Goa, India: The other side of India's coastal paradise

We walk into the elegant restaurant inside a restored, whitewashed Portuguese villa surrounded by coconut palms, and pull up a chair at the glass table. My husband and I scan the menu full of locally sourced fusion food – crab cakes with lemongrass, mango and avocado; sea bass carpaccio with beetroot, watermelon rind and capers – and order glasses of French rosé before perusing a boutique in a back room where handmade silk kaftans sit alongside sustainably made swimsuits.

This is not the Goa I remember, the Goa, that to be honest, I didn't really like when I first visited south India six years ago. That Goa was hippie and raver central, a place where trance music blared out from almost every restaurant and beach bar I visited and where neon glow sticks were a fashion accessory. But this little restaurant, the recently opened Sublime in the quiet inland village of Assagao, is indicative of a new side of Goa that has emerged in recent years. A sharper, subtler, more design-savvy destination, with a bohemian twist that is in accord with the state's independent spirit.

Jumping on our rented scooter after lunch, we weave through jungle-lined back roads, flickering in and out of palm tree shadows. We stop at Rangeela, a centuries-old ancestral home turned concept store. The high-ceilinged rooms and open courtyards hold a treasure trove of gorgeous wares including hand-dyed kaftans in blues, pinks and tangerines; chunky silver jewellery and hammered brass bowls; ceramic pots and vases, hand-loomed cushions and block-print tablecloths. Rangeela is worlds away from the tie-dyed happy pants and gaudy T-shirts printed with Hindu gods I remember from Goa's beach markets, and is just one of many new design stores peppering the northern half of the state established by creatives who have fallen for Goa's calming energy.

Hippie Goa does, however, still exist, a fact we're reminded of the following afternoon at Ashwem beach in north Goa. The long stretch of yellow sand is lined with Ayurvedic massage parlours, small hotels and beach shacks selling drinks, snacks and rented lounge chairs. We pick a shack and lay beneath fuchsia beach umbrellas, sipping juice from fresh coconuts and watching local touts hawk prayer beads, sarongs and drums to tourists; long-limbed Israeli yogis salute the setting sun from the sand and Russians in bejewelled bikinis take selfies in the breakers. When we've had enough of the touts we stroll a few hundred metres down the beach, past signs for meditation classes and yoga lessons and all-night beach raves, to La Plage restaurant. We choose a table in the sand and, over a dinner of seared tuna with wasabi mashed potatoes created by the French chef owner, watch the Goan style-set roll in. There are women in breezy kaftans and oversized sunglasses and men in crisp white shirts and trousers with upturned cuffs; there is good lounge music and a sensual, candlelit mood. La Plage is what Goa has become: chic, cosmopolitan and enormous fun. We could be in Antibes, or maybe Ibiza, and could easily order another bottle of chardonnay and let the night sweep us away. Alas, we have a drive ahead of us and a quieter corner of Goa to return to.

We want to discover what lays beyond the crowded beaches and so choose for our stay a century-old Portuguese mansion, Shunya Noi Varo, in Siolim. It is a short scooter ride inland and set in a quiet laneway diagonally opposite the church of St Anthony. The house, a relic from the 500 years Goa spent as a Portuguese colony before finally being returned to India in 1961, has three luxuriously large, airy bedrooms, and for the majority of our stay we have it all to ourselves.

Usually we use hotels as our base, simply a place to stash our suitcases and to sleep after long days spent exploring. However, Shunya Noi Varo feels more like a homestay than a hotel so we linger, mostly in the light-filled sitting room with its traditional white lime plastered walls, sprawling on its sofas listening to the tinkle of the indoor fountain with the french doors open to the breeze.

Entire days disappear by the sleek swimming pool that runs down the side of the house, as we read books, take siestas and soak up that quintessential Goan "susegad", a word derived from the Portuguese sossegado and used by locals to describe the typical laid-back Goan attitude.

In the evenings we have sundowners in the large treehouse overlooking the river. When we return, if we've ordered early enough, the housekeeper chefs cook us a sumptuous Goan meal, usually including freshly caught fish bought from the local market.

Being away from the beach we see the secretive side of North Goa, usually considered the busier, more party-hearty half of the state. Late one morning, after a poolside breakfast of fruit salad, masala omelettes and sweet chai, we ride our scooter through the narrow village roads, passing strings of emerald paddy fields and winding through dusty farmland to the northern tip of the state.