I was sitting at the side of the road waiting for a bus, chewing paan and spitting out long jets of red juice into a silver spittoon. At least that was the image I had in mind when they asked me at the spice farm if I wanted to try some. It's a mixture of betel nuts, spices and tobacco wrapped in a banana leaf. But whilst Indian men might look make it look right (disgusting, but right), all I was managing to do was dribble dark brown goo into the gutter. This is a habit I won't be taking up, even though in India they claim it's good for you.

I was on my way from North to South Goa, but travelling a slightly long way round so that I could visit some interesting sites. First stop was Panaji, and the second Old Goa. The former is the current capital of Goa where wandering the streets confirms the Portuguese influence with its tiled street signs, cathedral, back street bars and the architecture in general. Goa was never in the hands of the British, and the Portuguese were only kicked out in 1961, which explains why it's a bit different here.

Old Goa is the old capital, which once rivalled not only Lisbon, but also London in its sheer size. The Portuguese liked to control the world's spice routes, but all that remains of the old city today are the cathedrals, churches, basilicas and ruined monastery. Goa is predominantly still a Catholic state, the religion being introduced often by force. There was a Portuguese Inquisition as well as a Spanish one!

But as well as the architecture, the Portuguese also left behind their spices, and a big influence on the cuisine. I learnt a lot in the couple of hours I spent at the spice farm. I didn't know for example that cinnamon is the bark of the tree that produces bay leaves, or that cashew nuts grow underneath the cashew fruit, which is fermented into cashew fenny. I could bore you all day now with spice facts, but I'll leave it there.

The rest of my time in Goa has been spent doing little else except lying on the beaches of Anjuna in the North and Palolem in the South. I wasn't a huge fan of North Goa. I walked a long section of the coastline up there, and as you walk south you leave the hippy areas behind where not much happens apart from locals trying to sell you drugs (someone asked me if I like cooking, but I soon realised it wasn't cooking that he had said). And then you enter package tour territory where there seems to be a disproportionate mix of Northern English accents (I thought I'd taken a wrong turn and ended up in Benidorm); all sun-bathing under the shadow of the River Princess tanker which ran aground on Candolim Beach in the Nineties. South Goa on the other hand is much more to my liking, with bands playing in the shacks of an evening, and fires on the beach. It has a nice vibe. And in my own beach shack, I can fall asleep to the sound of crashing waves rather than barking dogs and car horns.

Exploring the local dishes has of course passed a fair amount of time, and since Goa is a tax haven, the cheap beer has helped me to chill out too. Goa is home of the vindaloo (the authentic version being made from red chillies and vinegar), coconut fish curry, shark amartik (very tasty), xacuti (a spicy clove-based curry), and brain masala (though I'm not sure whose brain). There is a lot of seafood here, as you would expect, and I had a very tasty snapper the other night cooked in the tandoor on the beach. By the way, I have never seen madras on the menu anywhere in India. The Hyderabadi curry tastes similar though, so I think there was a name change somewhere on its way over the Arabian Sea.

The train journey down here from Mumbai is also worth a mention, as it was particularly scenic. Too far from the coast for any sea views, but weaving its way through the hilly Western Ghats, it was probably the best I've done.

I have one more night at the quiet beach side village of Agonda, and then I'm heading back inland for a short while; but intend to slow down a bit. It wasn't until I got to Goa that I realised how exhausted I was after 3 months of being on the move. I was always unsure how much time I would spend in Goa; if any, but it has turned out to be an essential break to recharge the batteries. I would have liked to see more of the remoter parts of the coast, but the way to do that seems to be on two wheels, mostly scooters. If I were to do that, I think the only real bike in India is the Royal Enfield Bullet. But as well as no protective clothing, no helmet, bad roads, and terrible drivers, I'm told that the Bullet is still made to the original British design with right-foot gear change. So it could be a tricky beast to handle! Besides which, I didn't bring my driving license!

And finally, in true postcard style, the temperature has been up to 37°C in an afternoon. And this is the middle of winter!