My last visit to Goa was at the turn of the millennium, right after my wedding. The honeymoon — as my wife reminds me on the odd occasion — is long over. So I was keen to know if the same will hold true for my attachment with this exquisite sea-facing dreamland.
Since I was paying my way — and, alas, not on a junket — I chose a no-frills airline called Spice Jet. It is frighteningly no-frills! They do not even have life jackets; in case of trouble over the sea you pull the seat from your bottom, hug it close and pray hard.
Destination Goa attracts blondes of all manners. Just before takeoff, a pretty young French backpacker parked herself next to me. Now my French isn’t much but conversations tend to start on short hauls. The blonde asked me if I had “done” Goa before.
Unlike backpackers out to ‘do’ India with a vengeance, I do not ‘do’ a place. It is much better to discover the place by walking around, meeting the local historian, dropping by an off-the-map eatery, and generally taking time to soak it in.
With the death of distance these days no one wants a relaxed look. Travel is bereft of either exotica or adventure. The destination has taken over; the journey does not really matter. There is a frenzied need amongst the middle class to ‘do’ a destination, if possible within the dreaded two-nights-three-days straightjacket.
In the 1990s, Boeing proudly announced in its ad line — tomorrow you can be anywhere, thus, by definition, ruling out that adrenalin flow which comes from going down the road less taken as in the olden days of travel.
The charm and romance of travellers like Francis Younghusband or Richard Halliburton has long gone. By contrast, the air-conditioned traveller of today is the new consumer of global haunts, the outsider breezing past without bothering to look in. The digital culture has shrunk distance unbelievably. Microsoft’s tag line asks you where you want to go today. Between Boeing and Microsoft, the world has become a TV screen and the magic-carpet traveller has been reduced to a couch potato.
Entire communities, most notably the Gujaratis and the Bengalis, have a fixed idea of visiting spaces through the vulgar mass tour groups with special diets thrown in. The Gee Wiz American is the crassest incarnate of the modern tourist. The Japanese, taking digital pictures of everything that moves come a close second.
Modern travel is entirely soulless. There no excitement of arrival and none of the abiding pleasure of finding. All that matters is a picture with a grin in front of the Parthenon. Inevitably, the merry-go-round ends with a dinner at the local McDonalds.
As I drank yet another feni on a moonlit Palolim beach, I had uneasy thoughts that another crass American Denis Tito had already “done” space as a tourist. The final frontier has been crossed.
At the Goa airport on my way back, I bought a lottery ticket promising riches (actually, a crore). I said to myself, what good is it even if I win? In Goa you realise that the best things in life cost little. A feni, reading a book by the beach, or chatting up the blondes. For the one out to seek Goa and not ‘do’ her, she saves her charms, like true love. Goa remains a one-night stand that lasts a lifetime.
Since I was paying my way — and, alas, not on a junket — I chose a no-frills airline called Spice Jet. It is frighteningly no-frills! They do not even have life jackets; in case of trouble over the sea you pull the seat from your bottom, hug it close and pray hard.
Destination Goa attracts blondes of all manners. Just before takeoff, a pretty young French backpacker parked herself next to me. Now my French isn’t much but conversations tend to start on short hauls. The blonde asked me if I had “done” Goa before.
Unlike backpackers out to ‘do’ India with a vengeance, I do not ‘do’ a place. It is much better to discover the place by walking around, meeting the local historian, dropping by an off-the-map eatery, and generally taking time to soak it in.
With the death of distance these days no one wants a relaxed look. Travel is bereft of either exotica or adventure. The destination has taken over; the journey does not really matter. There is a frenzied need amongst the middle class to ‘do’ a destination, if possible within the dreaded two-nights-three-days straightjacket.
In the 1990s, Boeing proudly announced in its ad line — tomorrow you can be anywhere, thus, by definition, ruling out that adrenalin flow which comes from going down the road less taken as in the olden days of travel.
The charm and romance of travellers like Francis Younghusband or Richard Halliburton has long gone. By contrast, the air-conditioned traveller of today is the new consumer of global haunts, the outsider breezing past without bothering to look in. The digital culture has shrunk distance unbelievably. Microsoft’s tag line asks you where you want to go today. Between Boeing and Microsoft, the world has become a TV screen and the magic-carpet traveller has been reduced to a couch potato.
Entire communities, most notably the Gujaratis and the Bengalis, have a fixed idea of visiting spaces through the vulgar mass tour groups with special diets thrown in. The Gee Wiz American is the crassest incarnate of the modern tourist. The Japanese, taking digital pictures of everything that moves come a close second.
Modern travel is entirely soulless. There no excitement of arrival and none of the abiding pleasure of finding. All that matters is a picture with a grin in front of the Parthenon. Inevitably, the merry-go-round ends with a dinner at the local McDonalds.
As I drank yet another feni on a moonlit Palolim beach, I had uneasy thoughts that another crass American Denis Tito had already “done” space as a tourist. The final frontier has been crossed.
At the Goa airport on my way back, I bought a lottery ticket promising riches (actually, a crore). I said to myself, what good is it even if I win? In Goa you realise that the best things in life cost little. A feni, reading a book by the beach, or chatting up the blondes. For the one out to seek Goa and not ‘do’ her, she saves her charms, like true love. Goa remains a one-night stand that lasts a lifetime.
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