From Mumbai, we all boarded a plane for the short jaunt to Goa, India. Goa lay along the western coast of India along the Arabian Sea. It was a former Portuguese colony, the beach was lined with bars and restaurants, and it was known for it’s vibrant nightlife. Northern Goa was the most touristy and built up, while southern Goa was closer to the airport, sketchier and had a more local feel. The main drag in town was lined with shops and cafes, featuring beachy attire and coffee shops.
The beach in northern Goa was a far cry from the one in Mumbai. The lively area was crawling with scantily clad beach goers enjoying the wide, sandy terrain. By night, the bars spilled over onto the beach. Loud music, brightly flashing lights, and drunken dancers were everywhere. It reminded me of Panama City, Florida during spring break.
For the flight, one of the Mean Girls was displeased that I was her seat mate for the five hour flight. She actually grunted at me before covering her ears with enormous headphones and facing the window. Once we arrived, we dropped off our belongings at the hotel and headed out on an orientation, and beach, walk towards our dinner spot. The India Outcasts and I happily pranced along the beach. The child in me flourished as I spun in circles with my arms spread wide while the salty breeze off the sea whipped around. The summer-like temperatures and fresh air were a welcomed change from the smog of the cities we had been in prior. Our laughter and raucousness that began on the beach continued through dinner.
Laro’s Beach Shack was situated at the end of the beach with a large indoor/outdoor deck. Patrons were able to pick out their exact fish for the chef to fry up. Laro’s featured unique fruity drinks to go along with our meals. The Outcasts and I sat at the opposite end of the table from the Mean Girls, happily enjoying each other’s company and conversation. At the conclusion of dinner, we wandered back down the darkened beach. The restaurant owners attempted to lure us into their establishments, but we declined, electing to make a pitstop at the convenience store for a few adult beverages to enjoy from my hotel room balcony. The next two nights were spent on one of my two balconies, chatting and bonding over common life experiences.
Britto’s Bar & Restaurant was another dining spot the guide took us to. As usual, he chose places where he knew the proprietors, and the meals were not budget-friendly. While pricey, I can’t complain that the food wasn’t good. I’m certain there are a multitude of other tasty dining options in northern Goa, but unfortunately, we were not there long enough to explore them all. I wish I could recall the name of the coffee shop The Outcasts and I ate at one morning, but street signs and addresses were not the norm, so I’m failing to find it on Google. Sorry, folks! If you couldn’t tell, I ate A LOT during this part of the trip.
Fun facts: The lifeguards in Goa kept the Indian population sequestered in particular areas of the beach because none of the locals know how to swim. The lifeguards were not concerned with the caucasian tourists, knowing we likely can fend for ourselves in the water. If the lifeguards allowed the locals to spread out along the length of the extensive beach, they would never be able to keep track of all of them! Adults were treated like small children, chastised if they ventured into the water beyond knee deep.
Arriving in Goa, I developed an annoying head cold, which prompted me to ask the guide if he could swing securing me my own room away from my messy, inconsiderate roommate. He came through, and Alor Holiday Resort gave me room 412 which served as my quiet hamlet for the two days we were there. My room had a make-shift “kitchen” with a fridge, sink and table. The two balconies overlooked the pool. “Resort” was pushing it, but at least my air conditioning worked phenomenally well and the space was enormous.
This spelled the end of my tour with this group of angry women. The next couple of days I had rented an AirBnB in south Goa, closer to the airport to make transport to the airport for a flight to Kerala easier. The rental served it’s purposes, but the southern part of Goa (a neighborhood known as Vasco Da Gama) left a lot to be desired. The residents of the area looked at us like we were aliens, and seemed suspicious of our presence in their town. One of the Mean Girls requested to stay in the apartment for one night, so she could then continue her journey east the following day. I obliged, but she was none to pleased when I also invited one of the other Outcasts to hang out for the first evening, so she could shower and be closer to the airport as well.
The remaining Outcast and I elected to walk into town to find some food items. The markets largely don’t take credit cards, and we couldn’t find a working ATM, so it made purchases challenging. Eventually, we stumbled upon a random fancy restaurant that we were not dressed for, but the welcoming host invited us to dine regardless. I wasn’t expecting that caliber of establishment in that run-down looking part of town! The remainder of our evening, we wandered to the coast to explore their beach. Unlike northern Goa, we were the only tourists, and we may have gotten a tad lost on our way back. We ended up strolling into what looked like a slasher flick featuring us as the naive victims. Dark streets lined with dilapidated buildings and graffiti, punctuated by the occasional rubble yard, were eerie.
The next day I took advantage of the washing machine in the unit, and binge watched some Indian Netflix. As boring as it was, it was nice to finally have a day just to myself with nowhere to be and no one to see.
Being the stubborn fitness nut that I am, I attempted to walk to the airport from my rental apartment. I failed, but I made a valiant effort, eventually giving in to finding a cab to ferry me the remainder of the way in the heat. Since I was early, I had the driver dump me across the street from the airport at yet another coffee shop, The Temptation. The puff pastries and cappuccino were delicious, and I can only imagine how scrumptious cakes they had on display were.
Other fun facts: Indian airport officials have a morbid sense of humor that I appreciated. A sign inside the perimeter read: “Defended Land: Trespassers will be shot. Survivors will be shot again,” complete with an image of a rifle on the bright red sign. Point taken.
Next stop was Kerala and the backwaters of India, by far my favorite locale in the country.
March 2024
Wow. That mean girl has some nerve asking for favors from you. You were kind to oblige. Really interesting to read about the lifeguard and the non-swimming Indians.
The realities of group travel at their finest! I survived!!! I too was shocked about the lack of swimmers with the large coastal areas, but a fun fact I learned traveling. Southern India was by far my favorite part of the country. I will most definitely force The Husband to revisit Kerala with me one day.
Spring break on a beach in Florida sounds like my nightmare. But it sounds like you found some good ways to spend time in Goa. And yay for finally leaving the mean girls behind!
If you’ve never experienced Spring Break in FL, you are a lucky human! I grew up in GA, so it was the closest coastal spot. I LOVED southern India as a whole – it was relaxing, I’ll be it hot, but so beautiful. I WILL go back to Kerala someday.