Panjim Part 3 (Hotel Republica)

After spending a couple lazy days in Panjim, experiencing my first taste of Indian cinema, albeit watching a Hollywood rather than Bollywood film (I don't think The Artist is what the locals are used to, I judge this by the poor attendance which after the interval, yes interval, halved...to about 3). That same day I had found myself in the 'Top Gear' bar, only enough space foe about 4 tables, of which I occupied one and three old Bristolians another, although our tables were soon to be joined and the communal bottle of Honey Bee brandy split another way. As the bottle was, quickly depleted and promptly refreshed, the men had decided to blame the Scot that had joined them when their respective partners questioned their absence and clear inebriation. At the ripe old hour of 4pm we went our different ways and I happily tottered of to enjoy a little slice of the west in the A/C multiplex cinema.

The next morning, feeling slightly worse for wear I had to move on from my relative comfort of Casa Paradiso in search of alternative, well cheaper, accommodation. At 1600Rs (~20 quid) Casa Paradiso was a luxury I could not afford for the long term, so I started trawling the streets of Panjim. Now my Lonely Planet guide up to this point had been relatively accurate and despite a few inaccuracies over times and prices had served me well, so why I felt the desire to go against their scathing report of Hotel Republica on reflection I can't understand. From the outside it had the charm of the other Portugese era houses but not the associated price tag, Hotel Republica charged a mere 400Rs per night, and after the old trick of looking at one room and then being shown to my actual room I was soon to realise why. If I were to say that the room had a must of yesteryear I would be putting in wrong, It smelt like hot, musty mold with a hint of general unclean, the mattress, if you could call it that, was covered in questionable stains of the red variety and the bathroom appeared to have an ant colony living inside it. That night I lay my head down , fully clothed, trousers tucked into socks, sweating and a pillow constructed from my dirty laundry wrapped in a scarf, stuck my ear plugs in and wished for morning to arrive.