I scoffed a little and laughed a lot (the derisive kinds) as my husband suggested that we visit Goa in the monsoons, during R’s Ganpati vacations.
Goa means chilled margarita on a sunny beach. Without them it’s all day cramped in a hotel room. No Sir, NO WAY.
“I promise you it will be a trip like no other. It will be different and just as nice, if not nicer”, said the man.
Like all good wives, I rolled my eyes and absolutely forbade him to act on this absurd idea.
Like all good husbands, he took this as a cue to buy tickets on a 9PM Air India flight on the 4th of September to Dabolim and reserve rooms at the Riva Gold Coast.
And so, on the third day of Ganpati, with three bags, two boxes, two umbrellas and one boy, as the Mithi River overflew and roads flooded and cars stalled, I set off in a cab for the airport. Halfway to the airport, as the cab made its way through water that was halfway to our knees, the husband informed that he would in all likelihood not be able to make it in time for the flight and that I was to fly with the boy by myself and wait for him at the airport. What an auspicious beginning!
Eventually though, he made it on time. However, the flight got delayed to 1.30 AM and we landed at around 2.30 AM. We were received by the kind and genial Ayub Bhai, who dropped us to our hotel. The staff at Riva, expecting us to be groggy from the odd hours, stood outside in the heavy rains to ensure that we did not miss the blink-and-you-miss entrance to the hotel. After an ultra-fast check in, we were shown to our tiny but cosy room and at 4 AM we finally went to sleep.