Dear Joonas,
We made it safely back to Udaipur... Bubbel was shocked, it was great!
After you split from our group in Ahmadabad for Mt. Abu Inga, Jacek and I were so sad. The rickshaw we took to the bus stop seemed so unusually comfortable without you and your baggage, like we only had 20 of the original 26 bags of potatoes on the back of our Indian bicycle. We were all very quiet... we were missing our Finnish rock star.
In the bus we reminisced about our time as a group both in Udaipur and Diu. Our knack for adventure surely began March 7, the day before Holi, the national festival of colors. That evening was crazy! It started off in the town square with 2 hydras (men dressed as women belly dancers) dancing to very loud Indian pop music in front of a crowd of both Indians and foreigners that seemed pretty low energy and bored. After an hour or so of this I was just about to abandon the cause when the evening started to shift... a line of fire crackers was unrolled in front of us, it seemed at that moment that something spectacular was about to happen. Then it started... we heard the fire crackers down a side street leading to the square and it was becoming louder and louder... the crowd was backing up and we were now pinned between the building behind us and about 2 lines of people pushing back to get away from the line of fire crackers that was about to start popping less then a meter from us. It was insane! The shirt of the man in front of Roxy firmly caught on fire. Roxy's pants and my fleece also got burn marks from the sparks flying in every direction. The only thing we could do is put our hands in front of our faces for protection and savor a moment of pure adrenaline and complete surrender to "whatever happens is whatever happens".
The fire crackers were then moving away from us, following it's trajectory spiraling to the center piece of the evening, a 4 meter pole covered in stacks of dry hay and a whole lot more fire crackers. The fire started almost unnoticeable from the bottom of the pole but when it reached about half a meter from the ground the insanity started again. Our ears were ringing from the hundreds of fire crackers, we were still pinned with no where to run, the burning pole was swinging back and fort/side to side threatening to fall into the crowd and now burning balls of hay and paper were gliding over our heads.
The whole spectacle lasted for maybe 15 minutes but seem to last a whole lifetime since our whole lives flashed in front of us :P We were all a bit shaken... the Indians went along their usual business unaffected. I had a new respect for Indians, they truly know how to go crazy.
The next day was something just as crazy but altogether different. It was your birthday for one thing and a cake was ordered. First however we hit the streets. We were dressed in white to maximize the affects of Holi, to throw colored powders and water at each other and get every inch of your own person covered in these colors. The custom is to take powder, rub the persons cheeks with it (or simply throw it at them), wish a Happy Holi and hug. What Inga, Roxy and I discovered quickly is that many Indian men (not all of course) spend the previous night drinking and then spend the day trying to grab any part of foreign women they are able to get their hands close to, especially during the hug. We started off politely wished them a happy Holi, rubbed powder on their cheeks and if they reached out for grabby grabby, we went ninja on their asses by pushing, punching, kicking, swearing at them, kneeing, slapping... Many didn't know what hit them. As you so observantly mentioned, likely due to my mosh-pitting days the experience felt more to me like a freakish sideshow of immature juveniles that needed to be slapped than a horror story of harassment :P Then we had chocolate birthday cake and congratulated ourselves for surviving Holi :D
Speaking of surviving do you remember the time we went for a hike to the Monsoon Palace and were caught after dark? The ranger who past us on a motorbike was flipping out that we were going to get attacked by the leopards and die. No one told us at the gate that the leopard population has been booming in the region, no one told us that there were boas big enough to kill a man on the mountain, no one told us that the hyenas were alive and well. We got off that mountain pretty quick and efficiently and once again no one died, no one even got injured... YAY!
That was suppose to be it for our little group, but no, I changed everything and went on to Diu with you!
Diu was not so "dangerous" but just as interesting like the time that we smoked charas in the middle of the night from the roof of the old Portugese church where we resided and then sneaked inside to belt Sanskrit mantras from the choir balcony. How about the time Inga and I's got a private unplugged concert after dark on the coast as we sat with starry eyes on a blanket at your feet? The best though was the time that you and Jacek got inspired to find ways to deter unwanted attention from the disrespecting Indian tourists: Jacek insisting on "one photo" of the staring mob (oh they didn't like that), you storming inside onlooker's car enthusiastically insisting on rides to town if they wanted our pictures and the best of course, you mooning the cameras shouting that you are "LOCO"... you know you've won a very significant battle when the harassers are speeding away from us in their cars.
A poem to commemorate:
You are the apple of our eye
You are the sugar in our chai
You truly inspire to defy
We had a few
We took on Diu
And they will ALWAYS remember you
Our parting in Ahmadabad wasn't so bad, after all we were served a home cooked meal at the family home of the Indian boys that were on the overnight bus with us from Diu before we had to continue on our separate ways to our final destinations, Indians can be amazingly sweet and welcoming!
You've made me like Finland, you made me want to go to Finland, you made me want to renounce Canada and root for the Fins in hockey... although they all play for Canadian teams so never mind. Your original song "Only 10 roupies my friend" has become the anthem of these 6 months of my life. To me you will always be the guy that almost fell from the christian monument and left Diu saying "I don't f*ck with Jesus anymore, I almost died".
Cheers and see you in a week or so to take on Dharamsala!
