Well, with the trip nearly over and home on the horizon tomorrow, now seems as good a time as any to look back – for better or worse on this occasion.
Romania itself was lovely. Genuinely. It certainly helped that the weather was kind – apparently it had been pissing it down all week prior, but I only had a touch of rain at the start in Bucharest (which, in fairness, suited the place), then glorious sunshine from that point on.
I particularly loved the Transylvanian towns of Brasov, Sighișoara, Sibiu – all very much “my” type of places – what with pastel facades, cobbled streets, and a sense of old world civility and calm (I’m fairly certain I must have been Germanic or Austro-Hungarian in a former life). My favourite parts of the trip were really the simple things here – such as long early morning runs around town, while the streets were just coming to life (and Alex-RO was still on overnight charge), or sitting on sunny squares enjoying an Aperol spritz early evening, once blissfully alone again and liberated from the daily demands of The Schedule.
Beyond the towns, I also really enjoyed the various drives through the countryside – think pretty painted villages, horses and carts, and the occasional traditionally dressed Roma (though I wouldn’t recommend raising that particular topic with Alex or Diana anytime soon…). I didn’t see any bears (apparently Romania has them in multitudes), but I did spot a red squirrel, a hare and plenty of nesting storks along the way.
The food was a pleasant surprise too. I definitely developed something of an addiction to sarmale – which are pork-stuffed cabbage rolls – but also tried a decent range of soups (tripe, borscht, goulash), lots of fresh salads (tomatoes and cucumber here are seriously tasty), as well as a particular peasant meal called bulz ardelenesc: a gloriously stodgy pile of polenta, cheese, sausage, egg and sour cream. And with the Fitbit logging an average 25,000 steps and 100 active minutes a day, I figured I’d earned it.
As for the rest… Well, fair to say this was not quite the trip I’d signed up for. Being the only person on a supposedly group tour (still not sure I buy the “last-minute cancellations” line) unfortunately meant I ended up with the worst of both worlds here: namely the premium price tag and fixed itinerary of a group holiday, minus any of the camaraderie or social interaction that type of travel usually brings.
Now, several of you have asked – quite reasonably – how Alex can still be employed in a client-facing role (one he’s had for twenty years, apparently!), and how he possibly handles larger groups. Believe you me, I’ve been wondering the same.
My best guess is that, in a group setting, his more – let’s say – intense qualities are somewhat diluted. There’s more dynamic interplay, other people ask questions, and there’s safety in numbers when it comes to requesting a loo break. You can blend into the crowd a bit, and maybe even quietly skip a sight or two without a moral reckoning. But as a solo traveller? There’s no buffer. No distraction. Just relentless one-on-one scrutiny. Like being on a week-long school trip where you’re the only pupil – and the headmaster is at least part-cyborg. It was, at times, genuinely excruciating.
And that’s the thing – being a good guide is about more than punctuality and historical knowledge. It’s about rapport, intuition, knowing how to read a room (or in this case, a person), and pitching your delivery accordingly – not just droning on endlessly about historical detail with zero awareness as to how it’s landing. It’s understanding that travel isn’t just about facts – it’s about the experience as a whole – the joy of a good meal, a chance encounter, or simply sitting still and just breathing in a place. Case in point: when I asked Alex for a restaurant tip one evening, he replied – deadpan – “None of them are good. I just buy food at the supermarket.” Right. Thanks for that, Alex.
Some have floated the idea that neurodiversity might be a factor here. I really couldn’t say – and it’s certainly not my place to armchair diagnose here. If so, then I have genuine sympathy: I can only imagine navigating a people-facing role with such challenges must be very tough. All I can speak to is my own experience here, which involved being stuck all week with a monotonous bore who couldn’t shift tone, take a hint, or simply know when to STFU – not much fun, whatever the underlying reason for it.
The other alternative, of course, is that I’m the problem…? Though I really don’t think so. After all, I nodded politely. I smiled. I stifled several silent screams and – more than once – the very real urge to commit first-degree murder. And frankly, I don’t think the occasional request for a sandwich or a toilet break marks me out as some sort of diva. And if it does, I’d argue I’m a remarkably self-restrained one.
Would I have chosen this version of the trip? Absolutely, categorically, not. But I’m still glad I went. Romania’s a place I’d happily return to – though next time with a bit more freedom, a bit more flexibility, and ideally with someone by my side who knows when to shut up and just enjoy the moment.
And that’s a wrap on this gloriously weird little adventure. Genius-level bonus content incoming shortly… ☺️
Well, I’m now officially back in the Romanian capital of Bucharest – having taken the very scenic route, over many hours, via a series of B-list historical sites and several optimistic stretches of dirt road. All this, apparently, in the grand service of visiting Curtea de Argeș, a sixteenth-century Romanian Orthodox church famed for its intricate Moorish and Byzantine-inspired architecture.
Which, when we finally rocked up, was almost entirely hidden behind scaffolding.
I asked Alex-RO, in as neutral tones as I could muster, whether he’d known in advance that the church was under renovation. “Yes,” he replied, in his usual monotone, “but it was still on The Schedule.”
Reader, I could have cheerfully swung for him at this point. This cannot be normal behaviour, right? This is straight-uppathological. Or am I simply being systematically gaslit here, one absurd detour at a time?
