All stereotypical comparisons aside, the Goan can and does hold his liquor well.
I am not referring to the Goan village drunkard. He is like the village idiot; one of a very few. Not too many races or nationalities can claim this singular honor of holding liquor well. The Irish can, but then the Irish do get boisterous after a few. The Russians can, but then they have to contend with sub-zero temperatures which make it a necessity. The Scots can, but they have to get riled enough to curse their sophisticated and suave English neighbors who have traditionally lorded it over them. Our Keralite and Manglorean brothers drink far more than us, but they do so out of love of the drink itself and sadly cannot hold what they drink too well. The Mangloreans want to fight (shades of the Pinto rebellion) and the Keralites just want to pass out. Goans on the other hand do not drink out of love or necessity: climatic, historic genetic or otherwise. The Goan drinks for the sake of company, for sussegado, for celebration. Not for the Goan Ogden Nash's "candy is dandy but liquor is quicker". There is no desire to prove anything and therefore there is no pressure to drink less or more. 'One for the road' at the end of a party is for the Goan a type of adieu, bonhomie rather than let's have one more for this is too quickly coming to an end. F Scott Fitzgerald would not have been talking of the Goans when he said "you take the first drink, the first drink takes a second and the third drink takes you". Not that Goans can hold only particular liquor. It is the soul of the liquor rather than the type that fascinates him. Take for example the East African Goan. They swear by beer anytime. Whether it is a hot summers day where beer would be appropriate, or a formal dinner where wine would better go with dine or a dance where whisky would be king, for him it is easily 8 to 12 bottles downed at one sitting for any of these occasions. Something I have been unable to understand. Or take the Bombay or the Gulf Goan. He will swear by scotch anywhere, anytime. I have seen this breed relish 5 to 6 scotches and club soda, in the 40 degrees centigrade heat of a standing room only sweaty bar on a Friday noon in the Mapusa market as equally as in the airconditioned ambiance of a clubhouse or gymkhana where it would be more appropriate. Not even that all Goans know how to mix their drinks. I have seen some mix the finest Speyside or Islay single malts with Coca-Cola and others take good Barbados dark rum in only orange juice. I have died when seeing some add bitters to Schnapps and I wanted the earth to open up and swallow me when a Goan friend I invited to an exclusive Empire Club (in Toronto) reception ask the bartender to serve him an expensive Spanish sherry they stocked, with lots of ice cubes in it. While the sloshed Jamaican will want to bash your head in if you cast a mere glance at the girl by by his side, the Goan in all graciousness will ask you if you want to dance with the pretty girl he brings along before you express your own wish for that very thing. A good friend of mine, Goan by the name of Leslie Barrett (for Barretto, I suppose), who was normally a mean and avaricious fellow when sober, would insist on paying for my next few drinks and even pay my taxi fare in advance when he and I had one too many. And his example in the Goan community - that of munificence after alcohol is not at all isolated. Take any Goan village association dance in Toronto: Mr Fernandes who just refused a charming lady selling raffle tickets at 2 dollars a pop for charity will insist he treat you to not one nor two but at least three drinks each costing 6 dollars. Then take Goan parties. Unlike the rest of the non-Goan western populace who will open up the food table at the start of the party and then let you drink to your hearts content which is a healthy and sensible thing to do (you don't get too many drunk that way), the traditional Goan party will let you drink from 7 to midnight and then serve you the food when you are in no condition to be conscious of what you are eating let alone remember whether you ate or not the next day. And before I ramble on, let me mention another friend Minguel, an old comrade from Bombay days. After the fifth drink he was barely coherent in speech but that alas was no impediment to drinking about 5 more. Where any other man would have to be taken on a stretcher with alcohol poisoning, Minguel would take his two wheeler and make it safely all the way from Bandra to Parel where he lived. He once asked me if I would like to be dropped off home. Since my fiancee (later wife) lived at Mahim and was taken home in her brother's car I had no option but to say a prayer and agree to Minguel's offer. What made me do this foolhardy thing I do not know to this day. Perhaps I had as much as he did. In any case once I sat on the pillion, I became stone cold sober with the thought of my impending demise. Instead, I experienced Minguel give me the smoothest ride I ever had. He took no risks and avoided all obstacles. Truly, as he was wont to say, there is a special saint looking after the safety of all drinking and driving Goans! Roland.
