The 4 C's: Colours, Cows, Cops and Coconuts

Hello, good evening and welcome to what surely has to be the most action packed blog entry so far ... its actually going to be difficult to put into words all of the things that have happened since we last convened...

As i wrote most of this before going away last week, and to throttle the release of my mindless tales, I'm going to cover everything since last time, excluding the last week, which I'll wrap up with this coming week in the next entry.  if that makes any fucking sense whatsoever then you hopefully catch my drift... which many of the locals have been, for ye shits hath returneth in recent times.....

Worry not though, for this week I bring you everything from mass paint related celebrations, Sandi's pissed off related arrival in the motherland, a long weekend in Goa featuring scooter related mayhem, a coconut related car accident, a smoking related police reprimand and a sacred goan goring for the goreh ... I'm sure as I'm typing, other recollections of randomness with spring into my head so, as always, bear with me if i go off down the occasional side road...

***Holi Holi Holi***

Im calling the RSPCA

What a day! What an unbelievable day ... seriously, I have never before in my life seen so many people covered in paint.  Well, to be accurate, its not really paint but a range of substances ranging from brightly coloured chalk dust to natural colours based on Turmeric and other spices...

Avi ... coconut oil? My arse!!

We kicked off the day by convening at Avi's place.  There was Avi (obviously) Ujayan and myself, armed with a bottle of lube.  Before your minds stray into macabre territory, the lube was specifically coconut oil.  According to Avi, you have to grease up your entire body and hair so that the colour does not stick to your skin and stain you. Which, for the record, is 100%, grade A guff... its been nearly two weeks now and I still have pink toenails and pink hair, really fucking professional for the office...

We trekked to Worli in a cab, sporting our shittest of clothes (I went a bit Shoreditch and modelled my own customised/sawn off white business shirt), armed with supersoakers from the local shop and oily as sin ... In hindsight, we looked a bit like 80s Mafia Dons... that is of course, if said Dons were effectively piss poor, shot people with water pistols and soaked themselves in Malibu each morning...

BTW, I also happened to have my trusty diving camera in my suitcase just in case I did a little impromptu scuba whilst out here... didn’t think it would come in handy for a giant paint and water fight but its was absolutely invaluable and is the sole reason you are able to see the pics of the day ..

Ujayan takes a cheeky eyeful of the red 
off a local youth - unlucky my friend

All the way there, you could see random colour parties going off in almost every street.. Everyone and I mean everyone was covered in colour... I even saw the occasional cow that had just been doused in Technicolor, just swaggering down the road clearly bemused by the situation ... I also clocked a phenomenal guerrilla colouring of a bloke who was just walking down the street, minding his own when some kids stepped out and pimp slapped him in the face with florescent yellow... it was kind of like the yobbish world of London youth happy slapping meets fear and loathing in Las Vegas!!

We arrived at the party about 10am and there was time to kill before it all kicked off so we went looking for water to charge up the supersoakers.  I have to admit, when we couldn't find a tap anywhere, I got a bit Cannock about it and proposed a movement to fill them with piss in the absence of water.  Unfortunately the boys weren’t with me so we continued our search.  We eventually found some kids with water bombs filled with coloured water and after taking a few obligatory bombs to the head, they took us to their source and we filled up.

Moment A - me with the ladies

The actual party space was an outdoor car park and people were starting to arrive and big sacks of colour were being stacked up ... there was also a big frame set up over the whole car park with loads of hosing and sprinkler heads set up... I didn’t really understand that part but it all became clear before long.  The DJ had a soundsystem rigged up playing a blend of what I would probably describe as masala flavoured europop with the odd bit of Justin ‘where’s my self respect?’ Bieber.,..

Moment B - me getting lynched and
lightly tangoed by Harshil 

 

And finally, we were off ... the happy slaps were coming thick and fast and each one bringing with it a new and interesting colour.  Its strangely liberating to walk over to people you don’t know with a hand full of coloured powder and rub it in their faces, man woman or child, it didn’t matter ... actually some of the kids had better supersoakers than us, the ones with backpacks ... little bastards.

At one point a Run DMC style break dancing contest kicked off between one of the ex-pat western girls and a local guy who I'm sure was a ladies hairdresser...

Ladies hairdresser part 1

Ladies hairdresser part 2

Then the water truck arrived....... imagine a petrol lorry but filled with water.  It hooked itself into a huge inlet at the side of the sprinkler frame and all of a sudden water started flying at us from every angle , it was like the vampire club scene from the start of blade... absolute carnage but truly incredible..

