The curves of Insuli, the last up-and-down ghat to cross before you enter Goa, are a gentle wake-up call, a warning that misty-smoky Pernem is just around a few more corners and you'd better be awake to catch your first glimpse. When the coconut palms lining the road take on a glossier sheen and bend down to pay obeisance to silver rivers, you know you are in Goa.

Pernem's beauty appears like a breath of fresh, early morning air. Despite the long journey, there's a spring in your step as you make your way to the coast, and you just can't help but feel excited. After all, this is Goa, whose very earth seems richer and redder than anywhere else in the Konkan, earth which smells so nutty and sweet in the rains. Where every second step is a waiting glass of golden feni. This is Goa, where all guards can be lowered, all caution thrown to the winds, all the senses set free to discover each curve of her sensuous temples. This is Goa, where for every hotelier who hangs a sign on his door warning, foreigners only, there're a hundred smiling faces wishing you a happy holiday. And may you always return.