is there poodle in my noodle

We have spent the last few days immersing ourselves in Goa: the home of the dreadlock, poo-catcher pants, top knot, and dreamcatcher tattoo.

It’s been a treat to receive an actual fork with a rice dish; infinately preferable to chasing a million grains around the plate using only one’s right hand, and then throwing it all over the floor. Toilet roll in the loo rather than a hosepipe, and toast and eggs for breakfast rather than curry, which does make the metaphorical eyes water after a while.

While the majority of tourists here are Indian we are far from the only white faces, with a fair share of Russians and Isrealis on their holidays. We have had a few nice interactions and are mainly avoiding talking politics.

The journey here was fraught, stranded in a backwater town at 11pm when our bus didn’t show up. It was down to the kindness of locals who phoned around and got us on a later bus – or we would have been stranded there all night.

Goa was colonised by Portugal for more than 450 years until 1961, leaving a significant cultural impact on its architecture, cuisine, and language. The word ‘vindaloo’ comes from the Portuguese words ‘vinho de alho’, meaning ‘wine and garlic’. Although it is not apparent where we are staying, there are remnants of colonisation in the capital, Panaji.

In other news, we have been doing some surfing, running, walking, and swimming.

We have also adopted a cat.

We have also been out to a techno party which was very good fun.

Today Jem is hiring a Royal Enfield and we are off exploring down the coast – Portuguese architecture to follow! He is very excited indeed. Don’t worry mummies, we both have helmets!