Panaji is the capital of Goa. The Lonely Planet describes it as 'one of India's smallest and most pleasant state capitals', so we decide that today we'll go for a visit. Being the explorers (and budget concious) travellers that we are, we decide to take the bus, so first we have to get the bus from Colva to Madgaon, which we're already familiar with from our trip to Palolem. We're standing in the ticket queue at Madgaon bus depot when we're approached by a man who offers to take us by taxi to Panaji for R100. The bus would cost R20 each, but nevertheless the taxi seems like a good option, particularly as the queue is long and the bus is likely to be crowded. The driver explains that he is returning to Panaji anyway, so he can offer us the ride for this low price.

So, always mindful of being ripped off we follow him to his taxi. No sooner have we got in than a man opens the door and asks us how much we have paid. We tell him R100 and a short exchange in Hindi follows between him and our driver. As we start to pull away, another taxi pulls up in front of us and two men get out. There's then quite a heated argument, and again we're asked how much we've paid. The problem appears to be that the locals are accusing our driver of stealing their fare, him being from north Goa and not a local driver. Despite our driver explaining that he has approached us at the bus queue not the taxi queue, and although we're paying a low fare (the going rate is R450 is seems) the locals are not happy, and tell our driver that he should be taking Indians and not tourists. Eventually we're allowed to leave, and for the rest of the journey our driver complains about the people of south Goa, who he describes as "Very very dirty", and urges us to stay in north Goa in future, where everything is clean and the people are friendly. The taxi market in south Goa is certainly very cutthroat, with a lot of hassle from operators. We wonder whether it's really so much better in north Goa. Our driver invites us to visit a shop which we're shortly to pass, explaining that there's no obligation to buy anything, but if we do visit it he gets a voucher which he can redeem. This is quite common and not in any way sinister, but we want to get to Panaji and can't be bothered with the hassle, so we decline the offer. We're dropped near the bus station, just on the outskirts of Panaji. Our driver has lost interest in us now, probably because we didn't go to the shop, and isn't interested in taking us to the town centre. We navigate our way across a series of busy roundabouts, and make our way into Panaji on foot.

The town is certainly pretty, and very tidy, with obvious Portugese influence. Sarah's objective is to buy a small string bikini, and Clive's is to buy a bat and ball game which he saw people playing on the beach. (Who said we're not interested in Indian culture!?). Despite there being many good shops in Panaji, neither objective is fully achieved. However we get to see the town whilst trying. Hungry and thirsty after our shopping endeavours, a and there being no trains to spot in Panaji, we look for a lunch venue. Although we've been told there are some good restaurants fronting the river, we can't seem to find them. Eventually we stumble across a pretty back-street restaurant called Viva Panaji. Despite being quite full, it seems the owner is using one of the tables to go through his accounts so it's unavailable for diners. Consequently we're asked if others can share our table, which is a bit awkward. For most of the meal the restaurant is devoid of any music, but suddenly and for no apparent reason, the owner decides that he wants music and puts on an Abba CD at a volume which is just too loud for comfort. But hey, this is India and it is his restaurant after all!

The bus journey back to Colva is hot and uncomfortable, but cheap and straightforward. We're glad to get back for a dip in the hotel pool. The bat and ball game and string bikini, will have to wait until another day. In the evening we team up with two other Kiwis, Simon and Clare, who are staying at our hotel, and head off to a meal at what we believe will be a venue with some good live music. Like most live music acts in Colva it turns out to be a one-man-band. This guy is certainly talented - he plays guitar, saxaphone, clarinet and trumpet, all in support of the electronic drum beat and background rhythm produced by his synthesiser. Unfortunately there are power fluctuations this evening, which means that his synth keeps shutting down for a few seconds. This is to do with the switch-mode power supply, Simon informs us. There's a long delay while a UPS (uninterruptable power supply) is sourced, but once this is available he's fully up and running. We're hoping for a dance, but unfortunately the music isn't the best and we decide to move on.

We find a bar which is almost completely empty, and the manager agrees to put on whatever music we want. Clive chooses what appears to be good dance CD, and we end up with Britney Spears, complete with video on the TV. We manage a couple of dance turns between the tables, to some applause from the bar staff, before other patrons come in and Britney is turned down. Not the party evening we'd been hoping for, but it'll do for now.