Nov. 17-22, 2011
Goa: the India-Portugal Connection, and the End of my trip
Goa – about 600 miles south of Mumbai on the west coast of India and about 15 degrees north of the equator (approximately the same latitude as the Caribbean, by the way) – is a popular tropical tourist destination with two different personalities. I experienced the first for two days, and the second for three, and I’m glad I didn’t do it the other way around. Doing it the other way around would have been like starting our tour of India in Goa and ending up in Delhi, which all of us agreed would have been a trek in the wrong direction: we’d have reached more challenging and less familiar (less Western) environments at a time when we were tired from travelling, and less patient.
The first Goa I encountered was at the crowded major beach towns of Calangute and Baga. They were hot, rough-edged, garbage-littered, packed with bars, shops and hawkers (of drugs as well as t-shirts, from what I understood, although for some reason none of the drug-purveyors seemed to think I would be interested). This is party town, and I think this area must also be the tattoo-parlour-capital of the universe, although who might have the nerve to get a tattoo in India is beyond me. The streets here are tricky to navigate, thanks to speeding motorcycles and taxis, and the normally droll Rough Guide cautions readers about the state’s “notoriously corrupt traffic cops.”
We were told that Western women and even men are wise not to walk on the main beaches at night, even in groups. During the day Westerners who stroll down the crowded garbage- (and who-knows-what-else-) strewn sand toward the bath-warm Arabian Sea are pestered at every step to rent a motorboat, have a picture taken, go kite-sailing. “Please, lady. You will like.”
On the Other Hand
The other Goa is a relaxed, quiet resort area, hilly and green with bursts of bright colour from huge banks of flowers, and splendid ocean views. There we found reasonably priced accommodations that extended to luxury standards, friendly and hard-working people (fishing and mining are big industries here, along with tourism), and all kinds of delicious Goan food.
Local taxi drivers and hotel staff are eager to point out that Goa should not be judged on the basis of the main beach areas, which they say have fallen under the influence of unsavoury and greedy types from other parts of India and other countries, particularly Russia. They say that there are lovely deserted beaches away from the more populated areas, and that even a few kilometers inland from the beaches, peace and harmony prevail.
I found this to be true.
The State of Goa
Goa is not a city, as I had thought until I got there: it is a state. There are 28 states in India, plus seven union territories, and during my three weeks in India I visited four states: Uttar Pradesh (where Agra is located); Rajasthan (Jaipur, Pushkar, Udaipur and Ranakpur); Maharashtra (Mumbai); and Goa. Delhi is a union territory.
Goa was occupied by the Portuguese in the 1500s, and Portugal continued to run the show until Indian Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru sent in troops to “liberate” the state in 1961. Thanks to the influence of the Portuguese arm of the Roman Catholic Church, more than one quarter of the population here is Christian (compare to about 2.3% for India as a whole). The colonial influence is visible in the design and architecture of many of the homes and commercial buildings, and particularly in the baroque facades in the churches in the town of Old Goa.
When Portugal’s fortunes fell, there was a lot of unrest in Goa, and it continued from the 1800s until Independence. During this time, the state built up its relationships with other countries, including Pakistan and Sri Lanka. Goa is almost inaccessible by land, and all of this close contact with other nations helps to explain why its culture is so different from that of other parts of India. Its food is different too: Goan food is generally hotter (i.e., spicier) than that of the North, but no less diverse and tasty. The world-famous “vindaloo” originated here, and one of the best Goan dishes is fish curry.
Goa has been a tourist destination, particularly for the British, for centuries. During the late 1960s and 1970s, the state was inundated with hippies from all over the world; ever since, officials have been working to eradicate its reputation as the perfect place for young stoned Westerners to gather on the beach to witness the miracles that occur there almost every day, such as sunsets. Now, an estimated two million visitors of all ages come to Goa annually, particularly from Europe and Russia (although the taxi drivers said the number of tourists was down considerably this year, no doubt because of Europe’s economic problems.)
