There’s got to be a spark that
ignites every idea, and this one owes its birth to Wikipedia Praful and the
floundering Indian airline sector. Cheap fare offers and the quick ascent of 5
blokes later, the wheels were in motion. There were group meetings to plan the
itinerary, with Professor Nitish (specializing in the regional flora, fauna,
food and culture taking the class) laying out the booze filled semester, where
the credits were to be measured in pints downed so Sai and I outrightly flunked
the course.
We started the first meal in Goa by
breaking Apples, which Nitish thought might be enough nutrition to outlast the
liquor filled days to come. In true Goa spirit, the drinking began as soon as
we reached the beach at Calangute.
Check in at Rudy’s shacks, 1 beer at the bar
there, and we were off to Tito’s lane (for more drinking). Completely jam packed
on a Friday night, and we left the cabbie to pursue the need for elixir
(bringing a car into the lane would be a tourist’s folly). Sadly we were denied
entry into Cavala, as they were have couples entry only, so we ended up dining
at Britto’s next to the beach, and then passing time sitting at the Sports bar watching people pass by into the wee hours of the night.
The next day was perfect for a nice
short fort trek. The car tank filled up, the wallets refilled with cash at the
atm (strangely most of the places here work on cash and not plastics), and with
bottles in hand filled up at one of the numerous places kind enough to sell the
water substitute here. I don’t remember the small makeshift parking lot at the
base of the Chapora fort the last time I was here (but that was 8 years back,
so some things would have changed). The fort is nothing but the outer wall a little
bigger than a football field, but it is on top of a small hill overlooking the
Sea. A short trek on the slope, and the city folks were all panting for dear
life. But the elixir at hand kept them all going happily.
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The view is well
worth it, you can really imagine the places where you could’ve placed your
cannons out to sea to ransack the approaching enemy fleet. A small pit stop to
sit down and admire the sea shore from the elevation, with some of the mountain
goats from the city braving to traipse along on the small walls. The white
crests that rise and fall near the right side of the fort keep one mesmerized
while the sweat rolls down one’s brow. On the right side, there’s a small
strait (well, almost) that connects the sea on one side with a small inlet into
the landmass. It does offer a smallish pond on the other side, with sandbars in
the middle and a small stream running further inland.
Sitting at the top of the
dilapidated fort, wondering how gallant it might’ve been in its hayday, with
cannons pointing out to sea, probably some roof also to shade people from this
nice sunlight, maybe even a deck chair to enjoy the small innumerable white
crests on the blue water, forever moving, imploring you to move and at the same
time keeping you mesmerized in your spot. And this would be one place you
wouldn’t need the moonshine to get drunk, the wind does the job on its own
quite wonderfully, making you forget that there is a different world that you
have to go back to and forget this little diversion.
After doing a round of the small
fort wall, we were at loggerheads as to which way to take back down. We had the
alternative of going back down the same way we had ascended or take to the
unknown, the slope on the other side which showed a path halfway down, with the
rest of it hidden with the angle and shrubbery. Praful had to be persuaded to
take the latter after he had applied a healthy dose of sunscreen to his face.
With slippers hardly suited to
accommodate the grass and the loose stones on the path, we slipped and slid our
way down to the bottom of the hill, posing here and there (that’s the
prerogative of a tourist) to capture the amazing feat! My only regret was that
we should’ve probably visited this place in the evening so that we could’ve
ventured out further onto the tip further on the right side, which surely is a
place to just sit and look out into the sea, with open spaces on all sides save
the land path you just took. We ended up at the far end of the Wagator beach (I
think), with no shacks, just a few small shops and sunbathing foreigners lying
in front of the rocks. To get back to the parked car, we had to again ascend
the hill to the fort, since the road leading back to the parking lot was a bit
further away, and the goats had to suffer a few scratches here and there as we
scaled the wall at the top of the hill another time. I’m sure the seamen had a
slightly better approach path, notwithstanding the cannon fire and the
seawaves.
