Out of the City

To Palolem, India -- Day 1

The good news about the overnight bus was there was plenty of horizontal space with our two double wide lower berths and the AC eventually kicked in for real keeping us cool.  The bad news, at least for me, was that the roads were so winding and pot-holed that you were constantly bounced, jostled, and tossed from side to side.  All in all, not the best nights sleep.

At around 7 a.m. the bus stopped -- bathroom break and breakfast.  We got some chai and some sort of sweet porridge, which neither Dex and Kylie were interested in, especially because we thought we had ordered milk!  Oh well.

To our surprise, Google said we were still over four hours away from Margao, where we would take a local bus to our final destination of Palolem. Finally, at 1:00, seventeen hours after boarding, we arrived in the dusty and dreary town of Margao.  We had hardly eaten, so we wandered across the main road to the only restaurant in sight, a KFC. Although only a handful of items on the menu were available, and it featured two of the stinkiest bathrooms ever with a powerful mixture of ammonia, urine and miscellaneous chemicals, it did have AC and a place to sit.  

Our bus and a local truck

Beautiful Margao

Somewhat refreshed, we decided to skip the local bus, and instead flagged down one of the tiny taxis for the 45 minute ride to Palolem. The driving rule in India seems to be anything goes -- any part of the roadway is fair game at any time, just make sure to use your horn liberally to warn your fellow drivers.  With pedestrians, bikes, cows, scooters, motorcycles, taxis, trucks and busses all vying for the same strip of asphalt, someone is always passing someone else, blind corners be damned.  Our driver seemed intent on getting us to the beach as fast as his underpowered Hyundai could get there.

As we neared the coast, we started to see rice paddies, and it became clear that Palolem is a prime destination for the backpacking crowd.  The two, narrow roads in town were lined with restaurants, travel offices, and shops selling shirts, shorts, flip flops, back packs, bags and a variety hand made souvenirs. After a couple attempts, we tracked down our unmarked, bright pink, La Alegro Guesthouse.  Goolu, the proprietor, spoke perfect English and was surprised it had taken us so long to get there.  She graciously showed us to our ground floor room, complete with bathroom, AC unit, mini-fridge, and two glass bottles of Pepsi (sorry, Meg!)  

La Alegro Guesthouse

View our the back

The first item up on the agenda was checking out the beach just a hundred yards along the narrow dirt road, through the palms and past other partially constructed guesthouses.  The wide shallow beach was just what the doctor ordered --  calm water, rows of palms in the distance, and a few restaurants here and there.  With the water, 5 or 10 degrees cooler than Dubai, it actually offered some cooling effect.  Ahh, perfect. [Meg's Note: I felt like we had just discovered Gilligan's Isle!]

For dinner, we chose one of the restaurants right along the beach, managing to score a beach side table.  We played Karma while watching fishermen readying their nets, the ubiquitous short haired dogs lying around, and a couple cows ambling here and there.  Strange, but I think we could get used to this.