Yes, I live in Goa but I have no sensible reason why it has taken me this long to visit Palolem beach. I visited in January 2017 thanks to a friend dropping by Goa from abroad, and him wanting to hire a cab to check out the beach for a day. It was a lo-ong ride from Benaulim to Palolem, even with a taxi driver who drove like he was a Grand Prix racer. We got there by 11am with a plan to just find a café/restaurant, plant ourselves and chill. beach access full of desperate entrepreneurs desperate for business. ‘Do you want dolphin watching?’ asked one. ‘Boatman?’ asked another at my elbow until I said No firmly enough for him to get the point. Everyone needed business now that money flow was improving too slowly after the country’s recklessness of demonetisation.
Right away, as I started to walk the slight curve of the shoreline, past the line of restaurants and colourful cabanas lining the sandy beach edge, I fell in love with the beach’s unique features. The sand was different here – flatter close to the edge, even though it wasn’t wet and fluffier the further it got away from the water’s edge. It was a different texture and colour too, to Benaulim beach sand; less coarse, almost flakier and more golden. In the distance, I could see a lump of rock, rising out of the water, forming a nice little cove to hide behind if you were in the water swimming or in a kayak. That was another thing, you could hire kayaks and go out onto the water for a short jaunt. We strolled through the sand until we found a restaurant called ‘Blue’ with cover that opened onto the beach but was still deep enough in the shade to keep us cool.
One cold coffee later and out came my laptop so that I could scratch my itch to get some long overdue writing done. My friend donned his bathing suit and disappeared into the water for a couple of hours. Before he melted into the Arabian Sea, he mentioned that when he’d visited Palolem before, he’d noticed that the beach was split into informal enclaves. To the left of the beach entrance was where the Russians hung out. Menus were in Russian; so were signboards. To the right, where we were sitting at that moment, was the British and Israeli part of the beach. After my friend left for his swim, a few families sat down a short distance away, occasionally looking up from their phone screens to discuss what they’d like to order from the menu. They were speaking a language I couldn’t comprehend and I realized that they were speaking Hebrew. I turned to the back of the menu and there it was, staring me in the face – the entire menu translated into Hebrew.
And what a fabulous menu it was – Indian, Continental and Chinese staples were there, but I spotted the occasional oddity that I’d never seen before on any shack or restaurant menu in the Benaulim area. Coconut naan bread jumped out at me. I’d never heard of it before, let alone tried it. I ordered a plate along with a rum and coke. A hot steaming platter of over-fresh naan sprinkled with shredded coconut arrived. As I chewed the doughy bread, shots of coconut flavor overtook the gentle heat of fluffy carbs and made my tongue ecstatic. I ordered another bread basket when my friend returned to the table and got him to try some. He ordered a third one! We basically spent a couple of hours filling up on fresh coconut naan bread and drinks until our stomachs rebelled against the lack of protein and veg in our system. We ordered a few other menu items which turned out to be less impressive and it was sunset all too quickly. We had a couple of sundowners to celebrate a wonderful day out and the joy of being alive and on a beach, sharing the pleasure of each other’s company.
Nomadic Dreams 