South India: Goa Beaches, Hampi Ruins & Kerala Houseboat

Part 1: Goa: The Perfect Christmas Escape

Merry Christmas to all of our friends and family! I’m writing this from our beach hut on Palolem Beach in Goa. Our beach hut is simple—four walls of plywood covered in thatched palms—but it has an attached bathroom and hot water. During the peak Christmas season, we were lucky to find one at all. We came to Goa to rest. The rhythm of the waves, the warmth of the sun, and long stretches of reading were exactly what we needed after the pace of North India.

Goa is famous for its beaches, and Palolem fits perfectly. It feels like a hidden secret of the British. For me, Christmas away from family is harder, but FaceTime has been a gift.

Since arriving, we did… gloriously little. Palolem Beach became our daily routine: two to three hours of sun-bathing, a cocktail or two, and oceanside meals. We randomly reconnected with Heather and Nate (Americans living in Turkmenistan) from our Ranthambore hotel and ended up spending a bunch of beach time together. Kayaking was a highlight: we paddled into the Arabian Sea and were surrounded by playful dolphins (we must’ve seen dozens).

Christmas Day looked like every other (sun + sand), but dinner was a splurge: a nearly 2-lb lobster eaten feet-in-the-sand while waves rolled in. On New Year’s Eve we ate red snapper and tandoori chicken, launched two sky lanterns—one to thank 2013, one to wish for 2014—and somehow lasted until 3 a.m. Fireworks ran from early evening to late night.

Part 2: Hampi Ruins and a Birthday Bike Tour

We took a night bus from Chaudi to Hampi—our first sleeper bus. Verdict: trains are smoother. The bus surged and bounced so much that I got air a few times. Hampi, though, made up for the ride: boulder fields, banana groves, and World Heritage temples everywhere you look.

We eventually settled into Sai Plaza Guesthouse. On our first day, we rented a scooter to explore our side of the river. The landscape is spectacular—a surreal mix of volcanic rock and weathered boulders. We climbed roughly 700 steps up to the Monkey Temple. I had bought a bunch of bananas on the way up, which instantly made me the most popular guy among the local monkeys. Feeding them was both hilarious and slightly terrifying. For me, the best part of the day was driving the scooter. Nicola, on the other hand, clung to me for dear life—literally.

The next day, we took a small ferry across the river to the main heritage area known as Hampi Bazaar. The ruins of the ancient city stretch across the landscape. The most impressive is the Virupaksha Temple. We walked a three-kilometre trek to the beautiful Vittalla Temple.

The next morning—Nicola’s birthday—we joined a bicycle tour. Sixteen of us pedalled off together, though the bikes were basic, chains falling off with comical frequency. Midway through the ride, the guide stopped at a shady temple garden and surprised Nicola with a cake that said, “Happy Birthday Nicola.” Everyone sang. It was a beautiful, unexpected moment—one she’ll remember forever.

Part 3: Sickness and Recovery in Bangalore

The day after Nicola’s birthday, I picked up a nasty stomach bug from some falafel sauce and spent the next few days running on empty. By the time we boarded the night train to Bangalore, I was heavily dosed with Imodium but stable enough to travel.

We arrived early and checked into our hotel. After a slow breakfast, we wandered to Garuda Mall—a little slice of modern civilization. Air conditioning, movie theatres, and food courts were just what we needed. When I saw a Subway, I swear angels sang. A six-inch turkey sub has never tasted so divine. The next morning, we visited Lalbagh Botanical Gardens. On the way back, we stopped again at the mall, and that’s when the tables turned. Around 4 p.m., Nicola suddenly fell ill—very ill. We barely made it back to our hotel before she started vomiting.

I made an executive decision: no train travel. I booked another night bus to Cochin instead, and reluctantly, a six-day car-and-driver tour through Kerala (Cochin, Alleppey houseboat, Thekkady, Munnar, and back to Kochi) for under $600. When I returned to the hotel, Nicola smiled and agreed it sounded perfect. After three unexpected nights, we were ready to move on again.

Part 4: The Houseboat Bliss and Kerala Frustration

Our final week in India didn’t quite go as planned. In my previous post, we were on an overnight bus to Cochin, full of optimism and excitement for our next adventure in Kerala. I had booked a “deluxe” package that promised better hotels, but this chapter of our journey would be one of the most frustrating yet.

Our driver met us at the bus station when we arrived, but he spoke barely any English and had no idea where our hotel was. When we finally found it, it was in the middle of nowhere with no wifi. After showers, a random guy appeared at our car window and told us to buy boat tickets. We ended up on an awkward three-hour “tour” of Fort Cochin that visited five sites, four of which we only saw from a distance.

The next day took us to Alleppey for the famous houseboat experience through Kerala’s backwaters. Finally, something lived up to the hype. The houseboat was peaceful, the scenery stunning, and the crew genuinely wonderful. We cruised along palm-lined canals, watched daily life unfold, and feasted on delicious South Indian food. At sunset, we stopped for dinner and bought fresh king prawns to grill. This day was the highlight of the week.

Then it was back in the car heading to Thekkady, a “hill station” famous for its spice plantations. The 120 km journey took four terrifying hours of winding mountain roads and aggressive driving. That evening, we experienced an Ayurvedic massage—intimate, vigorous, and surprisingly relaxing—followed by a traditional Kathakali performance.

Part 5: Tea, Scams, and Departure to Egypt

The next morning, we woke early for a wildlife boat ride on Lake Periyar. We saw elephants, buffalo, and wild boar. After breakfast, we headed to Munnar. The drive was another hair-raising four-hour ordeal. The tea plantations, however, were breathtaking—endless green waves of perfectly pruned bushes. Our driver insisted we visit a lookout point called Top Station, but we refused, and he demanded extra money for an alternative lunch spot.

When we finally reached our hotel in Munnar, it was yet another disappointment. By the next day, we’d been handed off to a new driver who immediately asked us for 500 rupees “for Mr. Praveen.” We were scammed. Mr. Praveen became the ghost of Kerala, always “ten minutes away,” yet never materializing. We insisted on visiting the Tata Tea Museum, which was actually fascinating. But by the end of the day, our patience had run dry. Between false promises, bad hotels, and endless lies, we were ready to get out of Kerala.

Our last night was spent near Cochin airport. We were told another driver would deliver our missing 500 rupees. Naturally, that didn’t happen. Leaving Kerala, we both felt cheated—not just financially, but of the joy we usually find in travel. Still, one bad week can’t erase all the beauty, warmth, and wonder we experienced across the country.

India has a tourism slogan: “Incredible India.” And it truly is—even when it drives you crazy. Now, as we head into Egypt, we carry both the laughter and the lessons from our time here—a reminder that travel isn’t just about seeing beautiful places, but also about surviving the messy parts along the way.