Goa - A World Away

We were awake nice and early, so we figured we might as well sit around the airport as sit around a crumby hotel room, so we packed up and hit the road. Our last walk through Delhi dodging the cyclo, tuk-tuk and taxi drivers for about 1 km till we reached the New Delhi Metro station, which also doubles as the starting point for the Airport Metro Express.

Full pat down and bag screening before we could get into buy a ticket, but it only cost us $1.50 to take the air-conditioned express train all the way out to the new international terminal.

Then the fun started. We couldn't get into the terminal without a ticket, which is not that much fun if you have an e-ticket. The airlines aren't fussed, but security aren't amused. Gate 5 sent us to Gate 6 which sent us to Gate 8 to get one printed. But our airline isn't at Gate 8, it's at Gate 1, so we started again. Eventually we got a print out so we could get into the building. Slow check in, but we had plenty of time, then the full search, scan and pat down routine to get air side, and mercifully some breakfast after 3 hours on the go. Whilst waiting, we watched a documentary about Demi Moore saving women in Nepal from prostitution. I guess they were her 'Striptease' DVDs she was handing out to them.

Left for Mumbai on time, and arrived a few minutes early. I was worried about our 30 minute connection, but there was no chance of missing it - it was our plane continuing on, so we just stayed on board and the security staff came to us. Inevitably, we had to wait for another inbound flight, but there was a school group on board to tax the patience of the crew while we waited, so they had something to do. Who would work with kids!

Well, the last piece of the puzzle fell into place. Our driver was waiting for us in Goa, and the motel had our luxury room awaiting us. This is our couple of pamper days, after three weeks of pretty hard travel. Goa is an ex-Portuguese colony on the west coast of India. All of a sudden the taxi drivers have crucifixes and pictures of Mary on the dashboard, and they don't drive with their hands on the horn. It's very tropical vegetation - banana plantations, and lush undergrowth. Kind of like the Daintree River area, and nothing like northern India (which is the point).

Our room (Ooty) has a huge bed, and an enormous sofa for reclining. The windows open to the garden, with curtains swaying in the breeze. There's a pool, and we are 5 minutes walk from the beach. We can hear and smell dinner being prepared in the kitchen.

A shower and a change of clothes, and Delhi seems but a distant memory.