Over the last two decades (which also happen to be the only two decades of my life so far), I have been to Goa more times than I can count. Family holidays, cousins’ trips, college getaways and so on. 

Goa trips tend to follow familiar patterns. Family holidays usually involve relaxing by the beach, strolling through churches and the unavoidable family argument over your third breakfast. College trips are more synonymous with chaotic yet organised (paradoxical, I know) Excel sheets of the best bars to visit in Anjuna and the weeklong hangover you unknowingly sign up for the second you book those tickets.

By now, I thought I had Goa pretty much figured out.

Goafest, however, was different. Growing up in an advertising family meant I had seen them take that yearly flight from Delhi to Dabolim. At that age, all I really understood about Goafest was that it was a for-day long party in a cool city for cool people who worked in the coolest industry. 

Years later, when I finally landed up at Goafest myself, I realised very quickly that this version of Goa came with its own rituals. 
Walking into the Taj and seeing a sea of people I recognised either from the office, LinkedIn or magazine articles, I was immediately thrown off by the atmosphere.

To my surprise, the usual work uniforms had disappeared. In their place were casual shorts, breezy shirts in a plethora of tropical prints and the unmissable bottle of beer in everyone’s hand. CEOs were greeting each other with the enthusiasm of old college friends reuniting after years, while young first-timers (like myself) were trying not to look awkward as we struggled to figure out the registration process.

One of the strange things about work is that you can spend years sitting across from people in meeting rooms and still only know the version of them that exists in presentations and status calls. Goafest quietly changed that.

Suddenly, the strategy lead becomes the person with unexpectedly impressive dance moves. The marcom lead turns out to be suspiciously good at table tennis. Someone you’ve only exchanged work calls with becomes the funniest person at dinner. You realise you spend so much time working with people that you sometimes forget to actually know them.

Of course, between all of this were the sessions and panels that had me scribbling down far more notes than I had expected to. Discussions constantly circled back to AI, changing media habits and the increasingly discussed (and notoriously abysmal) Gen-Z attention span - a topic that, as a Gen-Z working in content, felt impossible not to pay attention to.

There was also something quietly amusing about sitting through panel discussions on Gen-Z as a Gen-Z. I found myself taking notes during conversations that, in some sense, were also taking notes on people like me. As a Senior Content Executive, it made me wonder what younger voices might add to conversations around the changing media landscape, especially when we spend so much time trying to understand their behaviour, trends and consumption patterns.

Within these discussions around changing platforms and media habits, something mentioned during one of the sessions stayed with me: despite everything changing around the industry, people still care about meaningful brands and stories that make them feel something.

The platforms may evolve and the tools may look entirely different, but the fundamentals seem surprisingly familiar - a real story, a strong hook and something that creates a genuine connection.

Turns out Goa as a working adult feels very different from Goa as a child or college student. The beaches are still there, the sunsets still happen and the inevitable over-ordering of seafood still exists, but somewhere between sessions, award shows and discovering unexpected things about the people I work with, I found myself experiencing a version of Goa I hadn't met before.

The author is senior executive, content, Havas Play.