Buskers Festival of Ferrara

I like buskers, the street artists. While sitting in the train or in the metro and having someone play music, I love it, and sometimes they do play wonderfully.

Growing up in India with the hierarchies and classist mentality does not help us to relate with persons easily and I think that, to appreciate street artists, we need to get over our classist way of looking down at persons. I don't like it when people are rude to them or when they treat them as beggers.

My favorite town for the way buskers are treated, as almost "official musicians", is London that has areas marked for them at some underground stations, (though with the bombs and terrorists, perhaps that won't last very long!).

Last night we went to buskers festival in a city not very far from Bologna. My favourites among all the buskers were these young women from Spain, singing and dancing on the fammenco beats.

 

 

 

This annual festival is held in Ferrara, about 50 km from Bologna, and it brings street artists from all over Europe and sometimes from beyond, to be treated as artists and not just as persons trying to earn a living. Ferrara is a beautiful city and the Estense castle in the city centre is a jewel. The whole central part of Ferrara has been declared a world heritage site by UNESCO.

 

For four hours we went around the city centre. Every ten meters, there was a different artist playing music and the city was teeming with tourists. A mother and daughter duo from France, a group of Spanish girls singing and dancing flammenco, magicians and clowns, dancers from Brazil, trios playing classical music, jazz artists, tarroc card readers, and even a girl who claimed to tell your future by looking in your eyes and had a long queue of persons waiting for her to look in their eyes - there were so many street artists. It was impossible to see all of them, there were so many!

The pictures below are from Ferrara visit yesterday. You can click on the images for a bigger view.

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Another Rakhi - Indians in Bologna

Two days ago, it was rakhi. Like every thing else, only emails and e-cards remind me of things like the Indian festivals that are no longer alive for me. Rakhi is just another memory with a vague sense of what it is supposed to mean.

 

This is inevitable for those of us who leave homes to live in another country, especially when there are few persons from your country living there. In Bologna, we get a lot of Indian students, but they are here for a few months or at the most for a couple of years, they are not suffering from nostalgia for the lost homeland. People living here with their families are few.

 

Anyway, the few of us who live here, we do try to organise something for Holi and Deewali.

Marco wants to send a rakhi to his girl friend. I explained to him that it wouldn't be right. No, he said, it won't be a normal rakhi that a boy gets from his sister, it will be something else, something very special.

Shweta telephoned and said that I will get my rakhi next time we meet. Perhaps, this is good, not just celebrating a festival but accepting the spirit behind it, and it does not really matter when we actually do it.

In our Indian association of Bologna, we are already used to this. Holi and Deewali are celebrated according to the availability of the hall, possibly around the actual dates that these festivals are being celebrated in India, but if that is not possible, we are not unduly bothered!

Manish, Sonia's husband, will be coming here on 24 September. Cynthia and Aniket (Mithoo) say that they might plan a holiday in Italy. Recently Riju had come to visit us and I had taken him to Venice.

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A Cold Rainy Morning for Relaxation

It is a cold rainy autumn morning in Bologna. Sky is covered with dark clouds, crossed by thunder and lightening. I wonder if Delhi's sky is full of colourful kites! When I was young, 15 August was the day of kite flying in Delhi but perhaps, now children are not so interested in kites?

It is already two weeks since Riju came. From his computer, I took some pictures of Vidhu dada, Preeta bhabhi and Srishti. I have never met Preeta bhabhi and Srishti and this is the first time I saw them in pictures properly.

There is another news. Bukul, who is now living in Australia, is planning to get married to Toni in March 2006 and settle down in Bangalore.

This has been a long weekend for me since 15 August is a national holiday in Italy (it is some religious festivity linked to Madonna).

On Saturday, I was in Rimini with my friend Mariangela. Yesterday, our friends in Bologna, Rajesh and Shweta, came for lunch.

Finally today I am alone. It should be a day of complete relaxation and I am going to watch "Parineeta". I am alone at home, and there is no need even to cook since there is enough food leftover from yesterday for today's lunch and dinner.

Tomorrow, Marco and Nadia will be back. They had gone to Bibione for a week.

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Cortona - Little monkey with the mother

Cortona is a small medieval town about 100 km north of Rome. Europe and especially Italy, is dotted with such towns, with forts on the the top of hills, made for defending the citties from attacks. Unfortunately many of such citties are ghost towns since living there is difficult.

In Italy, the road from Rome to Florence has a number of such cities placed on the top of hills, the most famous of which, is Orvieto, with a wonderful cathedral.

 

Watching Cortona from the base of the 700 meters high hill is like looking at a little monkey holding on tightly to mother's tummy, afraid of falling down. The houses look as if they are going to come crashing down on your head any time. Walking around in the town gives a strange feeling as if I am a monkey moving around at the top of trees. In between the houses, I can see the empty space and the far away valley below.