I mean, what kind of a man forces a group – especially a group of one – on a multi-hour, dirt road detour to view what was, in essence, an ecclesiastical building site? With no warning. No heads-up. No alternative offered. Nope. It was on The Schedule – the holy, immutable, motherfucking Schedule – and so that was bloody that. I swear, if the place had been nuked overnight, he’d still have insisted on pointing out where the church was once situated within the blast zone.
Grrrrrr. Rant over (for now at least!). At least the long car journey was scenic, and also proved an opportunity to surface up some more of Diana’s, let’s say, “unconventional beliefs.” In addition to being a proud iridologist (the belief that eye colour determines personality / physiognomy), she also attributes autism to “too much phone time,” is a devout anti-vaxxer, and firmly believes that “too much education is bad for women” – causing wrinkles and madness, apparently. Reminds me of this Harry Enfield classic from back in the day!*
Anyhoo, by the time we crawled back into Bucharest after nearly seven hours on the road, I was pretty much hanging on by a thread. Unfortunately, this was the precise moment Alex-RO happened to suffer a major glitch in his navigational system, driving us through gridlocked traffic across the entire city – only to realise when we got there that he’d brought us to the wrong hotel. It took best part of another hour to get where we needed to be again – by which point my reserves of patience were running dangerously low.
Still, when we finally pulled up – at the correct hotel this time – I did what any self-respecting Brit would do after experiencing many hours, if not days, of barely restrained fury: I swallowed down my rage, adopted a outward stance of performative politeness, smiled through gritted teeth and thanked them both graciously for the trip. And then – social niceties fully observed – I then immediately hit the bar for a very stiff drink in order to celebrate my newfound freedom. To independence. To solitude. And to never, ever having to see either of these two outlandish individuals ever a-bloody-gain.
The next day I had all to myself in Bucharest, but gave the galleries and museums a swerve in favour of a different kind of cultural immersion altogether – with a visit to Therme Bucharest, Europe’s largest wellness and relaxation centre. Think thermal pools, outdoor beach, swim-up bars, multiple saunas and steam rooms, and body treatments galore.
Now this was far more my scene! I spent almost the entire day here in blissful anonymity – having a swim, chatting to people at the swim-up bar and treating myself to a well-deserved prosecco lunch. No massages available on the day sadly – but no matter. It was still the most peace I’d had in days.
No human audio guide. No conspiracy theories. No kooky new age beliefs. No one trying to teach me bloody anything. Not the most culturally enriching part of the trip, maybe – but unquestionably one of the most enjoyable!
No schedule. No glitches. No robot. Bliss!
* These are idiosyncratic Diana beliefs, rather than widely-held Romanian ones, btw. All the Romanian women I know are highly educated, scientifically minded and see eye colour as nothing more than a genetically inherited aesthetic trait.
Well, after a brief period of system stability, the recent Diana patch is unfortunately already starting to degrade, with the Alex-RO as a result increasingly defaulting back to factory settings – complete with legacy bugs, unremediated inflexibility, and communication settings reverting to outbound only.
Today’s itinerary started with a meandering drive through a string of impossibly pretty Saxon villages – think pastel walls, geranium-stuffed window boxes, and the occasional horse and cart en route for good measure.
Along the way we visited five fortified churches – namely (and in no particular order that I’m aware of): Prejmer, Hărman, Viscri White Church, Saschiz Keisd, and Biertan. A fortified church, for those who don’t know, is basically a church encircled by defensive walls, inside which the Saxon community (or then Volksdeutsche) lived, worked, and went to school – in some cases right up to World War II.
The first church was genuinely absorbing. The second much the same. The third was interesting-adjacent. By the fourth, it was starting to feel like ecclesiastical Groundhog Day. By the fifth, I was contemplating throwing myself off the steeple.* I was also – not for the first time – abso-bloody-lutely starving, as the Alex-RO had once again made no allowance for coffee, snacks, or basic biological needs along the way.
By the time we reached the lovely town of Sibiu, a full five hours into the day’s activities, I was desperately clinging to the hope of food, rest, or maybe just thirty blessed minutes of silence. But no – instead, the Alex-RO proposed launching directly into another two-hour guided tour around the town (no lunch breaks factored into The Schedule) – a prospect which quite literally filled me with hanger-induced rage. It genuinely took all the self-restraint I could muster (and believe me, it was in seriously short supply at this point) to say – as politely as possible – that I’d actually prefer to just drop my bag at the hotel and explore solo for the rest of the afternoon.
As it turned out, I was very glad I’d held on to the tattered remnants of my rag, as to my surprise, the guy suddenly looked… crestfallen. Genuinely hurt. In fact, the most human I’ve seen him yet. “But it’s my duty,” he uncomprehendingly replied, as if I’d just asked him to abandon a sacred oath, rather than skip a walking tour.
I didn’t have the heart to say what I was actually thinking – that perhaps his real duty was to ensure that his guest (singular, mind you) was actually having a halfway decent time, rather than being dragged through an increasingly joyless itinerary with military precision and accompanying barrage of historical monologue.
