When traveling, I’m not overly particular about my sleeping arrangements as long as they are clean and safe. I don’t mind a bit of grunginess, like the spartan shack back in Agonda. An open-air shower/toilet beneath swaying palm trees is not something one comes across every day where I live. Those little things add a bit of spice to one’s time abroad. So, while I’m no fancier of luxurious accommodations, I have, through the years, gained an appreciation for architectural and interior design as insights into a culture’s way of thinking and doing things.
Bianca and I were happy to have finally arrived in Calangute after a four-hour drive across the hot Goan roads. We checked in around noon and went up to our room. We noticed there were children around and realized that the guest-house was also the home for families. As we hauled our luggage up the stairs, the kids looked at us with awed expressions. We waved at them and they waved shyly back at us.
The first thing we noticed when we opened the door was the aroma of citrus. It seemed they had just finished cleaning the room. The smell brought back memories of my childhood.
“I love the yellow colour!” Binca said.
The room glowed with a golden hue.
"And I love the harem aesthetics," I said.
"Of course you do."
“The gold trim is nice- the Indian motifs mixed with the European colonial architecture.” I walked across the cool tiles and looked around like a sultan inspecting his palace. “The textures on the wall are a nice touch.”
I walked up to a set of double doors.
“Wow, look at the lock on these doors," I said marveling at the bolted mechanism. "It's like the ones they used centuries ago. It works too. Never mess with a good thing.”
I unbolted the lock and the doors opened to reveal a majestic little balcony overlooking a world of yellow, orange, and green.
On the balcony, there was an odd column rising through a rectangular hole on the floor and passing straight through the ceiling.
“What’s going on here?” I said going up to it.
“What is it?” Bianca said.
“It’s the trunk of a coconut tree," I said running my hand along the coarse bark. "They actually built the hotel around it. Look, you can see the ground from here.”
"So cool!"
“They could've done better with the coconut trap, but this is fantastic,” I said looking wide-eyed at this masterful stroke of architectural improvisation. “Now I have a whole new level of appreciation for coconut trees."
Bianca sat on a chair and put her feet up surveying her new domain.
“I like this place,” she said. “It has a nice historic feel to it."
“Portuguese style with a splash of Indian extravagance,” I agreed.
Our limbs were stiff, and we were exhausted from the long journey that began with our early rise at five in the morning. Lunch time was upon us, but we were in no hurry to venture out, so we stretched in bed like hibernating bears in our yellow den and fell asleep to the rhythm of the gently spinning fan above us.
Dive into another section:
1.1, 1.2, 1.3, 1.4, 2.1, 2.2, 2.3, 2.4, 3, 4.1, 4.2
Images by @litguru
Ah, the curiouser and more curious hotel rooms you come across. I don't think much could beat Asia for the added noise - once, a frog pond (I woke up crying - or didn't wake up, as I never slept), the cicadas that sound like jackhammers (which makes you wonder all night why people are jackhammering in the middle of the night), and the jackhammers that are actual jackhammers. Sometimes no amount of hotel fineries can make up for THAT.
Lol. This is actually in my notes. For some reason in some places, construction works begins at 10 PM. Maybe it's to beat the heat of the day or maybe it's just because reasons.
Thank you for checking out my post!
What a lovely place! One could almost not avoid being happy in such an en environment with those bright colors, the door opening onto the lush grounds, and coconuts growing just outside the door!
It is a dream-like realm, like stepping into a painting. I'm only showing the business end, of course, not the back end 😅
Yes, it seems very dreamlike indeed!