This is a story like no other!
India is a destination that people either love or choose to keep away from. On my first visit some six years ago to Kerala, staying in a scenic Ayurvedic resort, I came across some heartbreaking sites of animals lying dead on the beach while passersby simply looked away. Watching mice and, another evening, a rat going up the very tall ceiling of the open space where the massages took place. Then again, I watched rats and mice cross the poshest streets of London and foxes that came out at night. However, in India, there is an air of spiritual serenity, a way of acceptance that makes it all humbly forgiving. Sentiments that feel spiritually more fulfilling and real than the monotonous, almost meaningless, greedy lives lived in the Western world.
The will to visit Goa last December 2016 was a mutual agreement between Sis and me. This was a destination where I felt the time had stood still from the old days when people knew how to be kind and considerate to one another. As tourists alike, we were delighted by the warmth and helpfulness of the Goans. Our trip was to last ten days, and we had it set in our mind that we were leaving on Wednesday, 14 December. The days passed, laying on the wooden sun-beds of long sandy beaches, watching colourful sunsets behind a shimmering sea and swimming, eating great food, shopping at the vast markets; the Saturday night market in particular, exhilarating in tones of vibrant colours, live music played in one area, aromas of fresh food being prepared, bars and finally at the top, a DJ playing till early hours of the morning.
Time flew by, and on the last Sunday of our visit, Hala and I taxied our way up North to meet with a couple of friends I had made in Ibiza ten years prior. We fell in love with Mandrem at first glance, the tranquillity of boundless sandy beaches and the friendly people we got to meet. The place was so magical when our new friend Hailey suggested we stay the night and walk to Arambol, only 45 minutes away, and watch the sunset while the drums were being played; a great idea not to be dismissed. The detached straw huts at the newly renovated Beach Street were dreamlike and happened to have a sea view hut in the front row for us. After an amazing two days and one night spent in Mandrem, we returned to our fancy hotel one hour away, in the same bikini but a new wrap and our beach bags, happy as hippies.
India is a destination that people either love or choose to keep away from. On my first visit some six years ago to Kerala, staying in a scenic Ayurvedic resort, I came across some heartbreaking sites of animals lying dead on the beach while passersby simply looked away. Watching mice and, another evening, a rat going up the very tall ceiling of the open space where the massages took place. Then again, I watched rats and mice cross the poshest streets of London and foxes that came out at night. However, in India, there is an air of spiritual serenity, a way of acceptance that makes it all humbly forgiving. Sentiments that feel spiritually more fulfilling and real than the monotonous, almost meaningless, greedy lives lived in the Western world.
The will to visit Goa last December 2016 was a mutual agreement between Sis and me. This was a destination where I felt the time had stood still from the old days when people knew how to be kind and considerate to one another. As tourists alike, we were delighted by the warmth and helpfulness of the Goans. Our trip was to last ten days, and we had it set in our mind that we were leaving on Wednesday, 14 December. The days passed, laying on the wooden sun-beds of long sandy beaches, watching colourful sunsets behind a shimmering sea and swimming, eating great food, shopping at the vast markets; the Saturday night market in particular, exhilarating in tones of vibrant colours, live music played in one area, aromas of fresh food being prepared, bars and finally at the top, a DJ playing till early hours of the morning.
Time flew by, and on the last Sunday of our visit, Hala and I taxied our way up North to meet with a couple of friends I had made in Ibiza ten years prior. We fell in love with Mandrem at first glance, the tranquillity of boundless sandy beaches and the friendly people we got to meet. The place was so magical when our new friend Hailey suggested we stay the night and walk to Arambol, only 45 minutes away, and watch the sunset while the drums were being played; a great idea not to be dismissed. The detached straw huts at the newly renovated Beach Street were dreamlike and happened to have a sea view hut in the front row for us. After an amazing two days and one night spent in Mandrem, we returned to our fancy hotel one hour away, in the same bikini but a new wrap and our beach bags, happy as hippies.
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| Mandrem |
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| Arambol sunset |
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| Arambol |
We entered the lobby with big smiles and straight away came across the night manager, it was 7:30 pm, who almost barged towards us and asked:
"Aren't you in room 212?"
I answered with a big smile, thinking how sweet it was that they remembered our room number: "But yes, we are." Then they went on: "Oh! We love Goa."
The night manager cut through my words and asked in a rather harsh tone: "Madam, where were you?"
That was a bit harsh. How dare they ask where I was? I smiled again and answered sweetly: "What do you mean by where we were? We were in Mandrem; we love Goa."
The man seemed irritated but went on in total control, without much sympathy:
"Aren't you in room 212?"
I answered with a big smile, thinking how sweet it was that they remembered our room number: "But yes, we are." Then they went on: "Oh! We love Goa."
The night manager cut through my words and asked in a rather harsh tone: "Madam, where were you?"
That was a bit harsh. How dare they ask where I was? I smiled again and answered sweetly: "What do you mean by where we were? We were in Mandrem; we love Goa."
The man seemed irritated but went on in total control, without much sympathy:
"But, Madam, you missed your flight early this morning. The agency came to pick you up at 4:00 am, and you've been missing since yesterday. We called the police," he pointed towards two men standing in civilian clothes and continued: "We asked around and went to your friend's hotel, where the taxi had once taken you. We called your mobile number with no success. We were so worried for you!"