The sprinklers fire up

After a while, all of the different colours had mixed with the water and everyone was starting to go a kind red-purple stained colour and bottles of Bhang were popping up left right and centre... I was told that Bhang is a traditional drink, usually yogurt based that is made up at times of celebration and has over the years become the sort of official drink of Holi...  apparently it is supposed to enhance the celebrations so of course we all got stuck in... to be honest I thought it tasted a bit like poor mans Yop but it hit the spot. 

Colours are flowing, and so is the weed
biopot (guy on the left  with the bottle

Now, check out the complete definition of Bhang

Bhang is a traditional preparation from the leaves and flowers (buds) of the female cannabis plant, smoked or consumed as a beverage in the Indian subcontinent.

Honestly, it was hilarious...literally everyone, even the little kids with their water pistols and the police/security down the end of the street, were getting involved... no wonder its one of the worlds biggest and most joyous celebrations, everyone is covered in dulux and stoned off their trumpet ...

Me just before leaving for the airport - not sure
who this bloke is or why i was talking to him
but i found this photo amusing

With out doubt this was one of the best things I have ever been to and anyone that ever gets the chance should do it, what a fucking event!!!

 

So at about 11:45ish, I had to depart the party to go and meet Sandi at the airport...

To bring you up to speed, Sandi missed her flight out of Heathrow, slept overnight in the airport, then couldn’t get on the next flight so stayed the whole day and evening, finally catching the flight exactly 24 hours after the one she missed.  24 hours on the floor of terminal 5 and a 9 hour flight to India, I bet she couldn’t wait to finally arrive and be in my arms once again... yeah right!

Getting to the airport to pick her up was something of a challenge though, as when you are soaked through to the bone and stained red, even Indian cabs wont take you.. fortunately I brought some nice ‘meeting the girlfriend’ clothes in bag so went searching for a place to change.  As most bars etc were closed, there were not many options so eventually I found a petrol station with a hose pipe out back and I covertly scampered  past the security, hid behind a van and got naked.  After a damn good hosing, it was clear that resistance was futile, the shit does not come off and short of tracking down a hardware store and picking up some turps, there were no real options.  I dried off, put the fresh clothes on, dived in a taxi and hauled ass to the airport to meet my darling dearest...

.... when she saw me running towards her with open arms to  welcome her, finally, to India... she went fucking mental !!!  Seriously, she was brewing ... for I looked a bit like an umpa lumpa crossed with the devil off balls of steel, modelling this season's Tommy Hilfiger... Don't worry, she did finally calm down (about 8 hours later to be precise) ...  but it was great to see her and I know, in her own special way, she was pleased to see me..

So into Sandi’s first week in Mumbai, no real carnage of note from my end, other than easing her into this chaotic city with the help of many rickshaws and many bottles of the Old Monk ... She did go off and find her own bizarreness one day which basically consisted of accosting a young shoe shiner boy off the street and convincing him to be her personal guide to Bandra for the day... as you would expect, he was playing the long game, trying to get her to shell out 1200 rupees (about £18) for a ‘new shoe shine box’.. I give you 10 to 1 it was for a crystal meth.. anyway at the end of the day, she dropped him the nominal fee of £1.80 for his services .. he would have arguably made more money if he had just carried on shining shoes for the day but a shrewd deal on the part of Sandi!

Oh I nearly forgot, I drafted Sandi in for a bit of my regular and slightly weird hobby of crow watching.. and here are a couple of gems for you:

***Crow Bistro***

Crow vs. Teachers Scotch part 1
He shoots...

This one would make the old man proud, tucking in to some of the foulest blended scotch ever produced...

Crow vs. Teachers Scotch part 2 -
He scores!!!

  

 ***Goa***

So this brings me to Sandi's first proper weekend in India.  Having been knee deep in Mumbai all week, we decide to take a cheeky flight over the border to Goa for a few days.

We fly on Friday evening and with the flight being about 45 minutes, we land and cover the 1 hour transfer (via the off license to pick up a half litre of the Old Monk) and arrive in Anjuna at the Orchid guest house before sunset.

