Quick Week in Goa

A week is barely long enough to realise that you need at least a week just to work out what’s going on… It takes at least a week on the beach to acquire the knowledge about those famous beach raves (There aren’t any; go to a silent disco in Palolem – I didn’t have time, but they’re really good, apparently), where you can get good thali and ‘fish curry rice’ (A challenge, since beach shacks that used to serve them now concentrate on ‘international’ menus), and the best beaches (Colva, Palolem).

I now need to go back to Goa quite soon, so I can use the basic knowledge that I picked up on the last trip – before it’s out of date.

Anyhow, despite only having a few days, I did manage to enjoy the following:

6 beaches
Lots of lobster – barbecued several times; in massala sauce once
Crab xacuti - hot, rich, tangy coconut curry
Amazing breakfasts of idli rice cakes, vada savoury doughnuts, eggs and omelettes, chick-pea curries, delicious fermented coconut sauce
Boat trip to Morjim turtle beach and Ajuna market, via dolphin-watching
Disasterous attempt at partying in Baga - don’t go to Mambos club at the bottom; freezing cold air con, appalling charty music, undrinkable wine, empty club other than a couple of locals, a couple of hookers and some drunk seedy tourists. Oh and they think anyone black is from Nigeria and are therefore trouble-makers, and will be refused entry.
Great Goan restaurant in Panjim, called The Upper House
Cashew and coconut palm varieties of fenni – the local distillation
Fish ambot tik - sour curry with tamarind
Loads of wonderful roti bread, straight from the tandoor, usually brushed with melted butter
Fish-curry-rice - mackerel in a coconut curry sauce with rice
Vindalho, of course

That’s quite a lot I suppose, but I had a massive list of things I wanted to try that will have to wait until next time.

Palavas-Les-Flots, Near Montpellier

My birthday treat! My companion and I drove the 6 hours from my place down to the little seaside fishing town of Palavas-Les-Flots.

On the day itself, we had champagne on the beach, followed by lunch of oysters for me, lobster for him, followed by more champagne on the beach. After all that, we needed a nap, but not before we had reserved a late table on the port for my birthday supper of fruits de mer (seafood platter).




Unfortunately, we woke up at the time of our booking, and my companion takes AGES to get ready for anything. An hour later, we emerged to look for somewhere to eat, but everywhere had stopped serving. Thankfully, we found a little café that was closing up but still serving, and had a delicious meal of tender, tasty steak and chips.

We had fruits de mer for lunch one day, instead.



Montpellier is minutes up the road from Palavas, and we happened to visit on Pride Carnival day. Such a cosmopolitan, buzzing place, and very refreshing after the rural South-West. It was like Brighton but with hot sun.

Big Easy Lobster & Steak

I'd been wanting to eat at this American diner in London for ages, so when a girls' night out needed somewhere to eat, I made suggestions. It was the combination of lobster, steak and cocktails that did it for me.

Having looked on the website, and chosen our dishes, two of us phoned separately to check on what deals they had on, because the ones mentioned were out of date. We were both assured that the deal would be running on the Friday night we planned to go.

When we got there, we were told noway! Not on a Friday! We explained our case to the manager, and thankfully got the deals we expected.

Anyway, the food was very tasty, the steak tender and the cocktails excellent. We all had a thoroughly enjoyable meal. But we all agreed that it wouldn't have been worth it and we'd have felt ripped off had we paid the full Friday night price, which would have cost about £40 extra EACH!

Beach Boys & Biscuit; Lobster Heaven - 24th August 2007

Beach Boys & Biscuit

Hung around in Lumley, where the hotel was, and walked on the beach, while my dad went to work. I got approached quite a lot by young men, who were mainly friendly and wanted to offer their services as ‘THE main beach boy’, who could help with arranging… well, anything touristy, really; trips, barbecues, drumming shows. I also got some minor hassle from guys who wanted to chat. Individually they were no problem, leaving me alone as soon as I said I wanted to walk on my own. But it was a little tiresome just because of the numbers of people I had to tell to go away, which I don’t like doing, and I did have to be firm with a couple of them, who argued the point of wanting to be my friend – “You no want to be my friend? Why you no like me?”

The hugely long beach takes quite a while to walk along and back again, so I was pleased to snack on boiled peanuts (slightly sweet and juicy) and a sweet deep-fried pastry for my lunch. They were sold to me from plastic tubs, which two small children, of about four and seven, carried on their heads.

Lobster Heaven

The evening was the moment I had been waiting for, for months; lobster at Paul’s…



Before the war, the beach resort at Lakka, down the coast from Freetown, was a tropical paradise. It still is, except that the restaurants, bars and places to stay are falling to pieces. Since the war, tourists have stayed away, and the failure of the government to maintain the road to Lakka has compounded the problem, because locals are not willing to spend hours navigating the ‘road’, whilst ruining their cars. The road is so appalling it has become a national joke, and it is exhausting just to sit as a passenger and be continually jolted for the hours it takes to drive a few kilometres.

Anyway, after being thrown around on this stretch of mud, ponds and rocks, we finally got to Lakka, where I was going to stay in a beach shack for the weekend. ‘Pierre’s Resort’ used to be the classy, French-frequented Cotton Club, but its collapsed clubhouse and collection of wooden cabins are now slowly mouldering into the beach. It is still charming, though, and the scruffy paintwork in amongst palm trees and overgrown paths, has an appeal that would be wiped out by maintenance, a refit, redecoration and – in the case of fallen-in roofs – a rebuild. My shack was full of colonial styling, which had clearly once been gorgeous and quite luxurious. Salty sea air, torrential rainy seasons and neglect have eaten away at the fixtures and fittings, the paint and the furnishings. But there’s the possibility of outside investors taking over the management and revitalization of the old Cotton Club, so if you want to experience this magical place as it is, you’ll have to visit soon.





There was no time to hang out in my home for the weekend; we had a reservation at Paul’s place, a couple of hundred metres’ walk down the beach. A call that morning had assured that a large lobster was caught and kept alive in the sea, ready for our evening meal. Paul doesn’t have customers very often (rainy season, effects of war, lack of road), and we were the only ones eating that night, so I was able to watch the meal’s preparation.





It went like this: massive lobster killed and cut in half lengthways, it’s glistening flesh and shell smothered in secret recipe garlicky seasoning. Fire lit, chips cut, oil heated and chips cooked over fire, lobster grilled over fire, helper sent to Pierre’s Resort for Star beer. What could be better? as Rick would say.





I felt amazingly lucky, gorging on the best lobster possible (for about €10 each), perfectly cooked, with salty chips, lime on the side and cold beer to drink, whilst sitting at a makeshift, tie-dye tableclothed table, in candlelight, on a beach, in a warm breeze, with palm trees swaying and friendly locals chilling out nearby! Absolutely nothing could be better! The lobster was slightly charred on the outside, cooked right through, and had moist, tender flesh.







Pillows and covers that smelled powerfully of damp somehow didn’t seem a problem, as I fell straight to sleep, with the sound of waves crashing just metres away, and warm rain thrumming on the roof.