The Almeida Family at the Taj Holiday Village in Goa where we spent a few unforgettable days in January 2008
After three days in Bombay, our senses dizzy with the assault of impressions left upon it by the bustling metropolis, we badly needed a break and boarded a Kingfisher Airlines flight to idyllic Goa. Throughout the hour-long flight, as we floated above India’s western coast, pristine beaches were easily visible from out the window. When the plane did make its sharp descent into Goa’s green and verdant arms, I could have sworn I was alighting in Hawaii. Since Chriselle could join Llew and me on this leg of our Indian travels in January 2008, it meant the bonus of a short family holiday and we intended to extract every sweet ounce of our unexpected togetherness.
Creature Comforts in Five-Star Environs:
The long drive from Dabolim airport, across the Zuari River with its manganese-laden barges, and the Mandovi River with its twin bridges, brought us finally to Sinquerim Beach where we made our temporary home at the lovely Taj Holiday Village (above left and right), a beach resort that I have loved for years and to which I have frequently returned. Individual villas, many directly facing the sea, blanketed by lush tropical vegetation and riotously colored bougainvilla, are comfortably air-conditioned and equipped with thoughtful hammocks in private front gardens–the last word in personal pampering. I particularly loved the delectable chocolates and salted cashew nuts left in our room by caring personnel and the fragrant Lemon-Glycerine and Aloe-Neem soaps found in the bathroom—it is small touches like these that linger in my memory as visions of one hotel room blur into the next.
The kidney shaped pool, I discovered, was a better place in which to soak, despite that fact that the mighty Arabian Sea lay only steps from our front door. Indeed, I found the crashing waves overwhelming, even at low tide, and the drag from the undertow caused me painful knee abrasion on the gritty shoreline. However, we did enjoy the jacuzzi at the adjoining Fort Aguada Beach Resort where the luxurious spa is located. As for the restaurants, the Banyan Café that specializes in pan-Pacific cuisine, served us one of the best meals I have ever eaten in my entire life—a Thai feast that offered a sampler of the sweet, sour, salt, spicy combinations that are the most appealing aspects of this unique cuisine. For all these reasons, even had we never left the resort, we would have had the time of our lives in Goa.
Pausing amidst Passionate Jesuit Ardor:
As it turned out, we did venture far beyond the reaches of Sinquerim Beach, taking a sight-seeing tour to Old Goa which is one of my favorite parts of the city. Old Goa, or ‘Velha’ was the religious base of the Portuguese while the state remained an imperialist colony and in the clutches of Jesuit proselytizers. Though Panjim was built, in imitation of Lisbon, as its administrative capital and still retains vestiges of its Mediterranean ambience, it is at Old Goa, in the environs of the colossal Se Cathedral (the largest in India–above left) and at the Basilica of Bom Jesu that the full zeal of Jesuit passion in South India is visible. In these gorgeous Baroque churches, crammed with ancient statuary, sterling silver caskets—one of which is similar to the concealed coffin that holds the mortal remains of St. Francis Xavier—and intricate artistry on towering altars, one can appreciate the vigor with which Christianity arrived and was established in India. What I most love about this area of Goa is the quiet serenity of the sprawling grounds in which the two mammoth churches are located and despite the crowds that mill around, the essential peacefulness of the area is never affected.
The Pleasures of Panjim and Rustic Routes:
Panjim, equally, offers the pleasures of random rambles past double-storeyed wooden structures whose balconies are enclosed by wrought-iron railings. Ugly commercial activity on the lower floor had destroyed much of the gentle reminders of an age long past; but if one is looking to snatch some of the bucolic quality of life in Goa, one must reach out into unknown villages in the interior, far from the tourist buzz. Here, white-washed churches, constructed in the Portuguese style, pop from out of the midst of emerald-green rice fields (right) .
Water buffalo wallow in algae-slick ponds, cashew and coconut groves whisper in the faint breezes that carry with them the fragrance of queen of the night. Cicadas can still be heard singing plaintively on quiet evenings and despite the construction frenzy that has engulfed Goa in its recent discovery as a winter resort by moneyed Europeans looking for second homes, the state still retains much of the charm and serenity that had always endeared it to me.
Though hard to imagine, it is easy to get lost in the quiet pace of a Goan bazaar. Staring at strings of spicy sausages hanging from the rafters or at rows of Port wine bottles in a neighboring liquor store—one rather amusedly named Almeida Wine Stores–see right– alas no relation—one loses the feeling of being grounded in reality.
So get away from the beaten path in Goa and ramble in the old enclaves where once guitars twanged seductively and carafes of wine were downed in joyful celebration.
When three days later, we prepared to board another Kingfisher Airlines flight to Delhi, I was actually sorry to leave the peaceful paradise behind—a place where the names of beaches such as Calangute and Vagator, Baga and Colva, roll mellifluously off the tongue evoking days of wine and seafood dinners (see below) savored under the stars along the sands where the salty tang of Arabian Sea air stimulated the appetite for more.
)To continue your armchair travels with us on our January 2008 trip, please click the Delhi link).
Bon Voyage!