Those were simpler days. When you called a travel agent and booked a hotel, went on a holiday and had a good time. When you didn’t have makemytrip or its dozen cousins to book tickets, and tripadvisor or its couple of siblings to know how the people who stayed at the hotel before you felt about it.
Those were simpler days when ignorance was bliss. When you walked into a hotel on a vacation without knowing if the dessert was good or the main course. When you had no clue of what the dinner spread would look like – if a glazed chocolate rum ball would make you go weak on the knees, or a magnificent mango mousse would make you redefine greed.
Those were simpler days when there was surprise. When you didn’t know which room offered the best views.
Those were simpler days when you let your instinct guide your way through the city. When there was pleasure in asking strangers for directions and not Google Maps help you navigate through a city.
Those were simpler days when you didn’t feel like taking a holiday for planning a holiday. When you didn’t have a standardized must-see places to tick off. When you walked for miles to get a feel of the local place.
Those were simpler days when there was no comparison. No ratings.
To the good ole times and learning to enjoy life all over again as a child would.
Coming up next is a picture post on Goa.