Still, if the Alex-RO is more machine than man, I by contrast am decidedly not – stupid bloody human empathy and all that. And so it was that I ended up reassuring him that this wasn’t a reflection on him, I just needed some space – in short, adopting the “it’s not you it’s me” defence. A massive face-saving lie, of course. Because it absolutely was all about him. His unbending rigidity. His complete and utter inability to read the room. The fact he ignores every gently raised suggestion about loos, snacks and a touch less data download. And quite frankly, if your bloody software can’t process basic user feedback, you can’t exactly act all surprised when your users force quit the app and seek to re-boot in manual mode.
Suffice to say, I felt infinitely happier exploring picture-postcard Sibiu solo for the rest of the day – a genuinely lovely town with cheerful facades, cobbles underfoot and just enough breathing space to feel human again.
Still, somehow I found myself plagued by unrelenting pangs of conscience throughout the afternoon. Misplaced guilt, I know, given all I’d done was politely assert a boundary and request some much-needed alone time, in as diplomatic a way as possible at that.
But ultimately, this is my trip, not his. I didn’t fork out this much money to feel frustrated, patronised, and semi-starved along the way – and if asserting myself on this front scrambled his operating logic, then so be it. At least this way I get some bloody lunch!
Anyhoo, that’s it for this entry – it’s nearing six and aperol spritz on the sunny town square now beckons… Unscheduled, unaccompanied, and now officially top of my own personal itinerary – and blissfully guide-free to boot! 🙂
* I really do hope it’s clear from the above that I am not knocking Romania or its many sites of interest in any way at all here – I am and remain genuinely interested! I’m simply knocking the one particular guy who will relentlessly insist on downloading the entire history of any given site ever to (or rather “at”) you, regardless of how hungry, thirsty, bored, frustrated and desperate for the toilet his intended audience might be...
Breaking news from Romanian Skynet! The Alex-RO has officially now received a critical firmware update in the form of his very own wife (I know – just go with it), Diana* – who’s currently running in parallel for a limited trial period.
And clearly Diana is a woman well-acquainted with the particular quirks of the Alex-RO operating system. The very first thing she said to me – once introduced – was, “So, is he telling you all about Romanian history?” To which I diplomatically replied that yes, he certainly knows his stuff. Cue a knowing “I feel your pain” type look and a wry, “Yes. I have heard this said”.
Buoyed by the installation of a more compatible add-on, I seized the opportunity to put in a (very tactfully worded!) support request directly to the Bot for a reduced data dump overall, on the grounds that my brain had already reached max storage capacity. Not entirely sure the Alex-RO has fully processed this new input as yet, but it does at least seem that the living legend that is Diana has the enviable ability to partially adjust his settings and redirect conversation protocols – even if she can’t quite override the core programming entirely.
Anyhoo, away from the firmware and back to folklore… Yesterday I also made a day trip to the much-hyped Bran Castle – widely touted as the inspiration for Bram Stoker’s ‘Dracula’, a fact the local souvenir sellers are keen to remind you of every ten steps.
I’ve also been to the houses of Vlad Țepeș – or Vlad the Impaler – on whom the Dracula character is apparently based in the beautiful – if unpronounceable – village of Sighișoara, a UNESCO world heritage site and very lovely with it too.
So, all in all, system compatibility appears to be gradually improving, if only thanks to the temporary deployment of new third-party software. For now, the Alex-RO is visibly more relaxed in Diana’s company, and is showing much more of his human side as a result – or at least, a halfway convincing simulation of it. Turns out even the most rigid operating systems can seemingly run smoother – with the right tech support plugged in…. 🙂
Well, I’m writing this from sunny Braşov, a pretty town in Transylvania – where it’s still just Alexandru (name officially changed in order to protect the innocent) and… me. I’m beginning to suspect that these supposed “other people” due to join are purely mythical at this point – or perhaps they had an unfortunate run-in with a vampire en route…?
Speaking of the “not quite living”, I am increasingly coming to the conclusion that Alexandru himself may simply be a Romanian bot (or “RO-bot”, geddit?), programmed by the country’s powers-that-be to accompany tourists around the country while simultaneously boring them to death with the absolute minutiae of every single aspect of Romanian ancient history (while at the same time acting notably more coy on the by comparison far more interesting – not to mention hugely more relevant – 20th century onwards stuff…).
How have I reached this conclusion, I hear you ask? Well…
Exhibit 1: The Alex-RO’s conversational settings are locked to “guide mode” / “download only”. Any attempt to engage the guy in conversation beyond the officially pre-programmed talking points – or in anything resembling actual human dialogue – simply does not compute. To date, I can honestly say that he has not asked me a single solitary question about myself – not that I expect him to be interested in me or my life in the slightest, but a polite feigning of interest wouldn’t go amiss, especially given we’ve got to muddle through together for the best part of a week here still…
Exhibit 2: No deviation from the schedule is permitted, even though I’m the only person actually on it. This clearly goes against all existing programming, which cannot be adjusted, overridden, or reasoned with under any circumstance.
Exhibit 3: And finally, three days in and I have still not seen him eat, drink or use the toilet, and in fact the unit seems to react with some consternation when gently prompted around other people’s biological needs on this front. A clear sign, if ever there was one, that he was sent back in time by the future Romanian Ministry of Tourism, Terminator-style, to ensure no tour ever runs late.
