Margoa to Benaulim

Friday 15 February

This is a brief post. Not much to report. I was afflicted during the night, in quite spectacular fashion, with "that health issue for travellers in India which I always boast I don't suffer from." Not sure if it was the train meal, or the hotel's chicken masala, or an excess of honeyed brandy, or a combination of all three. I risk a late breakfast (eggs good for binding), then stayed in my room until chucking-out time at noon. Then into town to buy pills and a comb (hair also very loose) before taking a taxi down to Benaulim. This is one of several beach-side villages in South Goa, and sounds agreeably laid-back in the guidebooks. Which it is.

I'm just in time to bag the last room at Tansy Cottages, chosen mainly for its wi-fi service. Not sure what the connection with tansy is, being a rather subtle flower I think, but it is built round a central garden of exotic blooms. Not to be outdone, the buildings are painted in livid crimson and lime, and are not easy to miss. Rooms are big and clean, with aircon (outside temperatures hitting 90) and little verandas looking over the garden. A bargain at Rs. 800 (£10). "My problem" seems to be settling, but I feel pretty ghastly and sleep away the rest of the afternoon.

It's 6 pm and the sun is setting, so I head for the beach, a gentle 15 minute stroll. The village is entirely tourist-led, with shops selling the usual stuff from all across India - block-printed bedspreads, sequinned elephant wall hangings, coral necklaces, hollow soapstone carvings and even Kashmiri caps. The tourists are a polyglot lot too, mostly Indian but also palefaces of all ages. I pass a trio of bronzed gap-year dudes earnestly discussing Facebook, plenty of "seniors" looking a little ill at ease in newly acquired "ethnic" wear, and several Russians. Some of the restaurants have Russian menus, though Russian package holidaymakers are said to prefer the glitzier beaches of North Goa. Between village and dunes is a green gap with paddy fields and placid buffalo. This is not Yarmouth.

Not Yarmouth

The beach is..... well, it's a beach. A straight strip of cream-coloured sand stretching north - south until it is enveloped by haze. There are fishing boats drawn up, jet skis (menace) for hire, and parachutists pulled along by speedboats out to sea. A couple of Indian children are constructing a sandcastle in Indo-Saracenic style with turrets and a dome. There are bikini-clad bathers grabbing a last swim before sunset and ladies in clingy, wet saris. And bars next to the dunes, where I have a pineapple lassi but no food. Tomorrow I plan to hire a pushbike (and have a meal).