Today we're on the move again - this time south to Colva, in Goa. We have to check out by 10am but we've arranged for our auto-rickshaw to pick us up at midday, so we've a couple of hours to kill. We spend it by visiting the nearby temple, which is a major draw for Indian tourists. Today there seem to be plenty, and the trinket salesmen are out in force. One is selling wooden flutes and instruments which look a bit like a recorder you used to play at school. They seem only capable of about five notes, but the salesman can manage a very pleasant little ditty, of the sort one might like to play whilst wearing a kaftan and taking some form of mind-altering drug. He insists Sarah has a try, but she can only manage a sound similar to that which a crow might emit when caught in a clam trap. We decline the offer of even the smallest flute, and move on.

There's a paved walkway leading away from the temple which is endowed with electric lights at regular intervals. It looks as though it has been constructed with some specific and important purpose in mind, so we follow it with anticipation. It leads up some steps, past some shacks, alongside a road, down a slope, and takes us right back to where we started. It's purpose completely evades us, but while we're contemplating this conundrum, we're approached by a man who appears to be offering us a taxi ride. "Shoo, go away, nahi" we say in the time-honoured fashion which comes of five weeks in India. The man looks crestfallen, and we suddenly realise that it's our pre-arranged auto-rickshaw driver who, despite us repeatedly confirming a midday pick-up is here at 11am. No matter, we've exhausted all our sight-seeing possibilities, so we set off on the the road journey back to Ratnagiri for our train to Goa.

At Ratnagiri station we've an hour and a half to wait IF the train is on time. We settle down to wait somewhere near where we think our particular carriage will stop. As the 1.35 departure time approaches it seems likely that the train will be late, but the board in the concourse still stays the train is on time. Various trains arrive, and each time we don our packs ready to board, only to discover that it isn't ours.

Eventually at 2.45 it pulls in and we're pleased to find that we've a compartment to ourselves. In fact the whole carriage is fairly empty, including the adjacent first-class compartment. Sarah persuades the attendant to let us have black tea from the first-class cups, instead of the usual sweetened chai. In fact we're very well served for food and drink on this train, presumably because it's relatively empty in the AC sections. Even the ticket inspector shakes Clive's hand as if he were some honoured guest.

We arrive at Madgaon two hours late, but we've phoned ahead to make sure the hotel don't give our rooms away. Wary of scams, we check out the taxi arrangements before committing to anything. The arrangement at the station appears to be a pre-paid taxi stand - you pay for your trip and are given a chit, and shortly afterwards a taxi arrives who appears to know that you've already paid, although no evidence of this is requested. Everyone seems to agree that this is the proper arrangement, so we take it at R180 for the trip to Colva. As our taxi pulls out the station forecourt we see plenty of auto-rickshaws on the road, which had not been available at the station. Maybe they're a cheaper option, but with heavy packs to carry we weren't about to expend too much energy for the sake of a few rupees. As we drive out of Madgaon and into Colva, it's clear that this is a very different place from the Ganpatipule we've just left.