Goa: Bus to Paradise

They make buses for adults. I’ve seen them. There is a Bolt bus with Wi-Fi and leather upholstery that travels up and down the U.S. east coast. Once a day, a Luxury Liner bus stops in front of the Smithsonian and lets out a passel of senior citizens with bright green stickers on their lapels that say “TOURIST” so their guide can track them down. I have even seen these “buses for adults” in India, speeding down the highway full of passengers reclining in comfy seats. When we were traveling with Phool Singh through Rajasthan, one of these grown-up buses almost ran us off the road every half-hour. The bus we took from Mumbai to Goa was not for adults. It was the kind we rode in elementary school, with the shock absorption system of a wheelbarrow. Every bump and turn threw us against the iron rails, which was only slightly better than bouncing off the top “sleeper bunks” and crashing onto the dirty floor. Our travel agent, besides not finding us seats on the train, had also put one of us (me) in a bunk with a stranger. Luckily, my bunkmate, Manisha, was awesome and we bonded instantly over our hatred of the bus. “I had an interview in Mumbai and have to go back home today and the train was full,” she explained, “And just so you know the place they stop for dinner is terrible and so are the bathrooms.” Manisha and I talked about boys, dating websites (theirs is shaadi.com), our mothers and our jobs for most of the way, and the chitchat made the 14-hour trip tolerable.

Once we arrived in Goa, the complaining stopped immediately because there is no whining in Paradise. Palolem Beach is a laid-back little community, encompassed in a natural harbor and overlooking white sand and the Arabian Sea. Hundreds of palm trees, a few rocky cliffs, and a large selection of open-air restaurants surround the beach. We stayed at the Dream Catcher, which lived up to its hippie name and was both charming and chill. The hotel is made up of 20 or so cottages, each named something beachy and cute (ours was the “Drift Inn”). For the first time in 3 weeks we were staying in one spot for more than two days, so we took advantage of the situation and did laundry like it was 1923, in a bucket with some soap. In no time our cute cottage looked like the opening scene from Sanford and Son, with beach junk and drying laundry taking over the front porch. Luckily, we befriended Jared, the manager, and his adorable 4-month old German shepherd puppy, Khali so he let our tackiness slide.

For five days we read, walked on the tiny main street and kayaked around the harbor. We were so relaxed, if we had stayed for one more day, I probably would have dreaded my hair, opened a banana stand, and stayed indefinitely.

We had two major decisions to make every day in Goa: where to go to yoga class and where to eat dinner. Fresh seafood comes in every day and is kept in an ice display at almost every restaurant. The highlight of each dinner is wandering over to the fish tank and watching the wait staff twirl each selection around like Vanna White. Our favorites were the calamari and the local Kingfish, the namesake of a popular Indian beer and, of course, Huey Long.

Kristen was the boss of deciding which yoga class to go to since one of the goals of her trip is to improve her yoga through classes and, later, a stay at an ashram. We actually had taken two classes prior to arriving in Goa, a challenging one in Udaipur where we worked on breathing through the nose, which is harder than you think when you are balancing in one leg trying to look like a tree. The second class was in Pushkar and was a phenomenal waste of time. The chief yogi was not available, so his daughter led the class after, I suspect, Googling “how to teach a yoga class” on her laptop. The water aerobic classes they teach at nursing homes are probably more challenging. However, the classes in Goa were fantastic, both for experts like Kristen and beginners like me.

With enough sun exposure to ward off any potential vitamin-D deficiency, and armed it a handful of bootleg DVD’s to watch on the train, we are headed we are headed to the state of Kerala, first to Kochi, then to Alleppey. Goodbye paradise, it’s been fun.