Goa Archives - Susan Jagannath

Taking a turn and getting lost – and found

Susan Jagannath — Fri, 31 Oct 2025 12:46:22 +0000

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You turn one corner off the beach road and everything changes.

Behind you: honking scooters, sunset-chasing crowds, the whole carnival of tourist Goa packed onto asphalt. The pilgrimage to the perfect Instagram sunset, bodies pressed together in that peculiar beach-town desperation for magic hour. Heat rising from the road despite the sudden unseasonal rain. The smell of exhaust mixed with frying fish. Not exactly what a Goa holiday is meant to be.

One lane over: mossy walls quieten the din, dim lights strung between old stone glow up the twilight, rain turning the packed earth to something close to silence. Squish and splash replaces tooting horns and drunken laughter.

This is the Goa nobody tells you about. The one that exists in the negative space between Google Maps pins. The one I won’t tell you about either! oops….

I’m not telling you exactly where this is. Not yet. Some places need to be saved from deliberate searches, not stumbled upon by accident or revealed by a careless writer. Ahem.

But if you’re a writer, a creator, someone who needs silence to think—keep reading.

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Sharp Angles, Soft Paths

The lanes twist at sharp angles here. No grid, no logic—just centuries of people walking the paths that made sense. Paths carved by monsoons and market days, by Portuguese administrators and fishing families, by feet that knew where they were going long before anyone thought to pave it all.

My shoes collect wet mud with every step. The mist thickens around corners and rooflines, erasing the edges of things. The rain here doesn’t just fall—it transforms. It softens stone, darkens wood, turns the present tense into something that could be any century at all.

The walls grow moss in patterns that look intentional heritage style. Ferns sprout from cracks in the plaster, brushing your bare arms as you walk by. The lights barely work, strung up like a random afterthought, like electricity is still a novelty here, not quite welcome, not quite home.

The Villa Materializes

Then it appears.

A traditional Goan Portuguese villa rises out of the rain like a memory surfacing. Like it’s been waiting.

Crenellated rooftop first—those castle-wall notches cutting into grey sky, miniature battlements that speak to some old Portuguese dream of fortification. Then the courtyard, blue tiles slick with water, each square glazed in that particular cobalt that Portugal brought across oceans and left behind in doorways and churches and courtyards like this one.

Then the lap pool, long and dark, reflecting nothing but the evening coming down.

This is what Goa hides one lane off the beach road.

I’ve wandered in this ‘vaddo‘ a lot, but never in the midst of a thunderstorm. Lightning flashes overhead, and the thunder sounds like a feral snarl in the lane.

The Architecture of Forgetting

The old building looks like it grew here. Organic, inevitable. The kind of building that makes you forget about construction and think instead about emergence, about things that simply are rather than things that were built. The architecture colonial Portugal left behind, still standing, still quiet, still indifferent to the chaos fifty meters away.

Thick walls designed for heat that hasn’t arrived yet. High ceilings that swallow sound. Windows positioned to catch breezes that blow in from the ocean you can no longer see but can still smell—salt and fish and possibility.

The courtyard tiles glitter with rainwater in the grout lines, turning the geometry into a series of small lakes. The blue deepens as the light fails. The crenellations above look like gaps in the sky itself.

This is the kind of space that doesn’t just accommodate creative work—it demands it.

Fifty Meters Might As Well Be Fifty Years

I stand in the courtyard, rain on blue tiles, and think: this is where I write next. This is the place. A flash of lighting outlines the old cruceiro in the courtyard. No hiding in corners, here the shrine is front and center. A candle flickers in the smoke darkened alcove beneath the glass enclosed statue above.

The beach road is fifty meters away. It might as well be a different country. Different century. Different intention entirely.

Out there: the constant crush with crowds, with noise, with the relentless now-ness of tourism. The performance of beach life, the Instagram carousel of sunset and shacks and “living my best life” captions.

In here: just rain. Just old stone. Just the sound of water finding its level.

This is what you need when you’re trying to finish that manuscript. That essay collection. That content series you’ve been putting off because your usual environment won’t let you think.

The Mornings Writers Dream About

I’m already imagining cool calm mornings here.

Writing at a table in that blue-tiled courtyard, the dew dripping slowly down those old walls, the quiet broken only by water moving through the pool filter. The particular quality of light that filters through monsoon clouds—soft, diffuse, the kind that doesn’t create shadows so much as suggestions.

