Goa

Now we're here!



Started work, visited the beach, started seriously running again, and got settled into our house (which is walking distance to the beach). We got a wicked, fully furnished house that we share with Shirley, Elaine, and two other ladies called Karen and Lucy. Mrs Grasshopper and I have an en-suite with hot shower, double bed, and there is even a washing machine in the kitchen- a great luxury in Indian houses, more so for us as we have been hand-washing since we left blighty.



Now I'm sitting, chilled out in a super-fast Internet cafe, all jeans, boots and t-shirt, sunglasses on my head and my new motorcycle on it's stand outside- life is great!





The heat when I first stepped off the train was amazing- thick, heavy, and filled with holiday atmosphere. Mrs G and I followed Vishal through the dark station, sweat immediately prickling out of my skin as I jogged up the steps, careful with my footing under the weight of my wife's ever expanding rucksack. We jumped into 2 minibuses with our bags thrown on top and were first taken to the impressive Idex main house where the "youths" (actually aged 18-23) live and the day-to-day admin is carried out. Then after a meal of veg curry, biryani and chapati served on the roof terrace, we were shown our impressive little Kholie, about 2 minutes walk from the Idex office, and 15 minutes from Colva beach.



We had a couple of days induction training, including trips to the volunteer projects in the area. I had an open mind and wanted to choose something different. However, immediately after visiting the school for mentally challenged children I knew that I wanted to work there, and make use of my experience in Himachal Pradesh.



Outside of lectures and project visits, we explored a little bit of Colva.



It's such a great, relaxing place, it's easy to understand why Goa is the tourist destination of India. Colva itself is a little quiet- less of the hippy trippy stuff than I expected, although most shops are still full of mega-baggy, day-glow "Om" patterned trousers, tie-dye shirts and incense burners. There are just a couple of "package holiday" hotels, seemingly only filled with couples aged 40+ and non-brit European families, and to Mrs G's great pleasure, the bikini is acceptable to wear, although naturally only on the beach.



All in all, Colva is small, pleasantly spread-out with lots of "villa's" surrounded by gardens and public spaces (all stuffed with palm trees), and no buildings are taller than 3 floors high. The beach is lovely, pale white-yellow sand, the sea is clear and blue, and there is none of the filth and pollution I have come to associate with low-land India. Even the roads are quiet, well maintained, and with less horn blowing!



As it's the weekend starting tomorrow afternoon, I decided to finally get my motorbike! The biggest bike I have seen on the road is the 185cc Pulsar (except for the heavy, slow, thirsty and expensive 350cc Enfield Bullet).



Unfortunately, I could only get the 150cc Pulsar, but for 250 rupees per day, I'm happy enough- it's actually quite a cool, "fast looking" bike! Until my 6'1" lump jumps on, making the bike look a little stunted in growth. But petrol is cheap, it's comfy, and I'm loving the whole no-helmet thing. I couldn't help humming that song from "Top Gun", as I rip down the coast road, wind ruffling my hair and my sunglasses keeping my eyes clear.

Only thing is, the gearbox is not what I'm use to. Neutral is at the very top, then gears 1 through to 5 are reached by tapping down on the lever! Coupled with years of large capacity sports bikes, I struggled at first. There I am, coasting down the tarmac feeling all "top gear"/"easy rider" cool, preparing to overtake the hated auto-rickshaw in a graceful sweep of timing, control and power:

Mirror- OK,

shoulder check- OK

into position,

horn, (an Indian thing),

Clutch in, flick up the gear lever twice, twist, clutch out and...



"OH F--k!"



The engine shrieks, the back wheel locks and my cool, calm exterior is lost as I shriek out loud, bang the clutch in and start the river dance on the gear lever. I succeed in making things worse, roaring and jerking finally to a halt in front of a gaggle of fit female "gap-year-lovelies".



Then I stall completely, with a jerk and a bang. The girls laugh.



Arse.



Thankfully, I've got it sorted now, although the bloke is bringing me another bike with "proper" gear arrangements tonight after dinner.



Talking of which, I'd better go get some. Via the coast road, as the sun's setting...