Goa is off the beaten path, relative to our other destinations in India. A former Portugese colony, it was annexed by India only recently, in 1961.

The road to Goa.
A was told by an acquaintance that the "real" Goan experience was to sleep in a tent on the beach and catch fish; this is a Bohemian enclave for Westerners, especially Israeli kids fresh out of their conscripted military service and ready to grow dreadlocks. Although A was born with Israeli citizenship and D has lived in Israel, this was not the experience any of us was fit for; neither would we have been readily accepted into the Clan of the Crusty Hair. So, we opted for the Intercontinental Lalit Goa, which had a good recommendation from D's yoga instructor.


The property was an absolute jewel. The beach: wonderfully exotic. Unfortunately, the staff was routinely and ultimately comically unprepared for the task of running a 5-star hotel. But alas, the latter is a challenge faced uniquely by the relatively privileged and dwelt upon by only the hopelessly petty, so I'll leave it by saying I cannot recommend the Lalit for what it claims to be, but was happy to enjoy it for what it is.

It was secluded; the only nearby action was locals, plying their fishing trades.


A at Sunset.







If you look closely, you can see Jaime wincing as she tries futilely to enjoy beer.

About five clicks from the hotel was a small town, name unknown to me, that was more of what A's acquaintance would call the "real" Goa. Run-down hostels, internet cafes, vendors, hole-in-the-wall eateries; sort of like some small towns I've been to in Costa Rica.

We found a sublime little beach-side seafood restaurant called Dropadi, where I had the whole grilled rock mullet, stuffed with onions and tomatoes and liberally soaked with butter and fresh garlic. See the sign, and the literal hole in the wall, below. Dropadi is an unequivocal must-go for South Goa.




After dinner we strolled around town, under a waning moon, dodging the inevitable cows, dogs, mopeds and rickshaws.







Goa is a whole state of India and we caught merely a glimpse. I can say it was deeply beautiful and can commend it to the person looking for a unique beach vacation in a truly exotic locale. It gave us a taste of adventure - such as when the driver we hired to take us the long and rural route to the airport (A and D were in a separate car and far out of sight) suddenly pulled over on the side of the road, got out, and a new and unexplained second driver replaced him at the wheel without a word amongst each other or to us (neither driver spoke any functional English)). It gave us a chance to relax, too, which was important, given that our next stop was sort of the NYC of India - Mumbai - city of 27 million and counting, the site of the awful terrorist attacks of two years ago yesterday, the focus of India's greatest wealth and the victim of its bitterest poverty.