There are different ways of
The obscene way
Number of stars: Five
Comfort factor: High
Colour code: White and nice
Verdict: They smile; but don’t miss the tag
After a hard bargain, the manager of a luxurious five-star deluxe in Goa agrees to concede a room for Rs 2,700 a day. Nearly six times lower than the high season rate. That’s why I like the South-West monsoon. Even the rich negotiate.
High-end hotels are wary of Indians because white people are richer and allegedly quieter. Right now, everybody bows and smiles politely as though I have achieved something. A boy walks around in the lobby with welcome drinks. It is canned orange juice but it feels good to be welcomed free.
From the reception, a battery run ‘Buggy’ takes me through cobbled paths flanked by designed dense vegetation. Cottages here are scattered over 50 acres of greenery. The buggy drops me at the porch of a commodious room. A bottle of port wine and fruits are left with the reminder that they are complimentary.
Next morning, I go to the spa. My legs are washed with warm water by two Malayalees before being taken to a Kannadiga Ayurvedic doctor. “Ayurveda recognises the universal force within you,” he says and then we strike a deal on the most economical massage that will give me a bit of everything. For about Rs 1,500, I get a foot and back massage. “Head massage comes free with that,” says the man who recognised the universal force in me.
Elsewhere, in a cluttered room near the lobby, a man called Masterjee waits to foretell the future of the guests. When favourable predictions come true, people from several parts of the world send him cheques. Others pay him Rs 800 for the consultation and never contact him again. This benevolent old man told me many truths which cannot be shared. “You will make money,” he said, in a simple moment when I wanted to shake him in love.
The rich way
Number of stars: Four
Comfort factor: High
Colour code: Anything with the hue of money
Verdict: Sweetness and light
The rumoured quiet of the off-season is missing at the reception of a South Goa hotel. The Indian tourists have landed. Children are screaming and running in circles with their young mothers doing nothing to end the noise. Instead they look at me as though I should melt in admiration at their kids. Despite this scene, Indian tourists are loved here unlike most five-star hotels.
A room boy takes me to an inviting room with a safe, minibar, flat screen television, tea maker, and a hair dryer tied to the wall. From the comfortable sofa in the backyard, I can see through a vast undulating golf course, the Arabian Sea and Varca Beach.
During the monsoon this hotel is invaded by marketing conferences. Its restaurants are usually crowded by the types who have just shed their ties and are feeling the strangulation marks. There are several of them in the Gravity Pool where there are two bowling alleys, pool, video games and alcohol. I bowl for Rs 150 a game. Everybody around realises that it is not a career option. It’s time for me to move.
The real way
Number of stars: Every one in the firmament
Comfort factor: Depends on which shade of pale one is
Colour code: Whitest shade of pale
Verdict: Pricey, in every way
Goa may be a small state but it is a large place. Large enough to be divided into North and South. It was in the North where the joyous hippies had first landed for some reason and given global fame to beaches like Baga, Calangute, Anjuna and Candolim. A distinct civilisation has grown around this region with cheap hotels and busy bars. I head to the busy settlements of the North.
There, in Arpora, is an impoverished blue board that will be painted after the rains. The board points an arrow towards a steep leafy lane up a hillock. On top is what is called a boutique hotel, born out of a good marriage between a French woman and a Sindhi. Here there are Golden Retrievers that may have gone to school and room boys who seemingly didn’t.
This hermitage is an entirely different experience from the rest of Goa. Perched on a hilltop, it is secluded from brochure tourism. Most visitors, usually the elderly affluent whites, land in this boutique hotel for its promised seclusion. Rooms here are scattered over the undulating uneven slopes of the hillock. The reception area is casual and merges with an informal dining place, though the costs here are somewhat formal.
At the centre of the resort is a beautiful freeform swimming pool that overlooks the distant Arabian Sea as the hillock slopes down in the foreground. I am taken to a room that is below the pool level, its domed roof rising above red earth and glistening wet stone steps. It is the strangest room I have ever stayed in. There is no television in the room but on demand a boy would bring a TV set and a DVD player.
Outside, there’s a more materialistic tennis court but a room boy refuses to let me play. “It’s slushy,” he says.
“Someone can clean it then”.
He walks away muttering why it is difficult to clean the court. The hotel tries hard to tolerate Indians. It is chiefly dependent on a small clicqué of foreigners who descend during high season. In the rains of August 2004, the boutique hotel was already fully booked for the December-January season when the rates go up to $450 a day. During the off-season it is $150. Dinner for two here comes to over Rs 1,000.
The budget way
Number of stars: Who knows? Who cares?
Comfort factor: Makes you want to explore the outdoors
Colour code: Who knows? Who cares?
Verdict: Makes you want to explore the outdoors
The time had come to shed the expensive reassurances of Goa’s high-end hotels. Inside the starless inns on Goa’s sidewalks are the people who did not learn to smile in catering college. They would lean over the counter and tell their stories. And they will listen free of cost. A short walk from the famous Baga Beach are many mid-end resorts. I check into one of them.
On Saturday nights the hotel’s restaurant slowly gathers swaying crowds. A local band plays with self-absorbed abandon. It is said that Vijay Mallya landed here one Saturday night and could not find a place. “Nobody gave a damn,” an old client says happily. In Goa, even Mallya stands.
I didn’t realise it, when I was soaking in the luxuries of five-star hotels I was spending more time indoors. Now in the reality of middle-end, I can’t bear to be in the room for a long time for the walls begin to move and head towards me from all sides. So I am always outside, on a hired Activa, riding down narrow lanes and stopping at pubs and beach sides. I begin to think that this is the best way to live in Goa.
Bad hotels protrude from their unfortunate moorings in the urban parts of Goa. Their rooms cost anywhere between Rs 100 and 500 but it is wise to avoid them for they are depressing holes. There is another way. When the high season begins, several homes on narrow roads put out boards saying that they are “guest houses”. They are usually portions of large homes were personal attention is guaranteed and room rates hit rock bottom. But during off-season, most of them return to being private homes. However, there are a few homes that do keep their doors open, especially in a place called Shapora in Bardez, North Goa. I reach this ‘Guest House’ in Shapora. It is a huge mild yellow house and Mr D’Souza, the man of the house rents out five rooms at the back. They are about a hundred feet each of less with a hard single bed. During the off-season they cost between Rs 100 and 300 a day. In the season Mr D’Souza gives the rooms for Rs 250 to 400 a day. The rooms share a clean common toilet. He is building four more rooms. “Each of them will have a toilet,” Mr D’Souza says. He is so encouraged by the demand from foreigners that he plans to change the name of the guest house into something more Spanish.
Goa
Luxury
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