Club in the Sky

One night, me and my friend decided to head for the Club in the Sky or Club Cubana near Calangute. I'd read about it in the Lonely Planet Guide. It was a bit of a trek from Candolim but we did a deal with the cabbie as usual.

Inside it was hedonistic pleasure. Set on three levels on the hillside, the dance floor was small and intimate at the top. A winding path took you up. There was a bar strategically positioned in three places so you never had to wait long for a drink.

People frolicked in the swimming pool and I found my way very quickly to one of the double beds which surrounded it. I laid there all night just drinking, chatting and looking at the starry sky. Occasionally a masseur came around and gave treatments on request. This club was a piece of me until a group of English lads on a neighbouring bed started getting lary. A waiter had made a mistake with their order and one particularly odious bloke was yelling abuse at him: "Can't you understand bloody English?" he attacked.

I started to get nervous. His friends were telling him to calm down but it just made him worse. He started to lash out and got personal with one of his mates. We'd had enough. I'd had enough. What is it with the English? Must they always get so drunk they act like ass holes?

We decided to leave....the horizon was a faint glow.