Soon we get dressed, I in my trademark knee lengths and she's in a lovely long skirt. The driver's on time and they're off to the airport.
Jetlite mein aapka swagat hai. Goa tak ki doori hum 45 minutes mein poori karenge.
2 hours later, we're still waiting on the runway. It is hot and stuffy. The pilot keeps crackling on to apologise for the delay and tell everyone that it's not his fault, it is the traffic control.
I have my iPod, banging away on the imaginary drums and TheOne® is trying to read. She taps me every now and then without looking, an occasional gentle tap on my knee to remind me to stop shaking in this jittery way that bothers her so much. I just
cannot sit still. lol
The weather is awful and the landing into Goa and peppered with rainspray and the aircraft is buffeted around by the turbulent air.
It's late afternoon by the time the doors open to Dabolim.
The humidity rushes in quickly to fill up the air conditioned space inside the aircraft. All we can hear is a strong
SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH that the torrential rain is making.
She looks pained. All she wanted was a hot sunny beach. I keep supressing an urge to apologise for the weather. It isn't really my fault. Dastardly early monsoon.
One pre-paid taxi later, we're on the Calangute-Candolim road, where our
ferienhaus is located.
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Jenny knew of my habit of hunting for exotic and expensive hotels. There was a lot of expenses being incurred on the house and she had repeatedly asked me to book a small, inexpensive place to stay.
A
ferienhaus is a German word for a little holiday home.
Ferienhauser are service villas, with completely equipped kitchens.
I did a little internet research and found a little home, with a lovely garden, a bathroom, one large room and a kitchen.
We both enjoy tinkering around in the kitchen, cutting up cheese and fruit and cooking up little eggs and things. That is truly more relaxing to us than having breakfast at a hotel buffet in the morning.
It was inexpensive and run well. Away from the regular hotels and just perfect for 3 nights.
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Holiday street on the calangute-candolim road, near Little Italy restaurant I shout over the rain's
SSHHHHHHH to the bald Maruti van driver.
Soon we're there. As expected, a clean little home. The kind lady hands over the keys and instructions. As soon as we are inside the house, the rain almost stops.
A phenomenon that stays with us through this journey.
The wet deck chairs stare at them from the lawns teasing the German lady, reminding her of what she could have been doing.
I am not willing to mope. No, it's time to explore Goa.
Can you help us rent a motorbike?
A price is decided on the mobile phone and in 20 minutes a guy drops over the Active with 5000 kms on the clock.
There isn't any petrol in here.
Yes, you can put.
Where is the pump?
You don't need pump. You can buy from general store.
??
You buy bottle of petrol, one-one litre. Put it in.
Ah.