Life on the Beach

This is a small hotel situated a little off the main streets and therefore offering a more peaceful setting. However, it's only a 5-minute walk to the beach, a15-minute stroll to the centre of Calangute, and a 10-minute wander to the Baga Road with its wide choice of restaurants.

It can never masquerade as a five-star hotel, just a basic three-star. Nothing pretentious, but a straightforward, clean accommodation in a friendly, almost family–type setting. Our room was on the first floor overlooking a small road. The room was not huge, nor was it claustrophobic. It had sufficient storage space, a couple of single beds, a table, chair, and a basic en-suite bathroom. A small balcony, on which we enjoyed the late afternoon sun, was great to watch the comings and goings of the locals.

The pool area was perfectly pleasant, but there was a marked lack of sun beds. It had in total 10 sun beds, and 4 of these were in poor condition and remarkably uncomfortable. As early risers, it wasn’t a problem for us, but it was probably the worst equipped pool area that we’ve experienced. However, as most people spent the day at the beach, there was never any real competition for the beds. The pool was clean, well maintained, and a pleasure to swim in. Towels were provided for use around the pool.

We did have a number of "difficulties" whilst we were there, but none of them were too problematic. Firstly, the pillows were flat and unsupportive–additional pillows were provided within minutes of asking. I found the mattress too hard and was surprised when, quicker than the additional pillows, a second mattress was brought up to our room. Thereafter, I had no complaints about the softness of my bed!

Our final problem related to the central ceiling fan that was crucial for our nighttime comfort. On our third night it started to groan and creak and at one point it was so noisy that I was convinced it would unscrew itself from the ceiling and skewer us to our beds. The next day I referred the problem to the receptionist, and within 10 minutes one of the staff appeared at my door. A quick listen and he disappeared only to re-appear a few seconds later with a feather duster and a large roll of masking tape. The mattress was cleared off the bed and the table lifted onto the bed with a dining chair placed on top of that, and then the "technician" balanced on top of this shaking pile. He prodded a plastic cover with the feather duster and then wrapped loads of tape around the supporting rod. The problem had been a rattling cover, and within moments the remedy had been executed. Like the hotel–this was basic, straightforward, but effective.

A friendly and clean basic base for our Goan holiday. Good basic cheap food was available from the bar area. A good experience.

This basic beach shack became our preferred daytime home, and we were treated as long lost friends. We weren’t naïve enough to think it was because we were being viewed as "someone special," but that’s how the staff at Goan Waves made you feel.

One night we ate there for our main meal and were served by SB, who became our personal waiter each time we visited. Food here is cheap, and a main course with rice will only set you back around 110 rupees (around £1.50). However, we’re talking fairly raw and spicy dishes with a not too subtle use of local spices. We tried a vegetable makhamvala, aloo gobi, and a couple of other veggie dishes. They were substantial, and satisfying, but not particularly memorable.

However, what this place did particularly well were the starters / nibbles and Naan Breads. The Gobi Pakoras were delicious, and the cheese parantha just delighted the palate. The nighttime ambiance cannot be beaten with the gentle sound of the waves as they clipped the beach, merging with some of my all-time favourite music (Chris Rea, Dire Straits and the Stones). Flickering candles, supplemented by low-wattage bulbs, provides semi-romantic lighting for the venue, aptly hiding the worn and weathered appearance of the shack.

During the daytime, we used the free sun-beds that Goan Waves were proud to make available for customers. They were handcrafted wooden benches with an apology for a mattress laid across them. However, we "got demanding" and SB ensured that we always had a couple of mattresses for our "added comfort."  A towel would be ceremoniously placed over the mattresses, and as we clambered onto the bed he would be heading off for our first drink of the day (a litre of ice water and a glass beaker of cold coffee). We became totally predictable, but holidays aren’t the time to make earth-shattering decisions!

Snack lunches were of good quality and my choice of their omelets offered a substantial mid-day snack. There must have been at least 4 or 5 eggs in the omelets, and with lashings of a local tomato sauce and a couple of slices of fresh bread I don’t reckon you can go far wrong at 40 rupees.

Throughout the day, all we had to do was raise our hand and SB materialised to take our drinks order: Fresh-lime soda, various milkshakes, freshly squeezed fruit juices, beer, etc. All served beautifully chilled, and at crazily cheap prices.

There was never any pressure to buy, and often it seemed as if the staff were just pleased of the company. Certainly, for around 500 rupees a day, we could eat and drink and be pampered whilst taking in the gorgeous Goan sun. This was the life and the staff at this beach shack helped contribute to a perfectly relaxed holiday in the sun. Thanks to SB and his colleagues. Long may they prosper!

We were aimlessly walking the beach one night, and we kinda took pity on the mildly sycophantic owner who looked pleadingly at us to join us in his shack. We should have known better, as we were the only customers all evening, and to that end we’d broken our golden rule of only eating where other diners are in evidence!

The place was dimly lit, and the menu was almost impossible to read (thankfully we were carrying a torch, which made the job a little easier). Plastic tablecloths advertising kingfisher beers adorned the plastic garden tables. We originally sat in comfortable wicker chairs, but opted for the higher plastic garden chairs to give us a better height for eating from–it’s hard work when you have to peer over the side of the table from a lowly position! The odd, low-wattage lightbulb hung from the raffia roof, and a tear in the plastic tarpaulin gave us a tantalising glimpse of the star filled sky above us. Tinsel and mock vegetation had been wound around the supporting bamboo struts (perhaps the remnants of Christmas celebrations!) and, in attempt to bring a touch of class, strategically placed potted plants were dotted around the shack’s interior.

