The Dreamcatcher

A while ago I went to Goa for a month — not just to travel but to actually live there while managing my remote job.

I stayed in different parts of Goa during that month and each place gave me a completely different feeling. My first stay was in Margao, in a villa owned by a sweet old couple who were incredibly kind to me. They even gave me an electric bike to roam around the city and honestly, I loved that little bike so much.

I explored cafés, beaches, small roads, local food places and slowly started settling into a softer rhythm of life. Then I moved to South Goa for a while, where life felt slower and quieter. After that I shifted to North Goa near Mandrem — and something about that place just stayed with me.

I had fixed cafés there: one for breakfast and morning coffee where laptops weren't allowed, so people actually sat and existed without screens. Another for work later in the day, where I would quietly sit for hours with my laptop.

Near that work café, there was a small dreamcatcher shop in the lane — and every day while passing by, I would look at those dreamcatchers hanging outside and feel curious about them. So one day I finally entered the shop and asked the shopkeeper about the different kinds.

He started explaining everything so passionately — their meanings, designs, materials, and things he had learned while travelling across India and abroad. He had made all those dreamcatchers himself. I was honestly surprised by how much depth there was behind something I had always seen as just decoration.

Then I asked him how much one would cost — and instead of selling me one, he said: Why don't you make one yourself? I laughed and immediately said: No, I don't know how to make these — and he simply replied: I'll teach you, if you have time. So the next evening, I went back and sat there inside that tiny shop while he patiently taught me how to make one from scratch.

Thread by thread, slowly it started taking shape — and somewhere during the process I realised something: sometimes the most beautiful part of travel is not the places, it's the unexpected moments that ask you to participate instead of just observe.

That dreamcatcher still hangs with me — not because it's perfect, but because I made it with my own hands in a random little lane in Goa with someone I had met only a day before. Not luxury, not planning, not even the destination — just small human moments that quietly become part of you.