Urghhh. Honestly, I’ve had far more interesting conversations with ChatGPT – which at least asks questions back! So in short, come back Lyle – all is forgiven! He might have been a massive bellend, but his one-man, entirely non-ironic karaoke sessions on the mini bus around Morocco were at least entertaining – albeit also undeniably excruciating.
Anyhoo – that was cathartic. But, on the upside, Transylvania itself is lovely! Today I visited the fantastic Peleș Castle, which is pretty much exactly what you want a proper medieval castle to look like – complete with soaring turrets and ornate woodwork, as well as some very troubled-looking lion statues.
It was here that the robot experienced a rare malfunction, when I casually remarked that I recognised the place from the epic masterpieces of cinema (ahem) that were A Princess for Christmas (2011) and A Christmas Prince (2017) – both still available on Netflix at last count for the less-than-discerning cinephile’s pleasure. This was apparently “not possible”, according to the Alex-RO, as during those years the palace administrators did not grant licences for commercial filming (an oddly specific fact to be able to retrieve at will, I thought…). Full-on system meltdown threatened to ensue when I showed him the evidence to the contrary on my phone, so I wisely withdrew and changed the subject to the comparative safety of the castle’s history – which kept him happily monologuing away on the subject till we finally reached Braşov an hour later.
As for now, I’m just settling into my guesthouse in town, which I plan to explore properly tomorrow – under continued escort from the Bot, naturally.
And if I have to hear one more unsolicited soliloquy on Dacian-Roman border tensions in the process, then I’m officially pulling his plug and defecting to the Ottomans. Or the vampiric undead. Quite frankly, at this point either will do – just as long as they promise not to talk “at” me literally non-stop or time any loo breaks against the itinerary… 🙂
Well, I’ve officially made it to Bucharest, where so far the supposed “small group” of travellers promised as it stands currently consists of just the guide, Alexandru, and, well… me.
Apparently the company has had a string of last-minute cancellations, which is seriously effing annoying, given the whole effing point of doing this kind of trip in the first place was to effing meet other effing people en effing route. And if not for that, I could have effing easily made my way around effing Romania perfectly well all by effing myself for a lot less money and a good deal more effing freedom and independence thrown into the mix too… But, ho hum, there we go, I suppose…
Grrr. Anyhoo, a few more people are apparently due to join in a couple of days’ time, which is just as well really given I’ve already exhausted my conversational reserves with Adrian on day one… (And I know exactly where your dirty little minds are going Tara / Stu / Lorraine – no, he is not my type, and anyhow he’s already married. So sadly no, not even the faintest prospect of a titillating holiday romance to make up for the current lack of fellow travellers…)
As for day one in the capital – and I do sincerely hope this won’t break any Romanian hearts reading – Bucharest is perhaps not quite to be considered the most beautiful city in the world. It would be unfair to expect otherwise really, given that former megalomaniac dictator Nicolae Ceaușescu basically spent best part of 24 years in power studiously and deliberately carrying out a programme of architectural desecration so thorough it would make even a Slough town planner wince. The end result is that much of the city resembles the outside of Milton Keynes train station – albeit sunnier.
Apparently, that unremarkable building in the bottom middle photo is the very rooftop where the man himself was arrested, to the raucous cheers of a crowd of courageous protestors – only to be later shot by firing squad alongside his equally avaricious, unashamedly self-aggrandising and utterly venal wife, Elena (the official Imelda Marcos of the Eastern Bloc). Couldn’t have happened to a nicer couple, really…
The Romanian governmental powers-that-be have since commemorated this momentous occasion in their country’s history by erecting a monument that looks uncannily like a skewered potato (not my words, I hasten to add – that’s apparently the widely accepted local nickname too. I did check).
That said, there were some really lovely bits too – such as the serene Palatul Patriarhiei and Catedrala Patriarhală (Palace and Cathedral of the Patriarchy), where I was briefly overcome with the urge to yell “smash the patriarchy!” at top volume into the cloistered Orthodox stillness, but resisted. Obviously.
There were also some really nice pockets of the Old Town, which had a lot of nice bijoux cafés, funky bars and a lot of quirky street art, which I always love.
As a whole, the city really put me in mind of Prague and Budapest, but perhaps with less consistent post-1989 capitalist “gloss” applied. One street might offer up full-on hipster chic, and the next Communist-style grafitti-strewn throwbacks – all part of the charm, I guess, depending on your individual lens.
I’ll be coming back to Bucharest at the end of the trip, and there’s still quite a bit left to cover. I, for one, am keen to see the obscenely extravagant Former Ceaușescu Residence (will they let me use the famous gold-plated toilet, I wonder…) and a few more folkloric odds and ends while I’m at it.
Right – as for now, I’m officially off in search of Romanian food and wine. I’m not quite sure exactly what I’ll end up with, but if it comes wrapped in cabbage, chock-full of smoked meat (à la Stefan) and smothered in sour cream, I’ll consider it a proper win.
In the meantime, “până data viitoare” – or till tomorrow at any rate…
Well, I’m due to set off back to the airport shortly, marking the official end of this Goan sojourn. As you know, this wasn’t my usual kind of trip by any means, and I wasn’t entirely sure how it would all eventually pan out. In the event though, it’s turned out to be everything I hoped for and more – one of the best trips in years, in fact!
