I dream about them at night and then fret that I may oversleep and miss out on being the first one in line at the shop.

The object of my adoration is Frances’ wifes’ divine fish samosa.-best eaten hot before the frying oil has a chance to settle into the crispy dough. If I haven’t remembered to put in my order the night before, I’m SOL if I get there after 8:00 am.

Schoolchildren clutching 20 rupee notes in their small hands scurry to buy a few on their way to Catholic school in the morning.

I savor each bite lovingly as I make my way leisurely through the village to meet G at the beach for breakfast. I’ve bought four of them for us to share, but the chance of having any left by the time I reach my destination is slim.

I love being out in the early morning before the sleepy village starts to come to life. Young girls with long black hair neatly braided in loops like pretzels,walk briskly in their freshly starched white uniforms, not wanting to be late for school and risk the ire of the schoolmaster. Motor scooters zip by while cows roam lazily in the middle of the road secure in the knowledge that no one will disturb them no matter how pesky they may be. ( Even in Catholic Goa cows are sacred).Today there are two cows busily nursing their calves.

On the way back I pass barber shops, not yet open, advertising the latest Bollywood hairstyles for men. There will be lines later as hair seems to be an important fashion statement.)

Brightly painted homes double as rooms to rent and Beach Huts display sign boards with menus, (often with funny spelling errors).

In the center of the village is a Gazebo for local celebrations. The church plays a major role in all social activities.

I arrive at the beach just as the shimmering warmth of the day is beginning to make its presence felt. G is ecstatic that I haven’t eaten all the samosas and that I’ve saved some for him, knowing what incredible self control that took.

Even the dogs appreciate the pungent aroma and sniff around wildly, following us to our seats and not leaving until they are sure that all the food is gone.