Celebrating Holi 2020!

So, during this return to Goa, we were fortunate enough to book our trip over the Indian festival of Holi. 

No one could give me a clear answer as to what Holi was, exactly. A bit like if an Indian person was to ask us why we hide chocolate eggs around the garden each March. Basically it has many stages, and although officially is only celebrated on March 9th & 10th, the paint started appearing from the 7th! 

For those who do wish to know more, Google informs me: “Holi has been celebrated in the Indian subcontinent for centuries, with poems documenting celebrations dating back to the 4th century CE. It marks the beginning of spring after a long winter, symbolic of the triumph of good over evil. It is celebrated in March, corresponding to the Hindu calendar month of Phalguna. In 2020, Holi begins March 10.”

We started to see a few ladies appear up and down the beach with coloured powders, ceremoniously daubing is with paint, before opening their palms and asking for money. I don’t think this is really what Holi is about. Everyone is on the hustle here, and any chance to make a quick rupee is taken. 

Case in point being this gorgeous little man who I came across when buying petrol from his parents. He came at me all excitable, pushing his chubby little thumb into my forehead and being all cute. He then asked for a selfie, and a high-five. I was quite pleased with the entire interaction as usually I avoid all children like the plague, and this one seemed surprisingly pleasant. It wasn’t until I happened to turn around and look back that I saw him clutching a cardboard box with “HoLi DoNaTiONs” scrawled on it in crayon that I realised I’d been had.

Anyway, for the run up to Holi, we heard a lot of banging each night - after several unsuccessful trips to find the source, I then stumbled upon the noise creators when I was on a shop trip for pringles (v important mission.) The men of the village put on these awesome hats and robes, and travel house to house, banging the drums and bringing “joy and blessings to the house” - it was a proper racket, but an absolute joy to see, even if the headwear really reminded me of Davy Crockett. 

We were then invited to partake in the Holi evening celebrations with the guys who run the place we are staying it. They lit a fire, and placed several different spices and herbs in it. We each took a handful of spices, like large peppercorns, and placed it into the fire. Apparently this represents putting all the negative things in your life into the fire, and they are then unable to come back. 

(Apparently you can’t put significant others into the fire, but it’s always worth asking) 

We were then daubed with paint on our foreheads and cheeks, and said “happy Holi” a lot. It was super lovely. We were then given some sweet treats, such as sugary peanuts and cookies, whilst watching the fire burn out. It was really sweet. 

The next morning we were woken with many a “Happy Holi!” but it wasn’t until after lunch that the festivities really began. After wishing the barman, Johnny, a happy Holi, he took my face in his palms and absolutely smothered me with paint powder. This this kicked off an absolutely epic hour long paint fight. 

The music was changed to some brilliantly upbeat Bhangra, and everyone was given packets of powder paint which we all took great delight in throwing at each other. The manager Victor then arrived, and had gone one step further by mixing the paint with water. Thus ensued an incredibly long water/paint fight, where everyone ended up an absolutely medley of colours. It was such great fun, drinks were provided and I had a great boogie with all the staff. 

Due to the state of us all, we all then bundled into the sea to wash, where we discovered that the pink paint stuck quite firmly to white skin, and no amount of scrubbing was convincing it to shift. 

An absolutely lovely, brilliant day with so much community spirit and joy. 

It’s also Wednesday 11th now. 

Bertie’s forehead is still pink. 

Am I really that “Brit abroad”?!

There are a few things that travel guides never tell you about places. This is something I’ve noticed a lot in my travels. For example, often in Germany, they’ll give you two single duvets on a double bed. Why? What kind of madness is this? They also think it’s acceptable to have cured meat for breakfast. There’s a lot of unexpected occurrences. The same can be said for Goa. 

Marmite is not a thing here. As a result for the past few years I’ve been bringing my own jar. Yes, I am that person. I also bring my own pillow, but that shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone. That’s a bit of a given for anywhere. But I thought I’d share some things that I’ve discovered over the years that you may find useful. 