We drop bags, take a walk down the beach and grab a big bottle of kingfisher from a nice little beach bar.  BTW, beer is seriously cheap in Goa... about 60-70 rupees (less than a quid) for a 650ml bottle in most bars - happy days!!

we ended up at a place at the end of the beach where a band were setting up their kit for a gig.  we settled in and ordered a curry, half a tandoori chicken and another bottle of the king.  The music was great and probably the most bizarre I have ever heard... the band consisted of:

• 1 X drummer - a shady looking east London type that resembled a pre 'online wanking-gate' lesley grantham
• 1 X bass player - a local Indian guy I think
• 1 X tabla player/percussionist, again Indian I think
• 1 X didgeridoo player - a bald Israeli chap who had just finished chonging a spliff with the guy sitting next to us
• 1 X electric sitar player/lead singer - french-Israeli I think as the songs seemed to vary in language as the set went on

Now the music had the aboriginal drone of the didgy, the rhythm of a Jamaican reggae band, with Indian Sitar riffs and a blend of french vocals and Hebrew chanting - fucking ace!! I'm sure one of the songs only had a single word in it, but repeated constantly to the sound of Bob Marley and Ravi Shankar spit roasting Rolf Harris, it worked...

The Orchid and erroneous bovine

On the Saturday, I got up and went to find the local shop and a place to hire transport of some ilk.  I was initially presented with an erroneous bovine, parked right outside the guest house with a kind of 'whassup bitch?!' look on its face.  Unusual maybe, but then again, this is India and bovine is as bovine does....  

I continue a further ten feet and come across another sacred moo, rubbing itself against a post and looking pleased with life.  I stop to take a couple of snaps of the cheerful beast, as you do in these situations. 

Goran, the other sacred moo

T minus 0.5 seconds to impact

After the first couple, she stopped what she was doing and came walking over to say hello.  'sound' I thought to myself, and got the camera ready for a few shots of me stroking the holy beef (which I'm aware could also be a euphemism for masturbation).  

Just then, she picks up pace and charges forward... my appalling reflexes kick in and instead of moving out of the way, I remained still and pressed the button on the camera - twat.  So what I actually ended up with was this photo of her about half a second before I was gored into a fence.  Cheeky fucking cow!

Easy rider ... 

Anyway,  I got over my minor winding, and we finally rented out a Honda Activa who shall be known as Marilyn, or Maz to her friends... a quality little runner, professionally hired with no helmet, deposit or requirement to see a license, which was good as I dont have one.  In fact, having informed the guy that we had no experience with a bike whatsoever, he still didn't seem phased and loaned Maz to us for the nominal fee of 200 rupees (about three quid) per day...

I want one of these

We filled her up and hit the country lanes of Anjuna... absolutely class day and not a single RTA, despite running into some of the more unusual Goan road traffic 

Our stilted retreats

 

We found a couple of beach bars (one called five five and the other was called something to do with Buddha but I cant recall the exact name). They had stilted boudoirs where you could sit out and watch the world go by whilst boys scale the ladders with food and beer - perfect.

where do I start with this one ... ?

To be fair, our lofty perches, despite swaying in a pretty concerning manner, actually turned out to be a phenomenal location to spot an array of Goan strangeness without ever having to move.

un-fucking-necessary

These are just a few of my favourites taken from up there.  Oh, and the title pic from the top of this blog entry was also taken up there...

Mary... she has always dreamt of
being a horse.....go on Mary!
(queue REO Speedwagon...)

So we stayed and watched the sun set from our bamboo acropolis before heading back and changing ready for the night. 

In the evening, we went to the 'Saturday night market' which is supposed to be a pretty famous place in Goa where locals and hippies go and peddle their wares.  To be fair, there were some decent things there but the prices were inflated and the whole thing was a bit touristy if I'm honest.

The highlight of the evening however, presented itself before we even got into the market. Having negotiated my first scooter ride in the dark and found the place, we ditched Maz in a street about ten minutes walk from the market.  We strolled to the market and I fired up a Marlborough Light for the walk, as I assumed it might not be cool to smoke inside the market area.

Suddenly, I hear shouting ... I turn and see a police booth, manned by three or four officers.  They were unimpressed by my antisocial behaviour and proceeded to demand a fine from both of us.  Without waiting to find out how much the fine was, Sandi went to war with them (Good girl!).  it started with 'show me where the signs are saying its illegal to smoke on this street..!' and when the response was 'its the law of Goa and we don't need a sign' she followed up with 'go on then, tell me where, EXACTLY WHERE in your legal code, what section and paragraph it says that smoking on this street'  his response?: 'dont you raise your voice with me, I can make big problem for you'... the others start gathering around and things are hotting up so Sandi, clearly recognising that things are getting out of hand, tries to calm the situation with 'WHAT? WHAT EXACTLY CAN YOU DO?? HUH? GO ON, TELL ME, WHAT BIG PROBLEM IS IT YOU ARE GOING TO MAKE FOR US IF WE DON'T PAY?'... great, just fucking marvelous...  

There's no smoke without fine....

