More Goa postcards: blue

Assuaging my separation angst and  bittersweet Goa feelings (sadness at some of the things I witnessed and internalised, and happiness to have it as a perpetual part of my life) with an uber-touristy mini series to share the rest of my snaps from Goa. I’m going to be lazy and double post them straight of Instagram, on here.

Beautiful, beautiful, Goa — have I mentioned how wonderful it is to be at this vantage point? Of having enough distance, and time between us to let all the dissatisfaction simmer down, and yet be able to return (as a visitor) to find that same familiarity and intimacy still remains? And better still to now be a return visitor, and find a sense of almost-possessiveness, belonging and near-heartbreaking fury and inability to accept even the slightest change? To know that I can flit between the two states, and still feel at home? To be able to see everything differently. To compare, to open my eyes to perspectives previously unnoticed, to feel that gentle throbbing of my heart that still beats for the life you gave me?

Haiiiii – This is ReRe reporting from homeland! In all my years of living in Goa, I never ventured in to Calangute proper. And somehow, this time around, circumstances ensured that we lived smack in the middle of Calangute for six whole days.
Day 1 opened with serene beginnings. And a string of breakfast buffets that would slowly but surely break me. And the healthy food plan I’ve been on. The only saving grace? A swim here, every evening, after sunset.
On day 2, we set off to catch this church in the golden hour of the AM. But it was shrouded in mist which gave it an eerie atmosphere. Also pictured in here is my favourite partner. In life. And have I mentioned now at work too?!
Day 3 escapades took us to this beach that’s predominantly a fishing village. We’ve cycled here very often and it used to be one of the nicest, beaches in the north, pretty cut off from the humdrum. This time though, it was one giant festering toilet, with human fecal matter covering pretty much every square inch, for as far as the eye can see. It infuriated me to have to dodge shit piles to get out and get our work done, until I realised these fishermen were working there too. Smiles on their faces. Dogs romped and cows lolled about on the shitty sands too. Surely this isn’t a choice for these fishermen, I imagined. Nobody would *choose* it, this is what insurmountable circumstances look like. Nothing bursts my bubble of privilege than a reality check like this. Someone want to take the Chief Minister or Modiji down there for a walk? Not a dustbin or bathroom in sight for miles on end. Pretty sure there’s issues with running water too. 
Back at the beach, at a different time of day on day 4. And the colours in the magic hours between 4.30 and 6 are always all kinds of amazing.
On our last day out, I went to what seemed to be one of the nicest azulejos stores of the many many stores Ive been to. Deceptively small but has a delightful variety of things made from using these tiles creatively, for a very decent price too. Custom name boards etc still take ridiculously long (and I wonder why nobody’s figured out a way to work this out faster) but you’ll find a lot of other things worth taking back from your holiday. Head to Azulejos de Goa on MG Road in Panjim. It’s in a little alley like entrance set back from the main road, right opposite Clube Nacionale.

Same time, last year: Day 300: Three hundred

 

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