There's good news and bad news from Goa. The good news is that the beaches are as clean as they have been for several decades following a local government clamp-down; the bad news is that they're being colonised by hordes of Russians of the kind that gave Britain a bad name on the Costas in the Eighties. So pick your spot with care because, believe me, this lot are giving the Germans a run for their money in the bag-the-sun-lounger stakes.
As our guide put it during a tour of Old Goa: 'The Russians think because they have the money they can do what they want.' Ah, it was ever thus. What's certainly true in this former Portuguese colony is that your money - whatever you have - goes a long way. A good dinner for two, including some perfectly acceptable Indian wine, need cost little more than £10. And you can get bed and breakfast for about the same price in resorts north of the bustling capital, Panaji.
Other draws? Well, the weather is fabulous from after monsoon season in October right up until late April when the ferocious heat seems to overwhelm even the Russians. And from Britain, it's only a seven-hour flight, making it more accessible than the Caribbean and therefore a direct winter sun rival to brassy Dubai.
The other great advantage is that Goa brings you to India, albeit a region of this fascinating country that in many ways isn't like India at all. We stayed at the Park Hyatt Resort and Spa, a sprawling compound of low-lying buildings made from the local red, laterite stone.
It occupies a prime position on Goa's best beach: Arossim, near where Mischa Barton spent last Christmas. The white and beige sand is pristine, the water in the Arabian Sea clean and warmer than I have experienced anywhere in the world. The hotel is ideal for families.
Every possible activity is on offer: there's a Kid's Club, a huge swimming pool that curls its way round the resort, linked by water falls and gentle chutes, and there are at least six different restaurants, including an incongruous Italian trattoria called Da Luigi. At times, it reminded us of an upmarket Center Parcs and it would not be to everyone's taste, but it's great value and the staff, all of whom are Indian, are superb.
Old Goa absolutely has to be on your itinerary. I'd not realised it was as late as 1961 when Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru finally ran out of patience with the then Portuguese dictator, Salazar, and sent in the army to absorb Goa into the rest of India.
Go to the top of the hill, where you'll find the Church of Our Lady of the Rosary, constructed in 1526. Its interior is interesting, but what's breathtaking is the view along the river, with acres and acres of lush vegetation stretching into the fertile distance.
We had this holy place to ourselves - in high season. Which can't be said for the experience at the Church of St Francis Xavier, so named after the 16th century priest credited with converting more than 30,000 people, building several churches and performing all manner of miracles.
Even today they won't let him rest in peace: every ten years his body is carried in a three-hour ceremony from his basilica to the nearby Se Cathedral, where pilgrims file past his corpse in a spectacle called darshan.
All this talk of miracles encouraged us to seek one for ourselves. So, back in the hotel, we agreed to 'surrender ourselves to a Wellness Advisor', as the blurb said, and learnt a great deal about the Ayurvedic principles of mind and body harmony. I was told to improve my state of mind by avoiding red meat and seafood, which seemed harsh, but there was no mention of cutting down on the vino. A miracle, indeed.
No sooner were we done with our consultation than we enrolled in a private yoga class with a man so supple and healthy that we didn't know whether to fall at his feet in admiration or walk out in disgust.
We stayed put, learnt a lot about proper breathing and made promises to ourselves that we knew we would never keep.
One person in Goa whose well-being has lasted remarkably well - with or without breathing classes - is Aida de Menezes Braganza, who lives in a colonial mansion in Chandor dating back to the pre-Portuguese times. It's called Braganza House and was built in the 16th century.
Mrs Braganza is 91 and was sitting in one of the windows when we arrived. Her husband was a famous freedom fighter and the house today is filled with fascinating bits and pieces - and some priceless books and antiques. If you're lucky, Mrs Braganza will take you on a private tour, but, more likely, her bossy assistant will escort you. It's an absolutely essential stop.
Much the same can be said for Palacio do Deao, in Quepem, on the banks of the Kushavati river. This is a labour of love by a young couple who bought the house three years ago and have restored it beautifully. There's a chapel at the entrance and as you meander from room to room it becomes clear this a wonderful blend of Hindu and Portuguese cultures.