Firstly, if you do choose to stay in a beach hut, be prepared to walk gently and carefully. Do not have tickle fights and chase each other around the hut. Absolutely do not do this. If you do, you’ll have to have this conversation:

Yes. Bertie went through the hut whilst trying to pick me up mid fight. The combined weight of us (which is a fair amount) was too much for the delicate hut floors and we went through like a knife through butter. Manoj was very understanding. But he also said maybe no curries for a while, so maybe not that understanding after all. I had a fruit salad for breakfast the next day to show willing. 

Secondly, the beauty products here make me so sad. Just as the British industry tries to sell us everything to make us browner, more tanned, more sunkissed, India sells everything to make the women “whiter”, “paler” and “fair”. It’s such a parallel, and one I find quite sad. The big thing is deodorant. All their deodorants are advertised as “bleaching.” That’s never sat well with me. 

Now, the bread. The bread here is totally different to England. It’s super white, really refined and actually way sweeter than English bread. It toasts totally dry, and basically becomes like melba bread. It also comes as “toast-butter-jam”. One word. It comes with butter and jam. Non negotiable. You want fried eggs? Cool. Have it with jam too. 

Talking of the jam, the jam is not jam. It is like the strawberry sauce they put in rice puddings at school. It’s so sweet and bright pink. Once I ordered a strawberry daiquiri and they ran out of strawberries and made my daiquiri with it. It was horrendous. Like a nesquik nightmare. 

Now, most importantly the cheese. Obviously paneer is life - but if you want a cheese sandwich, say, then expect a cheese that tastes and feels like dairylea. It is not the one. It does bring me immense sadness. So much in fact, that today I asked Bertie to drive for nearly half an hour to a special shop. A very special shop:

Yes. Yes. It cost me £5.60. It is the best £5.60 I’ve ever spent. We’ve spent the whole day fantasising about what we’re going to make with it. Cheese rolls. Cheese on pasta. Cheese straight of the block. If you cut me, I wouldn’t bleed; I’d ooze. 

We also happened upon a place yesterday that did a roast dinner. In all the years travelling I have never had a roast dinner. I’ve turned my nose up at all those places in Europe that show the football and serve roast dinners, but this place just happened to be a nice restaurant, owned by an Englishman, that does curry all week, but a roast on Sunday’s. It was epic. Gravy. GRAVY. I love gravy so much. 

I’ll probably do a couple more of these, I don’t know if they’re interesting at all, and I’ll try really hard not to make the next one so food based! Clearly I’m just over excited about the cheese. 

How much paneer is too much paneer?

Here’s the thing about life in goa - the days that are spent doing nothing are the quickest days to pass. 

This is Bertie and I’s 5th/6th time in Goa. It is such an amazing place that we keep coming back, and during that time we have travelled and explored a lot of incredible places - Mumbai, Delhi, also basically the whole of Goa and we’ve now reached that stage where we can actually relax, without feeling like we are missing out on anything. 

But we haven’t just been sat still - we’ve rented our completely crap scooter, and we’ve been travelling around the south. The scooter itself is a brilliant blue, but with a wingmirror that slowly folds inwards, the faster you go. It’s like it really fancies Bertie and just wants to be close to him. All the time. At top speed. 

We have also been given some seriously industrial helmets this time around, and there is nothing less pleasant than a full head helmet in the 36 degree sun. Even my nose sweats. I didn’t know noses could sweat. 

So all that being said, let me give you a little summary of where we’ve been.

The first beach we headed to was called Cavelossim. According to google it was “the place for water sports and activity” - what it actually turned out to be was a hot spot for travelling Russians who wanted to lie on the beach and click their fingers at the poor Indian waiters. So many engorged red hairy bellies beamed back at me as we entered the strip, combined with the embarrassing signs of places “showing football”, we didn’t even get as far as taking our flip flops off. I turned to Bertie and insisted we left immediately, just on the off chance someone would believe we were like these people just because we were also white. 

