So, it doesn't take us long to find accommodation in Palolem - as expected, there are oodles of people just waiting to take us to verrrry verry nice hotels madams, with running waters and fans in rooms. Imagine - running water! The luxury of it all!
We ditch our bags and head down to the beach for a paddle in the water and some food in a beach bar. As standard, the sunset here is beautiful, and we intersperse our evening watching that and ridiculing men on the beach who are wearing far-too-tight speedos. Sadly, this sight is all too common in India, and I fear my eyes may never be the same again.
Most of our time in Palolem is spent lazing on the beach, reading and (big surprise) wandering around the markets. We're barely there a day and I'm beginning to suffer from some pretty sore stomach cramps (oh the indignity of it all!). The pharmacy that I've brought with me doesn't seem to be helping either, so I decide to scrap Western medicine and go Ayurvedic. This means asking a little man (have you noticed that all my descriptions of Indian men start with "this little man"....? I digress...) on the street if he can fix me up with some herbal remedy. He mixes up a concoction of powders from unmarked tubs (they could be anything) and tells me to add the mix to hot water and drink 3 times a day. Duly noted, and I do so for the next few days. And to my delight, I genuinely do feel better.
Slightly disheartened by our respective lack of tans, me and Lisa decide to dedicate a full day to lying on the beach, trying to get some colour. But of course, the path of a golden tan never runs smoothly, and by nightfall, the extent of just how burnt we have gotten is revealed. Both of us are red-raw. Deep fried. Cremated. Not only is it hideous (we look as though we are wearing white knickers), but it is truly excrutiating. We can't sleep/shower/move without great difficulty, and I feel like an old woman hobbling about. But of the course, the worst thing about being this burnt is the fact that it is like a wearing a massive ID card, proclaiming "LOOK! WE'RE FROM THE UK!" The "Brit's Abroad" look is shameful, but we try to accessorise it as best we can. With alcohol, obviously. (Specifically, a couple of Wet Pussy's at a beach bar, watching incredible lightning storms over the ocean).
Whilst we're in Palolem, the Indian festival of Diwali is taking place. It's a pretty big deal here, and for the weeks in advance kids are out constructing paper mache demons, setting off firecrackers and decorating the streets with candles and tealights. It looks beautiful, but turns out to be fairly uneventful (for us at least) as we lie tending to our burns....
Lesson learned, and after a few night in Palolem, we're finally done with Goa. Next stop Gokarna, in Karnataka!
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