Goa: Cycling in the rains

Goa . . Rains . . Cycle . . 

Where are you off to, an uncle asked, as I carelessly drifted, like the drizzle, along the gently sloping roads. Roaming around, not going exactly anywhere, I replied. The smile on his face in response had me happily pedal ahead. This moment, for me, defined the trip.

A first

Travelling alone, like some other experiences, when taken up first time, leaves you far more satisfied than you had bargained for. A physical action for the first time, entirely on your own, for the first time, engulfs you with that special feeling of the first bike ride or the first swim. This trip to Goa, without either company or plans, I enjoyed being with self and enjoying the rains.

To add icing on the proverbial cake I also stayed at a hostel for the first time. The hostel offered bunk beds with rooms for 4, 6 or 8 people. It also had a common kitchen and common resting area with wifi, books which included guides on moving around in Goa. It was managed by a young, smiling and a music loving team. It also had cycles that could be taken for a nominal rent (100/- for a day).

Monsoons

Monsoons are a quiet time in Goa. Most shacks, on the beach, are shut, as are the famed flea and night markets. The lone shack that was open, at Calungute, defined lack-lustre.

Swimming is not allowed and the red flag of the coast-guards was perennially up. Sitting on the empty or almost empty beach and listening to the waves was special though. Late evening one also saw the fishing boats moving slowly, as if confused whether they wanted to meet each other or not. As I heard the waves I wondered how must it be to grow up with this sound for a companion.

Cycling was fun as well and till the end of my trip I was unclear on what was better in the rains - cycling or sitting on the beach. Other than the stretch in Baga the roads were free of traffic and the speed enabled me to soak in the sights, sights and sounds way better than I would have been able to in a car that shut windows and sped on the road.

Forts

My love for history and fascination for forts continued.

Reis Magos, a restored fort, is small and beautiful as forts go. The differential pricing was nice to see; 10/- on Sundays and Goan holidays and 50/- on other days. I am all for enthusiastic people, irrespective of age, visiting these places but that afternoon I wished that the people enjoyed and savoured the place and showed less energy in clicking photos. They were no less zealous than the freedom fighters depicted in the Fort’s gallery. Information was displayed in a ‘friendly to visitor’ manner. I got to know, for example, that Goa was under Ranjit Singh (The Punjab King) for a short period in history. As I left the washed with rain Fort I thanked the smiling person at the reception. A Church that stood adjacent to the Fort had a board that said ‘Protected Monument’. It appeared to have little protection though.

One night late I walked the path, between the two hotels run by the Taj Group, along the ramparts of Fort Aguada. How the white and young waves emerged from calm dark waters? Some got bigger, others did not. Where did they get the energy from? There was a method to the madness, a method the logical mind could not fathom. How, since centuries, the waves have been coming to meet the wall with this gusto? Earlier during the day I had gone up the Light House that stands besides the fort. Fort, waves, light house all took me to the Enid Blyton days. Enid Blyton had created vivid images of the Famous Five solving mysteries on the coast amidst the light-houses and waves.

Places

Museum of Goa, a place that exuded positive energy, had installations on the ground floor including that of a Gaur. Some of these were made from tyres. Paintings were on display as were other works of art. As Mr. Kerkar, the person behind the institution, said the building was planned to display works of art and the lighting and space designed accordingly; not common for our country. One of the lines that formed part of the text describing the paintings stood out; ‘If there was no pepper we may never have been colonized’, it said. 4 Gujaratis were sufficient to massacre the silence of the multi-floored premise.

Mario Miranda shop between Candolim and Calungute was the place to pick up souvenir. Mugs, cups, bags, t-shirts and more, reasonably priced. I came across his work at multiple locations during the week and was left with awe. He has single-handedly, backed by a stupendous body of work, influenced the image of Goa in our minds. Life size characters from his work had also been placed outside the shop.

The iconic People Tree again has a presence at Goa, this time as Assagao. They are not far from the Assagao Church and I put in time mulling over their book collection. Clothes were many but I enjoyed the quirky t-shirts designed by Orijit Sen; a series on communist leaders. The one on Che Guevara was my favourite; ‘brewing a revolution at every corner’ it said. Orijit incidentally also took up a course at the Goa University titled ‘Mapping the Mapusa’ under the auspices of the Mario Miranda Visiting Research Professorship Chair.

Books

I had taken along Kiran Nagarkar’s Raavan and Eddie. Besides dwelling on religion, caste and life in Bombay chawls it briefly touched upon Goa. Share two (unconnected) lines on the Goa of a few hundred years ago, as the book describes. 

§  In 1530, Goa was formally declared the capital of not just Portugese India but of its entre Eastern Empire, and became the focal point for Portuguese commercial, political and missionary forays into the East.

§  The Goan economy, it is said, was dominated by Gujarati vanias and Saraswati Brahmins.

The collection that the book store at Candolim was giving away books at 50 per cent discount had little or no overlap with my interest areas and I ended up not buying for buying’s sake. The famed Other India Book Store was shut when I finally found it at Mapusa. 

Food

In the movie Anand, Rajesh Khanna’s character had talked of mysterious connection between people, how some people click together while others do not. I am not sure about my connections with other humans but like to believe that I have a positive connection with bakeries. While bakeries were missing in Candolim, where I had put up - other than the one I visited daily, I made amends by visiting one at Duler (Mapusa) and the Geetha Bakery at Panjim. The later served cup cakes like few others I have had. Panjim market also had the lively Cafe Aram where I had the ‘makhan’ with tea. Similarly the local breakfast stalls were not easy to come by though I savoured the Pau and Subji in the mornings at multiple locations.

I also went to Titos. It reminded me of a friend who in our ‘not exactly great times’ used to cheer up on hearing very few words. Titos was one that lit up his face. So, for those moments together, I went and enjoyed a filling club sandwich. The restaurant had been freshly renovated the manager shared. Titos is like the Paradise at Hyderabad. The locality (or the lane) had taken its name, it functioned at a scale that did not exactly fit into ‘logic’ and your trip to the city (or state) was incomplete if you did not visit it.

During dinners I noticed how wifi had taken over chatting that accompanied food. Other than restaurants which had live singing others were silent. Free wifi boards were more prominent that those highlighting items from the menu. Even the Bengalis were not noisy!

As I moved the irony of a high number of body altering (beautifying) places on the one hand and the number of junk food outlets on the other was stark.

Conversations with people I come across are an intrinsic part of my trips. I especially enjoy chatting with people driving public vehicles and taxis, they know a lot of the lanes they move in. The one driving me back to the railway station said, when I asked him of the famed Goan, Christmas – New Year week, ‘I do not drive my taxi during that week; the traffic then is a curse’. Why then do people spend huge sums I wondered. They perhaps travel to be amidst people and noise, I travel to be away from both.