With the fort scaled twice over,
guideman Nitish heralded us to Curly’s at the beach, where we had another
sumptuous meal (which apart from the drinking was the other constant that
permeated the entire trip) under the shade of the coconut trees. With lunch
also done, the only thing left to do was to test the strength of the stomachs
by doing, what else but go-karting at Arpora on the way back. It was quite
convenient that the flea market was right next to the go kart track, as the
traffic there on a Saturday was quite stifling. Its quite weird to see stalls
where it’s the white man (and woman) trying to sell you cheap stuff in your own
country, which you could probably buy a bit more cheaper in the shops outside.
The inner ring of the market has food stalls as well, so its almost like a
small fair in the middle of nowhere where you go to eat and barter with the
white folks ( now that’s a good thing to do on a weekend evening).
Back at the shacks for a quick
change of clothes as everyone dressed up for the casinos (rather put on the old
jeans and shoes). With Sai continuing his duties as Statham behind the wheels,
we reached the Panjim area for a night of debauchery and gambling. After
figuring out that Casino Royale was not ready to offer us cheap thrills, we
settled for the alternative at Casino Pride. The latter though still has an entry
charge of 1.5K per person which covers the food as well. Though Sai and I did
try our best to recover the cost by stuffing ourselves at the buffet dinner,
but there’s only so much one can stuff oneself with mildly crappy food. So we
passed time by watching some of the ridiculous dance routines that was on
display from time to time, and observing people throw away their money at the
poker tables. That was supposed to be the initial plan, put in 10k at the poker
table and suck out the moolah from the other suckers in this world. But once we
saw the crowd playing at the tables, the Iveys, Helmuths and Negranaus just
vanished. What was left was Mohan and Nitish sitting down at the table (which
they eventually got up from in the wee hours of the morning, having received
their money’s worth and abandoned at the casino by their friends who left 3
hours earlier to sleep off rather than enjoy a few nice hands of gambling).
The next day was spent lazily,
working off the previous day’s hike. After settling off the shack’s account we
traversed the route from North Goa to the Southern part, stopping midway to get
some grub. And as is the custom, we picked up the drinks (Still cannot come to
terms with the fact that the liquor is so easily available here in all the shops)
and with some French stuff playing on the stereo (which Nitish swore was
soothing music). Paololem is a bit different from the last time I remembered it
(which happens to be 8 years back), more shacks have come up, covering the
entire beach from left to right (capitalism does not leave even the most scenic
of beaches alone, though to be fair, the shacks are quite easy on the pocket
and allow one to sleep off the booze on the beach chairs itself). Caught up with some road side shopping as well at the numerous stalls near the beach here, patronising 1 shop for quite some time.
Another attempt to catch the
sunrise was drowned by the late night revelry, the only way I think its
possible to catch the sun is to stay awake all night and go to sleep at
sunrise! Did manage to take a small walk at the beach before the drunkards woke
up, and If you traverse the stretch to the left side, you can in fact cross
over to the small island that is visible from the mainland.
Sitting on the
rocks over there you can take in the view with the two land masses flanking you
on either side, and the water bodies in front and back. Breakfast of eggs,
pancakes, and beer (what else can you expect to drink?) was almost at noon, and
then the rejuvenated souls decided to head out to the dilapidated site of the
Cabo De Rama fort. Just about an hour’s drive from Paololem, with Columbus (you
know which Indians he was searching for) Praful manning the navigations, we
crossed the small hilly roads to reach our destination.
Don’t know about the history of
this 17th century fort, but we Indians do love Graffitti, as that’s
the first thing that hits you in the fort once you enter the main gate (If only
the lover souls of this country could find a better method of showing their
affections, maybe temporary ink in a spray can which would be deposited back at
the gate once the artists are leaving the premises, provided by the
archaeological department at the historical sites itself…..which can be bought
for a small fee, and in different colours. Now that could even start off a
whole new tourism aspect, maybe hold a graffiti contest a day of the year to
promote the sites even more. And further down the road, if the cans aren’t
considered environment friendly, and only once the NGOs start raising a hue and
cry, maybe switch to the more basic medium of brush and water paints. Even the
latter can then be switched to organic paints and promoted thus…..but I
digress!)
