See sideways

low-tied

bow-tide

Opened oar

Seaey Gulls

Big beachbulls

Crickets Bats

Appier beside

Alight house

See sideways

Point 11 Revisited

Ravi sells diamonds
Raj mobile phones
The other one’s drunk and nobody moans

Prasad wraps up paan

Aman catches fish
The other one’s drunk but that was his wish

Pedro vends cashew
Hassan milks his herd
The other one’s drunk his wife won’t get word

Aman eats the fish
Raj makes a call
The other one’s drunk then pays for them all

Pedro dreams diamonds
Ravi chews paan
The other one’s drunk but everyone’s calm

Prasad sips on milk
Hassan knocks back nuts
The other one’s drunk and throws up his guts

Easter Lunch

The kids are off school today so as we’re in a Catholic place, I asked Josephine my host if they were off for Easter.  She shrugged, fluttering the ruffles of her red Latino red dress, “No, off school for some Hindu thing, I donno, but it is Easter, this food is for Easter and there’s mass at six fifteen…”, she looked hopeful as if I might say “great I’ll come along” but it’s not my thing and my bland nod of a response probably said enough.

It was hot in the kitchen but Diu’s mosquito-obliterating breeze remained constant making it possible for me to frantically scribble notes while Josephine (with a little help from husband George and their nephew Alister) deftly threw together four huge, stunning dishes in under two hours colourfully representing the cuisines of Goa, Portugal and Gujarat.  By chance I had asked George last night if I could get a cookery lesson, he drawled back in his fascinating porto-indian accent “you can go in kitchen any time, but tomorrow there is a holiday, so go tomorrow, Josephine will show you, then you can eat”

It was delicious.  I have the recipes and all of the ingredients are straight forward UK purchases so those of you lucky enough to be in our come-dine-with-me club will be served Josephine’s Easter Lunch sometime in the next few months …I may even finish off with the cake she made for her daughter’s ninth birthday earlier in the week!

Wild Cows (try and keep a straight face)

Ashok, India’s most delightful auto driver cum Diu natural history guide, insisted there were wild cows in the woods where the lions live (Sasan Gir descended Asiatic Lions).  In my mind the concept of “wild cow” spun around as I tried to find a reference; some visual anchor to make sense of this phrase.  I found nothing and walked on in silence watching chipmunks scurrying on their busy errands over the forest floor.  That was until I pointed out a buffalo to Ashok who replied “No, its not a buffalo, the colour is buffalo but this is wild cow”.  Now this hulk of a beast was a little distance away but I managed to get a few shots of its oddly goat like face before we startled it and it sprung to standing to reveal its full peculiar form.

Now I like animals, I watch David Attenborough and I know my mammals but I had never seen anything like this dark grey reindeer bison.  Danny, who was rapidly photographing this Narnian beast lectures in all things natural he offered up a diagnosis that it possibly belonged to the goat/sheep group of animals …despite its mass.  Neither one of us had seen anything like it in the flesh or print.  On the church roof that night, Mica the Finn just laughed protractedly at the photos, it was something normally dreamed up by the stoned rather than shown to them!  Ashok at all times remained quietly confident with his identification of a wild cow.

Unless anyone can advise me differently (offers invited!), here is a Wild Cow….

Why Leave?

I traipse the trafficless

shade card streets

Smiling, greeted, greeting.

Lapping the sleepy shores of Diu

I am a creator of memorable moments, I always have been.  An idea takes hold and I try hard to conjure up the little details that will induce the optimal ambience.  It could be finding the precise time to walk the Corndon Skyline to maximise the summer sunset over Shropshire and Mid Wales.  It was once selecting the best drum and bass¹ tracks to accentuate sun rise from the smoking rim of Mt Bromo.  Sometimes it’s as simple as choosing the perfect wine to compliment my cooking.  This time, Diu is giving me an extended perfect moment all of its own creation.

I needed a few basics this week like a reliable internet connection to start my job search, a decent laundry to give my knuckles a rest, vegetables with less oil and somewhere to write outdoors.  Diu served these up with its laid back ease and threw in my quirky little church roof bedroom and a host of natural beauty for good measure.

Unlike the weekenders, drinking undercover on their rows of plastic chairs just a few hundred metres away, the evening beer on the church roof is unhurried, its 360 views are decorated by a dazzling sunset and it precedes a table full of George’s wife’s delicious home cooking.

 ¹ It was the 90s!



Diu's haunting memorial to 160 lives lost in the Tsunami



On the lash…

The once Portuguese Diu Island hangs onto the dry state of Gujarati by a thread.  Like Goa it is characterised by vividly coloured houses, neatly swept shady streets, Catholicism and alcohol.  The island plays host to a uniquely Porjurati blend of multilingual families, bird life, tourists, lions and wild cows.  To its credit or perhaps misfortune, little tiny Diu is not dry like its neighbour so the weekends are a sight as the predominantly male Gujarati tide sweeps over the causeway and into its bars and restaurants before swiftly receding allowing sleepy island life to lap its shores again.

Note point 11

For some months and in numerous coastal locations I have been observing these men as they consume alcohol with their pals and I can report that it looks like an endured process as opposed to a pleasurable activity¹.  The norm would be to start drinking at breakfast, or on arrival if it’s Friday night, continuing with neat straights or gallons of gassy Kingfisher until they fall, puke or sleep.  I am not passing judgement but I can understand why alcohol has such a bad name in India and why it is looked down upon from higher moral circles. …this is the very epitome of binge drinking, but only carried out by men of an age (and often social status) that would know better in Europe.

¹ the possible exception might be the Punjabi Policemen in Goa.  These guys were having such a lovey time behind their sunglasses that they ditched their dangerously inebriated colleague in the in the sand in full sun without the ability to stand.

Hello ThinkingSpace Readers (yes You!)

ThinkingSpace was started hesitatingly for a handful of my nearest and dearest but these days there are hundreds of you lovely folk and I welcome you all wholeheartedly! I also want to thank you sincerely for the time you find to read this in your busy schedules.

This week's office is the roof of St Thomas' Diu, Gujarat!!

The commute

Please don’t be shy about sharing a ThinkingSpace link on Facebook or with any other of your networks that might be interested – there are still two months to go!  Owing to those who have already shared links, your numbers have swelled still further (over 100 views per day now) which is wonderfully encouraging.  I may not be earning but I am firmly employed carefully selecting ingredients and baking these quirky slices of India for your delectation.

From today I will trial a facility whereby all readers may leave comments.  Don’t feel obliged to comment, however whoever you are, your quips, jibes, kindness and feedback are heartening to receive.  I do aim to create a balance between observation, reflection and experience and would love to know if you want more of, less of or something different.  When commenting please be mindful of the fact that comments are public and that some readers are young and impressionable (Hello Fred and Barney xx)

NB Callum, Toby and Bea you are all way too grown up to be impressionable so I won’t send you kisses, I’ll just appreciate how cool you all are JJJ (but just in case …xxx)

Another day in the office on behalf
of my lovely readers!!