Spice by the Sea

Twenty or 30 years ago, most Westerners came here, to the former Portuguese colony of Goa, by the train-bus-backpacking route. Today most Westerners come by air from Europe, on package vacations to Goa’s soft white sand beaches. And some, like my wife and me, come here like flying backpackers, with no firm plans, just a desire to wind down from a grueling month of sightseeing in “classic” India.

Goa was a Portuguese colony for 350 years--the Portuguese left, peaceably, in 1961--and it retains a distinctly Latin patina. One-third of Goans are Roman Catholic, and Portuguese (and English) are spoken in the laid-back capital, Panaji, and the beach resorts.

Yusuf Adil Shah, the Muslim ruler of Bijapur, lost Goa to Alfonso de Albuquerque in 1510, and the enclave became the jewel in the crown of Portugal’s Asian empire. But by the early 17th century, Portugal’s monopoly of the spice trade was being broken by the Dutch and British, and Goa’s Golden Age was gone.

In the mid-18th century, cholera drove the remains of the colonial administration from Old Goa (Velha Goa) to Panaji (Panjim), on the mangrove-lined Mandavi River. For the next 200 years, the unpretentious port would serve Portugal as a small window on the Indian and Arabian east--a window with a distinctive Mediterranean trim.

Though considerably weathered since the Portuguese rolled up the shutters in 1961, that trim is most evident in Fontainhas, a neighborhood of winding streets lined with rambling old pastel stucco homes that hide from the tropical sun under red-tile roofs.

We had chosen two Panaji hotels based on guidebook recommendations, but they seemed to have more amenities than charm. The Panjim Inn in Fontainhas was our third choice. It was excellent, with dark wood furnishings and Portuguese tiles, and a bougainvillea-draped veranda where a full breakfast was served, drawing patrons from other hotels.

Our host recommended that we tour colonial Panaji from the top down, starting at the Church of the Immaculate Conception, which crowns a hill overlooking the city. Looking rather immaculate itself against a cloudless blue sky in its fresh wash of white lime plaster, the church dates from 1541 and features a gilt-trimmed altar dominated by a bas-relief rendition of the Last Supper. Lest Goa’s predominantly domestic (Hindu) tourists misinterpret the scene, a simple sign announces in several languages that “Holy Communion is not a prasad (food offering) and non-Christians are not allowed to receive Holy Communion.”

Across from the church was the garden square of Largo da Igreja, and from there it was all downhill to the riverfront. Next to the colonial Idalcaon Palace, which now houses the legislature, is Panaji’s most recognized icon, a bronze statue of Goa’s favorite native son, Abbe de Faria.Taken to Europe as a child, he became a priest and was an early 19th century pioneer of hypnosis in Paris.

The riverfront road was thick with mopeds in what passes innocuously as rush half-hour. Here we came upon two other colonial relics: the sky-blue Customs House, and the stately Braganza Institute, home of India’s first library. Lining the institute’s entryway are greatly romanticized depictions of Goa’s founding, executed in traditional azulejos (Portuguese blue tiles).

A bag of cashews procured from one of the many cashew merchants on Mahatma Gandhi Road fortified us enough for one more church, St. Sebastian, a turn-of-the-century chapel down the street from our hotel. Our futile attempts to enter via the bolted front door attracted the attention of a resident priest, who kindly showed us the chapel’s treasure, the wooden crucifix from the notorious Inquisition Tribunal in Old Goa. Under its auspices, suspected heretics were subjected to hellish punishments.

Gastronomic rewards were our lot that night, when we dined at Venite, another well-seasoned 18th century former residence. Guests may dine in tiny balconies that overhang the reasonably quaint--and quiet--street, 31 Janeiro Road.

Goa’s signature dish is vindalho, stewed pork marinated in garlic, vinegar and green (red hot) chiles. (“Vindaloo” is now used generically throughout India to denote a hotter-than-usual dish.) Other local specialties include chicken xacuti (prepared with coconut and red chiles), chourisso (spicy sausage) and the ubiquitous fish curry, whose main ingredients are plucked fresh daily from the nearby ocean. No one should leave Goa without two or three bottles of local chutney, made from the succulent Alfonso mango.

Its spiciness notwithstanding, Goan food goes down smoothly thanks to the state’s enlightened liquor laws, including a low rate of taxation, a situation that enhances Goa’s popularity as a vacation destination. Beer is the favorite alcoholic beverage, especially with hot dishes. We prefer wine, and were surprised by a decent enough Riesling from vineyards in neighboring Maharashtra state. Goans themselves are partial to feni, a distilled spirit most commonly made from the plentiful local cashew or the sap of the coconut tree.

In the cool of the next morning we bicycled the six miles to Old Goa, a route that took us across a 300-year-old stone causeway. During its brief prime, Old Goa was reputed to be the equal of Lisbon; today it is essentially a 16th century ecclesiastical theme park with clean streets and well-maintained grounds, both relative novelties on the subcontinent.