Coffee going cold in a clay cup. Pages filling with words that don’t have to compete with scooter horns. The luxury of sentences that can unfold at their own pace, without rush, without the anxiety of interruption.

The villa as collaborator. As co-conspirator in the act of paying attention. It was a convent once, and then a hostel for students – I can almost feel it breathe out the words of contentment.

Imagine a week here. No distractions. No “quick coffees” that steal your morning. No notifications. Just you, your work, and the sound of rain on turquoise blue tiles.

What Gets Lost, What Remains

Ten minutes ago I was trapped in traffic, sunset pilgrims and honking mopeds, the whole sun-seeking crowd packed shoulder to shoulder on hot asphalt. Then I turned. Just once. Down a lane that bent at an angle no city planner would approve.

This is what travel is supposed to be, isn’t it? Not the curated itinerary, not the top-ten list, not the places everyone already knows. But the turn. The wrong turn that becomes right. The moment when the map fails and something else takes over—curiosity, instinct, the willingness to get a little lost.

The villa appeared through rain and mud like a memory surfacing. Like something I’ve been looking for without knowing I was looking.

This is where I’m writing next.

And if you’re a writer, creator, or deep thinker who needs this kind of space—this could be where you write next too.

The Permission to Disappear

Because here’s what that the hidden villa offers: permission to disappear. Permission to be fifty meters away from the crowd and feel like you’ve traveled decades into the past or slipped sideways into a version of Goa that refuses to perform for visitors.

The moss on the walls doesn’t care if you see it. The blue tiles don’t need validation. The crenellated rooftop isn’t trying to be picturesque—it just is, because someone a century ago thought battlements belonged on a convent, and who are we to argue with that kind of audacity?

This is the Goa that still knows how to be quiet. How to let rain be rain and stone be stone. How to exist without needing to announce itself every five minutes.

One turn off the beach road, and everything changed.

For Writers Who Need to Disappear (In the Best Way)

I’m planning a writing retreat here. Limited spots. No workshops, no forced sharing circles, no mandatory “creative exercises.” Just protected time, this space, and the permission to finally do the deep work you’ve been postponing. Or maybe a workshop.

What you get:

A room in this heritage villa (yes, the one with the blue tiles and the crenellated roof)
Mornings of productive creativity
The kind of quiet that lets you hear yourself think , or ink
Optional evening discussions about craft—only if you want them
A location I’m not posting publicly (you’ll get exact details when you commit)
The accountability of other creators doing the same work

What you don’t get:

WiFi strong enough to doomscroll (it’s there, it’s just weak enough to keep you honest)
Distractions disguised as networking
The anxiety of tourist Goa pressing in on you
Excuses for why you didn’t finish that project

Who this is for:

Writers finishing manuscripts, essays, or content series
Creators who need to batch content without the usual interruptions
Anyone who’s tired of “writing retreats” that are actually just expensive vacations with laptops
People who understand that sometimes the best thing you can do for your work is get out of your own environment

Interested? The villa doesn’t advertise. The lane doesn’t appear on most maps. And I’m keeping it that way.

Contact me directly for retreat dates, pricing, and the exact location. Limited to 6 writers per session.

Because the question isn’t whether you need this kind of space. The question is: are you willing to make that turn?

Book your place for 2026!

The post Taking a turn and getting lost – and found appeared first on Susan Jagannath.

Wrapping Up the Year

Susan Jagannath — Thu, 26 Dec 2024 22:22:55 +0000

Don’t we all say – what happened to the year – it flew past as quick as a teenager avoiding chores. I asked and got a whole lot of answers – it was a whirlwind of adventures, discoveries, and connections. It’s been a year full of surprises and learnings. For the audio click here.

Sudden Spontaneous Travels
A surprise visit to Mysore kicked off my year in style, quite literally. My dear friend Shanti invited me to a family wedding—one of those classic Indian “family and friends” invitations. I didnt want to impose, but Shanti assured me I was indeed invited personally. It was a beautiful celebration of love, tradition, and community, wrapped in the vibrant hues of sarees, saffron-hued sweets, and henna.

