As soon as the seat belt signs went off, she leapt up from her seat and opened the overhead compartment. She slipped on her thick sweatshirt, grabbed her book, threw off her Birkenstocks and donned her socks. She flipped up the hand-rests and – hey presto! – her flatbed and she were both ready for a snooze.

In North Goa it is hard to find a moment. Of quiet, stillness, peace. Amid blasting Goan trance music, crushing hippie souvenir stalls and clashing food flavours from all over the world. But after the assault, a tranquil interlude like Village Villa Sunny Cow is a respite you never knew you desperately needed.

Lawyer/restaurateur Ed Soo collects ideas from art. In the last 7 years he has procured almost 80 pieces. Each one graces a space in his five restaurants in Bangkung Row,…

Tiramisu? Avocado? Blood Orange? Or walnut? We couldn’t make up our minds. My cousin Sabrina and I were in a tiny, dim room, done up in dark wood like a…

My grandmother was not a good cook. Her curry contained everything necessary: salt, spices, freshly ground masala and chillies. Plenty of vegetables swam in it, usually accompanied by fish. However,…

A not-very-long queue would form outside the bakery around mid-afternoon just as the buns were about to come out of the oven. The packets of freshly made dark kaya (coconut egg jam) already sat packed in little plastic bags. The freshly made loaves with crusty tops were sliced and sealed.

The fresh, large prawns were not only succulent but relentlessly teased the palate. Buried amid heaps of birds-eye chillies and chopped lemon grass, the Tom Yam Prawns arrived piping hot at our table. In a fresh green coconut. The prawns were slightly spicy, a tad sour and very sweet as they had been cooked in fresh coconut water.