I’m currently relaxing in Goa and experiencing a sense of “susegard” which in Portuguese translates to being relaxed, contented and in a state of bliss when one chills by the seaside.

This is my first solo trip, though for just a day. My bestie joins me in a few minutes. And we will spend the weekend here; a weekend of madness and some mindless banter that we specialise in.

 

 

 

 

Goa is hot – though that would be an understatement. The temperature is as brutal as hell and has no sympathies whatsoever for poor souls like me who got away from North India, hoping to escape the sweltering summer for a few days. Albeit, Goa is Goa. The moment you arrive here, you metamorphose into susegard mode.

 

 

 

 

All  you can think of is chilling by a beach side shack, pinacolada in hand and the salty sea breeze on your face.

The fresh landscape of greenery, the ancient mango laden trees, the jackfruit trees bearing fruit that look like green porcupines, the palms and the coconut grooves; make for a desirable sight.

The sun sets here are breathtaking. Watching the golden ball in the crimson and cerulean sky as it sparkles its shimmery light on the sea is a sight worth capturing in ones heart and soul. And as this flaming ball makes it’s way to another land, seemingly disappearing into the sea, it’s not a final goodbye, but one that will return to greet us back again the next morning.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Everything about Goa is spunky, yet has a certain old world charm. Even the shirtless and heavily tattooed Russian tourists driving around town in the hired Kinetic scooters or Pedro’s Palace, a stately mansion painted in yellow that stands by Vagator gleaming in the evening light, or the local Goan women adorned in gold and wearing the usual skirts and tops, or the fruit sellers who sell avacado and Hapoos (a mango variety) for a steal.

The Goan Prawn curry, Fish masala fry all lend a delectable taste to the soul. I just had some at the shack I was relaxing at this morning.  I couldn’t resist the ripe jackfruits and stopped to buy some from the fruit vendor at Dabolim too. We don’t get those here in North India and they remind me of my childhood summer vacations at my grandparents or Mustafa days at Singapore.

 

 

 

 

 

 

My friend has a beautiful place here in Goa, an enchating little apartment, tucked somewhere near Candolim. It’s been an experience waking up there this morning, making myself some coffee on the induction and boiling the egg too. Just me and my solitude. Felt I was back to being solo and single when I had just started work at JWT the advertising agency.

Goa never fails to steal my heart. I come here almost every year, sometimes twice. And each time I fall heads over heels in love with it. And there’s something about being Solo and Susegard in Goa, I tell you. Give it a go. You won’t regret it!

 

 

 

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