I gather that the Western holidaymaker season hasn’t started in Goa yet; December and January are the busy months, by Indian standards. From taking to a few folks here, it also seems that the hippies have mostly moved on too. There are a few hundred Indian tourists, however, mostly down from Mumbai (Bombay) for their jollies. I had a fairly frustrating first day here: tired off the plane, I had the nearly-forgotten nonsense of arranging a reasonably priced taxi ride from the airport and then the hunt for the reasonably priced hotel (of course, the taxi drivers are on commission and take you to wherever pays most first). After thanking him for his services, I went on my way alone and managed to find the best of a questionable bunch for about 400 Rs. (£5) a night. It’s about the cheapest in the area, and arguably the best without tripling the money. Unfortunately, my small room does not have air-conditioning and it’s really hot and humid here. Not a patch on the UAE but, with nowhere to hide, I find myself standing under a cold shower at least three times a day to try and bring down my body temperature.

I had a culture shock moment on the first night and was surprised at how I freaked-out at the various bugs and critters in and around the room. During my walk along the beach, I nearly stepped on a fat snake and came back to the hotel to see my first Inian tiger (see photo). At night, I spent the best part of five minutes chasing a inch-long cockroach around my room. It successfully escaped (those things are fast) and hid somewhere underneath the bed, which meant that I couldn’t get to sleep for fear of retaliation in the night. Frustrated, after not falling asleep by 2am, I decided to shut-off the ceiling fan to see if the noise was responsible for keeping me awake. Cue high-pitched zizzing sounds from a mosquito who, I then realised, had already bitten me four times. Light back on, I tracked it around the room with my shoe until I eventually sandwiched it between the wall and the sole. Success, I thought, and then noticed that the specks of dirt on the wall were actually moving. Little ticks, or something, and lots of then too. So there I was a 2.05am shambolically erecting my ill-fitting mosquito net, knowing full well that these ticks were way smaller than the holes in the mesh of my safety net and so could pass through unhindered.

It seems that I have become rather used to my sister’s luxury apartment in the Middle East. I’m sure that this’ll all pass over me in a few days time, but for now I’m flinching at every flying insect that comes over to say hello.

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