How a wrong turn in Goa led me to trust again

Chapter 12: Two beaches, one motorcycle and a question I couldn't answer

This is chapter 12 of Love at First Flight, my round-the-world travel memoir.

If you're new here, you can catch up on why I left London and my introduction to the chakras.

Otherwise, join me in India, in 2013, where I'm about to learn that sometimes the hardest part of travelling solo is letting someone in.

---

"When you meet people, do you tend to trust them or not?"

His question caught me off guard as we walked towards the beach, the sun low in the sky.

It was almost a month since I’d started my round-the-world journey. Now this motorcycle trip in Goa was challenging everything I thought my travels were about.

I looked back at Arjun but no words came out. I didn't even know the answer myself.

After hours of easy conversation with him, exploring hidden corners of Goa together, why was I suddenly speechless?

The journey begins

That morning, we'd left Palolem Beach together on what I’d told myself was just another adventure—another day of exploring India on my own terms.

But the moment I swung my leg over the bike, something shifted. After all, I'd only met Arjun yesterday.

I loved being on the back of the motorbike—the rush of wind in my hair, as we flew past towns and into the Goa countryside, made me feel so free.

Each sharp corner brought a new thrill, my hands instinctively tightening around his waist as we navigated the winding roads. I would never have attempted this on my own, but with him, the danger felt exciting rather than scary.

"Sorry! Wrong turn," Arjun called over his shoulder at one point.

"No worries," I shouted back against the wind. "Getting lost is half the fun anyway!"

"True!” he replied. “You never know what you'll find."

Photo by Wandering Indian on Unsplash

Finding the beach

We found Agonda Beach about twenty minutes north of Palolem—when you go the right way.

But our wrong turn had given us more time to chat. I'd learned that Arjun had recently graduated from a prestigious engineering university. Full of ideas, he'd decided to explore Goa on his bike before launching his career.

At the beach, we broke into a run towards the sea, kicking off our shoes and stripping to our bathing gear before splashing into the waves.

Floating around, we talked some more, laughing as we realised we'd completely misremembered each other's names.

Then he started looking at me with that kind, yet intense, gaze again. Same as he'd done when we first met outside our guesthouse the day before.

Something in his look triggered a memory from my chakra healing course. The sacral chakra, they'd taught us, governs our ability to connect deeply with others. Right now, mine was sending alarm signals.

Suddenly my skin prickled with awareness. Even the gentle waves seemed to push me towards him. I definitely needed to leave. Right now.

Photo by Abhinav on Unsplash

Making my excuses, I saw Arjun's expression turn to disappointment. As I moved out of the sea, its heaviness weighed against my thighs. The current attempted to pull me back, but I was determined.

I sat on the beach, unsure why I had left. Unclear how I felt about spending the day with this attractive guy who was making me feel weird. Vulnerable.

After a few minutes, Arjun emerged from the sea, asking:

"Are you okay? Would you like to go for a lemonade?"

"Yes," I smiled back. "Good idea."

At the café, he noticed my broken sunglasses and quietly fixed them. Then, touching my wrist lightly, he said:

"Your bracelets are pretty."

Despite my nerves, his gentle attention made me happy.

My bracelets.

The search

After our refreshment, we decided to look for the Buddhist caves mentioned in my guidebook.

Even though I had just run away from Arjun out of the sea, I realised I wanted to keep the flirtation going. Every so often I would put my hands around his waist as we rode and he would touch my arm gently in response.

The road wound through Cotigao Wildlife Sanctuary, the sunlight glinting through the trees onto the way ahead. We kept our eyes peeled for the monkeys promised by my guidebook, but the only wildlife we encountered was a bull—which charged at us.

Arjun swerved expertly, and we both burst out laughing once we were safely past.

To break the nervous energy, he started singing and I joined in. Soon we were belting out songs together, our voices carrying through the forest.

But we couldn't find the caves.

Photo by Akshat Jhingran on Unsplash

Getting lost

Travelling through pretty Goan villages, we stopped frequently to ask for directions, Arjun switching from English to Hindi.

Each time, he'd get hilariously conflicting responses, with names of random villages shouted back at us. But it didn't matter. Despite being lost in the maze of backroads for hours, we were having fun.