It was like Magaluf, but with older, sweatier, grosser people. If that’s possible. Maybe it’s the same. I don’t know. I never went to Magaluf, but I’ve seen on the telly so I’m fairly confident my assessment is true. 

So once we quickly escaped from there (past a picture of the “FAMOUS TOM LEE”, complete in trilby hat who will be coming to “sing the classics” on Friday,) we jumped back on the bike and headed out of there with no destination in mind except “not here”. 

We then accidentally found Colva beach.  Now this is a little slice of paradise. The sand is so white, and the water so clear, I was totally in love. There was only 4 beach shacks, all very quiet, and just the most wonderful place to spend the day. The most picturesque beach I think I’ve been to here, and the restaurant “Travellers Inn” did an absolutely banging fried rice and manchurian cauliflower. Highly recommend! 

We also stumbled across a cashew tree on the way home. Our taxi driver had mentioned them, and I’ve been looking out for them the whole time - mainly because the end piece where the cashew lives looks like the face of a grumpy old man, and that kind of thing really delights me. 

The fruit has the most gorgeous smell - so rich and inviting, a bit like mangos mixed with ripe strawberries. Google says you can eat them, but I’m not taking any risks - we also discovered after picking one that it turns out the bits outside the cashew are super poisonous and will burn your hands if cracked open. Turns out cashew harvesting is a real ballache. So basically we just sniffed the fruit part and marvelled at it for a couple of days. I’m counting it as a holiday experience. 

There have also been an increasing number of “luxury huts” appearing in Goa. The closest to us is “Agonda Villas” which have A FULL BATH ON THE VERANDA. I was totally into this as an idea, until I realised it’s too hot here for a bath, and everyone would see me naked as they walked past, because there’s no way I’m having a bath in a bikini. 

That being said, there is a sister property called The Cape Goa - we headed there for lunch and not only did the food blow me away, their huts were next level amazing, with the most expensive being £140 a night - this does come with its own jacuzzi and super private huts, each with their own private path to the sea. If I had the money spare I would definitely have stayed there for a treat, but alas, that will be for next time. 

(Also if I’m perfectly honest I went to book a room and they only had single night stays available, and if I’m shelling out that money I want two nights at least so I don’t have to check out by 11am!)

The food there is absolutely incredible, with Bertie saying it was the best tandoori cooked chicken he’s ever had. I don’t eat meat whilst I’m here, but the paneer tandoori was bloody good too. They also have a doorbell, so you ring when you want a waiter and then they appear like magic. It’s like when Aladdin rubs the lamp to see the genie, only this genie comes with poppadoms. 

We have also adopted a dog called Lucky. Lucky is the stupidest dog I’ve ever met. He’s lucky (pardon the pun) that he’s so cute because he definitely doesn’t have any brains to get by. The animal sanctuary people came around to try and capture all the dogs to take them to get spayed/neutered, and as they were desperately running around trying to catch them all, Lucky saunters up to them and voluntarily basically walks into the cage. What an absolute eejit. 

Finally, we visited a place called Galgibag beach. This place has a lagoon and the sea! Double whammy for swimming. The waves were absolutely mental - if you can’t swim, I’m not sure I recommend going here. Bertie and I basically took turns to save the other from drowning. They are completely relentless, but so much fun. Forget whatever experience you’ve ever had in a wave pool, these mofos will send you spinning off your own two feet and whirl you continually underwater until you manage to work out which way is up. There’s also very little shelter here, so if you burn easy, I’d also bear that in mind. The shacks are lovely though, and proudly display “RECOMMENDED BY JAMIE OLIVER” - I’m not sure how legit that statement is. They’ve photoshopped his picture onto their banner. It’s genius. 

