Holi Shit in Varanasi

Seriously, a mosquito bite between the eyes? You'd think I'd have seen that coming.

The last 24 hours were tough on our little crew. We were heading to Varanasi by train to celebrate Holi. It started off great with G announcing that we had first class sleeper tickets. Yay! We had three compartments to ourselves with doors. The thinking was that it would help keep us safer since we were travelling on Holi. They went through with sniffer dogs and there was a soldier with a machine gun patrolling the hall to prove they were taking the safety thing seriously. It was a nice change from the regular sleepers we had been dreading and should have been nice, except I had vicious nausea and two others were dancing the Delhi belly two step throughout the night. Most people weren't able to sleep.

I have to admit my first impression of Varanasi was not a great one. As soon as we were loaded in our van straight from the train, the police showed up to demand a bribe. Our driver had to pay 500 R for having parked close enough to ensure our safety. For perspective, that is more than the average Indian makes in a day. G reimbursed him so he wouldn't lose money having worked for us.

The drive was interesting with the streets full of men and boys covered in paint, some wearing brightly coloured wigs, others wearing dresses and quite a few whipping around on scooters or motorcycles wearing silver paint on their faces. Dogs and cows we passed were covered in colours. Holi is supposed to be the spring festival of love, harvest and colour; the time when you harvest your chickpeas, hug your enemies, burn the old and bring in the new. You smear colour on people's third eyes and hug heart to heart. This was like Canada Day on crack.

Then we got to our hotel, Palace On the Ganges, the highest rated most expensive hotel in Varanasi and the most expensive hotel on our trip. We got in cleanly and safely despite the Holi celebrants screaming and throwing colours around us. My room was basic and tidy with a lovely view of the air shaft. My bathroom came complete with pets. Aloysius, the acrobatic cockroach, is my favourite amongst them. My bedsheet (only one) is well suited to exfoliating all the dead skin I have accumulated. At least I have a room. They put some of our party in mouldy basement rooms and, when they refused to accept the rooms, the hotel didn't have space for all of us. G had to do a stand-in at the reception desk to get a room.

Apparently their restaurant policy is to refuse to take food orders from anyone without a penis. We watched as the restaurant staff declined food orders from all women but fetched lime soda and fruit salad for men who came. Our table waited 4 hours for lime sodas that never came, with N reminding them about the order every hour. We would have gone elsewhere but everything was closed and the streets were not safe. N almost came to blows after ordering a beer and waiting one and a half hours for it, then watching a man come in, order one and have it delivered within 15 minutes. She threw such a ruckus at the waiter that the tourist guy insisted he give it to her. We were told they were unable to feed us any lunch or drinks because it's an official holiday and they have neither food nor staff and, oh, we don't have dicks.

After some of us were shown our rooms we went down to the street level restaurant for breakfast and had a clear view of the Holi craziness. The boys were really out of control hitting each other and freaking out and disrupting vendors. A group of young men attacked one guy with 2x4s and started beating him until a police officer interceded. Mind you, this was around 9am. These guys probably weren't high on bhang lassis yet. While it is illegal to smoke marijuana in India, it is not illegal to consume it in eatables, hence the lassis. Holi is a big excuse to get drunk or high and do crazy shit. This is what happens when young men can't have premarital sex - they just go apeshit.