To Stay? Or to Goa?

What is home and how does one describe, let alone define a word as vast as home?

I could say that it was the city in which I was born, or one of the numerous others I’ve lived in since. I could claim it’s where I was at my happiest, or where I felt I grew as a person, matured. I could make the claim that my hometown, my home, lives in the heart and soul of a loved one.

But no.

For me, home is the place I fell in love with. Where my senses were awash with feelings of possibility and a never ending desire to stay, even just a minute more. It was the place I felt connected to, and it was the place my allergies weren’t constantly acting up.

It was the feeling of peace, and of connection that makes me call this place my hometown. It is the place my soul resides until it falls in love with a new landscape, a new sea of people and their culture.

Meet Goa.

A kaleidoscopic sea of colour, culture and humidity.

Its repute is certainly deserving as a tourist hotspot, with its wide array of attractions sure to seduce those from completely opposite walks of life.

Beaches. Culture. A Spiritual Sanctuary.

You name it, and Goa will probably be able to satisfy your demands.

But for me, it's the beaches.

The expanse of sand as far as the eye can see, with cabanas of allsorts boasting lounge chairs and umbrellas and cold drinks that make your blood seem effervestic due to the fleeting escape they offer you.

Its virtually uninterrupted string of golden sand along its coastline from the very top to the very bottom of the state in which it resides, has a multitude of beach communities. Every kilometre or so, the eye is greeted by a new community. A new personality, a new aura, and a reputation it has possessed since the hippie age, the swinging 60s’! The communities cater to every whim, every fancy and every beach community desire one has ever possessed.

Choose from backpacker Arambol or bolder, brasher Baga. The palm-fringed sands of Palolem, perhaps? The hippie market bliss at Anjuna? Or lovely, laid-back Mandrem.

The diversity, and the ever changing beach landscape are one of the many reasons I fell in love with, and call Goa my hometown. Its ability to please, and satisfy desires and dreams I never knew existed, while simultaneously pushing me to see its faults, but love it unconditionally nevertheless. The adrenaline, the dopamine. Even 9000 kilometres away and my heart still yearns to be amongst the palm trees or sipping coconut water while walking along the shoreline early in the morning.

But Goa also has a side that isn’t used as an advertisement for tourist companies.

The Fishing Industry.

The fishermen and women.

It’s a family business in Goa. Generations upon generations use the same equipment and techniques as their ancestors in order to make a living. It's modest and humble. Their trade. Their morning chatter about the catch, their mornings, and fond memories are shared over the sorting of fish. It’s a sight to see. Family bonding. Every fishing family’s closeness and atmosphere, on display every morning along Goa’s shoreline. It's this closeness, this family-oriented lifestyle. The way they’ll explain to you the happenings of the morning without a second thought. Their boisterous attitude, contagious.

This attitude, however, isn’t unique to the fishing community, but rather seen across Goa. Their friendliness, yet their loud bravado fosters an enlivened community at every turn. Every individual nurtures the lifestyle of hospitality. From the tourism industry to the members of the community, their inclusiveness, and the electrifying feeling of being amidst the masses, while being encapsulated by the feeling of belonging… well it means it won my heart.