For those of you who have only just realised this blog exists – well, better late than never! Consider this your friendly neighbourhood reminder that you’ve missed out on a good two weeks of sheer literary genius (just ask my mum!). For your benefit, I’ve put together a quick highlight reel of this trip for the time-poor or CBA crowd, who inexplicably haven’t yet read every word of this travelog masterpiece. And with that, here’s my massively abridged, wildly biased, and completely non-exhaustive Goa top five – and plus a few “final thoughts” on the whole collective experience too, while we’re at it….
1. Yoga and Meditation Retreat
A major highlight of the trip was – unsurprisingly – blissing out at the relaxing Bamboo Yoga Retreat on the secluded Polem beach. With its untouched white sands and warm waters, daily yoga and meditation sessions, bio-diverse vegetarian food, plus bar and spa on site (both frequented most days!), this place felt like a true paradise on earth – and I was, of course, in good company for the duration too! In fact, I’m rapidly coming to the conclusion that yoga retreats are to women “of a certain age” what youth hostels are to backpackers: i.e. a great way to meet people on the move, do something vaguely cultural by day, and then collectively converge on the bar to get a bit squiffy together by night… 😉
Only downsides: minimal hot water and Putin decidedly pissing on my chips halfway through (not exactly conducive to staying “in the moment” while simultaneously contemplating the imminent prospect of apocalyptic thermonuclear warfare). For my full posts on the yoga retreat experience, see here and here.
2. Hippying Out at Palolem
Heading up the coast, I next spent a lovely few days in the vibrant beach town of Palolem, where the laid-back, quintessentially Goan hippy vibe is still very much alive and well. From yoga classes and reiki to art workshops and past-life regression, there was no shortage of New Age shenanigans on offer here – because, well, Goa… No past-life revelations for me though as – let’s face it – it’s probably best I don’t confirm anyone’s suspicions about a certain Teutonic dictator with a dodgy tache anytime soon… 😉
I may not have quite attained spiritual enlightenment while here, though after one particular high-intensity, truly bona fide Ayurvedic massage, I genuinely felt like I’d touched the divine – or, failing that, fallen madly in love with the masseur and his exquisitely silver thumbs. The deluded, abortion-obsessed Deva Batshit can, by contrast, swivel on it. You can read more about the whole Goan hippy / hipster experience here, here and here.
3. Sight-seeing in Panaji
I really loved my time in the Goan capital, Panaji (or Panjim, depending on who you ask) – a vibrant, colourful and notably laid-back city with a strong colonial influence, which lent the place a vibe that at times felt almost as Mediterranean as Indian.
I spent a chill few days here bimbling around the local markets, churches and temples, stopping in on multiple hole-in-the-wall chai shops along the way, and indulging in the occasional feni cocktail. Top tip: if you’re signing up for an Ayurvedic massage in this neck of the woods, do make sure you know exactly what you’re agreeing to – and keep your bumhole firmly off the itinerary!
4. Food Glorious Food
And of course, there was delicious Goan food, which is unique in India thanks to the historic Portuguese influence here. Most days, I’d tuck into some sort of South Indian brunch — such as dhosas, idli, upma, seerna, uttapam, aloo parantha, or the intriguing ros omelette (an omelette in curry sauce) — invariably accompanied by a sweet lassi or washed down with yet more of my beloved masala chai.
In the evenings, I explored various thalis and Goan specialities, such as prawn xacuti, Goan fish curry, prawn balchão, chicken cafreal, and ambot tik. Oh, and vindaloo (laaa laaah), which, it turns out, is Goan in origin too. Who knew? Not forgetting, of course, the odd visit to traditional Indian sweet shops for a spot of laddu, barfi, or milk cake as well.
5. India Being India!
And of course, not forgetting all the weird and wonderful things that make India India – from tuk tuks to Tata trucks, to bustling markets and ornate temples, to vibrant colours and intoxicating fragrances, to the ubiquitous cows nearly everywhere you look. Some things just never change – and, honestly, would we want it any other way…? 😉
So, in conclusion, here are my musings on the trip as a whole. I’m aware that some of this could be construed as a privileged, middle-aged, middle-class white woman appropriating centuries of ancient Ayurvedic traditions, and then cherry-picking the bits that best suit. I personally prefer to think of it as finding out what resonates most, and then taking it from there… Anyhoo, that all being said, here we go:
1. Less Really Is More: Somehow, this two-week trip feels like a month’s worth of relaxation, and for the first time in… ummm.. forever… as a result I don’t require another holiday to get over this last one…
2. Embracing My Inner Virgo: Whether as a result of the stars, coincidence, or Barnum effect, I am Virgo: hear me… ummm… plan…? Bring on fulfilment of personal, professional and filial duty – cause that’s how I roll, y’all.
3. Yoga and Meditation: Both definitely the way forward, but only if approached on a “start low, go slow” basis – think yin yoga (minimal movement) or yoga nidra (no movement at all). Anything else is prone to tip me right back into school PE territory (i.e. feeling wholly inadequate and immediately wanting to give up), which I think we can all agree is not exactly the right vibe for embarking on any new spiritual, physical, or emotional path here. Anyway, I personally incline more to the view that quests for enlightenment pair rather better with a G&T and good company instead… 😉
4. Ayurvedic Deep Pressure Point Massage: A true revelation!! I saw stars. I saw God. I saw imminent matrimony with the masseur in question, and his divine thumbs. Painful…? Agonisingly so. Exquisite…? Oh God, yes. In short, more please!
