How I found my forgotten creative energy in Goa
Chapter 9: Falling back in love with who I used to be.
Welcome to Chapter 9 of Love at First Flight, my round-the-world travel memoir.
In this chapter, I’m in Arambol, learning how to make space for creativity and finding inspiration in the most unexpected places.
You can read chapters 1 to 8 here.
The drumming started before I even saw the beach.
Faint at first, it drifted on the breeze, threading its way through the palm trees in the golden evening light.
Drawn to the rhythm, I followed the sound.
It was February 2013, peak tourist season in Goa. I was in Arambol with a mission to reconnect with my creative side—the part of me that once loved writing, painting and drawing.
But creativity doesn’t return on demand. It needs room to breathe. And I hadn’t given myself that in a very long time.
Connection issues
A week earlier, sweat was trickling down my back as I sat at a rickety desk in an internet café.
The fan overhead spun lazily, barely cutting the heat. Every few minutes, the video call on my screen froze as the internet connection dropped yet again.
The teacher’s face froze mid-sentence:
“…the sacral chakra represents creativity and passion…”
When the video call resumed, all I caught was her final question:
“How can you make more space in your life for creativity?”
We were exploring the sacral chakra that month—located in the pelvis and linked to creativity, passion and emotions. By now I knew a bit about the chakras thanks to the course I’d just done at Panda’s Garden here in Arambol. Now the online sessions encouraged us to dive deeper into how each chakras’ energies show up in our lives.
It didn’t take me long to realise my problem wasn’t the dodgy Wi-Fi. It was my own lack of connection causing a creative block.
My empty sketchbook
Digging through my enormous backpack on the floor of my room, I pulled out a sketchbook.
I’d brought it with me, dreaming of filling it with sketches of my travels. But now, the pages stared back at me—pristine, like untouched snow.
No wonder. I hadn’t properly drawn or painted in years. Deadlines and routines had taken over. I couldn’t remember the last time I created something for me.
But, if these last couple of weeks in Goa had taught me anything, it was how to slow down and observe.
I couldn’t accept that the creative spark I’d loved as a child was gone forever. It was time to take action.
Daily sparks
I challenged myself to do—or notice—something creative every day.
Dust and sand was everywhere in Goa. Frustrated with the dirt constantly collecting under my nails, I found a local salon. The teenage girl painted my nails, then offered to add henna decorations.
She worked her mehndi cone with quiet precision, delicately adding intricate copper-coloured patterns from my fingers to my wrist.
By the time she finished, my hand looked like a work of art.
The next day, I discovered even food could be creative.
At La Plage, an upmarket French restaurant, I began with a chilled pea green ‘cappuccino.’ For the main course, I chose delicate snapper in a tangy yellow mustard sauce, paired with roasted vegetables bursting with colour. Dessert was a creamy vanilla panna cotta complemented by a striking raspberry coulis.
Every dish was a masterpiece.
Magic at Arpora Night Market
That evening, I took a motorcycle taxi to the nearby Arpora Saturday Night Market.
I stepped into a buzzing labyrinth of inspiration. Stalls overflowed with handmade jewellery, patterned textiles and quirky hats woven from palm leaves.
Live music filled the air as bands played under twinkling lights. Nearby, DJs spun energetic tracks that vibrated the makeshift dance floor.
It was a celebration of creativity. Every item on display carried the maker's passion, their story woven into each detail.
The energy of the market ignited a spark in me to create more of my own.
The art class
Encouraged by these small sparks, I decided it was time to do some real painting.
One morning in Arambol, I spotted a flyer for an art class. When I mentioned it to a friend from Panda’s course, he was already planning to go. As with so many things in India, it was serendipitous—as if my Traveller angel was quietly orchestrating everything.
That afternoon, we joined the small group in a local woman’s home. She had arranged paints, brushes and blank paper on a sturdy wooden table, and her space was warm and welcoming.
Glancing out of the window, I immediately found my muse—the palm trees silhouetted against a rainbow sunset. I painted a simple postcard of the scene.
At the end of the class, I was embarrassed to show my artwork to the rest of the group. The colours were bleeding and the palm trees leaned awkwardly—but it didn’t matter.
For the first time in years, I was creating for the joy of it. Painting with no purpose other than fun.
Finding my colours again
The next morning, while on a walk, I stopped at a healing centre. Here, I spotted a small elephant statuette draped in a vivid yellow and pink garland.
I pulled out my sketchbook and I spent hours painting its colours and patterns.
The resort’s manager passed by and smiled, telling me:
“It’s lovely to see someone appreciating the details.”
Her words gave me a quiet confidence I hadn’t felt in years.
From that moment, I carried my sketchbook everywhere. If I stopped at a beach bar, I’d draw—the napkin holder, a branch being gnawed by dogs, anything that caught my eye.
I was in Goa now, after all. The hours here seemed to pass more slowly than in London. For the first time, I could take as much time as I wanted.
Then I made a wonderful discovery.
Stumbling upon something special
One evening at sunset, I wandered through the palm trees I’d painted in the art class.
That’s when I heard it—the drumming.
As the tree roots gave way to soft sand under my feet, I saw a small crowd on the beach. People had gathered around some drummers. Their hands tapped hypnotic rhythms that attracted guitarists, singers and barefoot dancers.
Drawn by the energy, I sat hesitantly at the edge of the group. One of the women dancing smiled at me, inviting me into the moment.
It was pure joy. The warm sea breeze, the rainbow colours in the sky and the pulsing rhythm matching the beat of my heart.
In my final days in Arambol, I returned to the beach every evening for the sunset gatherings.
The drumming would start quietly, growing in intensity as more people joined in. It didn’t matter if we were strangers; everyone contributed a beat, a melody or simply their presence. By now, I’d gained the courage to join in with the dancers.
These moments reminded me that creativity didn’t have to be solitary or serious. It could be playful, shared and full of life.
As the last of the sun’s rays disappeared into the sea, everyone cheered and applauded.
It wasn’t just a celebration of the sunset; it was a celebration of life itself.
Reconnecting with my creativity
Walking back through the palm trees, I promised myself I’d hold onto this feeling. To keep making room for creativity, wherever my journey took me next. To stay connected to each moment.
As I wandered in bliss back to my guesthouse for the last time, the gentle moonlight whispered in my ear. Soon, it would be time to nudge other long-dormant passions awake. But not yet.
First, I was off on a new adventure in an ancient city.
✨ Enjoyed this chapter? Tap the ❤️ as it helps more readers discover my story and makes me smile.
Have you reconnected with your creativity recently? Which places inspire you? I’d love to hear about it in the comments!
In the next chapter, I journey to Hampi, where ancient temples and towering statues invite me to explore their secrets. Read it here.
Thank you so much for reading and supporting my work, it means a lot! ✨
I loved walking the streets of Goa with you. What a beautiful piece. I also reconnected with my creative side while travelling, and backpacked around the world for a year in 2015. One of the best experiences of my life.
I think we're going to get along 🤗
Thanks for writing this journey. It gives me hope.