The white church stands out amidst
the ruins of the fort, which is mainly the outer walls of the main compound. A
lonely cannon barrel letting you know that once it too was part of battles to
suffice human ego to take over parts of this world for power, money, ambition,
or simply fun. The mango/ banyan trees in the compound themselves have been
over-run by parasitic plants (this from Professor/ guide/ Beerman Nitish), a
fact that our resident botanist Mohan Babu could not confirm (and they say
Indian education system teaches us nothing). The path leading to the shore,
laid down between small columns with cross heads, almost gives you an eerie
feeling that it signifies the way the dead once took, and you follow the same
mesmerized. Once you reach the first opening in the outer fort wall, the view
is quite something. Small steps in the little slope have also succumbed to
nature’s will, covered with grass and barely visible, allowing us to trod on
them, as we made our way down to the water.
The rocky beach is completely
deserted, with just the water and the colorful rocks for company. City folks
not used to walking more than a few meters daily(apart from our own marathon,
half-marathon, whatever, runner Columbus) rested our unused legs in the
hill’s shadow, and contemplated on the meaning of life, or maybe just missing
the booze. So the cans were opened once more, and we were on the move. A
fisherman’s hut with a boat next to it was the only human influence we saw on
the way (apart from the countless plastic bottles, and cans strewn everywhere),
and that is where we decided to commit to our long wished for homicidal plans.
Sadly, we did not finish them as hantar-waala Praful scraped through. Though
this still did not stop Mohan from showing his pleasure by jumping up and down
on the red rocks.
After making our way over the rocks
to the far end (or so we made ourselves believe) it was time to head back. The
group was divided with steady head Sai voting for the normal! route we had
taken, and Praful and Nitish all for scaling the small gradient facing us. They
did make it halfway to the top, with a beer can in one hand, and a fag in the
other, but to carry on further up would’ve meant taking on loose rocks, and
slippery grass.
On slippers that’s not a very good idea, so we trudged back the
way we came, though at some points the cheeky sea water’s level seemed to have
crept up, making the going a bit more slow. The adventurer in everyone awake on
full swing now, Sai and Praful decided to venture a new route. After climbing
up through the shrubbery braving thorns and everyone slipping and sliding here
and there, so close to the top, and we could not scale the fort wall, damn
those early architects, why’d they have to do such a good job? So back we went
the way we had come, and then environmentalist Nitish (remember him, the
professor, and guide?) encouraged us to collect sacks full of the litter
trashed on the shore, which we then carried back to the fort entrance and
deposited in the big trash can kept there. So good deed for the YEAR done, we
proceeded to have our goan cuisine in the small shop further up the road, where
we rested our weary legs and quenched the thirst for liquor. It really is true,
the more tired you are, the more the most simple of dishes sate you. The food,
which the local people would not find anything great, simple rice, daal,
cabbage, was heaven for us.
Praful was tested once more on his navigational
style, much to the amusement of the fellow travelers, as Sai and Praful
provided no shortage of comic relief to make time fly on the long drive back.
We did stop on the way for some bhajjis from some roadside stalls, with Mohan
barely downing anything, worried sick for his dear watch. When we did reach the
small shop, it was already closed, at around 8 p.m. Apparently, only the kid
was home while the parents had gone off to attend a speech by the Goan Chief
Minister in a village we passed on the way. After a few frantic calls to the
shopowner, and no luck in negotiating with the kid from outside the boarded
house façade, we also made our way to the village and tried searching for him
in the huge crowd there. Had to wait for some time before the procession was
over and then, after all hope was lost, we miraculously were provided with the
watch by the shopowner back at the shop. We broke out beers and soft drinks at
the shop as hugs all around were given, the shopowner being the main recipient of
them.
With the watch recovered, the somber mood was once more replaced with
gaiety, as Mohan downed almost a full bottle of wine, and we decided to
continue our game of Frisbee back at the Paololem beach. Everyone was on a high
as the 5 of us were the only ones playing on the beach till 3 in the morning,
with all the foreigners sitting at the only place open by then wondering what
drug the 5 of us were on. Mohan and Praful seemingly had a bit more fun as one
of them kept throwing unlike a man and the other almost catching like a man.
Best 40 bucks spent on anything I believe, as the Frisbee served its purpose to
the t.
A lot other things did happen, but in the spirit of keeping this entry readable for all generations and genders alike, they have been edited out, so they all stay in Goa, till next time!
