Una Pascua perfecta en la playa

Monday 21^st April 2014

I arrived back in Ahmedabad from Diu at 6 o’clock this morning to scenes of what looked to be something akin to a mini-apocalypse. Parts of buildings lay shattered in the street, hoardings and signs buckled and hanging precariously from façades, and several whole trees were blocking the roads. Sadly, it was nothing so dramatic; there had just been a thunderstorm the night before.

   Googling Diu, you're likely to be directed to Dhaka International University, websites giving instructions in Spanish or Portuguese about contraceptive devices  (dispositive intrauterino, or 'DIU'), or "Did you mean 'DUI'?". While it may not be well known outside of India (or Gujarat particularly), it's certainly a popular spot for local tourism.

   Diu is tiny island just off the southern tip of Gujarat. It was a Portuguese colony for over four hundred years (one of the world’s longest-held colonial possessions), from 1535, when Nuno da Cunha was finally allowed by Sultan Bahadur of Gujarat to construct a fort on the island, until 1961 when a hasty bombing campaign carried out by Nehru’s government returned Diu to Indian control. Since then, it has been governed from Delhi along with its sister city Daman as a Union Territory. This means the laws and taxes there are a bit different from the rest of Gujarat, but most importantly: alcohol is legal.

   The island appeared to be the ideal place to spend Easter weekend, and so, on Thursday night, I boarded the 10-hour overnight bus from Ahmedabad. It cost Rs. 300 (3,50€) for 650km, and therefore, I wasn’t expecting much from the journey. The ‘bed’ was relatively comfortable, but did not come without a few issues: I’m only 5’7” (170cm) and my head touched one end and my feet the other; and there was nothing to stop me falling from my upper bunk into the aisle (people were sleeping there too) or out of the window if it was open.   

   Regardless, I made it to Diu and checked in to the charming Herança Goesa, a guesthouse run by a lovely couple from Goa. Here, I met Ester and Belén, two delightful Spanish ladies, and we hit it off immediately, and became almost inseparable from then onwards. I even got to practice my Spanish. Friday afternoon was spent on the nearby Chakratirth Beach, which we had entirely to ourselves. The sunbathing, swimming and ball games were of course fun, but the real highlight of the afternoon was the strange lump we saw bobbing around in the water, a few metres from the beach. It turned out to be an enormous green sea turtle, and what a sight it was to behold! We stood transfixed for the best part of an hour watching the magnificent creature drifting in and out on the waves.

Chakratirth Beach.

   Strolling through little Diu Town, the main settlement on the island, is quite enchanting. The older part consists of a maze of alleys and narrow streets lined with Portuguese buildings and wayside shrines. There are also a few whitewashed Portuguese churches, of which the most elaborate is St. Paul’s, where Portuguese Mass is still celebrated.

St. Paul's Church.

   Unfortunately, all of Diu’s architecture is not so charismatic. There is a proliferation of brightly coloured (both painted and tiled) houses spread throughout the town. Now, you might be imagining something like Balamory, or even a picturesque seaside town on the Italian Riviera, but Diu’s houses are nothing like those. Each building is covered in at least three colours, most frequently pinks, blues and yellows, but there were some even more garish combinations with greens, reds and purples thrown in. It was like Barbie’s dreamworld on steroids. Yuck.

Diu Town.

   At breakfast on Saturday I met a fellow Oxford geographer, he’d been at Merton College in the 1960s, and even knew Utrecht a little from his travels. ¡El mundo es un pañuelo! Gomtimata Beach, towards the western end of the island was our chosen destination for Saturday. It was totally deserted (no, I’m not attempting a sand-related pun), and had some fantastic waves. Apart from being a little dirty (although the litter was all from the sea and consisted mostly of onions, flowers, and coconut husks), it was the ideal place to relax with nothing but a book and the sound of the sea. I'm already missing the peace and calm of Diu. After dinner, we decided to treat ourselves to bottle of red wine. Despite being twice the price of a bottle of vodka/gin/rum/whisky, it was absolutely vile. India may be excellent for food, but it’s got a long way to go when it comes to making wine.

Beach-selfie with Belén and Ester, Gomtimata Beach.

    Our last touristy visit was to Diu fort on Sunday morning. The imposing edifice still stands robust, jutting out into the sea on the eastern tip of the island. Inside its crumbling colonial buildings have mostly been left to nature, and the ground is littered with centuries-old cannonballs. For the hoards Indian tourists, the main attraction seemed to be posing for photos on the bastions with the old cannons. Of course, Belén and I were coerced into countless pictures with random men. We quickly succumbed to the sweltering heat at the fort, and swiftly made our way back to the beach for one final afternoon of swimming and sunburn. There were spoonbills fishing in the rock-pools.

Diu fort.

    Alas, the weekend had to end at some point, so we made our way to the bus station, and after waving off my new amigas on their bus (which was full of drunk Indian guys), I headed back to Ahmedabad. This bus was far more comfortable; I even had my own coffin-like box to sleep in. It may not sound too appealing, but when the rest of the bus is either snoring, singing, or eating, it provided welcome shelter. The journey took eleven hours. Not because the bus drove slowly (quite the opposite in fact), but because it stopped every half an hour or so for people to use the toilet (well, wall/bush/side of the road) or buy snacks and drinks. Vicious circle much?

   If you’re wondering why I haven’t mentioned anything about last week, it’s because nothing particularly noteworthy happened. I had a few interesting chats about Indian politics over lunch with Saath’s director. I saw an advertisement for denim underwear (who on Earth wants that?!). Oh, and I wrote an article about Eurovision. 

   Happy Easter.