We have finally moved on from Goa. Loved it, but it was time to go. Like I said before, when you become unmoved by beaches, sunsets and 80 year olds wiggling about in loincloths, it's time for a change of scenery.
We packed up and left Sevas around noon on Wednesday, took a tuk-tuk to Chaudi bus station (for the 45 minute ride up the coast to Benaulim), where, upon arrival, we saw a toddler squatting on the station floor with a turd coming out of his bum. Blaire was uncontrollable with laughter, got her camera out, and photographed the kid who angrily stared back. Fantastic shot. Bus was there and about to leave, threw our bags into the back compartment and got onto the already crowded bus. No seats. The heat was unbearable. A couple minutes after departure, I looked at Blaire and said, with exasperation, "The sweat trickling down my spine is going into my but crack." The look on her face was priceless. The two of us and a couple great Danes (aka two large Danish guys) were the only westerners on the bus. They were sitting across the aisle from each other (their long legs needing an aisle seat), so when the two Indians on either side of them got off the bus, Blaire and I squeezed into the window seats beside each one. Chatted for a couple minutes (the typical, much repeated, Where are you from, How long have you been here, Where are you going next), then they both fell asleep, heads bobbing up and down a little, and their huge bodies limp and leaning on us as they snoozed. Seriously??? I was drenched by the time we got off the bus. Got a tuk-tuk to our guesthouse from the station, had a much needed shower, and walked to the waterfront for dinner. Back in our room, played cards, and in bed by 9pm. I had a great sleep, getting up at 8 the next morning (only a couple typical night wakes), the darkness and quietness and closed room a nice change from Sevas. But Blaire had a harder time sleeping. She was totally spooked out by the isolated guesthouse in the palm tree woods, the whole place reminding her of a horror movie she had seen The Skeleton Key. It was pretty creepy. There was hardly anyone around, but lots of Jesus photos, calendars and statues staring at us (Benaulim is a Catholic fishing village).
That day, there were a few sights we wanted to check out around Benaulim, and we didn't want another bike fiasco, so we rented our first scooters in India. Can't be that hard. The guys who rented them to us looked quite concerned about the well-being of their vehicles when they realized we didn't even know how to start the engine. Then, when they saw our wobbly test ride, they made sure to tell us to wear our helmets (which we didn't, it was way to hot) and that the parts were expensive to replace if damaged. If have to admit, the first 5 minutes of riding were quite terrifying. We didn't really know how to manoeuvre the things, and we are on lawless Indian roads (though we purposely picked a relatively calm town to rent our bikes). We rode on the wrong side half the time, wondering why so many people were driving towards us, and got honked at a million times, though that's just normal here, and doesn't necessarily mean you're doing anything wrong (though we probably were). We got the hang of it after not too long, and from then on really enjoyed scootering along, and increased our pathetically slow speed a little. We rode to Goa Chitra, Benaulim's ethnographic museum, with great antique pieces showing the development of farming and daily life. There were fabulous gypsy carriages, bridal carriages, and an immense sugar can press. Then we scooted a little south down the coast to Vaca, where Blaire had her first sugar cane juice, from a much smaller - yet still fascinating - contraption, and then up the coast a little ways to Colva, where we stopped for a couple minutes to dip our feet in the ocean water. Back to town, stopped at Baskin Robbins for an ice-cream (sign on the counter said 100% pure veg ice cream... ?) and a quick reprieve from the heat in the AC. Next stop was Braganza House, and 400 year old Portuguese mansion which we could visit the inside of, but it was at least a half hour scooter ride that went through a main town, and even though we were feeling pretty at ease on our rides, we weren't confident enough for this. So we returned our scooters, got a cab, and went to the amazing mansion. The rooms and furniture were exquisite, my favorite part being the ballroom, imagining all the lovely ladies in their gowns dancing the night away with live piano music echoing around the grand hall. Cab back to town, picked our scooters back up, and rode to dinner.
Back at Simon Cottages, we finished packing our last bits and walked out to the front gate to wait for the tuk-tuk we had reserved earlier to bring us to the train station, for the overnight ride to Kochi (Kerala). 5, 10, 15 minutes go by. Ok, gotta strap on the heavy bags (I'm carrying a total of about 30 kilos/66 lbs) and walk 15 minutes to the main intersection to flag down another driver. Got to the station with about 25 min to spare, but train was delayed 30 min, so almost an hour wait. Settled into the Ladies Only waiting room and giggled with a little 4-year-old girl who was very amused by us. I enjoyed her presence very much until she had coughing fit onto my face, while leaning on me, with a mouthful of freshly chewed crackers. Lovely. Blaire laughed. Train finally arrived around 9:30pm. I was looking forward to the overnight journey, as I love train rides (compared to bus rides). But of course, transportation is rarely perfect here, and this turned out to be probably the worst yet. We had guaranteed spots on the train, but our seats numbers were not confirmed (tourist quota tickets). Forgot to check the seating plan at the office while we waited, so had no idea which wagon to get into. Man ushered us into the closest one and told us to have a seat while we waited for the ticket master to make his way down the aisle and check our tickets to direct us to the right seats. Blaire and I were both exhausted, so when the Indian men in front of us tried making conversation, we weren't as chirpy as usual. One kept taking my ticket out of my hands to check the details and try to figure out where we should be (since we were taking up some of their space). After waiting over half an hour, a very friendly Muslim guy across the aisle took our tickets and went to find one of the train attendants to settle the issue. He came back with our seat numbers and offered to walk us there, as it was 3 wagons over and the lights were all out. We gladly accepted. Sleeper trains are set up as such: one open compartment has 6 beds, 3 bunks on each side, an aisle, then 2 perpendicular bunks on the other side. Blaire and I were in the 6 bed section, middle bunk on the left, and top bunk on the right. The lights were out and people were already sleeping when we got there, so we fumbled around to figure out our sleeping arrangements. There are no luggage compartments, and leaving bags on the floor would block the aisle. So we decided to use one of our bunks just for luggage (the middle one on the left since we couldn't haul our bags as high as the third level) and they took up the whole bed. Then both uf us climbed up to the third bunk on the right and tried to puzzle our bodies in such a way that we could both fit on the miniature, hard, sticky plastic covered bed (managed to get both our torsos in a horizontal position, but limbs were dangling off the side. This was a non AC train, which meant open windows, which we figured would be fine for nighttime when it's not too hot, but what it also meant was screechingly loud noise from the wheels against the tracks, the stench of burning rubber and sewers blowing in from outside, and our assumption about the night not being too hot... well, it was wrong. I was drenched. Good thing we were both exhausted, otherwise there would have been zero sleep that night. Still didn't sleep well, of course, but did manage to fall in and out of short snoozes.
Got up at 5 the next morning to go for a pee in the dark hole-in-the-ground toilet, stayed up listening to music for an hour while Blaire slept, then I managed to fall back asleep, and when I woke again at 7, Blaire was up. So was the sun. So were most people on the train. Stayed up, climbed down the bunk, stretched a little, and looked outside - from an open door without any barriers at the end of the wagon - at the Keralan scenery going by.
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