The Final Hurdle

Well this is it. Mumbai. A city we’d been to before, but with the promise of adventures southwards. Now it’s with the promise of a long-haul flight home. First things first, we arrived at the train station to pick up our big bags. Despite arriving 2 days past the date we’d agreed upon (more on that later) the luggage was still there, untouched and ready to go. Next up, I had to find a tailors. I’m heading to a black-tie dinner as soon as we get back, see, and slightly lacking anything quite so smart in my bag, it was fairly imperative I find one. Thankfully, Mumbai is packed with them and I managed to find the most expensive. However, the suit will be ready just before we leave for the plane and will no doubt last me all of 5 days. Excellent.

So the reason we were so late for Mumbai was Goa. And the beaches. And the bikes. And the girls. And the rum. The reason I’ve been quite quiet on the blog-front recently is because I’m aware no-one really wants to read about a lads holiday, and quite thankfully a lot of the antics were not really blog-suitable. My mum reads this. Needless to say we made friends for life, I have a job offer in Cambridge punting if I want it, a trip to Barcelona planned to see Carlos the King and I would like to say that yes, Swedish girls are as attractive as they’re cracked up to be.

I was actually over-awed by the beaches in Goa. Riding on pristine smooth roads on my super-cool pink scooter to find them was also part of the joy (mad buses careering round blind corners were not), but the white sand/blue sea/palm tree combination was hard to resist. We stayed in beach huts 20 metres from the sea, ate freshly caught fish every evening and drank 60 p beers at night (and some afternoons). As I said, you don’t really want to read about this do you. It’s all a bit smug.

Never mind, snowy Scotland awaits. I’m looking forward to the reunions but I’m currently in a state of early mourning for the end of what has been a truly epic trip. A big synopsis to follow….


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