Jecca and I took a 13-hour nighttrain from Bombay to Goa two days ago (I’ll upload lots of pictures soon - including a great video of a scuttling crab). We are staying in a beach hut at
the Bhakti Kutir resort near Palolem Beach in South Goa. The ammenities are quite rustic compared to the luxurious stay we enjoyed in Bombay with her cousin Harsha, his wife Lulu (check out
her food blog), and their adorable baby, Ruhi (pictures coming soon). They live in a fancy apartment in one of the fanciest parts of Bombay called Malabar Hill and they have four domestic employees. That was a comfortable cushion to land on after our 9000 miles of flights, and I was glad to be in an air-conditioned place as I recuperated from a case of the Dheli Belly (or the Bombay OyVey) which I contracted thanks to not listening to Jecca when she warned me strenuously against using the tap water to wet my toothbrush. I hope that my blogging of our adventure does not continue to focus on my gastrointestinal issues, but unfortunately I seem to have gotten hit by a case of the Goa Shoah yesterday (now recovering thanks to Jecca’s kind nursing). The beach is beautiful, lined with wind-bent coconut palms and populated by long-horned sacred cows, secular warthogs, and shifty spider crabs. A pack of wild dogs chased Jecca for her snackums today (she distracted them by throwing coconuts). The monsoon weather creates surfable waves, but unfortunately we are told not to swim due to riptides. Fortunately, the monsoon also keeps away the ravers (though I was hoping to hear some Goan trance). India’s second highest waterfall is nearby (600 meters!) but it is located in dense jungle that is supposedly impenetrable during the monsoon season. We’ve mainly spent our time reading books. We’ll leave here tomorrow night on a bus for Bangalore, where we’ll probably stay with Jecca’s aunt.