5. “Spirituality” and “Wellness” Have Their Limits. And mine primarily boil down to abortion-themed role-play activities (wrong wrong wrong on so many levels) and involuntary enemas (just… no).
And that’s a wrap for this trip! No great life-changing spiritual revelations achieved maybe, but plenty of massages, cocktails, the odd bit of sightseeing and lots of fun (and unexpectedly deep) emotional chats with the ladies at the retreat. And so for once in my long history of travels, it really has been as much about the “being” than the “doing” this time round – a yin versus yang balance I will definitely need to take forward into other trips. And – as you might have guessed! – I am already thinking about a potential return next years, stars permitting that is… 😉
For now though, thanks a million to all of you reading – you know who you are! – and watch this space for next time! 🙂
Well, as promised, here’s another update from Panaji (or Panjim, depending on who you ask), the vibrant, colourful, and notably laid-back Goan capital.
That said, given the city’s long colonial heritage, you’d be forgiven at times for almost thinking you were in the Mediterranean rather than South Asia. Brightly painted colonial buildings, tiled facades, and whitewashed Catholic churches are of course all direct legacies from the Portuguese. Throw in ubiquitous cafés and confeitarias, an impressive array of street art – plus the waterside setting and distinctive cable-stayed bridge – and you get a definite Lisbon-like air. In fact, all it’s missing is a giant Christ statue looming over the city to complete the Portuguese picture – an oversight by the old colonialists, surely?*
Speaking of Christ, I hadn’t realised just how significant neighbouring Old Goa (a short twenty-minute drive away) is as a pilgrimage site for India’s Christian population. There are 28 million Christians across the country, and it certainly felt as if every last one of them had converged on Old Goa when I visited the other day. The place was absolutely teeming with people – what with massive crowds everywhere, lengthy queues to get into the Se Cathedral, and outdoor masses taking place on a grand scale. Not to mention the abundance of Catholic kitsch on offer everywhere too.
People had travelled from all corners of the country to visit the place, which meant several families approached me as one of the few Western visitors in the mix – just to say hello and take a picture with me. As a great big introvert, I personally find being repeatedly put on the spot by well-meaning strangers excruciatingly embarrassing, but what can you do…? It would take a special kind of churlishness not to reciprocate curiosity with kindness in these situations, and even I’m not quite that much of a bitch to simply give people the brush-off here – whatever I might inwardly feel! And so I ended up slapping on a smile and channelling my inner Michael Palin (ever affable abroad), as I endured what turned out to be multiple such encounters throughout the afternoon. I didn’t have the heart to tell them I’m an atheist – after all, who am I to rain on anyone’s parade here…?
What else…? Well, obviously I’ve been doing my usual thing of wandering around the city, mainly by foot but with the odd tuk tuk journey thrown in for good measure. This means exploring bustling markets, visting local temples, and generally just getting to know Panaji’s vibrant streets – all while trying not to get run over by Panaji’s endless sea of mopeds (the secret: walk with purpose and show no fear). A tiny sample of the countless photos I’ve snapped is included here:
As for now, I’m planning to check in later to a more upmarket hotel for my final night – a tradition I started in Morocco with my relaxing visit to a riad, and plan to uphold from here on in. The Crown Goa is not quite in the same league, but it does boast a pool (I’m desperate for a swim at this time), a spa (no colonics, please!), and panoramic views out over the city – so, all in all, not a bad little spot to wind up my trip.
Anyhoo, on that note I’ll say goodbye for now, before posting what will likely be my final blog of the trip tomorrow – until then!
* Actually really not that old. I only just found out that Goa was still officially a Portuguese colony until 1961, long after the rest of India gained independence from Britain. Who knew…?
Well, when I wrapped up my last blog post, I speculated about what the fates might have in store for me by the time of my next entry. Little did I imagine it would be an attempted bumhole invasion – albeit, I hasten to add, only of the Ayurvedic “therapeutic” variety (so don’t panic, Dad), rather than anything truly nefarious. Specifically, this would have entailed a) a disconcertingly long plastic tube and b) a mystery medicinal oil, both sneakily earmarked for direct backdoor application as part of an otherwise ostensibly innocent massage, allegedly designed to “balance out” my Pitta-Vata doshas.
It’s safe to say the #metoo conversation has clearly not yet reached the Southern Indian Ayurvedic community – or at least not based on this afternoon’s consent-based (or lack thereof) shenanigans at any rate. It wasn’t just the audacity of the surprise backdoor ambush – unannounced and uninvited though it was. No, the real issue was the sheer and unrelenting persistence of the young masseuse in question, who just wouldn’t take no for answer – despite my making my views on the matter very clearly known.
At the time, I was of course lying prone on a massage table, near stark bollock naked, slathered head to toe in some form “detoxifying medical oil” and really not in the best position to assert my boundaries towards this lady – whose English was as limited as my Hindi. Still, I managed to channel my inner Thatcher with a defiant and repeated “no, no, no!”. When it comes to rectal politics, this lady is definitely not for turning!
