Outtakes in Latin India

When that long weekend approaches, the typical Bombaywallah will often turn to the easy promise of three days and two nights of beach nirvana that is Goa. Boasting over a 100 km shoreline, dotted with beaches and lagoons from its majestic Northern outpost of Fort Tiracol, down to the azure and white magic of its Southern extremities beyond Palolem, there is something that would fit the aesthetic and wallet of any and all.

But what of Goa without its beaches? As that anniversary weekend approached and the default Goa getaway loomed large all over again, this question gnawed at me. After a gazillion Goan getaways of all shapes and forms, what if we tried something else? A beach-free Goan holiday. The prospect of Goa without water proved daunting enough to take on, and I began to research a worthy alternative. It has always intrigued me how different Goa is from its immediately neighbouring states, be it food, music, costumes, or people. It’s almost as if one crosses that imaginary line that separates Indian states, and poof… it’s a different country. And really, in more ways than one, it still is.

The Portuguese inquisition in Goa was a success by default. Only 30 percent of the population is Catholic, yet all of Goa looks like it is so.

Goa-based writer and social commentator Bennet Paes says it like it is. The Portuguese may have left more than fifty years ago, but the crumbling yet majestic architectural, epicurial and musical legacy that they left behind has not dissipated. When I delved deeper, I understood what could be the alternative Goa experience that just might counter the sandy beaches less than 10 miles away. The latin roots of Goa. At the heart of it all, one word seemed to jump out.

Fontainhas.

Bairro Das Fontainhas, or the ‘quarter of Fontainhas’, sits at the foot of Altinho, an affluent hilltop area in the centre of Goa’s capital city Panjim. The more I read about Fontainhas, the more fascinated I became. William Dalrymple had described it as a “small chunk of Portugal washed up on the shores of the Indian Ocean”. Years ago, on a visit to Goa to attend the annual film festival IFFI, my wife and I had stumbled into a street art festival in the latin bylanes of Fontainhas. Young women singing fados by candlelight in bars where sangria flowed like water, caricature artists drawing lampoon portraits of Indian and foreign politicians and celebrities alike, delectable street cuisine with churros and chorizo on offer in myriad bylanes, it was as disconnected to an Indian experience as we’d ever had in the subcontinent. It seemed the perfect destination for that rare Goa visitor who wanted none of that sandy beach heaven.

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Although the French sounding ‘Maison Des Fontainhas’ did sound a misnomer, its promise of a refurbished colonial homestay in the middle of the Fontainhas district allured us enough to take the plunge. It was an inspired choice. From the moment we arrived after an energy sapping 14 hour drive from Mumbai, with a car breakdown to boot off Satara that set us back 3 odd hours, we knew had come to the right place. Immaculately restored and reeking of good taste, we settled in and hurried out to catch a meal as it was nearly 11 pm, and ours was a bed and breakfast, no provisions for meals.

Stepping out into the night confirmed that we had indeed transported to another place. Narrow lanes with cobbled streets. Stairs that spiralled down between wooded villas. A beautiful white church sprung surprisingly off an alleyway, resplendent by moonlight. Not a car seemed in sight, barely any traffic at all. We walked a few blocks and arrived at a quaint Portuguese villa that announced itself as ‘Linda’s Viva Panjem’. As we entered, it delighted us to find a raucous atmospheric diner, replete with a live band, brimming with local and foreign patrons. At the helm of affairs, sat a regal lady who masterminded it all. Presumably, Linda. We sat down to a happy meal of shrimp starters followed with vindalho and steak mains, and polished it off with Crème Caremele. When the bill came, it was below ₹500. It was a gulp moment, considering we’d even bunged in a gin and tonic apiece in that. A comparable meal in Mumbai or Delhi would easily set one back by ₹2500. Later, I spoke with the owner Linda De Sousa, who was affable and easy, even inviting me to visit her home up the street anytime by day to talk about her proud ancestry in Fontainhas.

The next morning, we woke to birdsong outside our verendah. Later over breakfast, we were greeted by one Luis Da Silva, who was married into the Menezes family whose ancestral home we were now staying at. Luis managed the hotel, and through him, we learnt that the original family patriarch was Hallelujah Menezes, who started a hardware store in downtown Panjim four generations ago. The Menezes family still lives in Goa, and recently reinstated their family mansion to its former glory as a boutique hotel. Business seemed to be good, going by what little I could sense. Apart from us, there were several English couples, a Japanese solo, and some others I could not place, but possibly East European in origin. It was a little bit like The Grand Budapest Hotel meets The W. Understated, plush and comfortable.

