Now sitting in our plane, tasting fine chicken in tomato sauce and spiral noodles, accompanied by a Cabernet Sauvignon from the winery Vollmer, we are anxiuos about what will come. After a stopover in Dubai, we land in Panajim, Goa at 5am local time. Elke and me stand awaiting at the baggage claim for our backpacks and bicycles. But nothing happens. All other passengers already have their luggage, but ours don't come out. Just before I hardly could no longer control my rage, we see a cart comimg around the corner, with 2 large cardboard boxes, containing our bikes. Of course we are the last in the customs queue.
The customs officers can't hardly believe, that the cardboard boxes contain 2 bikes. Because the officers and the airport personnel don't have much to do at that time, we assemble our bikes right before their eyes. One can hardly imagine, what fun we have, when 20 Indians try help us. Some permanently try to push our buzzers - a duck and a crocodile, that we received as gifts, before we left. Another one tries to mount the pedals, but he doesn't understand, that a bike has right-handed and a left-handed thread. The first bike was hardly finished, when the previously strict and morose customs officer starts a trial trip in the empty airport hall under the laughter and applause of his colleagues.
Around 6a.m. it begins to dawn, when the friendly customs officers release us to the chaotic morning traffic in India. In the beginning left-hand traffic causes us some trouble, and the continously honking drives us mad. But after 2 back-breaking hours we get used to it.
Wet all over from sweat and completely tired, we reach the beach of Colva after 38 kilometers. With a little luck we find a clean room with a
shower, a fan, a large terrace and a nice garden for 300 rupee (approx 5 Euro).
On one of the finest and longest beaches of India we want to relax for some days.
After we have sleeped nearly 10 hours, we take our first roundtrip through that little village of Colva. The first impression is, that everything looks completely chaotic. Pigs, cows and dogs are digging in muck hills covered with plastic for something to eat. On the streets everything seems to be out of control. Drivers of motorcylces and cars are honking like mad, in between some pedestrians and bike riders. From the numerous restaurants we can smell fried garlic, ginger, cardamom, and various kinds of chilli and curry spices. These tastes mingle with the smoke of the fires, burning on every street corner where the daily garbage and the plastic waste is burned. We walk to the beach, where the blood red sun just sinks behind the horizon. A cool breeze of salty air comes over from the sea. Elke and me feel hungry. We look for a restaurant which is nearly exclusively visited by native poeple. We start our dinner with a fish curry and a fried chicken with fresh garlic and ginger, served with Jeera rice with a lot of cardamom. Our taste buds get really strained by the variety of new spices. This incredible intensity of flavours will accompany us for the next weeks and months. I can only hope that food will not become hotter, or may be, I get used to it. For all vegetarians India is an absolute must. Everything is cooked with fresh vegetables. At this rate, may be I become one too. I even got used to chai(tea), but I miss the wine, which I could imagine with a mild curry.
Next morning Elke and me decide to explore the environment around Colva and rent a 125-ccm-Vespa for 3 days. We drive through wonderful
groves of palm trees and partially dense jungle to Agonda Beach 70 kilometers away. Our friends Anja and Holger raved about it. An idyllic,
calm beach, with hotels and holiday flats build near the water. An ideal place for all who look for relaxation and regeneration.
The opposite can be found just one beach further,
on Palolem Beach, It's crazy here, parties going on until the earliy morning. First of all we are offered drugs - everything you can imagine.
The next day we go north to Anjuna to visit a bazaar. It is the largest of Goa and takes place every wednesday. Thousands of people make for that place, to visit this colourful and gorgeous bazaar, which is much more than a simple flea market. Everybody tries to rip off one another, everything is over-priced, but the tourists don't care.
Once more we strain the Vespa. We want to go to old Goa, to find the relics of Portugeese governance. If you look at Old Goa nowadays, it is unbelievable, that these decayed city once was more important than Lisbon. Around the year 1500 Old Goa had more citiziens than Lisbon or London. We first visit the Cathedrale Se`de Santa Catarina. The church is Portugeese-Gothic style, with a Toscan front and a Corinthian interior design. Then followed the church of Francis of Assisi, certainly one of the most interesting buildings of Old Goa. Within the church there are gold-plated carvings and breathtaking wall paintings. The Basilica of Bom Jesus is known in the whole Roman-Catholic world. Here the tomb of Holy Franz Xaver can be found, who died Dec,3 1552. The Jesuits decided to bury the corpse in a glassy casket, but not to show publicly. Only in the 19th century it was started to present the corpse publicly every 10 years. The corpse, which is still not decayed, will be presented again in 2014.