Bertie also slipped in the bathroom and broke a bin. Basically we are slowly keeping the bucket/bin industry alive in goa. He has a bruise in the shape of a crescent moon. It’s majestic. 

Holi is starting here in 3 days. I have no idea what’s going to happen, but I can’t wait to tell you all about it! Xx

A very buckety day

We are well settled into our life in Agonda - the sun is hot (34-36 degrees most days,) the iced coffee is good and the gin still tastes like ethanol and burns the whole way down. Wonderful. 

Whilst we have been here we have taken the chance to unwind, and also visit a couple of the local towns. Nearest to us is Palolem, which is far busier than Agonda, but as a result has a little more of a vibe and many more shops. It also means most of the restaurants are rubbish and that beggars are allowed to do their thing along the road side. I also once had a wee in an actual hole there. So you know, take it at face value. 

(It was labelled as a toilet, I didn’t just find a hole.)

That being said, Palolem is a tourist town, and the nearest local town to us is Chaudi. It is a local town in every way, and I vividly remember heading here back in 2010 and being terrified. There are many wonderful sights and smells here, including road side tattooing, live chicken shops (then killed fresh for you), and small children pulling at your skirt with desperate hands outstretched and sad eyes.

But don’t ever let this put you off if you get the chance to visit. Every now and again they have an amazing market, full of all wonderful things and tat you’d never want in equal measure - (last month Bertie and I bought the worst bat and ball known to man) - it also has loads of useful things like chemists where you just walk up and explain your ailments and they thrust packets of 30p painkillers at you. I always stock up on the cold and flu medicine whilst I’m here - they give you the good shit. 

(In 2010, Bertie and I bought sleeping tablets from a Chaudi pharmacy for the plane on the way back. The whole flight passed in a blur, but we both woke up covered in a mixture of each other’s dribble, with everyone on the plane shooting daggers at us. From what I understand, Bertie’s snoring was catastrophic, and I have a tendency to fart relentlessly when at altitude. I imagine I was less capable of being discreet when completely passed out.)

(Don’t you dare tell me you guys don’t fart at altitude too. Have you seen what happens to plastic bottles on planes? That’s what’s going on in your insides. A fart is a helpless by-product of some serious organ squishing.)

Anyway, despite trying to relax, there’s already been the most ridiculous evening - we went to buy a softly tinted bulb for our room as the one we have been given is quite stark. We chose a soft green hue from the corner shop (that I have consistently referred to as “Tesco”, and I’m very pleased to say it caught on between all our friends,) and as the evening fell last night, Bertie borrowed a chair from the restaurant to plug it in. Imagine our joy when it turned out to be a DISCO BULB. Our hut looked like some kind of ravers dream. We thought it was the best thing ever. Until bedtime, at least. 

It turns out the disco bulb didn’t like being turned off, and continued to sullenly flash lime green and blue light relentlessly. We (being both naked and already in bed) furiously ignored this, whilst also trying to ignore the increasing dog howls happening outside our window. This went on for two hours. 

It turns out the dogs REALLY don’t like endless green and blue flashings. I thought they were colourblind. Apparently not. 

After mutually agreeing that we needed to remove the bulb, but also not wanting to leave the room to get the chair; I suggested standing on the bathroom bucket - often used for bum washing, if you’re that way inclined. 

Well, my lovely readers, Bertie went straight through that bucket like a hot knife through butter. However, all credit to him, he did manage to take the bulb down at the same time. 

So that’s how today we ended up in Chaudi, buying a new bucket, and trying to work out how we explain to the owner what happened to the old one. 

Its only been four days! 

Getting to Goa - the second time around!

Hi all! 

It’s been a little dry on the blogging front - mainly because I’ve been working my ass off trying to get as much money as possible as.... we’ve come back to Goa! 

This time around though we are back for longer, and therefore doing it on a budget! I thought it may be useful to see a different side to our travels, and any tips I pick up on the way. 

