As I have mentioned in my previous blog, the roads in Goa are not the sole privilege of vehicles – they belong to anything, anywhere, anybody, anytime (when you think about it – they are a bit like a tarmac flavoured Martini really …) I personally think there is a huge market for a Goan computer game – dodge the person, the bike, the goat … Driving in Goa is not so much ‘Too Fast Too Furious’ – its more ‘Not Fast But Getting Furious’!
The frustration is that none of the normal rules seem to apply; driving the wrong way down a dual carriageway – not a problem, driving at night with no lights on – fine, stopping without any warning whatsoever – absolutely. When you drive in Goa, you must do so with the single minded concentration of a zealot. You must anticipate anything from any direction. I only became aware of how different driving here was when I received a phone call from the UK. Not wanting any distraction, I asked Holly to answer, ‘Just tell them I can’t speak right now – I’m overtaking an elephant’!
God forbid, any accident should occur whilst on the road – within seconds there will be a crowd of bystanders, each one desperate to share their version of events (very often this leads to heated words – so no rubbernecking – just keep moving people – nothing to see here…) I know this first hand, having been involved in an incident I can only describe as ‘girl meets bus’.
So, there I am, driving to Nerul. Gorgeous sunshine, light traffic on the road … As I approach the bridge made famous in ‘The Bourne Supremacy’, I fleetingly think of Bourne’s car flipping into the river and say a silent prayer of thanks for careful drivers who aren’t being chased by hired assassins. I kept my speed low, glancing around me for any bodies (animal/vegetable or mineral!) who looked as if they were about to leap out in front of my car. Needless to say, this focus provided its own distraction and a split second before impact, I noticed the bus. Now, the bus had been on my radar – obviously – it was in front of me – but as it hurtled towards Nerul, I was pretty confident that its momentum would continue. It didn’t. I forgot that buses can be flagged down anywhere and the bus will stop. No warning. No indication. Just stop. So, as the lady stepped out from the shade, her arm gracefully raised, the bus stopped dead. My car kept going and crunched into the rear bumper. Cue – shock, fear and the humiliation of thirty people – locals and tourist alike – peering down from the windows and reaching for their mobile phones. I hung my head – You Tube here I come – I thought wearily and shook my head.
The bus driver jumped out and I steeled myself expecting angry words and accusations – but none came. He just gestured to me to pull forward so that our vehicles could disengage themselves from their tangled embrace. But pulling forward didn’t not help one bit, the car and the bus just snuggled closer together like a pair of petulant teenagers who refuse to be separated. Feeling desperately sorry and embarrassed, I tentatively suggested reversing – this was met with much enthusiasm by the bus driver and thirty people who were now looking at their watches and sending me less than sympathetic looks. And so, we parted – in more ways than one. Once the bus and the car were two distinct entities again, the driver assessed the damage … bus – fine, small car – dented – and he decided that there wasn’t a problem at all and continued on his route with a cheery wave.
I was left in the car, stunned, in shock and crying. Several local people approached the car to offer assistance but upon seeing my less than groomed state (tearful mascara panda eyes are soooooooooooooooooo last season dahling) they retreated. A sobbing, stuttered phone call to Giles ensured help was on its way but eventually a very nice man stopped his motorbike and asked if I was ok. Snivelling, I replied that I was fine and that my husband would be along shortly. He patted my hand kindly and waited (some distance off – probably to avoid all the tears and drama) until help arrived.
Giles and his friend Samir again assessed the damage – they felt it was little more than a scratch whilst I wailed away like I was on the Titanic. The car was taken to a local garage whilst I was bundled into the car and taken for a drink to steady myself after all the excitement. So, crisis over but a real lesson in remembering that traffic works differently here and anticipation really is the name of the game.
But for every minor inconvenience on the road, there is always a balance – something that will surprise or delight you; be it an unexpected landmark shimmering out of the morning mist, a scooter carrying one man and a thousand bundles or children playing in the rainbow puddles by the side of the road. One of the funniest recent memories of a road trip has now been christened ‘girl versus cow’. So, to start, driving along the extremely narrow road from Anjuna to Vagator can be fraught with peril on any given day, but on this particular occasion, the kids and I were delighted to see a lovely white calf totter fresh from the fields onto the road. We were quite a distance away and so, slowed accordingly.
As we reached the baby cow, it lifted its head, proceeded to the exact centre of the road and promptly laid down. No way round it. At all. So, feeling all ‘Jurassic Park’ (you know that bit where one of the raptors causes a distraction so the rest of them can surround their prey) I looked around anxiously for Mummy and Daddy cow. No joy. And then came the swift realisation that I am actually scared of cows (who knew?!) so now, getting out of the car to move the little tyke on its way was now not an option either. Meanwhile, the calf was chewing its cud carefully and regarding the crazy English woman and three kids (who were all hung out of the windows, encouraging the little cow to moooove – must be a family fear of bovines …) with a bewildered expression.
After ten minutes, yes ten minutes, of gentle coaxing – the calf won this particular round of ‘chicken’. I looked around to see if I could turn the car without falling into paddy fields (not good) or a deep pond (even worse). Luckily, a guy on a scooter, who had obviously enjoyed the spectacle, calmly dismounted, moved the calf in two seconds flat and sped on his way grinning…(Bet that’s on You Tube now as well *sigh*)
So, baby cows and buses notwithstanding, a drive in Goa is always an unforgettable experience. Try it and see!!!
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