Gorgeous Goa

I've come to Goa lots of times. My first visit to Palolem, right down in the south of Goa, was fifteen years ago (don't you always hate it when people say, "I came here in 1974 and they'd never seen a white face..." or "We lived on this beach with just cows for company...") - well that's me right now, because way back then, there were just a few beach huts, a handful of restaurants and a smattering of westerners laying around on a mile of glorious white sand, fringed by a dense layer of palm trees.

We all felt very smug. We had found Paradise while everyone headed north to the beaches around Anjuna. A fishing village nestled in the shade of the palms, the locals were delighted to welcome us and we formed many friendships with them. During long, happy sun-drenched days we also had the privilege of hanging out with some of our best friends from home as well as meeting some legendary beach buddies from around the globe. 

We came back to Palolem, arguably one of the most gorgeous places on the planet, several times and on our last trip, in 2000 we had the intense good fortune of conceiving Freya. 

We had a party one night with a bunch of mates from back home. We went in the sea as the full moon was in total eclipse and swam with phospherescents. As we swished around illuminated by the bright lights of these magical plankton, someone wadded out to us with a tray of cocktails. I knew then that life would be hard pushed to top that moment. 

So you get the idea: this is a very special place for us.

Children came along, and we limited ourselves to European travel for almost a decade. Palolem remained a huge part of our memories and the subject of a few framed photos that hang proudly on my walls. When Hamish and I eventually tied the knot in 2004, we named the tables after our most special places. Our table of course was Palolem.

I knew there had been much change. When we first came here it wasn't even in the Lonely Planet; now you read articles about it in the Sunday papers. So as we planned our trip to India we knew that our final destination may prove to be a shock, a disappointment even.

When we first arrived in Goa, we headed north, to visit an old friend of Hamish's who now lives here with his girlfriend and their two young kids. They live just outside Arambol, on a beach called Ashwem. 

We spent a week there which was lovely. We hung out in Arambol, a place we'd never visited before. It was the first port of call for the hippies who travelled overland in the sixties. And some of them are clearly still there! 

Sunset there is brilliant. It's like being at Glastonbury, as the drummers beat a steady upbeat rhythm to accompany the setting sun on its journey. People whoop and whistle and girls do crazy dancing as the music, the crowd and the charged atmosphere take them to another place.

The energy is hot, vivid and wild and I love it! The kids found the whole thing utterly mesmerising.

But as our magical adventure draws to a close, the time came to make our final move. We took a taxi to bring us three hours south. I had butterflies in my tummy as we got closer. It was all so familiar. 

We had booked to stay in the place at the far end of the beach - the island end for those who are lucky enough to know it, near where the Slow People live. We arrived yesterday afternoon. You can't deny the development here has been immense. There's barely an inch of palm shaded beach that doesn't have huts or a restaurant. At night it's light up like a Christmas tree.

But you know what, it's still one of the most beautiful places in the entire world. Hurray! We have chosen brilliantly to stay at the end of the beach. It's really quiet here and our huts seem like the lap of luxury after Ashwem. We have vast balconies with day beds to lie around in the shade and beautifully painted furniture. We have flowers garlands hanging on our doors and there's a yoga class each morning just behind us. This morning Fergus lay in his hammock watching me stretch out with Rubens, my instructor.

There are majestic palm trees gently moving in the breeze all around us and we lie on bean bags and swinging seats to eat fresh mangoes.

The kids think I'm like a stuck record as ever since we arrived here, my mantra has been, "I'm so happy,"

Before sunset last night we walked down the beach to see if some of old haunts were still here. At each one, I was blown away by the fact that 10 years on, thousands of visitors later, our Indian friends ran out to greet us with arms wide. I cried every time.