Go Goa!

After my last day on the 26th of February, I was feeling very sad and I knew I had to do something to snap myself out of my gloomy mood. Two other Nanubhai teachers had left for Goa on the 27th and they had invited me to go, but initially I declined. Goa is located in the South of India and is known for its beautiful beaches, party scene, and as a place to unwind and relax. Goa was now sounding like the perfect place to go. On the afternoon of the February 28, I looked for tickets and found two; one to take me from Surat to Bombay, and the other to take me from Bombay to Madgaon. I bought my tickets at 3:00pm and I had to be at the train station at 11pm to catch my train. I did a fast packing job and was waiting for a bus by 9:30pm.

When I finally boarded the train at 12am I was exhausted, but I couldn’t sleep for long. My train was scheduled to arrive in Bombay at 4am, and then I would have 7 hours to kill until my next train. When the train pulled into Bombay I had to navigate the city commuter trains to get to the next train station, which was confusing, especially in my sleep deprived state. Three commuter trains later and I was finally at the LTT station, where I now had 5 hours to kill before the next train. I was exhausted now and was looking for a spot on the ground to curl up when I saw a room with the sign “Ladies Waiting Room.” Curious, I peeked inside. There were two very old ladies inside and it looked relatively clean. I picked a corner, laid out a plastic bag, and tried to sleep. Sleep was difficult as women streamed in and out and the early morning sun shone into my face. One woman saw me smile at her baby so she walked over and thrust it into my hands. I then became the babysitter for her pantless and diaperless baby for the next 45 minutes while she washed dishes and clothes in the sink.

At 10:30am on the 1st I boarded my 12 hour train and was happy to find that I had the top bunk. This meant that I could sleep undisturbed for as long as I wanted, which turned out to be 7 hours. I eventually climbed down and had a delicious dinner of crackers. The train was scheduled to arrive at 11pm and in my haste to prepare for the trip I had no time to research the city of Madgaon. From Madgaon I would need to take a two hour bus to Palolem Beach, but no buses would be running so late at night. I was now faced with the decision to either sleep on the ground in the train station, or venture out into the unknown streets for a hotel. In my anxiety I had been praying a lot on my train rides because I really had no idea what to expect or what I would do upon arrival.

Thankfully, before the train arrived I started talking to an Indian man in my compartment named Thomas. He was 45 and a self-proclaimed Roman Catholic and he would not allow me to sleep in the station. Together, we walked the darkened streets in search of a decent hotel. When we found one, he booked two rooms and paid for them both. He then insisted on taking me to get something to eat because he had seen me eating only crackers all day. The next morning he brought me chai, took me to breakfast, and then put me on a bus to Palolem. I feel so blessed to have met Thomas!

Goa was ruled by the Portuguese and they lent their architecture and religion to the region, giving it a distinct flavor which felt so different from any other part of India I have seen. There were many large, beautiful cathedrals, and even the style of dress was different. There were fewer saris and more skirt and blouse combinations. After five train rides and a beautiful bus ride, I arrived in Palolem where I met up with Kathryn and Addaia. We went to our beach hut, which was precariously perched (partly) in a tree. One side of the hut was supported by the small tree, and the other three sides were supported by bamboo. When we walked around in the hut it would creak and move and I began to have flashes of our eminent death due to beach hut collapse.

We retreated from our rickety hut and headed to the beach for some sand and sun. It was very strange for me to put on a bikini. After nine months of being wrapped up in yards of fabric and always being completely covered, wearing a bikini was like being naked to me, not to mention the ghastly color of white my body had turned. The water was so warm it was like bath water and the beach was lined by restaurants and bars offering tempting items for three girls from Gujarat. We spent several days lazing around, reading books, playing cards, drinking lassies, and decompressing from a challenging year. I literally kicked off my shoes and I spent five days without wearing them.

After a week on the beach it was time to bid the sand and sun farewell. I headed back up to Bombay to meet up with Kirsten and Meghan for what would be another difficult time…see the blog below to learn more.