India -

oved and lost, fought over, isolated, divided, united, abandoned, rediscovered. Few beaches in Asia, or anywhere else for that matter, can claim even a fraction of the history of Goa. Once undeniably grand, this old resort seems to have slipped from memory in recent times. But Goa is back on the map. One glance down the lush coastline and you can see why – it's an almost uninterrupted 100-kilometre stretch of amber sand running down the length of India's most idyllic state.

On the surface, nothing much has changed since the resort's historical hey-day in the 1970s. Tranquil beach huts continue to sell fresh fruit and lounge chairs to sun-lovers, and the pace remains the same – slow. However, nestled amongst the palms there is a new breed of luxury lodgings attracting a new breed of moneyed leisure tourists. And they're changing the face of Goa in a big way – again.

Calling Goa's latest luxury developments a 'discovery' would be misleading since Goa practically pioneered the Club Med concept, and the region has been spoiling European holidaymakers for around five centuries. On the other hand, Goa's allure has changed from the rather nefarious hold it had over recent decades. After hippies de-camped in the 1960s, it was Summer-of-Love on Goa's sands until the rave crowd crashed ashore in the 1980s with all-night trance parties.

Another vacation invasion seems merely one more phase in the growth of this endearing destination. Call it the final stage of maturation for the Grand Madame of Asian beach resorts. "Goa is going upscale," says Sanjay Sethi, general manager of the Fort Aguada Beach Resort, Goa's original luxury resort. Not to mention the only one for most of the quarter-century since it opened in 1978.

Aside from Fort Aguada, Goa's high-end options were limited to the Taj Resort property and two companion resorts hidden behind the thick walls of the old fort that once guarded access to the original Goan colony. From one tanning season to the next, Taj Resorts remained an isolated beachhead of luxury amidst postcard-perfect coves. Even as Bali boomed, and sun seekers swept from Phuket to Koh Samui, Goa lingered in inexplicable tranquility.

But no longer. In recent years the Hyatt and Intercontinental have opened plush resorts on pristine stretches of private beach – and more are on the way. "Goa is very much a destination of the future," says Paul McNally, general manager of the Hyatt Regency Goa Resort. He's prejudiced, of course, but also assured as he lists off the attractions: great food, friendly people, fantastic history and the unblemished beaches.

And he's right. Spoken English, despite 450 years of Portuguese rule, ranks among the best in India, and Goans are renowned for their carefree manner and gracious hospitality. Add it up, and Goa seems to be the complete package – paradise gift-wrapped and ready for opening. "People say Goa reminds them of the other wonderful places in Asia, but 20 years ago," McNally says. "Goa's time has come."

Actually, some would insist that Goa's time came long ago.

Portuguese captain Vasco da Gama pioneered the sea route to India in 1498. Soon, Portugal had trading posts further south in Kerala, but Goa remained one of their most prized ports. In 1510, the Portuguese seized Old Goa from the Muslim Sultan of Bijapur, and made it the capital of their far-flung Asian empire.

Churches and mansions rose quickly, and for centuries Goa was among the grandest cities in the East, even rivaling those in Europe. Everywhere there are landmarks from these glory days, including magnificent whitewashed missionary churches topped with crosses and bells. No catalogue has been compiled, but Sergio Mascarenhas de Almeida, director of Panaji's Fundacao Oriente, a Portuguese-funded heritage society, guesses Goa has 200 or more churches. Most date back to the 1600s and many were built in the previous century, which makes them an astonishing collection that is unrivalled within Asia.

Equally impressive are the old villas, white-trimmed shops and boldly painted houses that are tucked around nearly every corner of the capital Panaji, also called Panjim. Outside Almeida's office, I wander for hours through Fontainhas, the capital's Latin quarter, lost in its ancient alleys like the content citizen of a distant century.

The obvious comparison to Goa is Macau, Portugal's south China outpost just across the Pearl River from Hong Kong. The buildings are bigger in Macau, but there is a charm to Goa that remains demure and more defining. After all, dense Macau is a tiny pimple on the backside of one of the world's biggest, most populated countries. With its clutter and smell, it seems more a quaint anomaly, like a tiny toy in a tin of Chinese candy. Goa, on the other hand, stubbornly suggests other-ness at every turn, not only with its churches, peeling-paint colonial mansions and spicy food, but its entire mood.

Defining the exact nature of Goa's appeal is more difficult than sorting out the imprint of a long succession of visitors and settlers – Muslim, Christian and Hindu. It would be far too complicated for a kickback culture that seems one-third coastal chill, one-third Latin lazy, and another third blissfully Indian-bemused. Mellow is the pace of the place.

Not the food, though. Goan cuisine is zesty, borrowing liberally from its Portuguese, local Goan and Indian influences. In Panaji, visit Hospedaria Venite, a funky wood dining hall replete with Old World charm, which offers all manner of mouth-watering marvels: chicken xacuti (in a mild coconut curry); chicken cafrial (chicken legs marinated in pepper and garlic); sausages with vinegar of toddy (the local liquor); or daily specials like hot garlic salmon. And all of this for just USD 1.50 a plate.

At the more fashionable Riorico, on the second floor of the art-deco Hotel Mandovi, glittering chandeliers dangle from cream ceilings and waiters in full dinner dress with slicked-back hair scurry about a blue ballroom. On fresh linen tablecloths they serve-up peixe caldeirada (tangy fish in wine) and caldo verde (potato soup with spinach). Even when topped-off by bebinca (coconut pancakes), the tab totals a mere USD 5 per person.

Another not-to-be-missed attraction is Old Goa town. About 10 miles east of the current capital of Panaji are the ruins of Old Goa, which once rivaled the Vatican in magnificence. The Se Cathedral, the largest church in Asia, dominates the town from a central plaza filled with massive edifices – one of which houses an informative archeological museum. There's one eye-popping holy site after another: the Church of St Francis Assisi, with intricate carved and gilded panels; the Church of St Cajetan, almost Carthaginian with white columns and an ornate dome; and the tumbled ruins of St Augustine with its spectacular 46-metre stone tower hinting at its collapsed belfry and bygone magnificence.

Most impressive is the Basilica of Bom Jesus, renowned worldwide as much for its ornate interior as its longtime occupant St Francis Xavier – to this day his remains are buried there. This brilliant scholar and legendary explorer roamed from Sri Lanka and Malaca all the way to Japan. He died in China in 1552, but his body was moved to Goa where it is now part of a mad 10-day festival. Every December 3 the festival culminates in hundreds of thousands of pilgrims paying homage and, every 10 years, they flock to view the saint's remains.

Admittedly, most visitors to Goa spend their time on the beach, or not far from it. That's how it has always been, but it's worth heading inland. One of Goa's longest-running attractions is the famous Arjuna flea market, which has been held weekly in North Goa since the 1970s. Back then, hippies would sell whatever they had, watches or radios, to raise funds to stay on. These days, it's a spectacular, sprawling craft market with jewellery, scarves, blankets, handbags, crystals, CDs and smoke-filled cafes.

"It was like a 'best-kept secret'," says Gutibabi of Goa in the early days. A German fashion photographer, he came to holiday in the 1970s, and ended-up permanently parked in paradise. Now, with his long white ponytail, he lives in the hills, descending only for the weekly market to sell crystals and organic oil. He dug the beach parties in the 1970s, and adjusted to the techno-trance scene, although he admits, "It was painful at first."

If Goa goes upscale, Gutibabi wouldn't be surprised. "This is the St Tropez of India," he adds. "For a long time, it's been off the map; a fantastic secret." But word about Goa, it seems, is once again getting out.