Right.
I am constantly being told by everybody who went on the trip to post about this particular incident that happened to us towards the end of our trip. So be it. What follows is probably the weirdest thing to have ever happened to me on a vacation anywhere. It probably encapsulates this trip perfectly, and reminds people exactly why a vacation to a place like Goa is unlike any other place in this country.
Goa, true to it's nature was having a water shortage while we were staying at Candolem. The bungalow we were staying at had some rather shoddy pipes laid into the ground, and even a visit from the plumber with replacement pipes didn't quite cut it. This happened right in the middle of our week. And at this point of time the situation was as follows. Every single girl had managed to have a bath properly and 2 of us guys had at least one shower in the first two or three days of staying there. That left 4 rather pissed off guys including yours truly, with no water, sweat pouring down the cracks of our ass on a hot Goa afternoon, and desperately wanting a bathe but no way to get one. This was a predicament. We tried calling up a couple of friends who we knew were not staying too far away from us, who we presumed had access to running water. Sahirr and me took a bike, and we took it to their place. There must have been something really awful we did in an earlier life though, because as soon as we reached their apartment, their water ran out as well. We were resigned to doing what we had been dreading doing all morning, since we got up. Public bathing.
We enquired around Calangute and Baga for a place where we could take a bath. Not before I had a little, ahem, embarrassing incident with that bastard bike of course. To make a long story short, let’s just say I got a little over excited and skidded. No harm no fowl really. And in the eloquent words of Forrest Gump, that’s all I have to say about that. We found out that the only place where public bathing was done was at the Sulabh Saucchalya near Baga Beach. The horrors that went through my mind at this point are best not discussed here. We got to the place and made a little reconnoitre around the area. It really wasn’t as bad as all that from the outside. In fact, I saw quite a few of the foreigners outside getting ready to take a bathe as well. It definitely wasn’t at all like the ones you see in shoddy street corners of Bombay. An enquiry from the mustachioed man at the counter told us that it would cost us 10 bucks to have a bath in there. Yeah, right. I think it cost me a whole lot more really. Maybe not monetarily, but yeah, that bath cost me something…
As I came out of there ten to fifteen minutes later, feeling apprehensive yet definitely cleaner than I went in, I was assured by Moustachio that the water came from Karnataka. That didn’t make me feel all that much better.
You can imagine how I must have felt when two days later the same thing happened. Something went wrong with those goddamned pipes AGAIN!
This time however, prospects were certainly brighter. Siddhant knew somebody who owned a resort near Calangute and thought that he might be able to pull a favour and get the 4 of us a room for an hour or so, to get a shower. The rest of us were pretty skeptical about this half chance he was proposing, but it was either this or back to the SS. No. Fucking. Way. We took two bikes that late evening and went hunting for Ronil’s Resort.
We found it around fifteen minutes later, and went inside. Ronil’s Resort is a nice enough place for the kind of crowd that wants a quiet evening out with some nice classical music. And all this by the poolside too. Most of the crowds in here were senior citizens. The three of us waited in the lobby while Siddhant went into the coffee house, and had a chat with the manager he knew, or more accurately, his father knew. We were restlessly flipping magazines in the lobby waiting to see if this thing would work or not, when we suddenly turned around to see a 60-odd year old white woman with graying hair, dripping with jewelry, wearing something white and Indian walking towards us, and Siddhant close on her heels right behind. She swept straight past us with a smile. We looked enquiringly at Sid, who simply mouthed for us to follow. Apparently what had happened was this, as he later explained to us. He had asked the guy, but that man said that there weren’t any rooms available at the time. As he was about to turn away dejected and defeated, Sid was stopped by Shirley (I think that was her name) or Shiela, and she offered her own room to us!
We followed her round the back, past the musicians, and the bearded piano player for some reason seemed surly towards me. Wanker. Anyways, as we got to the back and her room, she apologized profusely suddenly that she couldn’t provide us with musical entertainment, while we had a bath. We thought this was queer. This was just the beginning. We get inside her room. First thing her Highness does is enter the shower. I use the words her Highness, because we soon discovered that the dear old girl was just that, high. She proceeds to show us the shower, “There you go, and that’s how you turn that right there, like that!”
The 4 of us are looking at each other awkwardly.
“Um yes thank you ma’am.”
She moves back and notices the shower curtain. She pulls it back and forth with a thrust. We try to fight back laughing. She mumbles something about surprising somebody in the shower. We are a little unnerved again, nodding all along. She then proceeds towards the toilet next to the shower.
“Theres the toilet if you need it! And if you need to flush, viola!”
And she promptly flushes the toilet! This one is going around the bend. She then turns around clumsily and tests the basin taps!
“There we go, that’s all done.”
Then she shows us the two bottles of shower and conditioner and the intricate differences between the two. And we’re still standing there like gawking pigeons, nodding all along. We thank her again, trying to get her to move along.
“Nonsense, I have two lads of my own. They’re around your age!”
I’ll bet.
She finally decides to leave. Though not before showing us how her key works. The key to her door, that is. I decide to take the first shower. But before I get in, I take a minute to voice my opinion to my three comrades. Here we are. Four guys between the ages of 18 to 20, in a strange firang’s hotel room, are using her shower. A closer inspection of the room tells us that she isn’t holding this room to just herself. There are a man’s clothes around, and another singe bed. Which means either husband brother or companion is along for the trip. This complicates matters further. What if aforementioned individual were to walk in on us round about now. 4 men in the wife’s bed, watching her television, bare chested, one guy naked in the shower. Wit that in mind, we decide to make this one quick! I got out within ten minutes. I started to look around the room. I had to find something. I had to keep something. I didn’t want to be an asshole or anything, but I just had to prove this happened. Who would believe us?? We were not even carrying a camera. I spent the next half an hour looking for something of absolutely no value that I could flick. I had to settle for a Ronil’s resort glass coaster and a packet of soap. Sigh! Though even after I pocketed both, I still kept searching, hoping for something better. It was at this point that I caught sight of a cough remedy bottle. Two of us had violent coughs at the time. I jokingly took it out of its cover and twisted it, expecting it to have been an already used bottle. Ha Haa! Right?
Wrong.
Whoops! I heard the seal break! I quickly replaced it in it’s cover, with a rather appropriate, “Oh fuckin hell!”
We finally finished up within the hour and went downstairs again. We found her by the bar. She looked a little worse from the outside. Siddhant went in to return the key to her and thank her again. He spent a little longer than it should take, at least ten minutes. We were wondering what he was doing in there, and a peek told us that he was talking to a guy with her. We were right, husband. He finally came out and we asked him what took so long. With a smile he said, “ Tell you later. Lets get the hell out of here, we’re late!”
OK, fair enough.
It wasn’t until we were back home in VT station did he tell me what had happened in that bar. So he goes up to her, “Thanks for everything.”
“No problem, none at all, let us know when you need anything like this again.”
“um yeah sure.”
Her husband pipes in at this point., “But we’ll only help you if you promise to support England in the coming third ODI here at Goa!” *chuckle*
“Um yeah hehe”
Her Royal Highness with the punch line at this point.
“Of course you can come back anytime! But next time,” clutches at his shoulder, “I get to watch!”
Yeah. That’s Goa for you….
