Paradise lost
Every few days, as a traveler you feel the need to stay in one spot for a while to catch your breath. Seven relaxing days in the coastal city of Goa was exactly what we needed after two busy weeks of touring India, and Paradise Village Beach Resort sounded like the perfect place to do this.
Starting from Udaipur, we needed to catch an overnight train to Mumbai and then another overnight train to Goa. We had misread our ticket and arrived at the small station a few hours earlier than required. We tried to find a seat out of the way and wait for our flight, with only a few locals trying to take sneaky selfies with us.
We have booked the upper-class sleeping coach, but upper class is a bit of a stretch of the imagination. Six people share a space which has the train's main passage running through it. For this trip, we were joined by husband and wife and their two little busy boys. Each passenger is provided with two clean sheets, a blanket, and a pillow and the train gets going. Although I am quite sure we were much better off than those in the 2nd class seats with no air-conditioning and only a few barred windows, everything on the train was worn and grimy as seen in the low, dingy lighting.
In the morning when we arrived in Mumbai at the Bandra Station, we realized that we needed to travel across the city to another train station. Luckily, the next train to Goa was only leaving that night because Mumbai traffic is hectic and it took us over two hours, negotiating through the thousands of cars, tuk-tuks, buses, trucks, pedestrians and cows.
This crazed energy we witnessed in the traffic was also present in the busy 18-platform Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus (commonly known by its previous name, Victoria Terminus). While trying to find out where we needed to go, we witnessed a man catch a pick-pocket who then turned aggressive, making us more nervous than we already were. With the temperatures being close to 40 degrees Celsius and carrying heavy bags, we tried to search for a cleanish spot to sit on the ground next to platform one, as we had a few hours to kill.
After witnessing the pick-pocket incident, we held our bags tightly and watched the masses of commuters pass by, who were certainly also watching us two out of place tourists sitting in the middle of a bustling station.
Some people stopped to take photos and many beggars harassed us, but we also had people enquire if we needed any assistance. Since the beggars were getting more persistent, we thought it may be better to move to our departing platform. At this point, we still had over five hours of waiting with nothing to do as we were too scared to whip out any of our electronic devices and Kindles for fear that they would be repossessed.
Making our way to platform 16, a woman who could see our panic-stricken faces offered directions. When she found out we were only traveling that night, she told us that there was an air-conditioned lounge we could wait in that was reserved for upper-class passengers. So instead of sitting on the urine-stained floor, we spent a few hours in this a haven.
On another train and with new fellow travelers, we departed for Goa. The compartment was slightly less clean than the previous train, but the bathroom was marginally better. So all in all, another less than perfect and very long train trip. But we could handle this all knowing the light at the end of the tunnel was that we were about to enjoy a lovely week of luxury at Paradise Village in Goa.
Arriving in Goa, exhausted and feeling filthy from our two days of traveling with no showers and in the same clothes, we still had to endure a 1hour taxi ride to our hotel (which costs double if you wanted the air-con on). But, we were almost there!
Paradise Village Beach Resort was severely lacking. A dirty room with stringy curtains, worn towels, and stained bedding would not do. We were beyond disappointed having traveled to hell and back to get to this hovel. Looking at each other, we jointly confessed that we were willing to forgo our deposit and find somewhere that would be more of a treat and aligned to our original expectations, especially as we were celebrating our wedding anniversary the following day.
We did not realize that the emotional damage of the past 48 hours had scarred us so badly that we were willing to pay the price to stay at a luxury villa with a private butler for the next week. At the time, the investment seemed worthwhile to our sanity.
Yes, the experience was not that bad, especially considering what many other travelers have endured. And yes, this is one story we will probably never forget and retell to others for years to come. However, our level of appreciation for the good life has drastically increased. We certainly love our creature comforts and were not built for roughing it.
Just as I was leaving India, I finished reading The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy. She gives a wonderful description of the train stations in India that I had to include here: "The Stationworld. Society's circus. Where, with the rush of commerce, despair came home to roost and hardened slowly into resignation"
Starting from Udaipur, we needed to catch an overnight train to Mumbai and then another overnight train to Goa. We had misread our ticket and arrived at the small station a few hours earlier than required. We tried to find a seat out of the way and wait for our flight, with only a few locals trying to take sneaky selfies with us.
We have booked the upper-class sleeping coach, but upper class is a bit of a stretch of the imagination. Six people share a space which has the train's main passage running through it. For this trip, we were joined by husband and wife and their two little busy boys. Each passenger is provided with two clean sheets, a blanket, and a pillow and the train gets going. Although I am quite sure we were much better off than those in the 2nd class seats with no air-conditioning and only a few barred windows, everything on the train was worn and grimy as seen in the low, dingy lighting.
In the morning when we arrived in Mumbai at the Bandra Station, we realized that we needed to travel across the city to another train station. Luckily, the next train to Goa was only leaving that night because Mumbai traffic is hectic and it took us over two hours, negotiating through the thousands of cars, tuk-tuks, buses, trucks, pedestrians and cows.
This crazed energy we witnessed in the traffic was also present in the busy 18-platform Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus (commonly known by its previous name, Victoria Terminus). While trying to find out where we needed to go, we witnessed a man catch a pick-pocket who then turned aggressive, making us more nervous than we already were. With the temperatures being close to 40 degrees Celsius and carrying heavy bags, we tried to search for a cleanish spot to sit on the ground next to platform one, as we had a few hours to kill.
After witnessing the pick-pocket incident, we held our bags tightly and watched the masses of commuters pass by, who were certainly also watching us two out of place tourists sitting in the middle of a bustling station.
Some people stopped to take photos and many beggars harassed us, but we also had people enquire if we needed any assistance. Since the beggars were getting more persistent, we thought it may be better to move to our departing platform. At this point, we still had over five hours of waiting with nothing to do as we were too scared to whip out any of our electronic devices and Kindles for fear that they would be repossessed.
Making our way to platform 16, a woman who could see our panic-stricken faces offered directions. When she found out we were only traveling that night, she told us that there was an air-conditioned lounge we could wait in that was reserved for upper-class passengers. So instead of sitting on the urine-stained floor, we spent a few hours in this a haven.
On another train and with new fellow travelers, we departed for Goa. The compartment was slightly less clean than the previous train, but the bathroom was marginally better. So all in all, another less than perfect and very long train trip. But we could handle this all knowing the light at the end of the tunnel was that we were about to enjoy a lovely week of luxury at Paradise Village in Goa.
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| Source: https://pixabay.com/en/india-train-transportation-railway-771288/ |
Paradise Village Beach Resort was severely lacking. A dirty room with stringy curtains, worn towels, and stained bedding would not do. We were beyond disappointed having traveled to hell and back to get to this hovel. Looking at each other, we jointly confessed that we were willing to forgo our deposit and find somewhere that would be more of a treat and aligned to our original expectations, especially as we were celebrating our wedding anniversary the following day.
We did not realize that the emotional damage of the past 48 hours had scarred us so badly that we were willing to pay the price to stay at a luxury villa with a private butler for the next week. At the time, the investment seemed worthwhile to our sanity.
Yes, the experience was not that bad, especially considering what many other travelers have endured. And yes, this is one story we will probably never forget and retell to others for years to come. However, our level of appreciation for the good life has drastically increased. We certainly love our creature comforts and were not built for roughing it.
Just as I was leaving India, I finished reading The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy. She gives a wonderful description of the train stations in India that I had to include here: "The Stationworld. Society's circus. Where, with the rush of commerce, despair came home to roost and hardened slowly into resignation"
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