Day one

No embarassing moments during the night after the curries, from any parties I'm pleased to say. Just as well because if I did have to get up in the dark of the night to head to the bathroom, it could have been quite a spectacle given the number of exposed wires hanging above the toilet!
At 8am this morning I have to say that the Royal Enfield Bullet and I didn't hit it off from the moment we were introduced. This dusty battered machine that was designed in the 1950's with a padded bench seat didn't look like it was build with me in mind, and obviously wasn't. The very term kick starting must have been derived from a frustrated biker like me who after the 6th attempt at starting it, did actually kick the machine after it morphed me into Basil Fawlty as he beat his car with a stick. However once I turned the key in the ignition she started 1st time and began purring like a contented tiger.Of COURSE I wasn't embarassed!
It was now that we began our bonding process on a 50 km spin through the colourful and chaotic countryside surrounding Goa. As we weaved our way through sacred cows and not so sacred people trying to avoid cars tuk tuks and change gear on the wrong side,we tried to fathom out the rules of the road in India. There aren't any. The only rule my bike and I could work out is that size really does matter. This means that apart from a skateboard we are at the bottom of the pecking order when it comes to having any right of way on the roads. Strangely it works because everybody respects the size rule... and everybody is so happy. No road rage here just happy colourful chaos.
Tomorrow we will spend about 8 hours together as we head to our next destination which is too remote to get our bags to.

Smelly 24 hours ahead me thinks sleeping on the beach with my mean machine.... Time for another kingfisher beer they're only 60p each!