Firstly, we opted for a different route here. Having mainly travelled to goa via Mumbai/Delhi on British airways, we decided to give Qatar a try. Apparently they won airline of the year, and their flight pattern is completely different. You can redeem your air miles with any oneworld alliance partner, so everything was all good there when it came to spending the airmiles that Bertie had accured during touring. 

This trip broke down the flight time drastically. Don’t get me wrong, you’re still travelling for over ten hours, but you’re doing it with a gap in the middle! 

Whereas BA fly you for 10 hours, with a 1 hour hop to Goa, Qatar fly you for 6 hours to Doha, and then a 3 hr 20 trip to Goa. Personally I preferred this way more, as just at the point you’re over being on a plane, you get a little break to stretch your legs, have a wee in a toilet that isn’t a coffin, and accidentally spend £18.99 on a Burger King (more on that later.)

We also flew economy, as Qatar doesn’t offer anything other than that, or business. No premium economy here! The seats were roomy enough, and we struck lucky that both times there was no third person on our row of three! 

The food was really good, offering a vegetarian egg free option which was perfect for me. Everything was delicious, save for a cold rice pudding-esque thing. Congealed cold lumpy cream is not my thing. They did give out Godiva chocolates for pudding though.

Doha airport is also really incredible, if a little expensive. There was a Harrods there. Also special nod to Burger King there for the most expensive whopper and chicken burger known to man. I also had absolutely no idea of their currency and how it relates to ours (totally my error) and when something is advertised as “38D” - I have absolutely no idea what that means unless it’s referring to breasts. They don’t serve bras at Burger King. 

Anyway, flight navigated, we met our amazing friend Raju at the airport, who took us safely to our home, arriving at 4:45am. Along the way he took great joy in naming every animal we passed - “Keli cow”, “Keli dog”, “Keli cat” - because the last time I was here I told him we named our pets and he thought that was the funniest thing ever. 

When we eventually grow up and get a dog, I will name him Raju. 

I spent the prior two days doing a lot of haggling over whatsapp to secure us a room without spending a fortune. I love a haggle, but the language barrier was a slight issue. Major points to the man who resorted to sending me voice notes. 

We wanted a hut completely on the beach this time, so we can open our doors wide and just be at one with the ocean. After talking to a lot of owners, we have come to stay at Omkar, which is just the right level of indulging my high maintenance sleep requests (comfortable mattress, aircon, duvet) and Bertie’s desire to basically live as Mowgli on the beach and refuse to shave whilst having cows lick his beard clean. 

As you can see, I’ve bought my cheeks on holiday with me. 

We are paying 2000 rupees a night for our hut which is roughly £20/night. Most places were quoting me 4500, before settling on 3000 after a haggle, so I feel I’ve got a good bargain here :) it’s also out of peak season, so there are more deals to be had if you put the effort in. If you aren’t a total diva, a concrete room, or a room off the beach will cost you around £7-10 a night. 

Bertie’s currently having a disco nap and I’m about to go for a swim, but I’ll try and keep this up - hopefully I’ll do a little better than last time! 

Xxx

Getting to Goa!

Hello again my dear readers! The time has come for me to travel again - somewhere a little different from America: we are off to Goa! 

I’ve spent the last week obsessively writing lists and trying to remember everything. I find packing very stressful, and no matter how extensively (and anally) I plan, I still forget something vital. (Casepoint: I forgot Antibacterial gel for Glastonbury, and bite cream for here.)

So we booked a late flight. I’ve never had a late flight before and actually it was lovely. I woke up at a civilised time, not some hideous 4am beginning like most flights I book, and even had time to have my eyelashes done, and have a Byron burger before we had to even think about leaving! Very relaxed, and I would definitely do this again. It’s only really worth it if time is on your side however - if we were only here for two weeks, I’d be seriously pissed that I lost a day!

