We arrive….to the beach that is! Fitting with this trip, my heart and mind explode once again by the splendor of our next hotel, Yab Yum. This eco-friendly lodge is located in northern Goa, a short drive from our last residence, situated in the fishing village of Ashwen. Down a rocky, steep hill, we are confronted by huge wooden doors, which open upon our arrival into an enchanting emerald land. A magical breeze ripples through the overgrowth of leaves. Coolness touches my skin for the first time in India, as I stroll under the lush grooves of banana and coconut trees. My flip-flop feet melt into soft white sands, as the sun coats everything with a radiant shimmer. Numerous dome-shaped dwellings and little white cottages connected by short pathways, dot this magical world. Crashing waves are heard over the rolling dunes. Sebastian and I are lead to our new home, one of the domes at the edge of the property, constructed of natural, locally harvested resources of lava blocks, palm leaves, mud and sand. Outside the shack sits a small wooden table covered by a coral pink tablecloth and two matching chairs, positioned perfectly in the afternoon light. Suspended peacefully between solid stems of bark hangs a blue, flying carpet hammock, one of my most favorite things and something I mentioned to Sebastian months ago. I am grateful he remembers. A silver bowl of coldwater waits at the bottom step, reminding us to rinse our sand coated feet before entering.
Up two steps, through miniature doors with rounded edges, I brush aside the hanging ivory cloth curtains and enter the large circular room. It is purple, Crayola crayon purple. The color saturates the floor, sitting area, and the lower half of the walls. The upper portions that merge into a spherical ceiling are panels of braided coconut tree leaves, functioning as natural skylights, allowing sunbeams to filter through the tiny cervices. Several large windows create a bright airiness balanced out by the strength and sturdiness of the structure. A large, hard bed rests on a platform, enclosed by a mosquito net secured to different parts of the hut. A moderate size bathroom, with a western-style toilet and hot shower, lay behind a mirrored door. A white paper latern serves as a chandelier and rocks gently with the swirling zephyr. The room is equipped with a small table made of tree bark, a few shelves stocked with matches, candles and incense, two bamboo mats, and some extra lounging pillows.
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Like playful children, we scamper around the room, peering out the windows and climbing under the mosquito net. We rock in the hammock, gratefully use the bathroom, and unpack some of our belongings. Discovering the treasure of a table fan, we sit in front of the rotating blades and relish the cool breeze, something that we have been denied the past few nights. We drench ourselves, unmoving, careful not to disturb the airstream. Pleased, Sebastian and I rove through the grounds along the path leading to the beach. A few steps and my heart’s pace quickens. Vast sands, sprawling seas and a low setting ginger sun surround us. There is but a few souls lingering, some on reclining chairs, others walking languidly at the shore’s edge. I am jolted by the emptiness of the coast, its lack of crowds and noise yet simultaneously, feel grateful it is such. After three weeks of travel, of city hopping and exciting ventures, I feel eager to bask in the sun, to color my skin a darker shade. Thoughts turn to thick pina coladas with paper umbrellas and pineapple wedges sipped over a good read, of colorful bikinis worn under swathing sarongs, behind a large pair of movie star shades. I anticipate the long lengthy hours of beach days, of time spent drifting in and out of catnaps, a brief dips in the ocean water to cool off. I take a breath deeply, filling my lungs with the salty, dense air and let the unwinding begin.
