South Goa and the Don’t Luke Now hotel

(With apologies for the dreadful pun)

It has to be said that the north Goa experience this year was superior to the second week in the south; which is a surprise, as we’d been expecting the opposite.

Palolem, a jewel among Goa’s beaches, is still beautiful but starting to look over-used and a bit ragged around the edges. There is a lot more hassle than I remember from two years ago, more beach shacks, and rather too much blue tarpaulin holding them together. Bit like David next door’s shed, but that’s another story.

Our favourite juice bar (fondly remembered for its hammocks, sunbeds and comfortably lazy atmosphere) is still there, but without said hammocks, sunbeds and atmosphere. Having waded waist high through where the river meets the sea to get there, we were disappointed. Pineapple juice from a carton? In Goa? A girl has her standards, you know!

Having done a comprehensive online search for a villa/apartment and failing to find one that was available (the choice is much more limited in the south), we’d settled on Luke’s Residence as our best option, even though it cost substantially more than we’d paid to come here last time.

I was sold on the description of ‘deep, comfortable beds’ – which indeed they were. However, what the website didn’t talk about was the road noise (5 am call to prayer, anyone?), the chain-smoking hostess and the sleazy owner. (Well, it wouldn’t, would it?) There was no air-conditioning, which was fine for me, coming from the steam room that is inland Kerala, but was a problem for Tris and Mike. And no pool, which was a shame, as there’s nothing nicer after a long day at the beach than dipping your hot, sandy feet in the hotel swimming pool.

Breakfast was provided; standard issue eggs and sweetened sliced white bread, but the coffee was good. Less appealing when garnished by Mr Luke’s alcohol breath, but needs must. Thankfully most mornings we were served by the toothy and mainly silent kitchen girl, who I tried to engage in conversation (‘That’s a lovely churidar you’re wearing this morning…’) but without notable success.

Mr and Mrs L spent a lot of time sitting on their verandah, which we had to pass every time we went to our rooms on the first floor. After various (unsuccessful) overtures to me to join him for gin and tonic, Mr L then informed me he was going to book a ticket and come back to Kerala with me. Yikes. If I’d never appreciate Tris and Mike before, I appreciated them last week!

Mrs L, meanwhile, sat in her chair looking like a cross between Toad of Toad Hall and a sinister Buddha, smoking pack after pack of filthy smelling local cigarettes and complaining about the police, the Hindus and the Russians. Can’t wait for our next visit…

Luckily, you don’t have to go far from Palolem to find beautiful, unspoiled and hassle-free beaches. Just ten minutes’ walk away is Patnem, less obviously gorgeous than Palolem but quieter with a good-natured atmosphere. Walk the half-mile stretch and past the rocks at the end and you arrive at the Rajbaga beach, surely one of the most tranquil places on earth (and certainly in India).

Rajbaga beach sees very few tourists, even though the extensive grounds of the huge Intercontinental Hotel back right on to it. The Intercontinental, though, is like a ghost town; on both occasions we’ve stayed in the south, we’ve walked through its grounds not seeing a soul other than the gardeners and golf green keepers. Maybe the residents prefer to stay in the comfort of their air-conditioned, £250 a night rooms, but that’s fine as it means the few tourists who walk that far can have beautiful Rajbaga to themselves.

At the end of the beach is a salt water lake, perfect swimming conditions for a coward like me because there are no waves, no speedboats, not even any other swimmers in sight. I’m typing this in my extremely hot and airless apartment back in Mavelikara and thinking longingly of being immersed in that cool salty water – wonderful.