On the Beach
After a one-hour flight from Mumbai, our group arrived in Goa for our last two days together. We stayed at the Hotel Alor in Calangute, another basic but secure and friendly hotel. (The first photo in this blog post was taken from my balcony there, facing west toward the sea.) Many of our group members did spend these final days “on the beach”: sipping drinks under beach umbrellas during the day, going bar-hopping at night, taking yoga classes, having manicures, and just generally recovering from the crazy travel schedule of the previous fifteen days.
I had decided to stay in Goa an additional three days so I spent some time checking out alternative accommodation, sorting out flight changes, and cancelling the hotel in Mumbai that I had previously booked. Now relieved of the Albatross, I also attempted to do a bit of shopping before I returned to Canada.
Our group had two wonderful last dinners together in Goa and we parted with many hugs on the morning of November 19. About half of us stuck around the area for a few days after the tour ended – most moving to other beaches. At the suggestion of Mark, a travelling companion who was also going there, three of us went ten or fifteen minutes farther south to Nagoa, away from the water, to the beautiful resort of Presa di Goa.
At the Presa di Goa, especially compared to all of our previous accommodation in India, I’d have felt as though I were staying at the Ritz even if I had not been upgraded to a larger room due to some minor renovations. Presa di Goa is a restored country house that has been furnished in antiques in the Portuguese style. It features manicured gardens, swaying palm trees, a stone swimming pool, a spectacular range of meals prepared with talent and artistry (available as room service or outside, at the thatch-roofed dining pavilion), a four-postered bed with lots of pillows and clean sheets, a balcony with a table and wi-fi reception, newspapers delivered to the door each morning, and water that was clean enough to drink right from the tap. Although, of course, I didn’t. All this for about Cdn $60/night (excluding meals, which were also very reasonable).
I sank onto a lounge chair beside the pool with a book, and decided I didn’t ever want to move again.
Churches and Spices
Despite our reluctance to stir, the three of us who were staying at the resort did rouse ourselves enough one day to take a couple of tours, since we knew we’d likely never get another chance. The first was to Old Goa, where St. Francis Xavier founded a Jesuit Mission in 1542, and where he is entombed.
Thanks to the religious leaders of the Portuguese occupation, for more than 200 years the Inquisition wreaked havoc on Goa, during which time many Hindu temples were destroyed, and all faiths aside from Catholicism were banned. When the Portuguese left, many beautiful churches (not to mention a lot of Christians, and families who’d renamed themselves “D’Sousa,” “Rodrigues,” “Carvalho,” etc.) remained, and several of the old churches have been preserved. We could have spent days just touring the churches of old Goa, but the pool at the Presa di Goa called to us.
On the way back to Nagoa, Naj and I popped into the Sahakari Spice Farm near Ponda for a tasty lunch and a most interesting tour of a plantation that grows a lot of things I’d only ever seen before in tiny bottles on a spice rack – including allspice, cinnamon, cardamom, ginger, vanilla, nutmeg, turmeric, and pepper.
Bananas, guava, papaya, mango and pineapple, as well as betelnut and coconut palms are also cultivated there. I understand that the plantation is a haven for many species of birds (84, the brochure says) and I know that there is at least one major spider there because I took a photo of it, as well as a family of elephants.
I spent the final two days of my trip resting up for the return flight to Mumbai, Brussels and Toronto, reading and relaxing, eating and swimming, and resolving that whenever I go anywhere again, I will always again seek out all the adventures I can find, but then I will again also try to spend two days at the end of my trip in quietness and comfort.
There couldn’t have been a better way to conclude my (first) trip to India.
I will be writing a couple more wrap-up posts to summarize some random thoughts about my trip to India that didn’t seem to fit into any one of the posts so far, but this basically concludes the travelogue. Thanks for following along. 🙂
I’m looking forward to my next adventure, too. Thanks, Andrea!
Hi Mary, thanks for posting these fascinating comments on your travel adventures. Have loved following along and living vicariously through your posts. My admiration for you is boundless. I too love travel adventures, but have taken a more comfortable approach as I have got older. I look forward to the next adventure.