We almost missed our train. If it was left to BB and me, we'd still be sitting at Just Around The Corner, smoking our cigarettes and talking about how we should really leave Bombay soon. Ira was the Travel Nazi, the one who got the tickets done, who made sure we were at the station on time, who switched bunks with the person in the same bogey so we could all be in the same line. Although, I'm sure the whole train was really happy when we got off. We were loud, not just noisy, but LOUD loud, and giggly and we kept talking to each other the entire time. When the lights went off, I swear I heard everyone breathe a sigh of relief.
Our coach number was B3, which I saw as fortituous. B3 as in Babes Three. What a great name for our first all-girls holiday. Well, kinda cheesy, but in our excitement and psuedo-road-trip movie mood we were ready to agree to everything. Seriously, the entire trip felt like we were in a movie. There was this one point where we were waiting for a bus (coz we took buses!) at a closed bar called Moonlight which was small and painted yellow and blue, and we had our bags piled up near us and our shades and our bathing suits on under our clothes and we weren't talking much, just passing the cigarette back and forth and then a bus came by and I stuck out my hand and yelled, "Taxi! No, wait, I mean.. BUS!" which the other two found hilarious and getting on it, all seriously very Darjeeling Limited. Or Dil Chahta Hai minus random foreign girls stealing our money.
Oh wait! There WAS a random foreign girl! Sunday night after an evening that has unfortunately been lost from memory (twelve tequila shots, one not-so-large person, it's a wonder I'm still alive and talking to you) we went to sing cheesy angry lesbian karaoke at St Anthony's, a beach shack in Baga. When I say "we" I really mean me, because the other two kept volunteering my name to sing things to "liven things up". Everyone else was taking it all very seriously and doing all these senti, sappy numbers and I got up there and rocked I will survive and Lean on me and Like A Prayer. (Tolja, angry lesbian). We were sitting behind a group of three foreigners--a guy and two women and one of the women turned around and asked whether they could join us. "Sure!" we said, being friendly people and they pulled up chairs and then it was revealed that one of them was a Swedish Goddess. No, seriously. She was absolutely stunning, the kind of beauty you can't look directly at, so we kept sneaking peeks and every time she made eye contact, we'd look away. The other girl was a lot more fun, the boy was clearly into the Goddess, but the Goddess was quiet and let us revel in her beauty. By the time we got back to our hotel, we had full blown girl crushes, enough to make us wake up at 7 am so we could meet them for breakfast the next morning. And the next morning? Well, she didn't look so much like a Goddess anymore. The illusion that candlelight and a roaring sea can create went away. We had sort of developed a crush on all three of them, and I guess they had on us as well, because our disillusionment was palpable. Then they went their separate ways (ostensibly to shower and change and we got bored of waiting so we left.)
I wish I could tell you more about the Twelve Tequila Shot Night, but really, the last thing I remember is projectile red vomit that I totally had no control over. We tried to piece together the rest of the evening, which included walking about three kilometers to another club, coming back to our resort, me being tucked into bed while the other two continued and some very strange bruises. Oh, and several THOUSAND drunk dials to JC. (Which I think is endearing, but I'm pretty sure he thought was annoying. Still, it means I MUST be in love, eh? Who woulda thunk?) Actually it was rather nice having someone to miss and having someone miss me AND he spent the night before I was due to come back at mine so I got to see him at five in the morning. And there were roses. Red and pink. Say it with me, ladies: awwwwwwwwwwwwww. (I had some clean clothes left and the bathroom is outside my room so I managed to smell and look less gross and train-journey-ey before I opened my door.)
Anyway, we're back now, planning more trips (I still can't say the word 'tequila' without feeling ill. I'm saying The Alcohol That Shall Not Be Named) We have Girl Pacts (duh, this WAS a road trip movie about three friends finding themselves etc) and we rocked Goa off-season. Pretty damn good, I'd say.