Goa, but the quiet half.

There are two Goas. The first is the one your cousin posted about — neon shacks, sunburn, bottomless bottomless. The second one is older, slower, and almost embarrassed by the first. We went looking for the second one and we found it pretty quickly, in a tiled cafe in Assagao at 7 a.m., with poee, choriz and a cup of bitter coffee that didn't know what an espresso was.

Where to stay

Skip North Goa's high-traffic strip. Rent a small Portuguese house in Assagao, Siolim, or Aldona — wide verandahs, mosaic floors, somebody's grandmother's dishes in the cupboard. You'll spend half your days just sitting on the porch with a book and that's the point.

Beaches that still have space

• Querim — North-most, ferry-only, almost no shacks. Go for a sunset, leave reluctantly.
• Galgibaga — Far South, turtle nesting beach, three shacks and one good fish curry.
• Cola — Hidden lagoon, walk down a goat path, swim, repeat.

"You came for the beaches? Stay for the bakery." — our landlady, Fatima, who was right.

What we ate

Forget the beach shacks for one meal a day. Find a Goan home kitchen — Vinayak in Assagao for the fish thali, Cafe Bodega in Panjim for European-Goan crossover, Mum's Kitchen in Panjim for the recheado. And the bakery man on the cycle, every morning, with the horn — buy the poee while it's warm.

One slow day

Ferry across to Divar Island. Rent a cycle. Get lost for four hours. There are no signs, no maps, no shacks, just churches in the middle of paddy fields and old men playing cards under banyan trees. We ended up at a bar that had no name, three plastic chairs, and a cat. We stayed till dark.

Things they don't tell you

The monsoon Goa (June–September) is the most beautiful Goa, and the one nobody books. Everything is green, half the shacks are closed, and the rain has its own personality. Bring two pairs of socks and a sense of humour.