However, Goa was experiencing a heatwave and we were dehydrating under the scorching sun.

No cafés were open on a Sunday, so we stopped at a roadside newsagent and sat in the shade. The vendor offered us feni—a local cashew liquor—mixed with lemonade.

Intoxicatingly sweet, it went straight to my head.

Photo by Jess Aston on Unsplash

Entering the caves

Replenished and ready to ride again, we finally found the caves by veering off-road into a forested area.

They were small with shabby handmade signs—the destination really wasn't worth the journey. But we'd made it.

Under the shade of the trees, we climbed to a small grassy area on top of the caves, away from the handful of other visitors. Arjun lay on his back and I lay back too, feeling lightheaded from the feni.

Every time his eyes caught mine, something inside me clenched tight.

Being here, in this secluded woodland spot with the sun filtering through the trees was romantic. And that freaked me out. The feni and the heat were making my head swim.

I can't do this, I thought. It's too much.

My chakra teacher's words echoed back to me: the sacral chakra, when blocked, makes us feel guilty about what—or who—we want. After my break-up, I’d grown comfortable being alone. I was loving my solo trip. But now, in this moment, I couldn't look my desires in the eye.

Arjun turned to me once more:

"The sun is setting. Shall we find somewhere else or go back to Agonda?"

We agreed returning to the beach to watch the sunset was best.

Resigned to bypassing this romantic moment, I knew the day was also drawing to a close.

Sunset at Agonda

We raced back just in time for sunset.

As we walked towards the beach, Arjun asked that unexpected question about trust.

My intuition was telling me this man was trustworthy. After all, we'd spent all day together in the middle of nowhere. I needed to listen to my instincts, instead of being locked with fear.

Sensing I couldn't find my words, he gestured to the sea.

Again, like that morning, we stripped to our bathing suits and headed straight into the water.

Photo by Sid Balachandran on Unsplash

The huge sun had turned the entire sky orange, while the Arabian Sea stretched beyond the horizon. This Goa sunset was melting away my resistance.

Hardly a soul was around; we had this peaceful place to ourselves. Waist-high in the water, we continued chatting, keeping that careful metre of space between us.

I kept looking at the orange sunset and looking back at Arjun.

We'd spent such a fun, special day together. We fancied each other. This was perfect—like a romantic movie.

I'd come to India seeking peace and fulfillment, but I hadn't expected to be challenged like this. To be dared not to stay in the shallow end of my feelings.

He was too respectful to make a move on me and I couldn't keep standing in my own way. Fear was blocking me. But fear of what? This smart, attentive guy who'd made me laugh all day?

The sun slipped behind the horizon. Arjun's voice was soft:

"It's gone," he said sadly, turning to me.

There was nothing left to look at now except him. No more excuses. The seconds stretched like an eternity between us until finally, I moved closer and we embraced. The kisses were gentle and the moment was perfect. For the first time all day—maybe my whole trip so far—I felt completely present. Safe and happy to be there.

I didn't want to run away any more.

The return

We rode back to Palolem in silence, the dark trees blurring past us. No more singing, no more jokes. But it was a peaceful quiet—the kind that settles after you've crossed a line you can't uncross.

The shield of independence I'd carried all the way from London to India now had a fine crack in it, but maybe that wasn't a bad thing. It would mend in a new way.

For now, as we sped through the shadowy tree-lined streets, I felt proud of the small brave thing I'd done—listening to the voice inside that whispered ‘yes’ when fear screamed ‘run.’ I decided it was okay if someone showed an interest in me. It was okay if we kissed. I didn't need to worry about what it all meant.

In that moment I knew I could trust others. And, more importantly, I could trust myself.

---

If you liked this chapter, please leave a ❤️ as it helps others find this story and makes me smile. I’d also love to read your comments!

Next time: As the sun rises on Palolem Beach, saying goodbye is harder than expected.

🌏 Subscribe now to get the chapters of Love at First Flight delivered straight to your inbox, as soon as they’re published every fortnight. In the mean time, don’t miss my next travel post about how to visit Japan in cherry blossom season! 🌸