Christmas In Diu

The beach was just the change up we needed after months in the mountains and high plains. The cold had begun to nip at our heels. We were ecstatic to arrive at the island of Diu, just off the southern coast of the largely Muslim and alcohol free state of Gujarat. The island is unique for two reasons. From 1535 to 1961 Diu was a Portuguese colony and trading post. It also serves alcohol, making it the only watering hole for about 800 kilometers. The result is a charming island half covered by Indian men drinking with reckless abandon.

After nearly 24 hours of train and bus travel we stepped off the bus into the blinding heat of midday. The air smells strongly of the fish market across the street. We rented scooters and crossed the island from east to west on winding roads dotted with dilapidated churches.

For the price of a Motel 6 we took a room at the island most exclusive resort. The Hotel Radhika staff stifled their scoffs as Jay and I rolled in wearing shorts, flip flops and our grungy backpacks. Diu is off the tourist trail, attracting few foreign tourists to its mediocre beaches. Most travelers head further south to Goa or Kerala for the holidays. We chose the island because it sounded interesting and was the nearest to our prior location in Rajasthan. As a result we were the only white dudes at the resort, distinctly different from the conservatively dressed Indians that surrounded us in the hotel lobby. I smiled as I noticed a small plastic Christmas tree alongside a statue of the elephant god, Ganesha.

Indian and Muslim cultures being very conservative, the beach scene seemed bizarre to us. Nagao beach was wide and long but almost entirely empty. Whereas most of us hit the beach to lay down our towels in quiet seclusion, the Indians cluster tightly together in order to chat. There were no blankets, umbrellas or swimmers in sight. Adults were fully clothed, women wearing full length saris while the men who managed to stumble out of the bars looked as if they were about to meet a client for their 2pm. Children splashed in ankle deep water, most unable to swim. We laid out our towels away from the throngs and went for a swim. Indians occasionally walked up to us to take pictures and ask where we were from.

In the name of sociological inquiry Jay and I frequented the local bars of Diu town. Most of the bars were identical, like cozy caves smelling of stale beer. No women were ever present in the bare bones, utilitarian pubs. The men drank either watered down whiskey or strong malt liquor. We happily slurped down tall Kingerfisher beers and observed the spectacle of grown men acting like high school girls at their first party.

Our five days on Diu were spent lounging on the beach, riding scooters along the back roads or feasting on Portuguese inspired seafood dishes. It was enjoyable but somewhat sad. A hollow feeling rested in our chests as we went through the motions of holiday. Luxurious hotels, relaxing surf and good food is no replacement for a loving family during the holidays. Half way across the world, we wished we were home for Christmas.