We stepped out after breakfast into the Fontainhas morning, to be transported into medieval Iberia all over again, only this time in broad daylight. The narrow, sinewy lanes were flanked by majestic old villas, with elaborate Azulejo tile work on their doors announcing the occupant’s surname. Andrade, Vaz, Botelho, Pires, Affonso. Many of the old houses had been converted into boarding houses. The kind of people ambling about seemed distinctly different from the typical foreign tourist one saw in Goa. These folk seemed better dressed, and seemed to be living here. We befriended a few, and realized that most of them were artists and writers. The old Latin quarter seemed to draw a more literary crowd. It helped that Fontainhas itself was blessed with a number of art galleries. It felt appropriate, as in the old old days, the Lyceum (University) was situated at the top of the hill. Students would board and lodge at the foothills in Fontainhas. The little village of Fontainhas sprung up around then, and its student artsy roots still ring true to this present day.

Later in the morning, we rented a scooter and rode to the top of the hill to a neighbourhood called Altinho. It was Panjim’s diplomatic quarter. Most of the lavish bungalows seemed to be some embassy or the other, and of course, who could miss the magnificient Consulado Geral De Portugal. As we rode around the bend, we saw hundreds of hopefuls sitting their turn on the picturesque steps cut into the hill across the consulate gate. All Goans born prior to 1961 are legitimately allowed to apply for Portuguese citizenship, and choose to emigrate. Perhaps the consulate takes a kind view on younger emigrants too? Most of the folk we saw seemed a lot younger. It was a solemn sight. Many had candles, and some were carrying crosses.

Near the top of Altinho, we discovered a wonderful art gallery and modern Mediterranean cafeteria called Sunaparanta. It was really a wonderful space, where a series of moving image exhibitions were on. What’s more, a melting pot of local artists and literati seemed to be gathered here, discussing (what else) art, music and politics over coffee and cigarettes. In short, it was everything a modern art space usually is. What made it truly amazing was its majestic setting. A lavish Portuguese villa with large spacious rooms that have been sparingly converted into exhibition spaces. A central courtyard on the first floor serves as the café, and doubles up as a performance space. The views are amazing. From the top of the hill, one can get a 360 degree panorama of the entire lay of the land. The Mandovi river stretches out towards the Arabian Sea, as mangroves and silted sandy beaches dot the landscape on all sides.

Later that afternoon, we navigated out of the mesh of lanes and alleyways of Fontainhas, to meet some friends downtown for lunch at an old Panjim institution, the Ritz Classic. A few twists and turns and we were out of the wormhole called Fontainhas, and right in the midst of chaotic Panjim CBD. It felt almost impossible to imagine that a few blocks above, life can be so different. It was frenzied compared to Fontainhas, although by Indian small town market area standards, I suppose it was still rather muted. Ritz is the seafood destination Panjim locals are maniacally passionate about. There is good reason for this. The freshness of the Gomantak style seafood on offer here can’t be beat. At honest prices, and an oodle of homely charm to boot. We braved the throngs of seafood lovers who were waiting to pounce upon every seat that got freed up. Although the lunch was worth it, we silently vowed to never leave Fontainhas again for the rest of our little vacation. A much needed susegaad followed, helping us digest the shonak bones and frayed nerves in equal measure.

Later that evening, we spent a lovely time at the Panjim Inn, one of the original boarding houses of Fontainhas, and perhaps its most famous. The owners Jack and Miriam Sukhija, spent a lot of time with us, talking us through the early years of Fontainhas, and its history. Although we never met them, Panjim Inn was started by Jack’s parents who were both doctors in the British army. The ancestral house belonged to Jack’s grandmother, who belonged to the Valles family. When Colonel Sakhija went to Italy for a 3 month sabbatical, he saw small chapels restored to a hotel. That’s when he decided to build his wife’s ancestral home into what today is Panjim Inn. Elegant and authentic, we were charmed by its environs, and smitten by its history. Any trip to Fontainhas should include a visit here.

