The flight from Mumbai was about a quarter full, the fruit juice and water were being served, probably to sober up those left on board who had got stuck into the whisky. We arrived at the international/military airport around 7am where the mist was rolling around the greenery of Goa. Customs and Passport control were a simple matter, especially when comparing it to the joys of Dubai. I had chosen Goa for a couple of reasons, 1. to ease Grant gently into India and 2. to have some rest and relaxation. There's nothing like the madness which normally hits you when you arrive in the bigger cities in India although I tell Grant that we will be swamped by touts as soon as we get outside. There's a throng of people getting ready for the scrum down as soon as we walk out. There's a government booth where you buy tickets for the taxi ride, it works out around 10 pound for the 30 mile ride (funny how nearly every taxi ride, from 5 minutes to an hour on this trip has always cost the same). The pace quickens as everyone is trying to buy the tickets and the three guys inside the booth scribble away frantically. Once you have the ticket, the taxi drivers are in your face trying to snatch the ticket so they can claim the ride. This gets annoying as they are quite aggressive so I bite the head off of the young driver who's got his hand on our ticket. He then calms down and we do it my way. The government will take 80% of this revenue by the way, but it stops the problem of tourists being ripped off by the taxi drivers who have been known to demand excessive amounts and can be threatening.

Once we're on the move, it's the same old India, cows in the middle of the road and everyone trying to overtake each other. The general rule of the road here is the bigger vehicle gets right of way. So we brace ourselves as the taxi driver overtakes on a blind bend only to find a lorry heading straight for us. This is how it works and the taxi driver swerves in almost knocking off the motorcyclist he was overtaking whilst barping the horn. That's just the way it is here, get used to it. We stop off in the general direction of our hotel, we dont know where it is as Mrs. Gibbs had booked us a place and we need to get on the internet to get the confirmation email. We stop off at one place only to find their internet doesnt work. I call Mrs. Gibbs on the phone, it's 3.45am back home. A very tired Mrs. Gibbs gives us the details and we then arrive at the beach resort hotel.