So once we arrived at Heathrow, we were told we may be eligible for an upgrade due to Berties “gold” tier status. I have no idea what this means, but long story short we were upgraded to business. Long haul business. I was so excited. I tried really hard to play it cool when they told us, but I was there gobbling handfuls of free pretzels so I’m not entirely sure I pulled it off. 

Once we checked in we headed to the lounge. It was wonderful - we had a few glasses of champagne, and I was particularly enamoured with the buffet offering “kaleslaw”, rather than coleslaw. I love a good play on words. Less keen on kale though. 

We sailed through boarding and took our seats on the plane. As soon as we arrived we were given the customary champagne and hot towel (again, why?) and I occupied myself with fiddling with all the controls and pouring over the menus! 

The flight went super smoothly and I slept for 4 and a half hours - the bed was completely flat which was just a total treat, and I even got a white company travel kit which I was VERY EXCITED about because I love the white company and it makes me feel fancy. I also took a tip from my former BA babe bestie, and asked super nicely for some pyjamas (usually only a first class thing) and the nice lady obliged and gave me some! So within the first ten minutes my bra was off and I had my Jimjams on. Wonderful. 

I opted for the chicken terrine to start, and the slow roasted lamb for main. It was divine. I opted out of pudding (even though they had sticky toffee pudding!) because it didn’t seem like a brilliant idea to consume a load of sugar before trying to sleep. 

I also had a few glasses of pink champagne which went down very well thankyouverymuch. 

I woke up with a raging hangover. I won’t lie. I usually make it a rule not to drink at altitude, but it was a special occasion and they were serving the drinks IN GLASS. GLASS. ON A PLANE. I was over excited. 

Two paracetamols later I was right as rain and enjoyed the rest of my journey. Unfortunately, as we were obviously flying to India, breakfast was a lamb wrap. I was not behind this, for obvious reasons - (if you don’t know about my list of approved breakfast items, feel free to ask any time!) - so I asked very politely if they had anything a little less exciting, and I was granted a croissant and jam. Much better!

We arrived in New Delhi to horrendous fog. It was the worth fog I’ve ever seen! It was so bad we had to sit for an hour and a half until we could be guided into a parking space (I went back to sleep, so no drama), and then our flight out was also delayed two hours. But, we eventually got there, popped our seatbelts on, and settled in for the next hop. We were in economy for this next bit, and if I’m perfectly honest, the worst part was the fact they played Cliff Richard’s “mistletoe and wine” on repeat whilst everyone was finding their seats. I have no idea why they did that. It’s not even Christmas. 

We finally landed in Goa airport and managed to find my suitcase - I have been stressing a fair bit as I believed I’d lose my suitcase this trip. I have no idea why. I shared this worry with Bertie on the way, who out of nowhere produced a sharpie and told me to write my contact details on the case. I have no shame in telling you, dear reader, in that moment I knew that kind of practicality is exactly why I married him for. Find yourself a man who always has a sharpie. They’re the keepers. 

We then embarked on our two hour journey to Agonda. Obviously because this is India we did a little detour to pick our taxi driver’s children up! They were absolutely gorgeous and squished themselves on the front seat, chattering away excitedly. They were gorgeous. It was 2000 rupees to get to Agonda Beach. £100 is 9000 rupees. So a 2 hour taxi drive basically cost £27. India is cheap. A bottle of pop is 20 rupees. A beer is 80. Getting here is expensive, but living is cheap. I’m going to eat a lot of naan. 

We are staying in a beautiful hut on the seafront. It has hot water which is a total bonus, and even a toilet door. I am absolutely buzzing about the toilet door, after the curtain we were graced with in 2010. There’s nothing that tests a marriage more than a single curtain between you and someone on the loo. Trust me on this.  

It’s now 15:30 on our first day in Goa. We had a great night’s sleep, and are just taking some time to settle in. I’ll keep this blog going whilst I’m here to share all the wonderful sights and experiences we’ll have :) 

Love you all! Xx