Wag the WEG. Or better still, White Iberian Goans. (WIG)
Tucked away in the idyllic corner of Goa, in the expansive stateroom, adorned with softly glittering chandeliers casting visions of acquired nobledom are the fantasies and dreams of White Iberian Goans. The silver is polished, the Doulton crockery displayed in all its resplendent glory, carafes of finest Douro decanted and ready to pour. Around the polished teak mahogany table are seated the faux guests in all their finery for a sophisticated yet refined repast. The din and murmur is all about who among us will be crowned the next Deao of Quepem. As the magic evening draws to a close each one of us come home with dancing visions, after much libations, blueprints of a palace to rival all palaces. Little did we know the chefs, down in the bowels, kept for themselves "piece de resistance" and served us only the remnants. What a sobering dream to see the chandelier come crashing down and smithereen into million pieces all our innermost yearnings. Abhar, Voznadik Vojem
