Goa may be emptier now but I am not giving up on it

Goa has always held a special place in my heart. Growing up, it sounded like a forbidden paradise, a holiday destination that my family believed was far too scandalous for sanskaari souls and underaged, single girls. Being the youngest child and a quiet rebel, two years ago I finally went on my first trip to Goa as a 25-year-old single girl with a few friends and colleagues. It was my first time at the beach and I was in complete awe of the vastness of the sea—something within me instantly knew that this was a place I would keep returning to.

I’ve been to Goa only twice on very short trips, and while each holiday had its misadventures (from my phone being wrecked in the sea, losing my way and being stranded at a bus stop at night, to having my hotel accommodation being cancelled at the last minute), the place always held the promise of a good time. Whether it was chance encounters with strangers that lead to interesting conversations or discovering a quiet beach where I could watch the sun go down—the susegad life drew me in.

This January, I was determined to have the perfect Goan holiday for my birthday. When my plans for the trip didn’t leave the Whatsapp group chat, I decided to go by myself. With the experience of a few solo trips in North India backing me, I was confident I could pull this off. No sooner had I made my bookings than my news feed and text messages were flooded with links to articles about how the rising costs in Goa were driving away tourists. People took to social media to complain about increased costs of hotels and cabs and hefty entry fees charged by clubs. A user, Ramanuj Mukherjee, wrote on X, “Tourism in Goa is down in the dumps.”

While the vision of empty beaches seemed like a welcome change from Mumbai’s crowds, a wave of fear took over me. I’m a budget traveller, and to me Goa always seemed like the go-to beach destination for an affordable holiday. I considered changing my plan and going to Puducherry or Panchgani instead. But in the end, Goa won out because it is familiar, and between the beaches, charming cafes and cheap libations, there was enough to do there. A big plus was it is very easy to get there from Mumbai. Besides, January felt like the perfect time to visit. The weather was pleasant and with the high holiday season over, I was looking forward to experiencing Goa at a more relaxed pace. So I locked it in.

New friends, books, and sunsets

I didn’t want to return from Goa with empty pockets, so I decided to set a budget of ₹20,000 for myself: ₹3000-4000 for stay, ₹5000-6000 for food, and ₹7000-8000 for a round-trip from Mumbai via bus, and within Goa. Staying in a hostel seemed like the best option for me as a solo traveller on a budget. Given my positive experience with Zostel in other cities, I booked a stay in a six-person dorm room at Zostel Morjim for two nights and three days. I got quite lucky because only two other women were staying in that dorm with me—both solo travellers, like me. I got chatting with one of the girls, Sheetal* quite quickly. We decided to explore Goa together and honestly, this is one of the things I love about staying in a hostel—you end up meeting new people (If you’re an introvert, here’s how you can network without having a meltdown).

We hired a scooty for ₹2,000 for the duration of my trip and split the cost, which means I was saving money while I enjoyed good company too. We decided to go to Morjim beach—she swam in the sea while I sat by the shore, reading my book. The beach was blissfully empty, and a welcome break from Mumbai’s maddening crowds. There, I got talking to a local woman who sold handmade jewellery on the beach. She mentioned that while her business had taken a hit due to the fall in tourists that year, we would find Candolim and Baga in North Goa to be a little more crowded.

Sheetal and I headed to Ashwem for sunset. This beach was pretty much secluded that evening and had only foreigners, except for one family from Noida—an old lady in her 60s who would visit Goa every year around this time, along with her daughter and granddaughter. “Earlier the beaches used to be crowded, “she told me, and then pointing at the vast empty shore, “Now, look at it.”

The next day, we decided to go and check out Candolim to see if it really was livelier than Morjim and Ashwem. As expected, it seemed to have more people than beaches we visited the day before—there were shacks on the beach and the moderate crowd felt nice. I didn’t feel like I was missing out on anything. Instead I was happy with these places not being so busy (turns out that I’m not the only one). It was easy to get a table at the shack, and I could stare at the horizon in peace without being distracted by overzealous swimmers.

The service was swift, and we ordered a round of drinks and some snacks. Recently, a Goa MLA partially blamed the decline in tourism on the local shacks selling idli-sambar and vada pav in Goa. I didn’t have idli or vada pav—we went for pizzas. But in all honesty, I don’t think I’d mind a vada pav. What I did mind was the overpriced beer. A beer that retails at around ₹100 was priced at more than ₹250 in the shacks. It is definitely cheaper than the rate in a good restaurant in Mumbai, but these are shacks in Goa, whose specific charm was the affordable cocktails. It seems like there was some truth to the reports about the rising prices in Goa after all.

My three-day trip ended without any mishaps, it was layered with sunrises and sunsets, some good food, overpriced drinks and new friends. And I’m happy to report that I managed to stick with my budget. Goa seemed to have less visitors, and the few that were there added to the susegad charm of Goa—there was no littering or misbehaving. I found it more peaceful because of that. I don’t know about others, but I am not striking off Goa as my go-to holiday destination yet. It’s still beautiful and I could still do it on a budget. But for someone who’s enjoyed Goa for its electric energy, there may be some expectations-adjustment in order, at least in current scenario.

As told to Akanksha Narang
*Name changed upon request