Hello, how are you? Which country? Come and see my shop, looking is free. Tomorrow? Promise? The words come as often as the waves on the long, flat sands of Anjuna Beach from sari-clad stall holders, out-of-town masseurs holding books full of testimonials in half a dozen different languages, and, more dubiously, whispering men offering grass and coke and ecstasy.

The beach is nice, just a little unexceptional. There are dogs and rocks, frequent clumps of coconut palms, and small concrete buildings, raised up at the back, with cold beer and plastic menus. The best swimming is at the very end of the beach, down past the Shore Bar and the flea market grounds, where a semicircle of rocks holds back the waves in front of Curlies, a thatched-roofed restaurant with the worst music and best coffee banana shakes in the whole of Goa.

Wednesday is flea market day, when everybody comes to Anjuna. It’s not what I expected, just an extension of the same stalls selling the same things you can buy at any other beach. More noise, more people, more hassle. Even the cows seem unimpressed. The only bonus is the live music in the beachfront bars as the sun goes down and the buses start to leave.

I liked the rural feel of Anjuna, even if it is fast disappearing: the views up and down the coast from the cemetery topped hill next to the bus stop, workers in the rice paddies on the other side of the village dirt road, and the small guesthouses, like Sai Prasad and Avalon Sunset, that serve breakfast on the very edge of the beach.

Central Anjuna is at the Vagator end of the beach. You’ll find scooters and taxi drivers, Internet cafes, travel agents, buses to Mapusa, restaurants with garden seating, and some of the better places to stay in the village, from the top-end Villa Anjuna with its swimming pool and 12% luxury tax down to Manali Guest House, shared bathrooms around a small courtyard, with a bookshop and fast Internet access upstairs. I stayed at the Poonam, a rambling complex of three different buildings with a teenage staff, a swimming pool-size hole in the ground, and room rates that drop like a stone if you haggle hard enough.

You won’t see many over-40s in Anjuna other than the ones who never leave. Along with Vagator, it's known as a party beach, though it didn’t feel like one in October and the all-night raves ended in the last century. The facilities are too basic for the real high spenders and there are better beaches closer to the airport. It’s a good first stop in Goa, but you’d be missing out if you stayed here and nowhere else.