Life Without Poutine: Holi Hai

I just finished talking about the highs and the lows, the ebb and flow of things, and I just have to laugh at how perfect today was. Today was certainly a high, as it marked several new beginnings.

The reason I went to Busan was to experience the Holi Hai festival. Holi Hai is a Hindu celebration that welcomes Spring. However it's also much more than that. With the coming of Spring, of new life, of vibrant colours, also comes an opportunity to start anew--mend broken relationships and let go of any emotional weights that have been weighing on your heart. It's a celebration of love and happiness.

The story of Holi Hai is that long ago there was a demon king, Hiranyakashipu, who considered himself God. His son, however, refused to worship him, as he worshiped Vishnu. Hiranyakashipu tried to punish his son into worshiping him, but Prahlada's faithful devotion to Vishnu would not waver. Eventually, the king's sister, Holika, was all like, "I got this, bro" and somehow tricked the apparently not too bright Prahlada to sit on a pyre with her for some reason. Unbeknownst to Prahlada, his trickster of an aunt wore a protective shawl that kept her safe from the fire. Holika, who also doesn't seem to have had it all together upstairs, somehow had her shawl blown off by the wind and it covered Prahlada instead, keeping him safe while his bitch of an aunt burned to a crisp. Then Vishnu swept in and snuffed out the evil king.

Now I'm not sure why Hindus named the festival after the villainous aunt in the story, but they did, and they mark the beginning of the celebrations by building a bonfire the night before the festivities, commemorating the night she got barbecued. The fire represents good triumphing over evil and is followed by an evening of song and dance.

The following day, people take to the streets and transform their bodies, matching the vibrant glow of the new Spring by pelting each other with dried colours. Afterwards, they clean themselves up and visit family and friends.

In certain parts of India, there is an entirely different meaning behind the festival--commemorating the love of Krishna and Radha--but at its core, it's still just a festival of love. Love is the only religion I need.

The gang and I arrived at Haeundae Beach just in time to register, get our colours (read: ammo), enjoy a couple of free (and cold, but still delicious) samosas, grab a late breakfast, and make it back to the beach for the start of the madness.

As we approached the festival area, I looked around at all of the people wearing white t-shirts (you don't want to wear your freshly ironed Armani shirt to Holi Hai) and I couldn't help but feel like we were going to a cult gathering to sip on some funky Kool-Aid.

There was some Hindu dude standing at the front of the crowd yelling the slowest and longest countdown ever, but nobody had the patience for the poor guy, so by the time he reached five, the colours were already flying. When he finally did get to zero, people threw even more colours in the air and we were suddenly swarmed by a funky haze of colour.

What followed was unlike anything I've ever experienced in my life Imagine walking through a huge mass of people jumping and dancing in euphoria, when suddenly a stranger's hand plants itself on your face and smudges powder all over you and rubs it all over your head, all while smiling from ear to ear and screaming happy tidings in your face. It was completely surreal and absolutely hilarious.

The act of throwing the powder, whether in the air or at somebody, or having it thrown at you, was like the embodiment of a smile. I could feel those delicious endorphins making their way through me. It was a feeling of utter joy, a feeling shared with complete strangers. Of course, after you've had powder thrown at you by somebody, you're not really strangers anymore, are you?

You just had to be careful not to get any powder in your eyes or your mouth. One poor girl got blindsided by a handful of green with her mouth wide open. Her teeth looked like they were rotting. We laughed, we hugged, we took a picture, and we moved on. Such is life. When someone throws dry paint in your mouth, you laugh and keep on dancing. Someone needs to put that on a shirt.

Having recently shaved my head, it seemed like I was a magnet for people's hands. After a couple hours, my hair was a resplendent technicolour piece of art. By the end of the fun, we all looked like a unicorn had thrown up on us.

The action started at noon and didn't stop for three hours. Music. Paint. Madness. When your bag ran out, you could simply purchase another bag for a dollar and continue the revelry.

While there were people from all over the world celebrating together, the Hindus in the crowd knew how to party best. They moved to the music like smooth criminals and sang along while others followed their lead. One guy got to his knees and started bouncing, arms waving in the air, as everyone around him extended their arms and shook them at him, as if casting a spell on him. Another guy locked eyes with a stranger, and then the two of them started pointing at something invisible in the sky with a look of awe and wonder on their faces before eventually locking eyes again, smiling, and high-fiving one another. Another guy got on all fours and a girl proceed to ride him like he was a bucking horse. Then there was the group who started throwing girls in the air like we were at a rock concert. And it seemed like every conga line was led by Hindu fellow.

When we were all coloured out, we headed to Fuzzy Navel, a nearby Mexican joint, where I had a beef and avocado burrito that was so good that I made some inappropriate sounds that I think may have startled Lex's sister, who was seated next to me. I blurted out "I forgot how amazing avocado tastes!" with my eyes closed in ecstasy.

I went to the washroom after I finished my meal, and it was there that I was finally able to see what I looked like in a mirror. I laughed out loud and turned my head left and right to admire everyone's handiwork.

Afterwards, I headed back to Nate and Kirsten's apartment to collect my things. When I got into the elevator to go back down to the main floor, there was a guy already in the elevator, texting on his phone. As soon as he saw me, though, he stopped texting and just stared at me completely bewildered as we rode down all ten floors in silence. I was howling on the inside.

It got even better once I got to Ulsan because I had to walk from the bus terminal to my apartment. The entire time, people kept staring at me. One lady even turned so she could keep looking at me as she passed by me. I smiled at some people and they immediately turned their eyes away.

Now I said at the start of this post that today marked new beginnings. It did, on many levels. I made a couple new friends, the weather was remarkably beautiful--hopefully a sign of things to come, and a blessing because we were all concerned in the morning that we were going to freeze outside wearing just a T-shirt--and most important of all, I threw away all of the clutter that was suffocating my heart. Today, I felt weightless, as I enjoyed the company of dear friends and drowned out the silence with laughs. The moral of the story: Smile, and the world smiles with you.