Leaving Goa...running down the tracks
Trip Start
Jan 11, 2009
1
17
38
Trip End
Jul 01, 2009
Old Goa, Goa, India
Monday, March 16, 2009
Once in Panaji the Portuguese colonial relics and influence were obvious, the older people still speak Portuguese, colourful buildings with verandas and shutters lining the roads, with the most impressive being the Church of Our Lady of Immocumate Conception. The dazzling white church stands high above the town and was the first place the Portuguese sailor would go on arrival from Portugal to thank God for a safe journey.
We ate at a hotel, hotel being lost in translation to literally mean restaurant (and only restaurant) in many parts of India. It was a busy little place full of locals, and lots of stainless steel and mirrors. We had delicious thalis, masala chai and the creamiest sweet lassis we have ever come across.
We caught our next bus bound for Goa's old capital, Old Goa where we would catch our train. There stood an even more impressive relic of the Portuguese, the Basilica of Bom Jesus, which holds the remains of Saint Frances Xavier.
An hour before our train left we went to wait for a bus across town on the busy bus route, though the seeming constant flow of buses had ceased. Much to our dismay, the only buses that came where not going our way. As the sun set and time grew short we got desperate and tried other options, there had been some rickshaws down the street, but they had all gone by this point, and our only option seemed to be one man who offered to take us on his motorbike, either together with all our bags, or one at a time. As Lisa and I had never been on bikes in India and we had all of our heavy bags we didn't feel comfortable riding on the back of a stranger's bike with no helmet in the dark. About ten minutes before our train was due to leave a bus came along the way we wanted to go, and we waved it down and hopped on. There was quite a commotion as we showed them our train tickets and soon they told us to get of after charging us a hefty sum for the couple of kilometres they had taken us. Once off I realised we were on a bridge, it was a railway bridge. We ran down the embankment to a small bar to ask for directions or a way to get to the station, and they pointed us in the direction of the station down the tracks. Already somewhat panicked by the rush and confusion, now running down the train tracks, Lisa was pretty scared and upset at the thought of running down tracks in the pitch dark to catch a train that would be coming down these very tracks any minute. I tried to reassure and encourage Lisa to keep going, and after a five minutes we reached the station and broke down into laughter among the others waiting there. Soon the train came and we set of on one of the most scenic train journeys in India.
