Somehow you just can't get Goa off your minds. Its almost a year and a half that has passed by, yet it seems as if it were only a couple of days back!

This diary post is, however, not to burden you with my memories; this is to share with you an interesting anecdote involving a Greek gentleman who happened to be staying at our resort while we were there. It was raining cats and dogs the day we reached Goa, and as we had just settled for our dinner in the resort's restaurent-by-the-sea, we were startled to the skin by a piercing shriek that tore apart even the wails of the incessant rain and thunder. My chicken xacutti got badly stuck in the throat, and I just about managed to survive by drowning that obstinate piece of chicken with some red wine that we had ordered alongwith. Once a bit sober, I wondered where the shriek came from. It appeared to originate from behind a partition where I could make out the silhouette of someone who seemed to be shuddering and swaying, perhaps in some kind of agony. Suddenly, the silhouette appeared to raise a hand....and a spine chilling wail followed which sounded like.."O..wataaa....o..wataaa". Then, out of the blue, the silhoutte shot up and rushed straight at us...right upon our table, grabbed the bottle of Bisleri and before we could really understand what was happening, finished off as if there was no tommorrow. His eyes then fell upon a jug of water on the table next to us, which he picked up and emptied in 10 seconds flat! By now, we had deciphered that the silhouette was that of an European in his mid forties, and were gradually beginning to doubt his intentions, when he appeared to sway again and looked straight into my eyes! They were red...bloodshot! I was mentally folding my sleeves, and had shoved the xacutti away (which anyway was extremely tasteless), when his eyelids appeared to droop, and he slumped on the chair next to mine.

"Wataaa....cheeli......" The silhouette was barely able to squeak. The waiter arrived. Quite in a policeman like fashion, investigating the scene once the crime is over and done with. "Saar....he eat Goan chilli.....very hot." Moments later, two burly attendents arrived, physically lifted the poor victim, and took him away to his room.

We were introduced formally the next morning. His name was Papoudopolos or Scandalakis (or something like that, I dont quite remember). He was extremely talkative, and we soon knew that he was working for some Indian telecom giant, taking care of the optical cable network in Maharashtra. He said he was yet unmarried, and claimed to have 'embedded' a few fashion models in Mumbai, something we could neither accept nor dismiss. In support of his claims, he produced a few remarkable photographs, but in the absence of independent verification, the claims were taken with a pinch of table salt. One evening he sang a few Greek songs, eulogising the great Atlas, and explaining in great detail why he chose to shed his clothes. He was great company for the next three days. The day we parted, he had a glint of sadness in his azure eyes.

There are a few more of Goa pics in my photo gallery. Feast your eyes on some stunning and vibrant colours of Goa (including that of Mr. Papoudopolos!)
http://www.mouthshut.com/Gallery/myphoto.php?user=sudi
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Cheers