Week 03

The Mother of God's last sigh at Daugim (17th March)

In the company of NT, I travelled in the ASI's only jeep to Daugim, close to Old Goa. As we got closer to the site of the Mother of God convent, a few large votive crosses marked the sacred grounds. The owner of the shrimp factory - that has come up recently on the site - stepped out of his office and met us. He took us for a small round through the plant's property. Sadly, on the precise place where I had seen the main chapel of the Mother of God's church just one year ago, stood a fresh heap of rubble covering the dismantled stones of the original structure. I had told NT about this place at that time, in March 2007, but it took him one year to get there...well, at least he did go there. What about the Goan Heritage activist groups?
Another memory is erased.

Goa-Mumbai-Diu (18th March)

The domestic terminal of Mumbai's airport is a sign of things to come in India. The aerodrome of Diu feels like you're landing in someone's backyard. Even the rikshaw wallahs waiting outside didn't look much interested in picking VM and me up for a ride into town. And there are only two daily flights to Diu.

Returning to Simbor (20th March)

I heard that the last portuguese flag was lowered in the miniature fort of Simbor, within the miniature territory with the same name, a few days after the fall of Goa, Daman and Diu. Three soldiers and a corporal garrisoned the fort in December 1961, without a radio and too far to hear the blasts of the fray going on at Diu. The indian army also forgot about the place and leisurely liberated it after the downfall of the proud Estado da India. I wonder what the soldiers there did for time pass...besides drinking Macieira...

The fort lies in a forlorn islet in a river mouth northeast of Diu. It was a regular construction and had a small chapel attatched. Nowadays, it is the home of a lonely fisherman...we saw his kot and depleated kitchen just inside the fort's main gate. Fortunately, he was not there, when our party arrived by boat, rented to the local fishermen at the opposite side of the river. He would have been scared to see and hear our excitement as we climbed and entered the fort, shouting "Santiago" and "Simbor e' nosso". He would probably think we had come to reclaim the place.

Anyways...we left in peace, knowing that sooner or later, anyday now, a stronger wave will wash out the place, taking with it to the bottom of the sea the last stones of the fort of Simbor.

Dinner with the priests of Diu (20th March)

The jesuit church of St. Paul is full of forlorn and mysterious nooks and corners and is rightly considered to be one of the most precious gems of indoportuguese arcitecture. From this convent departed the jesuit missions to the Ethiopian copts. The parishes of Diu, although never very large, are reduced to one, comprising ca. 190 parishners. Father Sergio, a Goan ordained in Pilar, has been running the place for the last three years. After the procession, he called us up for dinner, at the top floor of the fabled convent. Four people sat at a table, eating Goan and local food and listening to the news blasting from the convent's only tv. We finnished with a wonderful Bebinca, that one of the aunts of father Sergio had brought from Goa. During the procession's homily, father Sergio had mentioned VM and myself...and now, as we bid him farewell and thanked him for the dinner and hospitality, he repeated that God had sent him two architects to help him save the catholic heritage of Diu from the poverty and indifference of its own parishners and from the overpowering stealth of the hindu community. A learned and kind man, father Sergio has done a great deal...without him, Diu would had been in a much worse condition by now.

Brancavara (21st March)

Brancavara has a lovely abandoned church, recently restructured in a sensible way by father Sergio. We entered the church's compound when a couple of workers were there but they soon left and locked the gates behind them. VM found an old ladder and we climbed our way out of the compound, to great amusement of the children who had followed us in and had returned to the exterior when they sensed that the labourers were leaving. There appears to be no Christian left in Brancavara. We then visited the fisherman's neighbourhood near the church, composed by social housing built during the portuguese times. Our driver told us to be carefull since it was a level orange "communal sensitive" area. I repeated the warning to VM, afraid that he might take photos of women without asking. Fortunately, most of the men were not in the neighbourhood...a couple appeared, quite drunk and pronouncing syllables to the meaning of "Arrey! what are a couple of firangis doing in our area?"...but they let us be, realising that the procession of excited kids behind us meant that we hadn't come in harm. As usual, VM took some fantastic photos "...bater umas chapas..." And I ran out of film. Leaving the neighbourhood, one of the kids tugged at my camera demanding to be photographed...I grunted a syllable to the likes of "See, man, it's not my job to take pictures of ragged kids like you and slide film is expensive...besides, mine is finnished anyway, Tiik-he?".

Holi Dinner (21st march)

The industry catering to the mid-range budget tourist in Diu is still small enough to allow for a healthy competition. Although the closing down of the hostel above the St. Thomas church deprived Diu of its freaky chill-out spot, the people around the catholic quarter all agree that business is doing good. Our dinner was in a Goan style garden shack...a lovely quiet place. There was a variety of nationalities and languages spoken and it was an overall merry-making occasion; a half-caste indoportuguese sat drinking his beer and, as usual, made couteous remarks on the wonder that was India.

Diu-Ahmedabad (23rd March)

Diu-Veraval was a small bus that got hold up for a long time in the border between the Union territory and Gujarat. I think that the driver had a bottle of boose near his seat, that was spotted by the police officer, but I can't confirm.

Veraval-Ahmedabad was a smooth ride on the Jabalpur express. Arriving at Ahmedabad was a bit confusing but, fortunately, I had a pleasant dinner at the Mint.