Royal Rajasthan Roamings
From Mysore I headed to Jaipur, as I took up an offer from a school friend to explore Rajasthan. Reconnecting during a school reunion in 2022, her invitation to see the “real Rajasthan” was irresistible. The experience was transformative. I had a window into the world of Rajput heritage and the families who ruled their kingdoms for centuries. It was a glimpse of history, culture, and resilience that deepened my appreciation for India’s royal past.

Goa Wanderings
As spring crept in, I returned to Goa for a quieter kind of adventure. This time, I ventured further afield to the serene Terekhol Fort, now a boutique hotel. The fort’s ancient church of St. Anthony—roofless yet captivating—whispered tales of its miraculous past. Quiet walks, ferry crossings, and a sense of timelessness made it a perfect escape.

Another Camino
The Camino called again, and this time, it was the Portuguese Way from Porto to Santiago. Seven of us set off on this journey, bonding over shared steps and stories. Porto’s charm, Lisbon’s vibrancy, and a side trip to Fatima added layers of meaning to our pilgrimage. And yes, a book about this Camino is in the works—albeit a little delayed.

New Beginnings
This year marked a personal milestone: I officially retired from corporate life. But as you know, writers never truly retire. I’m busier than ever, dreaming up new projects and looking forward to more creative adventures with all of you.

Writing Retreats
Though my grand plans for retreats in the Himalayas and Rajasthan didn’t pan out—the crowds were just too much for the quiet space writers need—I hosted a local day retreat. It was an intimate and inspiring day, and I’m eager to build on that success in the coming year.

Crafty Tales
The heart of India, Madhya Pradesh, became my next destination. This wasn’t just any trip; it was a textile craft tour that taught me the art of block printing, batik, and eco-dyeing using natural plant materials. Immersing myself in these age-old crafts was a lesson in patience, beauty, and heritage. Who knew that I would love it despite not having inherited the artistic gene that others in my family have.

Doing Things Myself
While on the tour, one morning I decided to explore the ghats along the Narmada River in Maheshwar. The palaces, terraced temples, and steps cascaded down to the gleaming waters filled with small and large fish. I took a boat tour on my own and, on the way back, stumbled upon what I thought was a wedding photoshoot. It turned out to be a shoot with the “Chota Raja” of Maheshwar! This royal family’s history is fascinating, filled with strong figures like Ahilya Bai, who ruled with wisdom and strength during the Middle Ages.

Bangalore Connections
Back home in Bangalore, I reconnected with friends from every circle—old Air Force buddies, work colleagues, and more. Exploring both new and familiar corners of the city brought its own joy, including an expedition to Malleswaram and Chickpet for some nostalgic shopping adventures. Also, we ate – Bangalore is a foodies paradise.

Divali in Mysore
Divali in India is magical, and I was invited to the family Divali celebration in Mysore with my friend Vibha and her family. Immersed in family rituals, I marveled at the creation of dishes featuring nearly 50 vegetables (which I had a large part in chopping, the sparkling fireworks, and the warm glow of festive lights. It was a reminder of the joy and richness of tradition. And surprisingly – we found a great Italian restaurant in Mysore, Sorrento, which did stunningly authentic Italian food.

Mountain Magic in Coonoor
From Mysore we headed up into the mountains of South India, the Nilgiris for a girls trip. The five of us had long ago working in the same company in Bangalore in the earliest days of the IT invasion of Bangalore. And we’ve kept in touch ever since. The days in the misty mountains, spent doing not at lot – were highlighted when I found a friend from Calcutta was also there. It was great to meet Nina again and introduced her to our girls gang from Bangalore.

Back to Goa
More partying – an Air Force reunion brought us back to Goa. Hubby reconnected with mates he hadn’t seen since their cadet days, along with old friends who had served together—many of whom I knew as well. The Air Force knows how to throw a party, and this was no exception. It was a memorable gathering of laughter, camaraderie, and celebration. So what if we are slightly greyer now?

A Cricket Surprise
Finally, back home, my sons surprised us with tickets to the Big Bash—a T20 cricket match between the Brisbane Heat and the Adelaide Strikers. I went along reluctantly, unsure if I’d enjoy it, but to my surprise, I had an incredible time. There’s always something new to learn about oneself, and this was one of those delightful discoveries. Also Brisbane won on the last ball of the game.