Your friend,
Annie
We made it safely back to Udaipur... Bubbel was shocked, it was great!
After you split from our group in Ahmadabad for Mt. Abu Inga, Jacek and I were so sad. The rickshaw we took to the bus stop seemed so unusually comfortable without you and your baggage, like we only had 20 of the original 26 bags of potatoes on the back of our Indian bicycle. We were all very quiet... we were missing our Finnish rock star.
In the bus we reminisced about our time as a group both in Udaipur and Diu. Our knack for adventure surely began March 7, the day before Holi, the national festival of colors. That evening was crazy! It started off in the town square with 2 hydras (men dressed as women belly dancers) dancing to very loud Indian pop music in front of a crowd of both Indians and foreigners that seemed pretty low energy and bored. After an hour or so of this I was just about to abandon the cause when the evening started to shift... a line of fire crackers was unrolled in front of us, it seemed at that moment that something spectacular was about to happen. Then it started... we heard the fire crackers down a side street leading to the square and it was becoming louder and louder... the crowd was backing up and we were now pinned between the building behind us and about 2 lines of people pushing back to get away from the line of fire crackers that was about to start popping less then a meter from us. It was insane! The shirt of the man in front of Roxy firmly caught on fire. Roxy's pants and my fleece also got burn marks from the sparks flying in every direction. The only thing we could do is put our hands in front of our faces for protection and savor a moment of pure adrenaline and complete surrender to "whatever happens is whatever happens".
The fire crackers were then moving away from us, following it's trajectory spiraling to the center piece of the evening, a 4 meter pole covered in stacks of dry hay and a whole lot more fire crackers. The fire started almost unnoticeable from the bottom of the pole but when it reached about half a meter from the ground the insanity started again. Our ears were ringing from the hundreds of fire crackers, we were still pinned with no where to run, the burning pole was swinging back and fort/side to side threatening to fall into the crowd and now burning balls of hay and paper were gliding over our heads.
The whole spectacle lasted for maybe 15 minutes but seem to last a whole lifetime since our whole lives flashed in front of us :P We were all a bit shaken... the Indians went along their usual business unaffected. I had a new respect for Indians, they truly know how to go crazy.
The next day was something just as crazy but altogether different. It was your birthday for one thing and a cake was ordered. First however we hit the streets. We were dressed in white to maximize the affects of Holi, to throw colored powders and water at each other and get every inch of your own person covered in these colors. The custom is to take powder, rub the persons cheeks with it (or simply throw it at them), wish a Happy Holi and hug. What Inga, Roxy and I discovered quickly is that many Indian men (not all of course) spend the previous night drinking and then spend the day trying to grab any part of foreign women they are able to get their hands close to, especially during the hug. We started off politely wished them a happy Holi, rubbed powder on their cheeks and if they reached out for grabby grabby, we went ninja on their asses by pushing, punching, kicking, swearing at them, kneeing, slapping... Many didn't know what hit them. As you so observantly mentioned, likely due to my mosh-pitting days the experience felt more to me like a freakish sideshow of immature juveniles that needed to be slapped than a horror story of harassment :P Then we had chocolate birthday cake and congratulated ourselves for surviving Holi :D
Speaking of surviving do you remember the time we went for a hike to the Monsoon Palace and were caught after dark? The ranger who past us on a motorbike was flipping out that we were going to get attacked by the leopards and die. No one told us at the gate that the leopard population has been booming in the region, no one told us that there were boas big enough to kill a man on the mountain, no one told us that the hyenas were alive and well. We got off that mountain pretty quick and efficiently and once again no one died, no one even got injured... YAY!
That was suppose to be it for our little group, but no, I changed everything and went on to Diu with you!
Diu was not so "dangerous" but just as interesting like the time that we smoked charas in the middle of the night from the roof of the old Portugese church where we resided and then sneaked inside to belt Sanskrit mantras from the choir balcony. How about the time Inga and I's got a private unplugged concert after dark on the coast as we sat with starry eyes on a blanket at your feet? The best though was the time that you and Jacek got inspired to find ways to deter unwanted attention from the disrespecting Indian tourists: Jacek insisting on "one photo" of the staring mob (oh they didn't like that), you storming inside onlooker's car enthusiastically insisting on rides to town if they wanted our pictures and the best of course, you mooning the cameras shouting that you are "LOCO"... you know you've won a very significant battle when the harassers are speeding away from us in their cars.
A poem to commemorate:
You are the apple of our eye
You are the sugar in our chai
You truly inspire to defy
We had a few
We took on Diu
And they will ALWAYS remember you
Our parting in Ahmadabad wasn't so bad, after all we were served a home cooked meal at the family home of the Indian boys that were on the overnight bus with us from Diu before we had to continue on our separate ways to our final destinations, Indians can be amazingly sweet and welcoming!
You've made me like Finland, you made me want to go to Finland, you made me want to renounce Canada and root for the Fins in hockey... although they all play for Canadian teams so never mind. Your original song "Only 10 roupies my friend" has become the anthem of these 6 months of my life. To me you will always be the guy that almost fell from the christian monument and left Diu saying "I don't f*ck with Jesus anymore, I almost died".
Cheers and see you in a week or so to take on Dharamsala!
Your friend,
Annie
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