Goa

Here's the thing about Goa that nobody tells you: those Instagram photos of empty beaches and golden light? They're almost always shot between November and February, when the monsoon has finally packed up and the humidity actually becomes tolerable. The rest of the year, you're either dodging downpours or sweating through your clothes by 10am. Goa averages 3,100mm of rain annually—that's roughly double what London gets—so timing matters a lot. The sweet spot runs from November through early March, when highs hover around 32°C (90°F) but feel manageable because the air is dry and you get nearly 9 hours of actual sunshine daily instead of the oppressive haze of summer.

Each of those winter months has its own personality. November is the shoulder season—prices haven't spiked yet, the monsoon smell (petrichor mixed with wet earth) still lingers, and the landscape is lush and green. December and January are peak season, which means crowds at Anjuna and Baga, but also the best light for photography and the most reliable beach days. February is the sweet spot if you hate crowds: still warm, still dry, but the holiday crowds have thinned out and you can actually book a restaurant without planning three days ahead. The shoulder months (October and March) can work too if you're flexible—occasional rain in October, occasional heat spikes in March, but way fewer tourists and lower prices.

June through August is when you do not come to Goa, full stop. The monsoon turns the place into a steam bath—temperatures hit 28–30°C (82–86°F) but feel like 40°C (104°F) because humidity sits at 80%+. Roads flood, many beach shacks close, and the rain isn't the romantic kind; it's the kind that arrives at 3pm every afternoon like clockwork and makes you want to stay inside. Goa actually shuts down a bit during this period. September and early October are the tail end of the monsoon, still wet and grey, though prices drop significantly if you're willing to gamble on weather.

Looking at the bigger picture, Goa's climate has been trending toward unpredictability over the past decade—monsoons sometimes arrive late, dry spells can break early, and the heat is incrementally more intense than it was 20 years ago. For 2026 specifically, you're looking at a fairly normal year based on current patterns, but the old rule of thumb (November–February, no exceptions) is even more relevant now. If you're going outside that window, you're gambling.