Conclusion

Looking Ahead
As we step into a new year, I’m excited for more journeys, more stories, and more connections. Whether it’s through retreats, books, or simply sharing experiences, I’m so grateful to have you along for the ride. Here’s to a year of creativity, exploration, and the joy of storytelling. What happened this year in your life? Do share!Wishing you and yours a wonderful holiday season and a bright, adventurous New Year!

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Local Breads and Christmas Sweet Treats in Goa

Susan Jagannath — Thu, 26 Dec 2024 02:20:03 +0000

A Search for Local Breads and Christmas Sweet Treats in Goa led us deep into the quieter heart of Goa’s Mapusa markets. Tucked away behind the loud and flashy stores with cheap clothes and plastic goods from interstate, we discovered the heart of Goan food. In the covered arena, the vibrant stalls, the heady mix of aromas, and the lively chatter created a sensory overload that makes every visit an adventure. But for those in the know, the mission is clear—get to the traditional bakery and sweet section before everything sells out by 11 a.m.

In the maze of flavors and textures, Goa’s breads and sweets tell a story of tradition and community. Let’s explore these culinary treasures that make Mapusa a paradise for food lovers.

Breads of Goan Life

Each bread in Goa has its own unique personality, shaped by the culture and tastes of the region.

Boal:
These dark, rustic discs may look unassuming, but don’t judge them by their rugged appearance. Made with coarse rice flour, boal is hearty and full of earthy flavor—a perfect companion to curries or gravies.

Bathx:
Golden, soft, and round, bathx is like the warm hug of the Goan bread family. It’s a staple at most households and a favorite for breakfast.

Poi:
If you’ve missed the sound of the poi vendor honking through village streets, you haven’t truly experienced Goa. This quintessential local bread has a chewy texture and a subtle sourdough flavor that pairs well with anything, from butter to fiery Goan sausages.

Kankonn:
Goa’s answer to bagels, kankonn are ring-shaped breads that are crisp on the outside and soft on the inside. They’re perfect for snacking or as a sidekick to your evening tea.

Sweets for Every Celebration

Goa’s sweets, especially during Christmas, are more than just desserts—they’re memories wrapped in sugar and coconut.

Doce:
A sunny delight! Made with coconut and gram, doce melts in your mouth and leaves a lingering sweetness.

Kokad:
These colorful coconut squares are festive treats that look as good as they taste—like edible confetti on your plate.

Dodol:
Also called dol dol, this sticky, dark, and gooey treat is the ultimate comfort food. Made with coconut milk, jaggery, and rice flour, it’s a dangerously addictive bite of nostalgia.

Bolinhas:
Bite-sized and crumbly, these coconut cookies are perfect companions for tea. They bring a delicate sweetness to every bite.

Pinag:
Jaggery-coated nuggets of caramel goodness, pinag is earthy, flavorful, and the ultimate energy booster.

Cakes to Savor

Goa’s cakes are a reflect the regions rich history and creative culinary flair.

Carrot Cake:
This Goan version of a classic dessert is dense, spiced, and flecked with sweet carrots. It proves that vegetables and desserts are, indeed, best friends.

Dark Fruit Cake:
This Goan version of a Christmas Cake is packed with dried fruit, with a strong punch of brandy or dark rum. Kept ready to eat after Midnight Mass, which in Goa is at Midnight sharp.

Goa’s Breads and Sweets: A Love Letter to Tradition

As you stroll through the lively Mapusa Market, these breads and sweets aren’t just food—they’re a slice of Goa’s soul. Crafted with care and bursting with flavor, they remind us why traditions are worth savoring.

So, next time you find yourself in Mapusa, take your time. Wander. Taste. Relish. And let the magic of Goa’s culinary heritage wrap you in its warm embrace.

Conclusion

The breads of Goa are more than just food; they are a testament to the state’s rich heritage and the artistry of its bakers. From the rustic charm of boal to the soft embrace of bathx, the chewy nostalgia of poi, and the crisp comfort of kankonn, each bread tells its own story, woven into the fabric of Goan life.

These humble creations are a daily reminder of the region’s cultural identity, serving as a bridge between tradition and taste. Whether you’re strolling through the lively Mapusa markets or enjoying a quiet breakfast in a Goan village, these breads bring warmth, history, and a unique flavor to every meal.

Next time you’re in Goa, take a moment to savor these treasures—not just as a meal, but as an experience. After all, there’s no better way to connect with a place than through its food.

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