Pune and the overnight bus to Goa? Surely Not.

We were lucky to have friends in Pune that kindly offered to put us up for a couple of days. It would be fair to say that they live in the rather more affluent end of town, in a large 4 bedroom, 4 bathroom appartment, with security on the gates, covered parking and a communal swimming pool. They have twin 2 year old children: a boistrous boy and a studious girl. The children have a nanny. Each.

Having lived in single room accommodation for the last two months it was a nice sensation for once to have access to a lounge and a kitchen. We got a bit lazy and basically did a bit of shopping and had lunches and dinners at some very nice places, managing to fit in watching England lose a one day international against the Australians along the way.

I visited some people that I had worked with previously but had never met and had a very nice lunch with them also.

A consequence of this laziness is that I can't report a great deal on Pune. Its big and busy but seems quite clean and better maintained than some other cities. We even saw a stretch of road being properly tarmacadamed (if that is actually a word) with proper materials and proper road laying machinery. More surprising was that the road itself  didn't look like it needed re-surfacing at all. Could this be the first example of preventive maintenance we've seen, as opposed the the 'build it and then let it fall to bits' standard practice? Who knows.

Planes and trains from Pune to Goa were either full or too costly for our budget so, steeled by our earlier experience, we decided to go one step further for the 10 hour road journey and take an overnight bus. We paid the slightly higher tariff of 600 rupees (£8) each to go in the height of modern bus travel - A Volvo!

Scheduled to leave at 8:30 in the evening the bus would reach Mapusa in Goa at 6:30 the following morning. We had organised our ticket whilst still in Ahmedabad so had to pick it up and then report at a specific place. We couln't find the place to pick up the ticket so with the minutes to take off ticking by and after a few frantic phone calls, a guy on a motor bike turned up, handed over a grubby ticket,  took our money, and pointed us at the Neeta Travel booth, strangely only 10 yards from where we had hauled up. I waved the ticket at the Neeta Travel guy, he nodded and we sat down on the street on whitish plastic garden chairs.

Needless to say, 8:30 came and went, as did 9:00 & 9:30. At 9:45 a white Mercedes coach arrived and parked about 75 yards away. There was no announcement or guidance but, by word of mouth amongst the gathered passengers, it became apparent that this was our bus. I stowed the luggage and we got on. This was like a normal european bus. No 'coffers' or sleeping boxes here, just seats, some of the more expensive ones with very nice head and foot rests. We were in the cheap seats at the back with not much legroom but, once we had worked out the mechanism, found they had a decent recline. Kathy's had a footrest, but mine didn't. I thought this was good as it gave me a little more footspace, though I was to learn later this wasn't the blessing I had initially considered it to be.

Not being overloaded and being a Mercedes this bus was capable of motoring very quickly. From the moment the door closed, at about 10:00 p.m., it became aparent that this was the driver's intention. I have never travelled so fast on poor quality roads in any vehicle, let alone on a bus. This guy knew no fear. All you could do was shut your eyes and hope, as he playfully threw the bus from one side of the road to the other, merrily undertaking and overtaking as he went. After stopping for a drinks break and to pick up freight (a lot of freight gets carried by the interstate bus networks) we were off to the hills.

Many of you will remember the final moments of the original Italian Job film. Michael Caine and his cohorts are all in the coach on the switchback road through the mountains, the minis have been pushed out and there is just the tonne of gold and the robbers left as the coach swerves from side to side as it takes the corners, mountain on one side, a 500 foot cliff on the other, straight down. Well, this was just like that only it was pitch black and I foresaw a similar final outcome with us all hanging over the edge and someone saying 'Nobody move, I've got an idea'. Out of the front window I'd see a wall of mountain flashing sideways to the right, then road, then a wall of black nothingness as we swept around the next bend, then mountain, then nothingness. This was all done at one of two speeds; flat out acceleration or furious braking and it was at this point that I started to miss my footrest. Every time the driver stamped on the brakes I would involuntarily submarine forwards and try to bury myself under the seat in front. I found a way to put one foot on a fixing bar on the seat in front of me and the other on the side of Kathy's footrest. As you may imagine, this rather ungainly position coupled with the frantic swerving of the bus did not allow me any sleep. Everybody else was out like a light and even Kathy got a good three hours kip, so perhaps I'm just oversensitive.

At furious speed for the entire journey we arrived in Mapusa at 06:10 the following morning. Even leaving an hour and a half late we had arrived 20 minutes early.

A 20 minute taxi ride from there saw us to our hotel where, very kindly, the proprietors let us get our heads down in an empty room until ours was vacated and serviced.