Benalim Beach (eventually)

We decided to take public transport (read: cramped chicken buses) to Benalim Beach. Not so easy, we discovered, when the second leg of our bus rapidly filled to beyond sardine capacity, and we had no hope of wiggling through the crowd to the front exit. Some locals suggested we drop our bags out the window and we'd get out faster that way. Since we didnt make it of the bus for another two miles, that was advice wisely ignored. But! Benalim beach was gorgeous. The sand and the arabian sea were absolutely pristine.

The Goan cuisine was pretty good too. Just about everything was some combination of coconut, curry and rice. And of course, there was seafood. (Yes, there was the option to eat a baby hammerhead shark. Mmmm, walleyed!).



The beach stretched a long way, and while our sandy stretch was populated mostly by older Northern European tourists, Colva beach to the North was packed with daytrippers from all over Goa. Most local men and women would venture into the water only fully clothed, which is a real feat if you are wrapped head to toe in about 6 yards of sari fabric. Hard core.


One unexpected feature of this trip is that I am often a tourist attraction to other Indian tourists. They ask to be photographed with me or with both of us, and weird as it is, we've started to take photos of the photo taking. Bizarre merits more bizarre.

Not far from the beach there are several old Portugese manors that are open for visit. The weird thing is, that the families still inhabit them, so, it felt awkwardly personal to be walked through the faded splendor of someone's own family history.



The estate we visited was split down the middle by one family ( one set of cousins owned each side). One family had clearly done a better job of the upkeep than the other, and the more decrepit household tour occasionally skirted the depressingly creepy.



As our taxi driver drove us back to the beach, he pointed out a huge concrete structure that looked like an overpass or monorail track. "Sky Train" he said. We caught a glimpse of some cable car-like structures dangling in the distance. "That's cool," we said. "Where does it go?" He shook his head. "Failed project. First time they run, cars fall down." And if that doesn't merit a non-committal head wobble, I do not know what does.