We started with Se Cathedral, the largest church in Asia, begun in 1562 and dedicated to St. Catherine of Alexandria, on whose feast day Goa was taken from the Muslims. Abutting the cathedral is the Church of St. Francis of Assisi, Old Goa’s most enthralling edifice, built in 1661. The elaborate gilded main altar looks across a nave whose floor is covered with the well-worn slate gravestones of Portuguese pioneers. We were particularly captivated by the painted figures of beatific Franciscan friars--all sporting the order’s characteristic halo-shaped haircut--that adorned the walls.

As the midday Angelus tolled on the cathedral’s golden bell, we crossed the road to the imposing Basilica of the Bom (Good) Jesus, Old Goa’s holiest site.

A canary yellow nave led to another magnificent gilded altar, but our eyes were drawn quickly to the chapel to the right that contains the mausoleum of St. Francis Xavier. The much-revered Jesuit missionary spent 10 years spreading Christianity throughout south and southeast Asia, with Goa as his base. He died in 1552 en route to China. After three months, his corpse was disinterred to be brought home, and was found to be free of decay.

The saint’s remains have deteriorated somewhat since then but supposedly are recognizable. They lie in a darkly windowed silver casket, and are brought out for public veneration every 10 years. The bier is a masterpiece of Rococo that seems about as out of place in India as the Taj Mahal would be in Florence.

Back in Panaji that evening, we took the daily sunset cruise out to the mouth of the Mandavi River. To us the show was the interplay of light--the natural one settling in the west and the artificial ones rising along the shoreline--but most of our Indian shipmates preferred the audience participation antics of the local band on board.

Exhausted from all our sight-seeing, we made our way the next morning to Sinquerim, the southernmost of Goa’s northern string of beaches. Here five miles of wide, unbroken strand comes to a surf-crashing end against the sea walls of Fort Aguada, built by the Portuguese in 1612.

There are deluxe resorts at Sinquerim, but we opted for the Marbella Guest House, a restored colonial villa tucked into the wooded hillside, a five-minute walk from the beach.

Rattletrap shuttle buses connect all the beach towns. The next morning we caught one to Calangute, the essentially soulless overgrown village that is the commercial heart of holiday-makers’ Goa. From there we set out on foot for its opposite, Baga, which still functions as a fishing village. Along the way we witnessed one of the world’s truly memorable studies in contrast: Indian women gingerly wading at water’s edge in their soaked saris while topless European women sunbathed nearby. Not that this is the norm; public nudity is not allowed in Goa, and even bare legs draw stares.

Goa has outgrown its ‘60s reputation as a freewheeling hippie love fest/drug scene. The Portuguese heritage still allows for a somewhat looser attitude toward personal behavior, but that’s only in comparison with the rest of India.

We huffed and puffed up the rocky headland at Base and checked out primitive Anjuna, which attracts what’s left of the counterculture. Another hour’s walk later, our beach trek ended at Vagator, in the protective shadow of Chapora Fort.

One could spend day after idyllic day searching for the sincerest of Goa’s many beaches, but Vagator, with its plantation of slender coconut palms shading the yellow hills that sweep away from the sea, would be in anybody’s top 10. There you can turn your back on civilization, ancient or modern, and become absorbed in the truly timeless occupation of watching the sun slip, ray by ray, into the rolling gray of the Arabian Sea--Goan, Goan, gone.

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GUIDEBOOK

Going to Goa

Getting there: From Los Angeles, a flight to Goa involves three connections on at least two airlines--going either west across the Pacific or east via Europe--generally through New Delhi. Travel time is grueling--24 to 32 hours--and fares can be pricey: Last week’s lowest round-trip published fare was $2,078. But discount ticket brokers, agencies specializing in India and the Internet can sometimes offer much cheaper fares or packages.

When to go: Weatherwise, November through February is best, but avoid the Christmas break, when Goa is booked with Indian vacationers.

Where to stay: In Panaji, the historic Panjim Inn has clean double rooms for about $15 to $20; telephone 011-91-832-226-523, e-mail panjimin@goa1.dot.net.in.

The more upscale Mandovi, with pool and river view, is in the $25 to $40 range; tel. 011- 91-8-32-224-405, fax 011- 91-8-32-225-451.

Goa’s beach resorts range from top-of-the-line, up to $400 per night, to backpacker shacks as cheap as $3.

At Sinquerim beach, we stayed at the Marbella Guest House, where we had no reservations and, like many lodgings in India, never needed them. We’d just hire a taxi to take us to likely places.

For more information: Government of India, Department of Tourism, 3550 Wilshire Blvd., Suite 204, Los Angeles, CA 90010; (213) 380-8855, fax (213) 380-6111. A good Internet site is https://202.76.3.206/goa/hot data.