By: Liz Pond
Please welcome our newest contributor, Liz Pond! We are proud to introduce you to her column, Travelin' Light. She’ll share with us how she travels light in terms of both luggage and freedom of spirit to fully appreciate all travel has to offer.
This month, Liz shares her personal story of why she brings an extra set of clothes in her backpack on the plane. This may come in handy on your next ASU OLLI adventure!
TRAVELIN’ LIGHT
Happy Holi and the Lost Luggage
“An adventure is only an inconvenience rightly considered. An inconvenience is only an adventure wrongly considered.” - Gilbert K Chesterton
As I rummaged through the dusty lost-and-found clothing crate at our three star hotel in New Dehli wearing my fancy first class black pants and designer top, I wished I had put an extra outfit in my backpack. We had cashed in our loyalty points to upgrade for the long flight and checked our luggage at the curb with a respected foreign flag airline. We were therefore surprised to find that upon arrival in India, my bag had gone missing. It was last seen on its way to Heathrow and now, 24 hours into the trip, I was praying to the travel Gods it would arrive before our tour to Rajasthan started tomorrow.
We were prisoners of the hotel because today was the Holi Festival. To explain, “Every Spring, people in India and around the world celebrate the Hindu Festival Holi, throwing colored water and powders on one another in joyous celebration. On this day, the full moon day of the Hindu month of Phalguna, societal rankings such as caste, gender, age, and status are eschewed in the spirit of making merry together, and everyone is fair game to be doused with color.” (1)
Holi is also sometimes called the “festival of love” as on this day people reunite together forgetting all resentment. The ritual starts by lighting up the bonfire one day before the day of Holi and the process symbolizes the triumph of good over bad. (2)
We could hear the sound of the revelers outside the hotel growing louder as the day progressed. The air was filled with a constant chorus of laughter, shouting, high pitched squeals, and endless music serenading those opting to stay safe inside. The Hotel staff actually encouraged us not to go out due to the craziness on the streets and the property’s reportedly superior restaurant food option. Even the roof of the hotel was risky business because this made us targets for the firehose of color that materialized from other high buildings.
My glimpse of India so far had been limited to the airport transfer and I was bursting with excitement to explore. The cab from the airport served up an explosion of the senses. Beautiful colored saris and bright hues of crimson and honey yellow spices awakened my eyes. Honking horns, construction, and bollywood music pounded into my brain and the pungent smell of turmeric, tandoori, and garam marsala swirled in the air with sweat and the burning flesh of chicken and pork. Crusty cows wandered the streets and freely walked into internet cafes while Chai Wallahs or tea sellers, camped on the curb filling water from a spigot in the ground chanting “Chai Chai Chai!” to the passersby. This place was as far from my usual surroundings as I had ever been, and I embraced India’s differentness with my whole being. I craved more and anxiously awaited the moment I could escape from the hotel.
It was this desire that drove me to the questionable lost and found on this happy Holi. I found a man's white button down shirt two sizes too big and some tan drawstring pants that I could roll up on the bottom. I shook them off launching soot into the heavy air and examined the inseam for bugs before committing to the clothing transformation.
Looking at my 5 foot reflection in the hazy hotel mirror, I could pass for a child dressing up in her dad’s clothes. I gathered all my courage as there were cool back-packers and women in stylish jeans and T’s decorating the lobby. I was a sight to see and even the most polite onlookers struggled not to stare. When I reached my travel companion, he burst out in a loud Western guttural laugh that startled the inhabitants of the lobby more than my appearance. I was unphased as I was determined not to miss out on this experience.
Walking onto the street it took less than a minute to feel the first sting of bright pink powder land on the shoulder of my white shirt, decorating my hair and hitting my eye. As we crossed the street to dash into a souvenir shop selling mini taj mahal statues and camel lighters, the second launch hit my travel companion from above. His hair was now yellow and as he shook his head to dislodge the lemon snow it collected on my pink shoulder,magically resulting in an apricot sleeve.
Eventually we made our way to a restaurant, getting bombarded with blue, purple, green and more pink dust. My white shirt was the perfect canvas, displaying each assault and inspiring enthusiastic cheers from its artistic creator. The sun was low in the sky and the festivities were kicking into high gear. An impressive number of beer bottles lined the streets which were transformed by hours of collecting colorful dust. They created a giant splotchy rainbow that came alive in a rock concert style purple haze. The dust hung in the street and in our lungs making it hard to breathe.
Once safely ensconced in a restaurant, my eyes started to water creating a kaleidoscope of tears and making it difficult to read the menu. In spite of it all, I could not stop smiling which gave the colored dust an easy entrance into the corners of my mouth. A round of sniffing and making horse-like sputtering noises dislodged what was necessary to see the menu. Then came a slam on the window and a color bomb splattered on the outside glass leaving just enough space to see the undulating teenager with hands swirling high in the air caught up in the Happy Holi fever. Outside the fireworks of color continued.
By the time we made our way back to the hotel, the celebration had escalated and those that had over-indulged wobbled out of doorways or found spots on the curb to nap. The bottles had become glass land mines for those still dancing on the street. Some party goers speckled the road with energizer bunny enthusiasm, while others droned on, glass-eyed, and pushed forward only by a celestial momentum fighting the will not to give in to exhaustion. It may have not been the wisest thing to be out after dark, but my adrenalin was high from adventure and discovery. I had fallen in love with this celebration of new beginnings. I only wish I had brought an extra set of clothes in my backpack!
“Life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all.” - Hellen Keller
About the Author:
Liz Pond spent over 25 years leading teams around the globe in the travel industry flying for both work and personal. During her Sales and Marketing Career at American Airlines it was common to find out she was heading out on the road internationally within 24 hours. Miles logged and travel mishaps taught her how to be ready for almost anything. Liz enjoys sharing the travel tips she has learned along her journey. Liz hopes to reach her goal of traveling to 100 countries before year-end by visiting to at least two new destinations. Liz divides her time between world exploration and accessibility advocacy. Liz believes we have opportunity to enhance lives through positive accessible travel experiences. Today, she shares her personal story of why she brings an extra set of clothes in her backpack on the plane. This may come in handy on your next ASU Ollie adventure.
References:
- https://www.britannica.com/story/holi-festival-of-colors, article Holi: Festival of Colors by Nora Gonzalez.
- https://www.holifestival.org/
Additional Resources for learning more about the rich history, Indian mythology and legends of the Holi Festival, or Festival of Colors:
