We have now been at the Radisson White Sands Resort in Goa for over one day. Today’s chess has ended with the Spanish players winning three matches and losing one in the XI Individual World Chess Championship for the Blind.
We are staying at a five-star hotel and it comes up to scratch in many ways, particularly with its fitness centre and swimming facilities. After the day’s chess the whole Spanish took a dip in one of the pools as the dark of evening set in, the pool lit from underneath and virtually no one else around. Bliss.
The journey here went generally well but included the odd complication. There are four players in the Spanish team in addition to the team coach and coordinator and myself. Two of the players flew into Heathrow from Barcelona whilst the rest of the team flew there from Madrid. Those of us who flew from Madrid were told that our luggage would be transferred automatically after each flight whereas those from Barcelona were told they would have to collect their luggage in Mumbai and check it in again there for the domestic flight to Goa. Once in Mumbai, we went with the Barcelona pair to help them collect their luggage, and it was fortunate that we did so as our suitcases also came out there, and had we not gone there and been able to pick them up, they would not have made the final stretch of the journey.
Getting to the domestic flight terminal was also fun with our passports being checked countless times. The chess clocks we were carrying in a large wheeled metal case caught the attention of the security guards on a number of occasions. Each of the guards was very proper in dealing with the situation, enquiring into what was in the box and requiring an explanation, sometimes wanting to see the clocks. However, when you have just gone through the whole process just 50 metres behind with a member of the same security team it can get a little tiring. Equally, more security is better than less and we had plenty of time before the next flight.
Our journey from Goa airport to the hotel also made for an interesting experience. The initial road we took was a dual carriageway. We passed groups of helmetless youths on mopeds who road as if they had no care in the world, or thought themselves to be immortal. And there were cattle sprawled across the central reservation, their heads or rears resting on the road if they were not munching on grass. The taxi driver negotiated them without batting an eyelid.
And then came the country road, thin and winding just like in Galicia or the Lake District, but with large palm trees all along the route, with colonial-style houses dotted here and then and a constant traffic of people walking with their loads on their heads, cyclists carrying umbrellas to protect themselves from the steady drizzle which was falling, mopeds, sometimes with three people happily astride them, and of course other cars, some of which tried some pretty scary manoeuvres. But our taxi driver had everything under control and after the 40 or so minute drive through lush greens brought out by the monsoon which is now at its end, a weary but happy Spanish team arrived at the hotel and championship venue.
On the route we followed we did not see any real poverty. Obviously, the majority of people were not particularly well off but I saw no one that gave me the impression that they lived in the atrocious conditions one hears about. On the final approach to Mumbai, however, we saw an enormous shanty town with its metal shacks stretching almost to the end of the runway.
With a bit of luck we will be going on a trip to local sites. It will be good to get away from the hotel, which is pretty isolated and transport is needed to go anywhere except maybe the beach (a five-minute walk away, although at present bathing is banned and will only be allowed once the monsoon is completely over).
A final comment for tonight (which goes without saying) is that this is naturally a paradise for any cricket fan, not that we have the chance to play, but that the vast majority of times that one turns the television on, there is some cricket on at least one channel (and usually more). But more of that in my next blog.
We are staying at a five-star hotel and it comes up to scratch in many ways, particularly with its fitness centre and swimming facilities. After the day’s chess the whole Spanish took a dip in one of the pools as the dark of evening set in, the pool lit from underneath and virtually no one else around. Bliss.
The journey here went generally well but included the odd complication. There are four players in the Spanish team in addition to the team coach and coordinator and myself. Two of the players flew into Heathrow from Barcelona whilst the rest of the team flew there from Madrid. Those of us who flew from Madrid were told that our luggage would be transferred automatically after each flight whereas those from Barcelona were told they would have to collect their luggage in Mumbai and check it in again there for the domestic flight to Goa. Once in Mumbai, we went with the Barcelona pair to help them collect their luggage, and it was fortunate that we did so as our suitcases also came out there, and had we not gone there and been able to pick them up, they would not have made the final stretch of the journey.
Getting to the domestic flight terminal was also fun with our passports being checked countless times. The chess clocks we were carrying in a large wheeled metal case caught the attention of the security guards on a number of occasions. Each of the guards was very proper in dealing with the situation, enquiring into what was in the box and requiring an explanation, sometimes wanting to see the clocks. However, when you have just gone through the whole process just 50 metres behind with a member of the same security team it can get a little tiring. Equally, more security is better than less and we had plenty of time before the next flight.
Our journey from Goa airport to the hotel also made for an interesting experience. The initial road we took was a dual carriageway. We passed groups of helmetless youths on mopeds who road as if they had no care in the world, or thought themselves to be immortal. And there were cattle sprawled across the central reservation, their heads or rears resting on the road if they were not munching on grass. The taxi driver negotiated them without batting an eyelid.
And then came the country road, thin and winding just like in Galicia or the Lake District, but with large palm trees all along the route, with colonial-style houses dotted here and then and a constant traffic of people walking with their loads on their heads, cyclists carrying umbrellas to protect themselves from the steady drizzle which was falling, mopeds, sometimes with three people happily astride them, and of course other cars, some of which tried some pretty scary manoeuvres. But our taxi driver had everything under control and after the 40 or so minute drive through lush greens brought out by the monsoon which is now at its end, a weary but happy Spanish team arrived at the hotel and championship venue.
On the route we followed we did not see any real poverty. Obviously, the majority of people were not particularly well off but I saw no one that gave me the impression that they lived in the atrocious conditions one hears about. On the final approach to Mumbai, however, we saw an enormous shanty town with its metal shacks stretching almost to the end of the runway.
With a bit of luck we will be going on a trip to local sites. It will be good to get away from the hotel, which is pretty isolated and transport is needed to go anywhere except maybe the beach (a five-minute walk away, although at present bathing is banned and will only be allowed once the monsoon is completely over).
A final comment for tonight (which goes without saying) is that this is naturally a paradise for any cricket fan, not that we have the chance to play, but that the vast majority of times that one turns the television on, there is some cricket on at least one channel (and usually more). But more of that in my next blog.
posted by T. Fryer at 10:30 AM
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