We decided to leave Ole Murphy
behind, locked firmly at home while we had that ‘perfect holiday’. Did too.
Almost.
Here, for a change, is what did
NOT go wrong.
1. Did
a train journey to Goa. Air-conditioned 4-seater to ourselves. Kids did not
fall off the train. Niks did however, fall off his lower berth SEVEN times in
the night, which meant, I had to wake up SEVEN times in as many hours – and shove
him back on.
2. The
hired car guy ditched us when we reached Goa, asking for double the hire rate.
Met my darling college buddy, who I wanted to spend hours talking to. She spent
hours talking – to every car operator she could think of – begging, pleading –
and finally getting us the car. She did not talk to me, and I don’t know if she
ever will again.
3. We
spent every day at the beach. With cousins. The kids turned purple and peeling –
and would not get out of the water or sun. The bottle of sun-screen lotion got
lost on Day 1, and the un-sun-screened kids had a blast.
4. All
the kids got tattoos. Made of HAIR DYE! Niks is gonna have a purple scorpion
running in rivulets down his forearm –
and Neel is gonna have to wear a jacket to school for the next month to keep
his hidden from his teacher. Niks, back in Bangalore, bared his arm to a little
girl on his school bus, and I could hear her scream. (Desired response
achieved. Niks sat back, pleased!)
5. We
ate. We walked. We ate. We shopped. We ate. We drank. We ate. We partied. We
ate. We ate. We ate. No one got sick. We put on a total of 24 kilos – 4 adults.
We tried to walk it off – only till the next bar, where we ate some more.
6. I
bought tons of flimsy shell trinkets, and sarongs in scraps of cloth, that were
perfect for the beach. And that I will never ever wear again. I ate, to make up
for the guilt.
7. We
met family and friends in our aunt’s beautiful old house. We ate. The kids made
tunnels through the hedge, and collected sticks and bruises. Their clothes
turned red, their faces black.
8. Lost
the keys to the suitcase. Twice. Scratched the hired car. Puked into the sands
of the Arabian sea. Sat through a Konkani mass. Got into a bar brawl. Chased a
Goan pao (bread) guy on a cycle at 7 in the morning. Fed stray dogs.
9. What
we brought home: 2 kilos of sand – sand in clothes, shoes, hair, cuffs, ears...
shells, broken sandals, feni, cake, tattoos, cuts, poison ivy itch, sunburn
(found the sunscreen bottle when we got home). If anyone wants to come over and
share our Goa loot – you’re welcome to any of the above. P.S. The cake is over!
Was a perfect holiday. Came home
to ole Murphy. Got out of our sunny holiday plane into Bangalore. It was
raining and cold. The sunhats and shells got soaked.
