Going Goa

Goa is the official coolest place in India. One of the tiniest states of this subcontinent, Goa is packed with a punch. It’s the best example of the saying good things come in small packages and although heavily commercialized, Goa still retains its very unique happy charm. Happiness drips from its sunshine, stretches of unbroken coastline, swaying coconut palms, fragrant spice gardens, cashew nut groves, winding rivers, waterfalls, wildly colourful Latin Quarters, lush fragrant greenery and cheerful festivals.

Laidback, easy on the pocket and teeming with a feel-good vibe, Goa is as intrepid as touristy. Mangrove forest kayaking, heritage house, ranch and fishing village homestays, horse riding and island hopping, some remote and most idyllic parts of Goa can be reached only by boats. Hidden from guide books and maps these obscure jewels are known through word of mouth of the locals and are best enjoyed the Goan way- with fiery food, dollops of Bebinca (local cake) and stinky (but absolutely heady) shots of cashew toddy called Feni. Rocking on the old grandfather chair, strumming a guitar and breathing in lungfuls of jasmine-scented rainy nights from hammocks, life unwinds at Goa and the joie de vivre attitude of the Goans is infectious. With so much lazy fun, it is easy to understand why Goa is my favourite place in India.

Goa and I go way back and I had once been crazily infatuated with someone who had roots there. It was he who had introduced me to the tiny stunning erstwhile Portuguese stronghold and its beaches and villages had seen me from my rebellious dreadlocks sporting days. I had run away from home a couple of times, only to land up in Goa and always hung around there till the money ran out. My mother is perhaps the most tolerant lady on earth but there had been days when even she seriously feared my permanent abode to be a hippie village. From those days to going back to Goa again as a swish flight attendant, a wife, mother, a lecturer, and a friend, the lovely Western coastal state had seen me transform and I too had witnessed its changes over the years.

My most memorable Goa trips had been with high school friends, but it is my solo Goa sojourn which remains till date my favorite travel experience. Ever since I bore the mantle of single parenthood, each monsoon sees me at some remote rain-lashed Goan island at least for a few days. With books, freshly baked bread and music as my only companions I always return back to busy responsibilities with a refreshed mind.

The monsoon train journey to Goa, especially from Delhi is one of the most breathtaking experiences in the world and for 19 hours Sampark Kranti Express chugs through the stunningly lush Western Ghats to reach the Vasco de Gama station. A myriad of states go in a flurry and the train finally enters the Western Ghats in Maharashtra after crossing Delhi, Haryana, Uttar Pradesh, Rajasthan, and Gujarat.

My last train journey to Goa was breathtaking as usual and for once we were on time. The Western Ghats started in the wee hours of the morning and mist floated around the dewy shola grasslands of the Ghats. Clouds mirrored on still lakes and patches of rice fields lay moist next to gurgling streams. It was my favourite part of the journey and I rushed near the door to feel the cool morning breeze on my face.

TRAVEL TIP – Not all trains from Delhi take the spectacular Dudhsagar route and perhaps the Goa Express only passes over the cascading falls. It is one of the most beautiful train journeys in the world during monsoon because the Dudhsagar waterfall is at its peak and thunders down in a misty fury. Goa is serviced by a couple of train stations and you need to get off at the one closest to your destination because otherwise, the taxi ride can be both exhausting and expensive. For North Goa, the closest station is  Thivim, Panjim can be accessed by both Karmali or Vasco da Gama and for South Goa it is Margao. For more information, head over to the Goa Tourism website.

Last time my jumping off base was Anjuna in the north and I hopped off at the tiny chaotic Thivim station. Anjuna beach is not the most developed and is still the popular haunt of chillum smoking hippies. It has a cool laid back, rustic vibe, broad beach, and beautiful villages. Anjuna shot into fame in the ’70s as the coolest hangout place of the flower children and even today it is famous for hosting most happening parties in town, weekly flea market, easy drugs, and cheap village homestays. Goa is a hotbed for drug lords and its thriving narcotic industry has a huge domestic and foreign market. Easy drugs and easier women are the biggest draws of Anjuna but for me, it meant escaping the noisy crowd of Baga or Calangute.

TRAVEL TIP – India has very stringent anti-narcotic rules and dealing in drugs or even getting caught with it is a very serious offense and punishable by life imprisonment or hefty fine or both.

The tuktuk/autorickshaw ride from the station to Anjuna village was very pretty and rural Goa peeped out from every corner. Lily-white churches, gaudy temples, red-tiled crayon-coloured houses, broods of holy cows, huge patches of paddy fields and winding fragrant roads led me to my tiny oceanfront family-run resort. I checked into my cozy little room, smelled the salty breeze and caught fresh drizzle on my tongue. This was Goa which lured me every time and I loved every moment of it.

RESPONSIBLE TRAVELING-BECAUSE I CARE