Ginger Without Borders

When Kingston was at University in Mumbai, he several times joined a group of friends for a getaway to Goa, some of whom would drive their scooters the 14 hours to Goa. Kingston would take the train and rent a scooter in Panaji for the two hour drive to Palolem Beach in south Goa. The beach is considered Goa’s most beautiful and is rated India’s fifth best beach. It is also far enough away from the tourist crowds of Panaji that it is rarely crowded. It’s mile long crescent shaped sandy beach is lined with shacks that are very inexpensive. The slope of the beach increases very gradually, which drastically reduces the ocean currents that are an issue at other Arabian Sea beaches in India. This makes the beach safe for average swimmers. Our first two days in Goa had been HOT under clear blue skies, so a chance to dip into the ocean appealed to everyone. Having experienced swimming the sandy beaches of North Carolina, Kingston also wanted to dispel our impression that Indian beaches were not very safe for swimmers. So we loaded everyone onto the mini-bus for the two hour drive south to Palolem Beach.

Brother and his wife in the front while Dawn and Lena load onto the mini-bus, with Sister and Kingston in the back. We were waiting on the kids and grandparents to join us.

There was such a gentle slope to the beach that we had to wade out fairly far from the beach to be in water deep enough for swimming. Although the breakers of the Arabian Sea were not particlularly high, Lena and I did start bodysurfing the bigger waves. The preteens of Kingston’s family (and his brother-in-law) had never seen that and immediately wanted instructions. Before long, even some Indian tourists asked for lessons. Well that attracted the attention of the Indian lifeguards who became concerned that the Indians were not good enough swimmers to be trying to ride the waves. So we were all called back into shallower waters. With that fun over, we decided to walk North along the beach to the rocky beach named Sunset Point.

Before we left the beach, we had established a daily routine of getting ice cream for everyone. While Dawn was eating her ice cream, I noticed a cow come by with a particlularly large swarm of flies around her head. Suddenly the cow decided that Dawn’s backside was the perfect place to get relief from the torment of the flies. Being used as a scratching post was a surprise to both Dawn and the whole family, but it gave us a great story for the long ride back to the hotel.

For dinner, Kingston had found a Saraswat Restaurant. The Saraswat are a Hindu group who migrated to the coastal regions of Goa from North India and take their name from the legendary (now largely disappeared) Saraswati River. Their form of vegetarian diet traditionally allows the use of seafood, which they refer to as “sea vegetables.” So I was going to be in a seafood heaven. They use spices similar what we had tasted in Kerala, producing a delicious balance of sour, sweet and spicy. After a month in India, I was fairly proficient with using the various breads to scoop up my food (although I followed Kingston’s Dad’s lead by using a spoon occasionally to load up the bread). As we were ready to order dessert, I got what I consider a great compliment. Kingston’s brother-in-law told me I had learned how to eat like an Indian and that he was pleased I would at least try the “too spicy” food. I replied that Kingston had done his best to prepare us for the food in India and he had done a good job at it. I have to admit that I do have a “tell” when I eat spicy food. Like my father, when the spice is particularly hot, my head (now bald) breaks out in profuse beads of sweat. Kingston knows my tell and will comment when the beads are particularly heavy.