When Goa Wears Green: A Monsoon Escape Beyond the Beach

You know how people look at you like you’ve committed a federal crime when you say you’ve never been to Goa?
Like you just admitted you’ve never had butter chicken. Or don’t know what DDLJ is.

Yeah. That was me.

For years, I dodged every Goa plan like it was a multilevel marketing scheme. Until one fateful trip at 29, when I caved. I went with a group that had zero chill, very
little overlap in music taste, and an almost aggressive love for crowded clubs. I came back sunburnt, sleep-deprived, and entirely sure that I never needed to see
Goa again.

This was the hype?

I spent most of that trip holed up in my room binge-watching F.R.I.E.N.D.S. which honestly felt like the closest thing to comfort in a place I was supposed to love.
That’s when it hit me: maybe it wasn’t Goa. Maybe it was the vibe.

A year later, on a bit of a personal reset (read: tired of people, over-worked, burnt out, and craving some headspace), I booked a solo trip to Goa. Off-season.
Monsoon. No plan. Just me, my playlists, and a half-packed backpack.

Turns out, there is a Goa for people who don’t do Tito’s. A Goa that smells like wet earth and sounds like birdsong. A Goa where rice fields sway like poetry, and
waterfalls crash like applause. And a Goa I never knew existed. It was GOA but - The One Where Beaches Weren’t the Main Character. (IYKYK)

The One Where Nature Stole the Show

It was pouring the second I landed, and for a brief moment, I regretted everything.
A solo monsoon trip to Goa? What was I thinking?

But then I reached my homestay tucked behind paddy fields, quiet and misty.
Mornings started with banana pancakes and strangers who felt like old friends.

This wasn’t the Goa I thought I knew. It was slower. Warmer. Greener. In Saligao, I spent afternoons walking through sleepy lanes with chai in hand and no agenda, just rain and peace.

It felt like the kind of trip you don’t plan. You let it unfold.

Especially for someone who once came to Goa, hated it, and binge-watched F.R.I.E.N.D.S. in a hotel room, this felt like a do-over. One that finally made sense.

The One With the Waterfalls and Wrong Turns

One morning, high on filter coffee and misplaced optimism, I decided to hunt down a waterfall someone had mentioned in passing. Only to end up in someone’s
backyard with three dogs barking at me like I owed them rent. lol

Eventually, I did find the waterfall. Or maybe it found me. That’s what I love about Goa in the rains, you’re not seeing it, you’re meeting it. One wrong turn at a time.
And while Dudhsagar gets all the fame (and rightfully so, it’s dramatic AF), there are dozens of unnamed, unfussy waterfalls tucked away in the hinterlands. The ones that don’t ask for selfies or applause.

If you’re into waterfall hopping (which I now am), here are a few that make the cut:

• Bamanbudo Falls (Canacona side) – easy to access, super photogenic.
• Netravali Waterfalls – peaceful, and the drive through the forest is half the fun.
• Kuskem Waterfall – less crowded, dreamy, feels like a film set.

Take dry socks. And a sense of humour.

I’d return home with red mud on my shoes, a leech bite or two, and the kind of joy that comes from doing something slightly stupid, but completely worth it.

The One Where the Villages Had My Heart

I stayed in Saligao, a little north Goan village that smells like jackfruit trees and old stories. Every house has character, laterite walls, pastel paint, broken windows with bougainvillea crawling through.

If you have a scooter and a morning free:

• Ride through Chorão Island – take the ferry from Ribandar and get lost among green fields and sleepy chapels.
• Visit Sao Mathias on Divar Island – it’s as offbeat as it gets. There’s one bakery, a sleepy church square, and not a single souvenir shop in sight.

These villages aren’t doing anything to impress you. And that’s what makes them so unforgettable.

The One With All the Chai and Chill

Rains make you hungry in weird ways. Not “Instagrammable burger” hungry, more like “warm samosa and cutting chai at a local stall” hungry.

Some gems:

• Cafe Tato (Panjim) – order the puri bhaji and coffee. You’re welcome.
• Mr. Baker (Panjim) – 1920s-style Goan bakery. Their plum cake tastes like nostalgia.
• Saraya (Saligao) – for when you want wood-fired pizza and art in the same breath.
• Bhatti Village (Nerul) – Goan food at its most unfiltered. Order the pork sorpotel and just go with it.

Also: try ros omelette from any roadside cart. The messier, the better.

The One Where I Did Nothing and It Was Everything

Some days, the rain just wouldn’t stop. So I didn’t force it.

I’d sit on the balcony with a book. Or nap while it poured. Or watch frogs leap around like they were in a Disney musical. “Kissing the frog that would eventually
turn into a prince” thought did cross my mind, but well, meh! Frogs are hard to catch. 😛

One night, the power went out, and we all lit candles and swapped stories with strangers. I always believed my entire life that I was an introvert and would usually
prefer staying quite, but then I realized, I am an extrovert with the right kind of people!

And honestly? That’s what monsoon Goa is. A long, gentle pause.

It teaches you to slow down, say yes to detours, and let go of expectations. The version I met this time, quiet, muddy, overgrown, and beautiful! It was the kind of place I didn’t know I needed. And a Goa I never knew existed.