I was there only for one day, for a meeting. We arrived late at night and slept in a monastery. Early in the morning, I woke up and decided to take a look at the city before the meeting started. In the main square of the city, a flock of English tourists was waiting for their bus. In the square in front of the municipality, there was a big card-board piece of water melon for some festival, later in the day. In fact, all Italian cities seem to be busy with summer festivals. The thing that I liked most about Cortona was looking at the stairs going up and down, ending in small dead-ends or finishing at the edge of the hill into nothingness.

Once the meeting started, there was no break till very late in the night and then we started back our journey to be back in Bologna.

 

Riju went back on last Sunday but it seems a long time ago. Time seems to rush past so quickly. I did manage to complete a Hindi story recently - Tumhara Patra. It is influenced by American writer Pat Conroy, who writes about tyrannical fathers and children who carry the scars of their childhood in their souls, never really coming to terms with them.

Here are some pictures from the Cortona visit:

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Back from Ecuador

I am back from Ecuador.

 

The image of the country lingering in my mind is that of beautiful high mountains, roads snaking around them, in the middle of round lakes that looked like old mouths of spent  volcanoes. The guidebook does say that the road going down from Quito to Cuenca is lined with old spent volcanoes.

 

Another lingering image is that of so many child workers, cleaning shoes, in workshops, selling by roadside.

And yet another image is of Amerindian persons wearing traditional dresses. I wanted to be photographed with them and discovered to my pleasure that they thought I was kind of exotic and they also wanted a picture with me. So when I took out my camera, they also took out their cameras!

 

Unfortunately, guys pretending to be interested in asking about me, robbed my camera. Without my digital camera, I felt as if I was missing a limb. Fortunately, I had downloaded the pictures on my computer before they robbed it so I have my pictures of Quito, and, my friend Federico had two cameras and he loaned one of those to me in Cuenca.  

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Have I bitten more than I could chew?

 

I mean managing three blogs and writing regularly on all of them, can I really do that? I guess, people will just stop going to a blog once they find that it not updated frequently so it is not a tragedy or something!

 

Any way, I am concentrating mainly on my Hindi blog these days. Rediscovering Hindi is such a pleasure. Perhaps another reason is that people seem to be reading it and occasionally commenting. I tell myself, this may only mean that there are not that many Hindi blogs to choose from and not necessarily that what I write is too interesting. If you are interested in the world of Hindi blogs, take a look at the Chitha Vishwa website that brings together many of them.

My nephew Riju is here in Bologna with us.

Day before yesterday I accompanied him to Venice. I love going to Venice but it was so hot!

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Bomb-Blasts in London - July 2005

Yesterday, when the news of bomb blasts in London came, it suddenly brought back the anguish of 11 september 2001. Except this time, I was safely at home since I had the good fortune of coming back from London a day earlier.

Just twenty four hours earlier, on the 6th July morning, around the timing of the bombings, I had travelled on Hammersmith and city line for going to Liverpool street station, passing through Edgeware road and King's cross. The picture of the geese was clicked a few days ago.

This time, I had also met my nephew Riju, who is studying in London. I hope that he is all right.

 
To see those familiar names of the metro-stations on the BBC's website and the pictures of persons walking in the tunnels after the bomb blasts in the trains was terrible. Actually I have never been too keen on travelling by underground, especially when you have to go one or two levels under ground, because I am claustrophobic, but there is not much choice since it is fastest way to get around in London. However, next time in London, I will be a little afraid of travelling by underground.

11 September 2001 was worse since that day I was supposed to travel to Lebanon while my mother was traveling to Washington.

 

My flights were first diverted to Milan and later I was sent back to Bologna while mummy had been diverted to Canada and for days we had no news about her. 

 

The global village brings with it new forms of terror and anguish.

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Bent Nail Syndrome Among Randy Men

The story first appeared about a week ago in an Italian magazine called "Venerdi" that comes out as Friday supplement of a newspaper. It was quickly picked up by the radio shows and forums in Italy. It is about a disease and it is rare for news about illnesses to get such wide publicity. So much so that people in bars, sipping the morning cappuccinos and caffes, have been reported to smile snidely as they ask each other if they have got the chiodo piegato, or "Bent nail syndrome".

It seems that the northern province of Treviso, close to Venice has the distinction of being the Italian capital of persons affected with this disease. It is also well known among orthopaedic surgeons in USA where it is also called Texas syndrome since it seems to affect the Texans more than any one else.

 

I wonder if it is known in India and what do Indians call it? 

The disease affects middle aged men, between 40 to 60 years old, especially those who are away from home, staying in a hotel for the weekend and especially those who use viagra tablets. The Italian doctor with largest experience about the disease says that it does happens mostly with men who have younger girl friends, who try to impress them that they still have the vigour of younger men and want to try more exciting of kamasutra positions. It usually does not happen with wives since there one tends go for sex by habbit, in the usual positions.

You must have guessed by now, what is this disease! A fracture of the penis. The doctor the news-story said the men affected by this disease, often ask that their wives should not be informed, though it is difficult to hide this condition since the plaster cast on their dicks is not easy to hide!

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