As I write the England top order is being ripped apart by the Indian opening bowlers. And I can’t even watch the misery whilst in India. Goa apparently is not as big on cricket as other parts of the country and a television cannot be set up outside the chess tournament hall (and I wouldn’t fancy going back to my room to watch it there on my own even if I could).

I have not yet mentioned food. We have eaten away from the hotel only once (yesterday when we were taken on an excursion to some local sites of interest). Having said that, everyone seems to have been very happy with the food, which includes a lot of Indian dishes but also has more western food for those not able to cope with the spices. Lamb and chicken are guaranteed to be on the menu every day (in some style of curry or another) and some of the dishes are exquisite.

For those who prefer, curry and other spicy foods are available for breakfast as well. I've found it quite a good way of waking up after a late night playing pool against one of our players in the hotel bar, but have refrained from having it every day as the cold meats and cheeses provided, deserts and pastries also provided are also very tempting.

On our excursion yesterday, after about an hour’s drive in a teeny bus with teenier seats for 25 people (even I was pushed for room) we arrived at a Hindu temple. Unfortunately we were not really given too much information about the temple except that it was built in the 16th century whilst the Portuguese were destroying many other temples in the region. Once I have some more time on the Internet, I hope to find out some more about the temple.

We then headed off to what for many was the highlight of the day, a spice farm. Driving along towards the plantation, we approached hills which rose up gently like bumpy green carpets from the flatter land we had come from. As they stretched out before us more than one of us commented on how the green forest stretched and stretched out around us seemingly without end, and brought to mind how stunning it must be to see the Amazon rainforest from the air.

Just before midday we arrived in sweltering heat at the spice garden and after a refreshing hot infusion of lemon grass, cardamom and ginger, we were taken on a 45 minute walk of the plantation shown plants from which obtain coffee, nutmeg, turmeric, chilli, cardamom, pepper, vanilla and many other spices are obtained. To the delight of one in our party we were also given the recipe for poor man’s Viagra (a couple of teaspoons of ground nutmeg with a spoonful of cardamom, I think it was, stirred into a glass of milk). I might have misremembered the recipe so if anyone wants to find it out for definite, I will ask the aforementioned member of the Spanish group who was taking very careful notes.

Towards the end of the tour of the visit through what was really a small forest, we turned a corner to see standing before us two elephants, one young and one adult who were giving rides to visitors for about €40. A few of the chess competitors paid up and went for the short ride, the elephants cooling themselves from time to time by collecting saliva from their mouths with their trunks and then spraying it over themselves (sometimes catching the visitors, some of whom it took a while to realise where the elephants were getting the so-called water from).
A delicious lunch followed with different styles of food from those we are getting in the hotel, some of them considerably hotter than we have tasted so far. The Spanish team coach was caught out by the mango chutney!

Catholicism has played an important role in Goa, having been a Portuguese colony in the past. Our next stop on the trip took us to a Catholic church (the Old Church of Goa) near Panjim City. Here the saint to whom the church is dedicated is actually entombed in a glass and metal case. We could clearly make out his skull. The church also had an impressive gold altarpiece though information on the church was again sadly lacking.

The short walk of about 100 metres from the church to the bus was like running the gauntlet through hoards of people trying to sell souvenirs, chess sets, jewellery and clothing. The Spanish coach, Jesús, was already getting experienced and adept at haggling and managed to get a couple of bargains (I haven’t yet learned the skill as well as him).

Throughout the afternoon clouds had been gathering in the distance, and much as I feared, the minute we reached Panjim City the heavens opened and in about thirty minutes as much water fell as I think I have seen in Spain since maybe the beginning of June! (OK that may be a touch exaggerated but it gives you an idea). Eventually, as the rain slowed to a steady pour rather than pummelling beads of water, the twenty-five guiris (a Spanish nick-name for tourists) on our bus decided to venture out and try and get some shopping down. Panjim City is the capital of Goa and so one of the best places to go for this. We dashed from shop entrance to shop entrance using the entrance ways as shelter as we tried to move in the direction the market. But it wasn’t to be our day and the heavens spilled forth once again, just as we were in front of a shop designed for people just like us. In trotted the Spanish team, with me as their interpreter trailing behind, but not before I didn’t catch site of an enormous puddle by the pavement, plunging my foot into the mucky brown water and soaking a good part of my left trouser leg.

The Spanish team had by now become more adept at using their limited knowledge of Englishn the market. in the directin oe and so on ince maybe the beginning of June.metimes catching the visitirh their rg rides to visitors arained from it to deal with these situations and I was not required as much as on previous occasions. However, there was of course one deal being made which was more difficult and required my assistance. By the end of all this I was not up to haggling myself, and in addition, I did not really want to buy anything in that shop, preferring the market which the rain had prevented us from reaching. And so we trotted back to the meeting point where the bus would collect us for the return journey.

By the time the bus left it was already getting on for half-past six, and it was not until two hours later that we covered the last of the 70 or so kilometres we had to travel to get home.

The style of driving certainly provided for some additional entertainment en route. Our bus would be struggling up a hill, and so another bus carrying other people from the chess tournament (in total there were five buses) would overtake us, only for our driver to decide that being overtaken really was not on, and he could do nothing but overtake the offender and regain his position, irrespective of other vehicles which were headed our way on the other side of the road. I wonder how often horns have to be replaced here because every time a vehicle overtakes another the horn is used with no shyness. But it is this combined with the fact that no one drives at excessive speeds which must, I think, account for the seeming lack of accidents. Admittedly, we have seen one moped which had been knocked over and a lorry which had its front end crushed, but the latter had clearly been standing at the side of the road for some time (possibly months). To be quite honest, once one gets used to the style of their driving, it becomes considerably less scary. And it is much more preferable than travelling on the M-30 motorway around Madrid.

The chess tournament is going reasonably for the Spanish team though none of them really have a chance now of winning. Indeed none them expected to win from the outset and one has told me that he has a good few points more than he expected.

I will add more in the next couple of days. For now, I hope you are all well.