The celebration of death in Varanasi

Photos: Life on the Andes

spiedix84 — Fri, 28 Jun 2013 23:48:00 GMT

I'm an entertainment marketing expert, but there's something else that always calls me away from my life and tells me that I should follow it. This is travelling, but not travelling for a simple vacation, travelling to tell stories, document what I see, what I live. I'm not a photographer, but I love to use my camera to capture the life flowing in front of my eyes, I want to learn more and to make this my job. For the moment what I have is a great passion for it, but you can help me to make it not just that. I love living new places, adventures, and I'm really open to learn from them. I'm sure that through your help I could overcome myself and create something truly beautiful for all the people that could not experience it directly.

A Local Encounter that Changed my Perspective - Public bus to Copacabana, Lake Titicaca

spiedix84 — Wed, 27 Mar 2013 01:12:42 GMT

The engine noise is deafening, the smell of diesel unbearable. Again, I'm the only foreigner. When we fill the form for the police security check, before to leave, my country, Italy, stands out in the list of quotes that avoid repeating the first and only other country indicated: Bolivia. I’m surprised when a lady not far from me, the only one in the typical clothing, with the wide skirt, the long braid and the black bowler hat, looks at me, smiles kindly, begins to talk. She asks me if I’m traveling alone. She’s surprised of seeing me here, in the midst of them.
We arrive at the Straits of Tirquinia, we need to get off the bus to cross it. The vehicles are ferried on a barge, pedestrians continue on a fast boat, until the other side. The lady, however, is old, she stays on board, but cares about me, entrusting me to the lady with whom she’s traveling. We get on the other side. Time passes, but the bus doesn’t come. Something happened: while the bus was getting off from the barge, suddenly this one moved away from the ground, leaving the wheels trapped under, almost in the water. We find the woman outside, sitting on a rock, watching a group of men trying to lift the bus up using some trunks. She took a fright and can’t retain a few tears. It takes almost an hour to solve, but luckily the strong arms of these men, used to work with their bodies, are able to make it.
We begin to ascend upwards. Below me the lake, surrounded by towering snowy mountains and with light clouds hanging over us, is huge, beautiful, and is waiting for me in Copacabana. The lady is smiling again and offers me a glass of Pepsi. I feel privileged to what I'm experiencing. Having had the courage to drop everything to pursue my dream, to discover the world, the most distant from mine, by culture, religion, habits. And find, in this one, the warmth of home, of someone who loves you, who welcomes you with open heart, because see you simply as a fellow who may need his help. We cross a step, suddenly the view opens up in front of me. The lady says "Señorita, esa es Copacabana!". There, beneath us, is an expanse of colorful houses, surrounded by two high bright green hills, with the lake overlooking the front, shimmering from rays of the sun, so blue to be confused with the blue of the sky. We get there, get off the bus. The lady comes up to me, hugs me, kisses me, tells me to be careful and not to trust strangers, that she will pray for my own good. I'm speechless, my heart is moved.

My Scholarship entry - Seeing the world through other eyes

spiedix84 — Thu, 19 Apr 2012 15:04:42 GMT

The only way to understand India is to clear your mind, reset it and make it ready to accept the new culture. That’s what I did in 3 weeks of travel through the country, a crescendo of emotions and moments that have made this place penetrate deeply in my heart. But it’s not possible to say to have really understood India until you go to Varanasi. Varanasi is a big city, smoggy, full of traffic and congestions. But when you leave the main roads and get lost in the intricate alleys that run alongside the banks of the Ganges, the perspective changes completely, you lose your sense of direction and let you guide only by the calls of vendors, the color of the goods, the music and the songs of those who carry the dead bodies of their beloved to be burned. The Burning Ghat is the core of this ritual: every day 130 deads are accompanied here to favor their passage to Heaven. One of the greatest aspirations for an Indian is in fact to be burned in this place, it’s considered like an highway to get to God, which otherwise requires a long process of reincarnation. In this simple ritual you‘ll find all the Hindi culture: from the division of castes; the use of fabrics and colors that cover the body of the dead; to the rituals that vary based on their role during life. Each single gesture has a deep meaning, tells a story about the people from this country. But it’s only when you look in the eyes of these people, that have crossed India to accompany their loved ones, that the true meaning of this culture is afloat. Their eyes are happy, the atmosphere is that of a party. You’d like to cry, but for them is completely different. And that makes you think a lot and see things in a different way.
In Varanasi, one must stop and observe. Delete his thoughts, get rid of everything and be ready to see something that will never happen in his country. Doing this he’s not going to be impressed, but he’ll be only ready to understand more of this people that is so different from us.