Her justification was essentially “doctor’s orders”, for which she was the mere proxy. Only after far too many minutes of mortifying, mainly gesticulatory, back-and-forth did she finally concede defeat – though not before dobbing me in to the consultant first, who (once I was decent again) summoned me to his office for a headmasterly lecture about how rectal oiling was entirely normal – clearly inferring that I was the odd one for not immediately hopping on the alternative medicine enema bandwagon. Of course, I’ve thought of one hundred odd re-“butt”-als (as it were) since, but at the time I just said I hadn’t been expecting it (I hadn’t!), and it was my personal choice and all that (it was!). So, in short, thanks but no thanks on that front, you weirdo bunch of self-righteous, sanctimonious, uninvited rectal evangelists!!
And so it was that I emerged from this long and awkward afternoon session as oily as an Exxon slick, clutching a bag of dubious herbal remedies, best part of £100 lighter and with an emergent case of PTSD to contend with as a result – not to mention a renewed appreciation of the NHS and science-based medicine as a whole.
Obviously, aside from this I have also been visiting lots of temples and markets and shit in vibrant Panaji over the last day or two, and having a lovely time too – but as it stands have nothing further to offer that beats the above anecdote! For that reason, I’ll sensibly save the detail on that till another time – presuming that no one else tries to test my boundaries with any further bum-bound interventions in the meantime, that is! Until then!
Well, as I mentioned last time, while in Palolem, I ended up having an astrological chart drawn up – just for shits and giggles, if nothing else. I don’t actually believe in horoscopes, of course, especially after learning from Richard Dawkins that the entire celestial logic behind them was thrown off its originally plotted axis yonks ago by the interim discovery of new stars, planets and fact of shifting constellations. (Naturally, these inconvenient facts are studiously ignored by career horoscope purveyors and followers of all things zodiac…)
All that being said, I still somehow manage to represent the textbook epitomous Virgo here, namely: perfectionist, driven, hyper-organised, diligent to a fault, and clearly ma-hoo-sively anal retentive. Coincidence? Possibly. Barnum Effect? Maybe. And yet, it’s always tempting to see what the stars allegedly have to say, even if I’m personally approaching the whole endeavour with a vat full of salt at the ready…
Without further ado then, let’s have a look at some of the key highlights from the very comprehensive (a whole 55 pages worth!) astrological report – as it happens, turns out the cosmos has quite a lot to say on the matter… 😉
Personality and Traits
Astrological Chart: Born on a Friday, and so ruled by Venus, you are analytical, detail-focused, often too much, and are practical, you value order, efficiency, and self-improvement. These traits can also make you overly critical of yourself. Virgo Sun means you often spot details others miss. You seek always to improve yourself and express creativity. You are thoughtful and introspective, not given to impulsive actions. You have ability to cut through distractions and focus on what matters, finding joy in simple pleasures, bringing clarity to complicated scenarios, while always spotting the silver lining.
Me: Well, either that’s confirmation bias in action, or the stars have me rightly pegged as the Virgo poster child. Hard to argue with the cosmos when they get it so spot on…
Love and Marriage
Astrology Chart: Your married life will be happy. In spite of providing such a wonderful environment at home, however, the psychological health of your spouse will be a matter of concern. Recommended remedies include: 1. Feeding the birds with something sweet. 2. Keeping ivory in the home. 3. Worshipping the banyan tree with sweetened milk.
Me: Ahem. No comment. But I at least now know where it all went wrong – no ivory, no banyan tree, and I’ve yet to offer the birds anything other than a savoury type snack. Will bear this in mind for next time, though the ivory would have to be imitation only. Can’t have any elephants dying for the sake of maintaining any hypothetical future states of marital bliss, can we now…?
Family and Friendships
Astrology Chart: You have a special attachment with your mother and will get more love from her than do your siblings. You respect your father and obey his words by heart. Virgo Ascendant people are very friendly and loyal to those they care for. You are very selective in friendship and prefer having fewer close friends than large group of acquaintances.
Me: Nyah nyah Daniel – it’s written in the stars: Mum officially loves me more than you! But a big yy to the parental relationships otherwise – dutiful daughter that I am – and to the whole ‘quantity over quality’ approach to maintaining friendships too. You know who you are peeps!
Health
Astrological Chart: You are the master of excellent anatomy. You will attain longevity in life. Despite this, Virgo Ascendant people are prone to worry and hypochondria. Problems with intestines and constipation can be common Virgo complaints.
Me: Constipation is seriously not an issue since adopting a Tim Spector inspired, bio-diverse, plant-based diet. Quite frankly, I’m far more likely to block the toilet these days than suffer from any supposed ‘Virgo complaints’ in that department.
Physical Appearance
Astrological Chart: There is often something ”petite” and spare about the physical appearance, especially the face, of Virgo. Their carefully measured walk, symmetrical bodies and typically youthful, innocent features are telling. You do possess a good forehead with a straight nose and have massive cheeks.
Me: Wait, is that face cheeks or bum cheeks…?!?! This is an important distinction, universe! Unfortunately, due to mild scoliosis, my walk has latterly proven more club-footed than symmetrical – but “petite” and “youthful“ are still compliments I’ll happily take!
