Filed under: beach, featuredphoto, India
Goa: Gold Sand and Cobalt Sea
Every year, thousands of tourists flock to Goa (map) to escape the winter in the Northern hemisphere. Just under 600 kilometres south of Mumbai (map), Goa is one of India’s smallest states. Its 105-kilometre-long coastline is a continuous stretch of beaches. Although the interior brims with colourful villages, offers leisurely walks and visits to spice plantations, most tourists head straight for Goa’s gold sand and cobalt sea.
Goa’s sun-drenched beaches rate high on the popularity chart. The icing-sugar sand is so soft that it leaves no distinct outlines. The best time to visit Goa is from November to March. During the monsoon, from June to September heavy rains lash the country.
Beach shacks serve the typical mix of North Indian, continental, Chinese and Goan dishes. Goan cooking is an amalgamation of Hindu and Portuguese dishes. When the Portuguese settled in Goa in the sixteenth century, they brought fruits and vegetables the locals had never seen. Tomatoes, potatoes, cashew nuts, chilies and pineapple are still ingredients used today in the Goan cuisine.
Washed by the tides twice a day, refashioned by monsoons yearly, the contour of the beach is different every season. On my last visit, the gently shelving beach was gone and a sand wall had taken its place. The best time to visit Goa is from November to March. During the monsoon, from June to September heavy rains lash the country.
Every road leads to the beach. At every last stretch of every road, you will find little shops selling everything from incense sticks to sunglasses.
By day, the paths and alleys are deserted because all tourists lounge on the beach. When the sun goes down, the village springs to life. Mirror-work lamp shades, cushions, bags and sarongs vie for attention.
The beach ladies make a beeline for newcomers on the beach. “D’you want to see my jewelery? No? Silk sarong? Real silk.” they ask. But the tourists shake their heads, their eyes heavy from jet lag. The ladies will come back later, and the day after and the day after that, until the tourist has bought something from them.
The balmy ocean stretches away and the low tides leave a gold wake. The sands are so clean that scattered shells are a distraction.
The Indian Ocean sparkles under the sun. Fully dressed, Indian women try the water. The children bravely put one toe into the water while the fathers watch them.
The ocean stretches away in stripes of cobalt and jade. The waves crack crisply as they hit the shore. The beach shacks on Colva Beach (map) are almost paradise. Almost, because I cannot order masala dosa for breakfast. That’s why I sometimes have breakfast without the gentle bobbing waves as décor and go to Sagar Kinara restaurant, Ford Aguads Road to savor Masala dosa, a very thin pancake served with fresh tomato and coconut chutney.
I love to come back in the evening for a vegetarian thali. Thali is a work of art, a pleasure for the taste buds. A blob of white rice accompanied by dal, sambar, rasam, pickles and pappadam. Dal is a thick stew made of lentils, sambar a concoction of red lentils and vegetables combined with tamarind and asafetida. Rasam is a clear soup, its main ingredients are tomatoes and tamarind. Papadam is wafer thin deep-fried bread. Dal, sambar and rasam taste from spicy sweet to scorching hot.
I sat on the beach, clutching a glass of Kingfisher beer, enjoying the tranquility and the soft shimmer of the setting sun.
I watched the sunrise from my beach hut in Om Ganesh Cottages, ate dosa for breakfast, read a book and dosed in the sun, watched the sun set from a fishing boat, gobbled thali for dinner. Then I waited for the sun to rise again – another day at the beach.
Photo credits: Marianne Crone