After three hours I was fed up with history and decayed walls. We decide to go to Panajim, the city of colours. You have pastel-coloured buildings, the roman touch of the Mediteranian Sea, the glaring colours of Latin America as well as the Indian shades. This city is unique on the whole subcontinent. In the formerly Protugeese quarter we walk through narrow alleys and dine in a old fish restaurant. We had rice and fried sardines. On our way back on the Vespa, I see a police control ahead. Having our helmets on, the Vespa and assurances payed, and also my driving license in my pocket, I think: 'What can go wrong?'. Confident of victory I proceed.
Prompt we are stopped by a young good looking police man, requesting for our papers. After a short term he starts to grin, points at my driving license and shakes his head, explaining me, that my german driving license is not valid in India. Of course I don't have my international driving license with me. Without hesitation he requested 1500 rupee(approx 25 Euro).
Elke intervenes and tries to sell the stars on the german license as international, but the police man shakes his head. Elke becomes more
resolute and louder and tries to talk his head off. His grin freezes and as Elke more and more insists he starts to reduce the price from 1000
to 900 and finally to 400 rupee. Elke assures him, that we don't have so much money and lively disputes with him, while I go back to the Vespa
and secretly get out 150 rupee. I get back to him, shove the money right under his nose and say: 'That's all we have'. His face changes into a
bright smile, he grabs for the money and puts it into his pocket to the money he already gathered. By handshake and with a smile in his face he
wishes us a good journey.
Back in Colva, we nearly feel at home - after ten or twelve days everything looks familiar. We have got used to the dirt, the traffic on the streets now seems to be quite normal - funny how fast things can change. Today it is Feb,19. Elke und me stand in a pharmacy and ask for a anti-rabies inoculation, the last of three we need. The pharmacist grasps into a large Coca Cola refrigerator and gives us two injections, the serum and a manual, for approx. 6 Euro per person. In Germany we have paid ten times of that price. Back in our room Elke professionally gives me the injection, then it's my turn.
From Colva the beach spreads 17 kilometers southward and about 10 kilometers northward. At low tide it becomes nearly 200 meters wide and because it is very plain, it invites to extended walks. On weekends hell breaks loose, many Indians from the country side as well from the cities come out to spend the weekend with paragliding, speedboat driving, and having good food and drinks. Female Indian always wear pants, t-shirts and saris in the water and for they can't swim, the life-guards get their hands full.
Here we get to know a lot of interesting poeple. For example Lydia and Horst from Wuppertal, 2 young-at-heart people, who stay over winter at the Goa coast since 12 years. Here they feel at home, they have rent an appartment for 10 weeks at a reasonable price from a native family. Horst tells us, that the weather from december until march does them good. India is like a bone heater for them. Like them, pensioners from all over Europe come here and have a good time with good food and drinks with their indian friends. But there are also the all-inclusive tourists, on whose masses of nearly naked flesh the Indian gape at. Sometimes I join those gapers to have a look on what is presented beyond good taste. Any traveller who visits a foreign country, should acquaint oneself with customs and traditions. Especially the ladies from Europe and Russia try to tan their skin right after their arrival as soon as possible, wih the result, that the natives called them Red Lobster after two days. Amongst them certainly are some good looking girls, but most of them have over-weight, not seldom around 150 kilograms, dressed with thongs, which really causes heavy pain in the eyes. In comparison to that, even the thick Indian ladies in their saris are a feast for the eyes. From Colva to Benaulim one can find accomodations in every price category, from a simple room for 150 rupee to a 5-star luxury resorts for 3600 US-Dollar, nearly any dream will be fulfilled. I had to look into such a awesome asset - that's sheer madness. Large golf courses directly in front of the apartments, some swimming pools with palm trees embedded, legions of employess, working for a starvation wage, if wanted, you are directly transferred to the airport - via helicopter service. After I was released by the armed security from that maximum-security area, I realize, how nice and simple a life without luxury can be. Our new neighbours have travelled around with a motor bike for 6 months and they willingly tell us about accomodations and road conditions. When they see our packed bikes, the shake their heads and remark, that Goa is just vacation and has nothing to do with India, for you India starts right now.