Here we are in southern Goa, on Palolem beach, sitting in the Nest cafe bar restaurant next to our cabin, fans whirring overhead, an Indian woman doing her telemarketing in front of us, all attached to her headpieces and computer while gazing out on the sunlit sea, the gentle whoosh of waves rhythmically lapping the shore. Burred northern English and Scottish accents penetrate through soft electronic music, peaceful. 

Sitting in the Nest cafe

We woke up early this morning and walked this beautiful bay, our feet sloshing in the shallow waters, cows resting peacefully on the sand, dogs twirling in play and amour. The little fishing canoes supported by their shaggy tree bough arms coming home in the early morning mist with a small catch.  All day we have been swimming and soaking in the warm opaque water of the Arabian sea, drifting to beach lounges and roasting in the sun. Everyday. 

Morning walk

It took us around 1 and a half hours – or maybe 2 hours – to get here by taxi from the Goa airport for around 2000 rupees, about 22 euro. Arriving at our Nest accommodation was easy with really lovely staff greeting us. Our cabin is on the beach and is sparse and spacious with overhead fan, air con if we want, and a refrigerator – which we haven’t used yet because of the bar next door!!

Bloody Mary on the terrace

This is a beautiful place. The beach is about 1.5 kilometres long, curving towards a tidal river. It is lined with copious palm trees and beach huts and bars and the sand is soft and white and walking is wonderful because it is flat with a very slow decline out to sea. Next to our little stay is a sweet clothing shop, owned by Geeta, that we raid every other day for thin summer clothes to tide us over the days and maybe even another summer. Geeta is like a little spark of sunshine intermingling with the guests and staff, telling stories and sharing her philosophy for a good life. She not only runs the clothing shop but she also does hair braiding, henna painting, pedicures….


At night the sand is set upon with tables and chairs and candles and all along the beach people are wandering in the balmy air, children still playing, music competing amongst the bars. After the eating and the drinking and the laughing, the music stops around 10:00 and finally all we hear are the waves coming up closer and closer to our cabin, and all we see are the shooting white lines of the waves breaking in the mysterious dark of the night.


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