Career
Astrological Chart: Be it the field of education, work, or business, you just want to stay ahead of everyone. Failing or lagging behind you cannot bear. Your career will thrive in dynamic, high-stakes fields where you can problem-solve and tackle new challenges. You’re drawn to professions that offer intellectual stimulation, diversity, and a danger or excitement, such as construction engineering, the military, surgery, or roles in leadership.
Me: Aside from the whole ‘fear of failure’ bit, this doesn’t resonate at all. I’m definitely not cut out for a high-stakes, high-pressure career in life-or-death decision making. I find it stressful enough when an IT system goes down on my watch – let alone coping with anything involving medical or military-grade responsibility.
Domestic Life
Astrological Chart: Disorder in the house is likely to grate on your susceptibilities. Your children will mean a great deal to you. You will work for them and give them the utmost in affection and enjoyment, and what you lavish on them will not be wasted.
Me: Well, obvs on the aversion to disorder thing, as is obvious to anyone who’s ever visited my flat before – Marie Kondo eat your heart out! Replace children with cat on the second point though, and in fairness this description is really not all that far off.
Planetary Influences
Astrology Chart: Jupiter is your most favourable planet, bringing luck, growth, and expansion to your life. Mercury is considered a challenging influence for you and you may experience difficulties with overly analytical thinking, decision-making, or mental stress.
Me: Mental note duly made not to visit Mercury any time soon.
Lucky Metal
Astrology Chart: Gold is a lucky metal for you, symbolising wealth, success and vitality.
Me: Ummm, is there anyone in the world to whom that statement would not apply – other than maybe the Brinks-Matt robbers…? I think not.
Good Years
Astrology Chart: Your good years are: 14, 23, 32, 41, 50. These years represent milestones in your life when you’re likely to experience growth, opportunity and success. There are chances that life may stay quite strugglesome till your 50s. But, things are amazing from the age of 50 to 56.
Me: Oh joy – only 7 more years to wait then. As for the other supposed “good years”, 14 was spent in peak adolescent angst; 23 joyously gallivanting around the world; 32 I bought a flat; and 41 coincided with both a pandemic and a divorce – so fair to say these represented something of a “mixed bag”. On a final note, is “strugglesome” a word…? Well, it is now…
Favourable Days and Dates
Astrology Chart: Your inauspicious day is Sunday and favourable day is Thursday. Kartik is a traditionally challenging month for you. This could mean that significant or challenging events may arise during this period.
Me: Have the stars gone insane…?!? Sunday is a bloody great day – it’s day 2 of the weekend! Agree Thursday is a good day also though, on account of the fact that it’s a) nearly Friday and b) there’s a decent chance of work drinks. As for kartik, that apparently means September – so self-evidently a good rather than a bad month, given I am invariably gifted with a generous array of birthday presents at the approximate halfway mark.
Astrological Chart: As an Earth sign, you are practical, patient, stable and reliable. You value security and prefer solid, tangible results. While you are grounded in reality, you may resist change, favouring what is familiar. Your connection to the material world gives you endurance, but you seek comfort in routine and stability.
Me: So, basically, I’m a boring old stick-in-the-mud with a hankering for routine, a tendency towards JOMO (Joy of Missing Out), and an abiding sofa attachment so deep I reckon I’ve put down roots into it at this point. Yep, sounds about right!
Yoni (Animal Instinct)
Astrological Chart: The Ram yoni indicates you have a fiery, determined nature. You can be headstrong, passionate, and driven, especially when pursuing your goals. You might sometimes clash with others when your strong will meets resistance.
Me: I was just about to deny any supposed ram-like qualities, given I am by nature very much conflict-averse. But then I remembered the state of murderous bloodlust that at times descends on the work front, where vanquishing mine enemies represents less of a professional obligation and more of a viseral, no-holds-barred personal victory. So, yeah, I guess that kinda tracks too…
The Year Ahead
Astrology Chart: The year 2025 will bring many changes and opportunities, especially related to foreign lands and new connections. You may even get a good opportunity from a faraway place, bringing benefits and happiness. However, mid-year may bring some challenges as Rahu creates confusion in partnerships and financial matters. Travel to distant places will also bring rewards and peace of mind in the second half of the year. Overall, this is a year of growth, especially with foreign associations playing an important role in your success. Keep your confidence high, and you will overcome any challenges.
Me: Hmmm, quite a few mentions of foreign opportunities there – I’m intrigued, universe. But who on earth is Rahu and why is he trying to screw things up for me…? Is he some astrological villain I need to confront? I’m all up for kicking his arse if necessary – I mean, don’t make me go and unleash my inner ram all up on you, bee-yatch.
Well, there we go – the stars have officially had their say, and I’ve had mine. As it stands, it seems the universe has me destined for overseas greatness – once I’ve survived the next few ‘strugglesome’ years ahead, that is. As for now, I’m keeping an open mind to what the future might hold – after all, the universe may yet turn out to know something I don’t…
For now, though I’ll keep on living out my often excruciatingly self-aware, archetypal Virgo existence, which – judging by precedent – means obsessively plotting every facet of my personal and professional existence via Excel spreadsheet, compulsively self-critiquing, and ensuring to keep the old bowel movements regular – while also not daring to get out of bed on Sundays from henceforth on. Anyhoo, that’s it for this time round – until then, let’s see what fate has in store for next time… 😉
Sarah Round The World 