Since the last time I was in Goa, three years ago (already!), I only wanted to come back; and deep in the cold of the Himalayan mountains, a few days before entering India again, I thought of Goa to cheer me up. Not of the Taj Mahal, not of the Indian food, not of the bright, colorful, ever-joyous and crazily chaotic Indian culture. I thought of Goa.

Not hard to see why, admittedly; everyone loves a good share of hot sun, soft sand, and melodic sea. Except Swiss mountaineers maybe. But then again, I had been to Thailand, Malaysia, Australia, and in the Carribean Sea, to name but a few; and still, Goa stayed in my mind like no other tropical region had.

To me and to so many other people, this lush and gorgeous state of India is simply synonymous with easy life. Unlike over-exploited, industrially touristic beach destinations, Goa has stayed laid-back, chilly, tranquil. In between funky bus rides with children returning from school, walks under the palm trees for a late breakfast or afternoons spent sipping down lassis on sunbeds, you might still find time to explore the small villages, discover ancient signs bearing Portuguese names, or simply observe fishermen at work on the beach. And while you were reduced to eat plain toast all day long to stretch your money in other countries, the same budget allows you to feast like a king and sleep in a cozy room here. Life is simple and good. I have no idea how to say it better.

Backpackers know how precious this place is; some, come for a few days on a friend’s advice, end up staying for months on end. A few never leave again.

I sure understand them.