Not sure what was said next but Sandi somehow demanded to see all of the records they had for previous fines so that she could prove that all of those fined were foreign tourists that were being entrapped by the corrupt Goan police so they could make a quick buck.  She was, as always, 100% correct but there really was little point arguing as we didn't have badges, or moustaches.  Whilst Sandi was trawling through the police archives, I was able to note one key point - the fine we had been arguing about for 25 minutes was for 100 rupees (about one pound fifty) each... I raised the point to her but by this time, she was firmly glued to her soapbox and wouldn't step down without some form of moral victory.

So I found myself in between the police and Sandi, trying to negotiate a settlement that would appease everyone.  The deal we eventually shook on was 50% off the total fine.  Unbelievable really but we actually ended up haggling a police fine down to one pound fifty from three quid.  I would have happily paid the three quid just for the official reprimand!!!

Sunday was my final day in Goa as I was due to head back Monday morning to go to the office.  I like that btw - the fact is that I can comfortably leave a beach apartment in Anjuna at 6am, get a one hour cab to Goa airport for a 7.45 flight that gets me to Mumbai at  8.30 and a rickshaw straight to the office and at my desk by 8.50.

What we should have seen - Dudhsagar falls

Sunday's highlight was to be going to see an Dudhsagar waterfall about two and a half hours drive away.  Apparently its immense and you can bath in the waters at the bottom.  We decided to posh it up and hire a car rather than take Maz across the state.  Stanly the owner of the guest house had a friend that would lend us his new Maruti Suzuki Swift for the day for about twenty rats ... not a bad deal so we went for it.  He dropped the car off and we got packed up and headed out.

We first of all went to the petrol station to fill her up and then we were off ... AC on, the car owner's selection of tunes, mostly consisting of 'the very best of Akon' raging through the speakers... Today was going to be a good day....

...BANG!!!!.... whilst belting down the lane, the windscreen has imploded and I have small pieces of glass lodged in several orrifi!

what we actually saw - coconut falls

Sandi skillfully prevents us from crashing and brings the car to a halt.  What the fuck happened??!? there was a round indent in the windscreen right in front of my face that looked like a meteor had hit us... We are shaken but still very much alive and get out of the car.  There is a guy on a moped behind us, not really looking like he gave a shit.  I looked at him and pointed at the windscreen ... he raised an eyebrow and pointed at a coconut on the ground and then at a big ass coconut tree towering above the lane.  Great, just fucking brilliant ... a drive by nutting within one mile of the petrol station, how embarrassing.  I run over and fill Sandi in on the situation, by which time the guy on the moped, and indeed the offending coconut, had disappeared - the cheeky bastard nicked the coconut and fucked off without a word!

We call Stanly who comes and drives the car back for Sandi whilst I have the pleasure of following behind on his Activa.  We end up getting the whole thing straightened out with Stanly's mate for 1000 rupees (about thirteen quid) to cover his insurance claim.  He even said, 'keep the car for the day and drive it around if you like ...  oh yes mate, good call - the window has partially disintegrated and most of the missing glass is not lodged in my face but its still ok to drive... due diligence doesn't really come into the vehicle hire game in India from my experience.

In the end, we settled for a day with Maz, tearing up the streets of Goa on a Kingfisher fuelled tour of the local eateries and bars ...

***Flob watch***

I leave you this week with the glad tidings from the world of oral discharge....

This is truly huge even if i do say so myself...

it has taken eight weeks, hundreds of rickshaws, thousands of camera snaps, and literally millions of gallons of lung butter ... but i have finally bagged the money shot for you.

The scene:

1. its Thursday, I'm on my way home from work
2. I'm in a rickshaw, as usual, stuck in traffic
3. its fucking hot... too hot some would say... for the sweat was pouring from me like an extreme paedophile in an adventure playground

I sit and sweat for a few minutes before I see the first offering of a nearby rickshawian flemite.  now its tricky to preempt a hock usually and once notified to an ongoing hock, you will be pretty lucky to arm the camera by the time either the traffic moves or the hocking temporarily desists... but today, I'm feeling lucky..

I'm not sure what it was but I knew this guy still had more he wanted to get off his chest, but there simply wasn't time to get the camera.  I reached for the blackberry and fired her up ... the Ricky moved forward but got stuck again, there was no way out and I had him cold... I had just a second for the auto focus to set in before he unleashed this absolute beast... without trying to sound like a wannabe Jedi, I didn't even see it, I felt it just a split second before it happened and hit the button.  it wasn't til afterwards that I saw the snap and knew this was a gem.

Next weeks blog will be all about our week in the Andaman Islands and any other random crap that occurs in the mean time....

Laters,

Gray