January 26, 2011 – 8:00 am
A short guy enters Deepee’s bar and sits in front of me. He asks for the liquor’s menu and more than once orders a bottle of whiskey and then gives it back. I think that he doesn’t know how to read roman characters, because he asks me to help him to understand the price of the different brands. Finally, he orders 180ml of Imperial Blue whiskey. The price is 40Rs. When the bottle arrives he sends it back again, says something in Gujarati to the waiter, and the waiter comes back with a 375ml bottle. This one costs 80Rs: in the range of 1.30€.
The guy asks for a glass and some water. He tries to open the bottle of whiskey, but the cap has a safety mechanism, and his efforts don’t succeed. He asks for my help again, while telling me that he comes from Bhavnagar. Bhavnagar is home to one of the biggest ship wrecking yards of southern Asia.
He pours a couple of centimeters of whiskey in the glass, then fills the rest with water. Drinks it while nodding his head and smiling full of excitement. Gujarat is a dry state and people drive 8 hours to come to Diu and drink some booze. Deepee’s bar is one of the dreariest places I’ve ever seen in my life.
Deepee's Bar, Diu, India, 2008
Deepee's Bar, Diu, India, 2008
January 14, 2011 – 8:00 am
Sasan Gir, India, 2008
I’m in a phase of rejection. This place is small, people speak only Gujarati. They offered a tour to see the lions in the Sasan Gir National Park that was more like a kidnapping than an offer. They closed the main entrance of the Umang Hotel and didn’t let anyone out, until the guide, Prakash who was the cousin of the owner, arrived. Prakash took everyone in a jeep and told that he was an expert tracker, all what he was doing was sending SMS to someone else to ask if they saw any lion hanging around.
The small villages on the side of the road are all the same: small houses in concrete or bricks that sell Lays, sodas, paan, and cookies, together with ubiquitous chai. I never see Indians buying this stuff, so I ask myself why is it there.Wall plugs, hotel rooms, hotel corridors, lock shops and rope shops. Lock shops sell only locks. Rope shops sell only rope. An incredible quantity of barbers shops.
The news try to convince people that part of the responsibility of the Mumbai attacks lies onto Google Earth.
December 10, 2010 – 8:00 am
Junagadh, India, 2008
Junagadh, India, 2008
I changed my rules and started giving money to children: they don’t have school or another alternative to begging. It’s useless to keep using European attitudes, there are different needs here and it’s time to realize it. I was hungry yesterday and I wasn’t feeling that good, I don’t want even to think about what it means to be hungry all the time. It’s not acceptable.
People keep being incredibly gentle. I met a guy named Mayur, who works in an internet cafe and says that his hobby is helping people. He sang for me Vande Mataram (if you click on the link you can hear the recording I did with my cellphone), then brought me to the hotel with his Bajaj scooter. A perfect stranger who treats me as an old friend. I like to have the impression that I can trust people.
It’s incredibly hot and dry today, there’s dust everywhere and it’s just unbearable. I feel tired. I visited the Mahabat Maqbara, which is falling into pieces. Some boys play cricket while a old gay with henna dyed hair looks us with despise. The marble windows have been broken, plants grow everywhere, the four minarets are witnesses of an incredible decay.
Junagadh, India, 2008
