MY NAME IS ANIKA ARORA THIS IS MY FIRST EXPERENCE WITH THEIR BOYFRIEND.

 I went on a trip to Goa with my boyfriend for the first time.


The flight landed at Dabolim, and the moment we stepped off the plane, the air changed. It was thick, salty, and smelled faintly of burning coconut husks—the unmistakable scent of Goa.

I looked at you, and you were already squinting against the bright, unapologetic sun, grinning because we’d finally made it. This wasn't just a vacation; it was our first real "us" trip, away from the noise of the city and the routine of our daily lives.

The Scootering Chronicles

Our first mistake (and our favorite memory) was renting that slightly temperamental yellow scooter. You took the handlebars, and I held onto your waist, my hair whipping into your face as we navigated the winding backroads of Assagao.

We got lost at least four times. We ended up on a dirt path that led to a hidden chapel, the white lime glowing against the lush green palms. We didn't find the cafe we were looking for, but we found a moment of perfect, quiet synchronicity, parked under a banyan tree with nothing but the sound of cicadas.

South vs. North: The Great Debate

We spent our days balancing the two personalities of the state:

  • The Chaos of the North: We spent an evening at Anjuna, dodging the tide at a beach shack. We danced with sandy feet to a DJ who looked like he hadn't slept since the 90s, sharing a plate of spicy Chicken Cafreal that made our eyes water.

  • The Soul of the South: We drove down to Palolem, where the water was as still as a lake. We took a wooden boat out at dawn to see the dolphins. You pointed one out before I did, and for a second, it felt like we were the only two people awake in the whole world.

The Sunset at Chapora

On our last evening, we climbed the steep, rocky path to the Chapora Fort. The ruins were crumbling, and the wind was fierce, but as we sat on the edge of the stone wall overlooking the Vagator coastline, everything went still.

The sun didn't just set; it melted. The sky turned a bruised purple, then a fiery orange, reflecting off the Arabian Sea. You didn't say anything profound, and neither did I. You just reached for my hand and squeezed it. In that silence, amid the salt air and the fading light, I realized that Goa wasn't about the parties or the beaches—it was about how easy it felt to just be with you.

The Souvenir

We left with more than just a tan and a bottle of local feni. We left with a rhythm—a way of moving through the world together that we hadn't found back home.

As the plane took off, leaving the coastline behind, I leaned my head on your shoulder. We were going back to reality, but we were bringing a bit of that Goa gold back with us.

Would you like me to add more specific details to this—perhaps a romantic dinner scene at a shack, or maybe a funny mishap involving the local monkeys? 

further story in next part-CLICK HERE

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