Return to Agonda
The Novelty of a Seatbelt
The journey from Galgibaga beach to Agonda was one of the most comfortable we have had in India. We treated ourselves to a proper taxi and as you can see from this photo I am well chuffed to be sat in a modern car with my favourite luxury – a seatbelt!
We had booked a room in the Dersy Holiday Home the night before and had fun negotiating the room and the rate with the manager, a lady who ran the rooms, the restaurant and beach huts with a very firm hand and lots of shouting. We had a great, very clean room with occasional hot water and a massive bed – a welcome change from Kumar’s tiny bed we had been in for 5 nights.
In Agonda we ate some lovely meals, caught up on some emails with the free wifi, I did a bit of shopping and Henry was able to get some work done. I tried to get out most days to the beach (which was literally over the road as you can see from the photo) for a spot of swimming but most of the time it was so rough that proper swimming was impossible. I ended up developing my own sort of “water jogging” which was far more exhausting than my usual slow swimming strokes but safer in that I could see the waves coming and I was never too deep.
Our room, although lovely, seemed a Mecca for a type of tiny ant. Whatever we had they found their way into. Henry was very disappointed they had made their way into a tube of half eaten Pringles we had treated ourselves to and completely devastated when they managed to invade a packet of McVities fruit shorties I had found for him and he was saving. We thought an unopened packet of biscuits, sealed in a new Tesco freezer bag with a press seal and suspended above the bed with a peg next to the mosquito net (precautions taken after the loss of the Pringles) would be safe, but alas, those tiny things were able to get everywhere and Henry never did get to eat the biscuits.
The lesson I finally learnt in Agonda, once and for all, was never to trust what even the smartest looking menu in the smartest, busiest, restaurant in town says about washing their salads in mineral water. You just can’t rely on it, even when you double check with the waiter. It does not bear to think about really but the sad truth is it may not even be what they wash the salads in but the fact that they don’t wash their hand’s.
The end of our time in Agonda was overshadowed by another episode of me being very poorly indeed and feeling sorry for myself and stupid that I had eaten salad again. A small consolation was that it was delicious! I had balsamic vinegar, olive oil and feta, all for the first time here. I know I should have just been avoiding them altogether but they look so fresh and tempting on other people’s plates… Salad and fruit is what you crave in this heat, far more than a pile of boring, over cooked boiled vegetables dominated by the ever present cauliflower (gobi) which has never been a favourite of mine.