At this instance, Sis Hala butted in and said boldly: "There must be a big mistake! We've our tickets in the safe of our room. Our return flight is on Wednesday, 14 December; I can get the papers immediately."
The night manager mildly answered: "Madam, we've emptied your safe and room. The room was booked, and your flight was on Monday, 14 December, today!"
Oh, dear! The thought of them having vacated our room threw a shiver down my spine, as no doubt it must have done to my sister. The contents of our safe were enough to create chaos alone in itself! Some recreational goodies for flavour, four passports due to our dual nationality, two expensive watches, and money in four different currencies in case of emergency; after all, we were visiting India! An iPad, Kindle, goodness, and more! What must they have thought?!
By this time, we were sat at the reception desk, with the manager opposite, a clerk, two policemen behind us, etc. We did our utmost to express apologetically how mistaken we were. Hala said, "You must understand this has never happened to us before. We're worldly women and have travelled extensively."
I began cracking jokes: "Oh my goodness! Whoever packed all that shopping in our room deserves a medal!" And: "I can only imagine what trouble we must have put you through searching for us and how much of your valuable time and energy we must have wasted. Can't apologise enough!"
At this stage, a large white laundry bag is rested on my knees by one of the staff, and the manager continues: "Here are the contents of your safe. Please check everything is there and sign here."
He points at the 3-page inventory of each documented article before me and repeats: "Please check and sign now!"
Meanwhile, standing next to the policemen, a woman in civilian clothes ordered me to hand in my beach bag to be searched, which I immediately obliged. After a thorough search, she asked sis to do the same, while under pressure, I briefly looked into the laundry bag filled with goods and said: "The main thing, is the passports are all there as I'm sure is everything else!" I proceeded with signing the papers, for which I had no intention of checking the items off, one by one. No way!
In anticipation of what would come next, we continued charming the police, as our hotel staff, for their brilliant patience and expertise in dealing with the matter. But the rush of blood inside was an experience not to be forgotten. The night manager expressed his concern about us having gone missing and offered us a room at a discounted rate until we decided what our next steps would be the following day. The police left! Phew. The man in charge showed us to our new room, and our luggage was delivered shortly after. Before he left, he simply said in his delightful Indian accent:
"Madam, we're just so happy you're safe!"
Everything was returned to us safely! And we decided to stay another four days since we had to buy new tickets and moved to Mandrem for the duration! Amazing.
Our feelings for Goa were pure love, so much so that we rented a fantastic house for a month in the winter and went back only two months after our first visit. All I can say is that Goa is a magical place. Due to the high, warm energy of its inhabitants, whether they live or spend a considerable amount of time of the year there, everything falls into place wondrously.
Live your life as if it was your last day on earth.
(Photos on Instagram: Haldita)
At this instance, Sis Hala butted in and said boldly: "There must be a big mistake! We've our tickets in the safe of our room. Our return flight is on Wednesday, 14 December; I can get the papers immediately."
The night manager mildly answered: "Madam, we've emptied your safe and room. The room was booked, and your flight was on Monday, 14 December, today!"
Oh, dear! The thought of them having vacated our room threw a shiver down my spine, as no doubt it must have done to my sister. The contents of our safe were enough to create chaos alone in itself! Some recreational goodies for flavour, four passports due to our dual nationality, two expensive watches, and money in four different currencies in case of emergency; after all, we were visiting India! An iPad, Kindle, goodness, and more! What must they have thought?!
By this time, we were sat at the reception desk, with the manager opposite, a clerk, two policemen behind us, etc. We did our utmost to express apologetically how mistaken we were. Hala said, "You must understand this has never happened to us before. We're worldly women and have travelled extensively."
I began cracking jokes: "Oh my goodness! Whoever packed all that shopping in our room deserves a medal!" And: "I can only imagine what trouble we must have put you through searching for us and how much of your valuable time and energy we must have wasted. Can't apologise enough!"
At this stage, a large white laundry bag is rested on my knees by one of the staff, and the manager continues: "Here are the contents of your safe. Please check everything is there and sign here."
He points at the 3-page inventory of each documented article before me and repeats: "Please check and sign now!"
Meanwhile, standing next to the policemen, a woman in civilian clothes ordered me to hand in my beach bag to be searched, which I immediately obliged. After a thorough search, she asked sis to do the same, while under pressure, I briefly looked into the laundry bag filled with goods and said: "The main thing, is the passports are all there as I'm sure is everything else!" I proceeded with signing the papers, for which I had no intention of checking the items off, one by one. No way!
In anticipation of what would come next, we continued charming the police, as our hotel staff, for their brilliant patience and expertise in dealing with the matter. But the rush of blood inside was an experience not to be forgotten. The night manager expressed his concern about us having gone missing and offered us a room at a discounted rate until we decided what our next steps would be the following day. The police left! Phew. The man in charge showed us to our new room, and our luggage was delivered shortly after. Before he left, he simply said in his delightful Indian accent:
"Madam, we're just so happy you're safe!"
Everything was returned to us safely! And we decided to stay another four days since we had to buy new tickets and moved to Mandrem for the duration! Amazing.
Our feelings for Goa were pure love, so much so that we rented a fantastic house for a month in the winter and went back only two months after our first visit. All I can say is that Goa is a magical place. Due to the high, warm energy of its inhabitants, whether they live or spend a considerable amount of time of the year there, everything falls into place wondrously.
Live your life as if it was your last day on earth.
(Photos on Instagram: Haldita)
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