyed exploring the area while catering to our specific interests at our own convenience. For a family of six, hiring a car and driver for the week is a comfortable, economical and practical means of getting the most out of an Indian experience.

The monsoon period has officially commenced by late May in Goa and with its arrival, the tariffs at the hotels and resorts plummet. We had been advised by trusted locals that the monsoon can take some time to build and does not usually hit its straps until late June, so we took our chances, headed to Goa and were not disappointed. The weather was mainly fine and sunny for the five days we were in the state, and there was only one significant period of rain over four hours one afternoon. After a very hot morning, we welcomed the relief that accompanied the downpour and were equally pleased when it cleared in time for a swim before dinner. There are clear disadvantages to visiting Goa during the off peak monsoon period, the chief of these being that swimming in the ocean is not advised due to the high risk of rips. However, we noticed that many locals and surfers were not deterred and as our children are happy to paddle on the shore, building forts and drawing sand pictures, we barely noticed the prohibition. Many of the local eateries around Cavelossium were closed until October and this meant we ate most meals at the resort and why not, they were free. However, the shops that remain open, particularly clothes and shoe shops have slashed their prices in an effort to clear stock before the new season so there are many bargains and the wallahs are unharried with plenty of time to barter.

Cavelossim Beach is not in the Goan hub known for its sex, drugs and rock and roll. In fact most of the resorts located in this southern precinct of Goa cater more to families and honeymooners. Needless to say, the Dona Sylvia in the evening at this time of the year does not exactly ‘go off’. The evening entertainment at the resort consisted of a few local dancers and musicians honing their skills in the hope of chasing Bollywood dreams and just quietly, I don’t like their chances. We also dropped by the disco one night and had a boogie with the kids on the deserted dance floor. Paddy declared, “This is the best night of my life!” He clearly doesn’t get out much. On the other hand, the natural twilight entertainment is sublime. In the evening before dinner we wandered down the charming path to the pristine white sands of the beach and watched the most spectacular sunsets as our children danced and played tag against the backdrop of a mixed berry and mango sky.

On the fourth day of our stay we decided to explore the Sahakari Spice Farm located just out of a pretty little village called Ponda, an hour from Cavelossim Beach. On the preceding days, Mauli had done of bit of exploring on his own and was now feeling far more assured in this part of Goa. He chuckled as he pointed out all the wrong turns he had taken on our trip to the resort and took great delight in reminding us as we approached the intersection where he had been pulled over by the police. We took some comfort in the fact he could see the humorous side of our initial arrival in Goa because he was really very crestfallen when we farewelled him on our first night. However our hapless driver’s glee was short lived as he was yet again flagged down by police on the road from Colva. As he warily approached a stern looking officer I confided in Chris that Mauli was likely to need therapy on his return to Pune and would probably swear off transporting families and entering Goa altogether in future. Mauli returned a short time later waving a fine for not wearing his seatbelt which is mandatory for all drivers in Goa, unlike in most others parts of India where seatbelts are rarely present in vehicles, let alone worn. He was somewhat incredulous, as were we, as we observed car after car breezing past the police with beltless drivers but, as we pointed out to Mauli, they were fortunate in their choice of Goan number plates. In any event, he cheered markedly when my husband handed him money to cover the fine, and we continued on our merry way to Ponda with Tigger and Roo bouncing about on the DVD screen.

A sign on the entrance to the Sahakari Spice Farm advised us that the plantation had closed two days earlier for renovation. Despite this, the guard on the gate waved us through and we were greeted by Sidhesh and his friendly staff who did not hesitate to temporarily re-open to accommodate our wish for a tour. The Spice Farm was truly beautiful and the paths threading through it were conveniently stroller friendly so we could push rather than carry Sebastian. Sidhesh was charming and his hour long tour was very entertaining for both adults and children alike. There was plenty for the children to touch, smell and see with the highlight for Eliza being her first official introduction to an elephant. After the tour, we were treated to a lovely lunch of traditional Goan vegetarian fare and were all ceremonially baptized with some water from the plantation creek. A delightful excursion for all.

One afternoon Chris and I decided to treat ourselves to one of the many varieties of massage offered at the resort. We selected a Stone Therapy Massage and as we both booked for the same day we received two massages for the price of one. The massage was undertaken by a doctor of alternative medicine and his male assistant and involved lots of hot rocks, aromatic oil and rubbing, virtually everywhere. Chris found the experience of being stroked on his inner thighs by two men way too confronting and returned more stressed than when he departed. Initially I had to exert considerable concentration to stop myself from laughing, partly because I am ticklish and partly because I found the reality of being so intimate with two male strangers in a country where even husbands and wives barely touch in public absolutely hilarious. With some effort I managed to regain my composure and my maturity and relaxed into a heavenly seventy five minutes of excellent tension release.

Our farewell from the staff at the resort was as gracious and friendly as our welcome. The children joked and played hide and seek with some of the pool attendants as we checked out and our Aladdin DVD was returned to us with much gratitude having done the rounds of the guards and the drivers who all found it “very amusing”. We wisely decided to split the return trip over two days and spent an afternoon and evening in Kolhapur. We bought a few pairs of the leather sandals for which Kolhapur is famous. Mauli directed us to a shop and accompanied us while we made and paid for our selections. On returning to our car he cheerily advised us we had paid twice the going rate for the shoes, which was not terribly useful information after the fact. We stayed at the Shalini Palace Hotel situated on the pleasant Rankala Lake which we walked in the evening before a reasonable meal in the hotel dining room. Built circa 1930, the Hotel once was the maharaja’s summer palace and has the remnants of grandeur about it. We were allocated the Maharaja’s Suite which included a large marble balcony, huge air conditioned bedroom and bathroom and a small alcove or study. However, ‘shabby chic’ would be overstating the appeal of this suite that was equipped with no flushing toilets or hot water but with an abundance of nocturnal creepy crawlies, especially in the bathroom. As night fell and the rain set in, it was actually quite spooky and I half expected to run into Scooby Doo and the Gang in the upper hallways on the prowl for ghosts. I sank into the four poster bed not expecting to get a wink of sleep only to wake very refreshed to the sun twinkling brightly through the heavy drapes. After a very basic continental breakfast in the dining room, we were on the road by 8.30am more than pleased to embark on the last leg of our journey back to Pune.

Ten minutes from home, Charlie, who was snoozing beside me, sat up and emptied the contents of his belly into my lap. Fortunately the car seats were vinyl, as were the seat covers for that matter, and I did my best to mop up the over flow with one of the baby’s cot sheets. Nonetheless, it was a most unfortunate parting gift to our friend, Mauli that perhaps typified his whole sorry week with us. However from our perspective, it was a minor upset that did little to undermine our fabulous time in Goa.