The next morning was the Sunday. In a scene out of a Spaghetti Western, the townspeople of Fontainhas all gathered around the Sao Tome church. The pastor was singing hymns in Latin. The small and beautiful church was just the right size for its old and withering community. Everyone seemed to know everyone else. The banter and bonhomie was infectious. It was a genuinely touching scene of old friends catching up, discussing the neighbourhood waste management issues. News of who was where, doing what, did the customary rounds. We were greeted with genuine warmth as ‘The Indians’.

We ambled about through the day, visiting the exquisite Velha Goa, where we were stunned at the artefacts and glassware on display. Chandeliers and exquisite table crystal. Handmade candles and soaps from the finest in Lisboa. Azulejo tile work with nuanced depictions of biblical passages. Less upscale, but equally prolific is Marcou Artifacts, where we ended up meeting a horde of photography students who were filming like Sabbath was already upon us. Sometimes, it’s good to save the best for last. We celebrated our last night in Fontainhas at the atmospheric and enchanting Venite. Mediterranean cool aged with crumbling decadent magnificience. But smart. Each detail, right. Every gourmand would approve the quality of the plates on serve. Except, prices. A third, of course.

Towards the crack of dawn when we finally boarded our jeep for that gruelling drive back to Mumbai, it startled us to find that the local bar was still alive. But nobody was fighting. Few locals were singing, and slapping time. As we pulled away into the night, we put on our best Fado voices, and sang along.

St. Sebastian's Chapel in quiet Fontainhas 

Linda's Viva Panjem (ext)

Linda's Viva Panjem (int)

Linda De Sousa, owner of Viva Panjem

A typical Goan door signage

Park Lane Lodge- A boarding house 

Old world facades from the Latin quarter

Abrigo De Botelho- Another ancestral home converted

Sunaparanta Art Centre

Inside Sunaparanta

The view from Altinho

Details from a Fontainhas Home 

Fonte Phoenix- A natural spring has now been restored

The famous Panjim Inn heritage hotel

The Menezes Family runs this hardware store

Velha Goa. The best gift shop in Panjim

Beyond Here lies Nothing

When the white man first set foot upon Sydney’s eastern seaboard, he might’ve been surprised to find the native people of Australia already here. The Aborigine knew this stretch of sand simply as 'bondi'. Loosely translated, ‘the sound of breaking water’.

Before they were driven out by the colonists, the Aboriginal people used the beach area as a massive tool-making facility, using materials from the volcanic trenches that inundated the coastline. We know this, because somewhere in the 1930’s, a severe cyclonic storm drove back the sand dunes, unearthing the rock floor with its treasure trove of Aboriginal artifacts. Later, at the turn of the century, the word bondi and its ethereal blue-green hue signaled the second coming of Apple Inc. The bondi blue iMac, with its translucent geek coolth, captured the hearts and minds of global youth, ready to surf the freshly-minted world wide web. 

Bondi Beach

The iconic Bondi Icebergs Club

No trip to Sydney is complete without a visit to its iconic Bondi beach front. A paradise of golden sand, blue-green water, and armies of surfer dudes riding the crests of waves breaking deep into the shoreline, like modern day Vikings. But Bondi to Coogee coastal walk? This 6.5 km walk of moderate difficulty promised to be ‘the greatest coastal walk on the Pacific seaboard’. After due consideration, my wife and I decided to spend our Bondi beach day doing more than just spending the entire day on the main beach front, but actually checking this out.

Getting to Bondi beach from central Sydney is easy. We used the Sydney Metro to ride into Bondi station from the Town Hall area, and were ushered seamlessly into a bus that rode us through the scenic neighborhood right up to the beach front. That first sight of Bondi beach is special. The perfect cusp, the golden sand, the majestic cliff-side setting is all very fine, but what sets this beach truly apart is embedded into its name. It is only now that one realizes that the colour of these waters does indeed merit a name of its own. 

It was an early October morning when we visited. The winter season was winding down, and warmer waters were beginning to flow in from the South Pacific. We spent a leisurely hour relaxing on this beach, enjoying the sunshine and the water. On one end of the beach stood the Bondi Iceberg Club, with its fabulous infinity pool, where a small fee allowed all comers to enjoy a swim. Although we never did, I strongly recommend it. Our agenda, of course, was to walk from Bondi to Coogee, with several pit stops along the way.

