Homer Simpson once famously said ‘The road less travelled is sometimes less travelled for a reason’ and at times, over the past few months I have kind of got his point. For those of you that know me, you will know my previous stay in Goa was dogged by the kind of luck that casinos love – i.e. – not good. Nothing at all to do with the country, but decisions made on the spur of the moment, a variety of hospital stays and a tropical illness didn’t really help that much.
So, cue return to good old Blighty for the coldest winter on record and some real soul searching – not the ‘what should I do today?’ kind but the ‘what do I want from life?’ kind. (Also got to love trying to defrost your car in -17 conditions!!!) And finally, the decision was kind of made for me – by circumstances that I couldn’t control. And as with all things that are ruled by fate, there was a time of fear, misunderstanding and pain before a clearer path began to emerge – the road was leading me back to Goa – whether I liked it or not!
So, after ‘Star Wars’ came ‘The Empire Strikes Back’ and so our story went with Goa. On 30th January 2011, we packed those bags once again and headed through the lush green fields of England to the otherworldly environs of Heathrow – a stasis between home and a world once left behind – the sequel had begun …
Mumbai airport was as chaotic, hot and amazing as I remembered, but trying to negotiate its labyrinthine ways with six large suitcases, four carry ons, three tired children and a partridge in a pear tree was no joke. At times I wished I had Sam Gamgee (or even ruddy Gollum) to at least carry a bag if nothing else – but finally, we arrived in Goa. It felt as if we had never left and she welcomed us back with the most open of arms, but her charms were nothing compared to the utter joy on my husband’s face as we stepped through the gates and … I knew I was home. I was reunited with the man I love and the children were with their Dad – as we left the airport, mine weren’t the only eyes that were swimming with tears.
Giles had found us a house in Anjuna and as we drove through the towns and sights I knew so well, I wondered what would greet us. Of course, photos were sent over the internet, but they did not do the first ‘Casa Knapton’ justice (and yes, there is a second house – but, as they say, that’s another story!) Set in a blossoming, verdant garden, the house was (and still is) surrounded with a wraparound porch (many a glass of wine was consumed there after hours I can tell you!!!), bedrooms festooned with swathes of mosquito netting and a family to help with maintenance – Harriet and her husband, Vinod, and the gorgeous moppet Sweety – sweetie by both name and nature. Little did I know, a further trio were to be added to the mix – two dogs and a cat. Penaque – a soft, spotty dog and Tommy – a dog with more anger management issues than Mike Tyson – not towards us, you understand - WE equalled family - but anything that moved; a bird, a cloud, a bike – you get the drift. I mentioned trio – the final member was a cat known …erm … affectionately as LB. The initials stood for – well I’ll let you work that one out – but on the first night we were there, he decided to climb up my silk dresses, greet us with a dead baby rat and steal every bit of food he could get his little paws on – so LB was duely christened and was adored by Sophie.
Ah, yes, that brings me neatly to the children. Holly, as expected, has mixed feelings about her return to Goa being at the age she is, however, Sophie (Fuff) and Oscar – well, they have turned feral. Hair brushing, showers, and teeth brushing are but a distant memory and any attempt to get them clean is met with the toughest resistance since the Second World War. In fact, the sounds emanating from the bathroom come shower time often resemble the Blitz – explosions, screaming, hiding under furniture and that’s just me and Giles.
But the place – well, Anjuna rocks. Not with noise (though there is the occasional party) but it is one of the most chilled places on earth. Our first house was less than a minute from the beach and on Wednesdays, it was (and will be again in the not too distant future) surrounded by the beautiful madness of Anjuna Flea market. Even during the monsoon, I love the spirituality of Anjuna, and to live within it brings you a peace that is difficult to imagine. Many a night, I have sprawled out on the day bed, staring at the stars, listening to the soft, seductive voice of the sea and my worries have dissipated into the ether...
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