I was eagerly awaiting our Onion Pakora starter and confirmed with my wife what a pleasurable experience eating on the beach can be. You just can’t beat the sound of the sea and the feel of fine talcum powder sand through your toes. It’s a magical experience that I’ll never cease to enjoy. The Pakoras arrived, and disappointingly we had to ask for serviettes (the way I eat Pakoras can be a messy business), which were promptly brought to us in a Kingfisher plastic serviette holder. There were a dozen round deep-fried battercakes, crammed with hot onion and accompanied by a great dip. This was surely a good start to the meal, and we sat back to enjoy the theatre of the beach whilst we drank our beer and awaited the main course. Unsuspecting tourists were hotly pursued by Thomas’ staff in an attempt to coerce them to eat there, and the lonely hawkers were aggressively seen off by the shack’s staff in an attempt to protect us from unwelcome harassment.

The meal arrived: Allo Mutter, vegetable biryani, and four chapattis. It looked great, but tasted very strange. The Mutter had a distinct and strange aftertaste, and the biryani smelt unpleasant in an indefinable way. We toyed with the food–ate a little, and then chewed on the chapattis (they were fine). But it was really too unpleasant to eat, and the waiter looked bewildered. We muttered something about not being too hungry, paid the bill, and escaped. The next day, Dehli Belly struck–courtesy of Thomas’ Beach Shack Restaurant. This was a dining experiences that would put anyone off eating in the primitive environment of a beach shack—this is a place to avoid!

We started off with a couple of nicely chilled large Kingfisher beers and pondered the menu card. It was nothing out of the ordinary but it did have a reasonable selection of vegetarian meals (our preferred choice in a beach shack) and a variety of "freshly caught" fish dishes. We were in no hurry (probably just as well because no-one in this restaurant was prepared to move anything other than slowly. In the words of some renowned wit, "if they were any more laid-back they’d be horizontal." "No worries, man," was a much-repeated maxim at this shack.

We placed our order for some potato pakoras, a cauliflower mutter, a pea marsala, steamed rice, and a Kahmiri Nan. "No hurry," I heard myself say as we settled down to enjoy the multi-cultured band that was about to perform. They sang a wide variety of music–a bit of jazz, some ethnic numbers, and straight European pop. Their performance was varied, but the beach party atmosphere would have seen them through anything. When the group changed over (to a couple of talented modern day hippy-types) the food arrived.

Now this was an unpretentious meal, and there was a distinct lack of subtlety as the combination of spices assaulted our taste buds. Certainly nothing to "write home about," but as cheap, substantial meals are concerned this one was up there with the winners. The nan, perhaps the largest we’ve ever been served, was crammed with fruit and was particularly flavoursome, and it proved ideal for mopping up the rich sauces that made up our two main dishes. We polished off the meal in good time, and I reckon our taste buds were now seriously damaged and our lips a-tingle from the hot spices unveiled in the mutter. Although we were fairly replete, we decided to have an ice cream as a dessert–we just needed to cool down the lips!

As a finale to this evening, the Goan night sky erupted in a mass of colourful explosions as an impressive fire work display began. It must have lasted a good 20 minutes with the explosions augmented by taped music from the stage. A great finish to a leisurely meal in a super setting.

There’s a pleasant breeze off the Arabian Sea and you can be guaranteed excitement in the water. It’s not ideal for swimming because the current is a bit vicious, but I had great fun being buffeted by the waves and trying to jump the big ones as they thundered inland (talk about a second childhood!). For the more adventurous, you can go paragliding or have a go on jet-skis. Towards the end of the day the locals appear in force and converge on the water’s edge, and immerse themselves in the water—fully clothed.

But if you can manage frequent, non-aggressive approaches by the beach hawkers then just sit back and enjoy the activity on the beach. From early morning, the tea-boys walk up and down attempting to tempt you to a "fresh cup of tea" out of their polystyrene beakers, quickly followed by the polystyrene boxes balanced on heads, containing manufactured ices. The up-market locally-made ices are carried by young men pushing bicycles with large padded cylinders strapped to the back—having heard cautionary tales of local water we never risked one of these but the locals were lapping them up. The peanut vendors were always out in force and varied widely in ages (from 7 to 70), and infrequently we were treated to the plaintive cries of a female fruit seller as she strolled passed with a glimpse of fruit showing from the basket carried on her head. A loan pedicurist / foot masseur peddled her services, and although a 10-minute foot massage was only 100 rupees I was never that tempted—she seemed extremely heavy handed when she successfully offered services to our "near neighbour".

The main traders of sandals, saris, skirts, shirts, and other "showy souvenirs" were frequently heard saying "just lookie, looking is free!". But that was the only "hook" they needed to ensure a sale— from our observation once they started showing their wares a sale was secured! The best line came from a young female trader who would say, "look at my rubbish, buy my cheap rubbish" I’m not sure that this catch phrase was a particular commercial success! Certainly if you’re interested in clothing the deals on the beach can be tremendous—the hawkers have no overheads and as the season progresses they are more than happy to negotiate.

We lay back and enjoyed the total experience.