The Bondi Icebergs Club is effectively the starting point for this walk. The path is concretized along the cliff, and although it involves climbing up and down stairs cut into cliff sides, it is a properly developed walking track all the way. Imagine a perfect gym walking track along a cliff, with sweeping ocean views on one side, and rock overhangs and aboriginal engravings on the other, and you’re somewhere close. Every now and then, the rock formations jut out into the ocean to create coves. Here and there, keen anglers can be spotted sitting patiently alert, atop some such rock that juts out into sea. The rock overhangs bear evidence of aboriginal cave art, although the ocean spray has washed away much of it over the centuries.

The first stretch lasts about 1.2 kms, sweeping around a cove and emerging near the Tamarama clubhouse.  As we keep walking from Tamarama towards Bronte beach, we cross a small inlet called Mackenzies Bay, where surfers are at large. Some of the best surfing waves along this stretch of coast are found right here at Mackenzie’s Point. We can sense that this is a preferred surfing destination going by the sheer number of bronzed surfers who hog this part of coast, and their high skill levels. We descend down onto the sands and waters at Bronte beach. There is a rock pool at one end of the beach. It is a very unique pool indeed. Sort of like a salt water swimming pool, with sea water and a rock bottom. The locals call it Bogey Hole.

An angler's Paradise

Surfers on Tamarama Beach

Two bronzed Surfers at Mackenzies Point

Natural pools at The Bogey Hole

Beyond the rock pool at Bronte, one has to climb stairs and cross a short stretch across a parking area to continue on the trail. Fortunately, the signage is very good, and easy to follow. Once back on the trail, we start to ascend cliffs that offer quite majestic views of the entire sweeping coastline, from Bondi all the way up to Coogee and beyond. As we keep ascending, along the next curve we find ourselves at, wonder of wonders, a cemetery. Along the cliff, in what should definitely rank as one of the more picturesque settings for a burial ground, lies the Waverly cemetery. It is worth spending some time here. We cannot help doing so. The silence of the gravestones against the blue beyond of the Pacific creates an Ozymandias moment that can only be broken by the mid-jog conversation of a trio of hunks around something more corporeal. We return on the trail to reach Clovelly, the next mini-stop on the circuit.

A sombre Pacific lookout

Waverly Cemetery

The Clovelly beach is pretty unique as well. Between two rocky ridges, a narrow bay runs deep into the mainland to create a cove. Clovelly beach is a favourite snorkeling destination, and also famous for being the home of one of the world’s first surf life-saving clubs, founded in 1906. The Bondi Surf Bather’s Life Saving Club, wearing their distinctive red and yellow quarters, began to prevent swimming disasters back then, and definitely played a part in making swimming out on sea a family sport in modern society. Their contribution was immortalized in the events of 1938’s ‘Black Sunday’, when three freak waves swept hundreds of people from Bondi beach out to sea. The lifesavers rescued 300 people in what remains the largest rescue operation in the history of surf bathing.

Bronte Beach balance lessons

Dusk at Coogee Bay

The sun has now begun its downward descent, and we want to catch the sunset at Coogee. So, we soldier on past Clovelly, crossing the Clovelly Bowling Club, and still more hidden coves and pristine stretches on the one side, luxury villas dotting the other. Clearly, the Bondi to Coogee stretch is the playground of the rich and famous in the Southern hemisphere, housing literally Australia’s Who’s Who along this six kilometre stretch. 1.8 kms further along, we see the wineglass shape of Coogee’s beach front open up as the sun gloriously touches down. We have left too little time to explore Coogee beach within daylight hours, but that does not deter us from walking up to the shoreline. Dusk cannot be more graceful in its measured advent. We finally sit down on the sandy Coogee beach, our walk now completed.

Later, as we explore the beach-facing promenade, we realize that Coogee is certainly no distant outpost. Plenty of options abound, whether you’d prefer a tipple or two, or even if you wish to head straight into dinner. We opted for a specialist seafood place, offering a significant gamut of Pacific marine life on a plate. Scallops went well with shallots, and pink trout left little doubt that the local black mussels were well worth the hustle. Seriously, do try the seafood in these parts. It’s fresh, light, and cooked unpretentiously. Like most things in Australia, what you see is what you get.

As we boarded the bus back into the city, I was left thinking just how much we covered in one day at Bondi, and yet only just scraped the surface. Isn’t that what a great destination should be like? Whether you spend a day here, or a leisurely month, Bondi beach and the Pacific shoreline will have you come back for more.