Expecting me to be polite he says “But I gave you a good tour. Didn’t you enjoy it?”

I said “No. The whole thing was about extracting money,”

Accurately deducing that he is not getting more money from us, he leaves to find his next victim. John and I realize that he had nothing to do with our AirBnB host.

 

We tell the driver we want to go to Banke Bihari Temple. Our tuk tuk driver takes us to a market in the centre of the action. He points to an alley too narrow for the tuk tuk and says to go down there for the temple and he will wait for us. 

As we walk people are throwing colours at us or smearing paint on our faces. We see a few more tourists as well. A Belgian couple tell us that the temple is down the next alley on our left.

Everyone is calling out Happy Holi! As I’m smiling and yelling Happy Holi, a big pile of dry paint powder flies into my mouth.

We follow the crowd up the second alley which gets tighter and tighter with people pushing and shoving as we get closer to the temple. We reach the temple entrance and it’s packed shoulder to shoulder with people trying to get in and out. As shoes are not allowed in the temple the bottom of the temple steps are a sea of sandals mashed into muddy water with people treading on them. Unwilling to loose our own sandals in this quagmire and concerned about the mass of seething bodies John and I turn back. This is a bit too intense.

When we finally get out of the alley we start making our way back to our tuk tuk. A monkey grabs someone’s glasses from their head and runs up onto a roof.

 

 

We are now covered in colours. Our tuk tuk driver next takes us to the ISKCON Temple (aka Shri Krishna Balaram Mandir) in Vrindavan. ISKCON means International Society for Krishna Consciousness.

We remove our shoes at the entrance and put them in a more organized and mud free pile with many other shoes. Having read about losing shoes in another blog, John and I had gone yesterday to buy some cheap flip flops. I got a pair for $2 CAD but they had no pairs big enough for John’s feet so he is wearing his Columbia sandals. I fully expect to never see our shoes again.

Things are much more peaceful here, lots of people but no pushing and shoving and no colour throwing. The temple is gorgeous; bright white with ornate carvings and two outdoor staircases to the second floor. The place is beautifully decorated with all kinds of bright flowers. There are also a number of tourists around.

Soon I am surrounded by more and more people requesting selfie pictures with me. One person isn’t even done before another is nuzzling their way in. It’s like being Santa Claus at a shopping centre at noon on Christmas Eve. This goes on for a good twenty minutes before we can get away.

We go into one part of the temple where music is playing and a lot of women are dancing. There are even a few tourists dancing.

We move to another area of the temple where a Krishna band is playing, people are chanting and priests are mulling around. One priest walks around with a plate of flaming candles. Devotees approach him and wave there hands over the flames. Once again picture takers are surrounding me. One big guy is starting to take a picture and an elderly lady says no. He ignores her and she hits the phone out of his hand. After picking up his phone, she chases him out of the temple, boy did he run.

After walking around some more, John and I head for the exit. After a bit of digging, we are pleasantly surprised to find our sandals.

Our tuk tuk driver is waiting and takes us back to Mathura. We take a much needed, quiet break before our driver comes back to meet us at 3pm.

 

 

For the afternoon we want to go to Dwarkadhish Temple in Mathura which is the starting point to a Holi parade. Mathura is the birthplace of Lord Krishna. Rested up, our driver takes us through marshy fields filled with garbage to the riverside. We appear to be in the middle of nowhere when some teenage boys appear to negotiate rowing us up the river to a dock near the temple.

 

We didn’t know why the tuk tuk couldn’t take us straight to the temple and were thinking that the driver was getting a cut for delivering customers to the boatman. We agreed to a price of 150Rs each which given how short the distance was to the dock was an overpayment. But we had a pleasant row for a few minutes. It’s all about the experience!

We walk from the dock and find the temple. No problem getting inside this time but the parade has already left. We have a quick visit in the temple and then start to follow the parade route. John had researched the route but it’s pretty easy to follow given the trail of flower petals being eaten by hungry monkeys and coloured powder on the street. 

As we walk, the increasing crowds and loud music are indicators that we’re catching up to the parade. We reach the end of the parade and start walking through it. Several tractors slowly pull flat beds filled with people or dancers and loudspeakers blasting music. We dance with the crowds and get a lot more colour thrown on us. It’s fun but you can feel it getting rowdier.

While walking amongst the crowds, John steps in some fresh cow poop. I knew it was just a matter of time. He drags his foot to try and get rid of as much as possible.

Despite the crowds and parade floats, motorcycles still zip by.

When we get to the front of the parade we watch for awhile then walk back to our apartment. We pass a goat dressed in a sweater. 

 

In hindsight the tuk tuk driver probably had us use the boat to get to the temple because he knew the streets were impassable due to the parade. 

On the walk back, we pass a few effigies of the demoness Holika. She sits atop a huge pile of cow patties covered in colourful materials and decorations. Tonight is Holika Dahan when the cow patties are set on fire and the evil Holika is burnt. We see these effigy bonfires are at several intersections waiting to be lit.

 

 

Back at the apartment, it takes John and I a lot of time to clean up. We leave our paint encrusted clothes by the doorway for tomorrow’s festivities.

We go for supper at the Classic Restaurant next door. Another tourist comes in. She is cleaned up but her hair is still pink. She is with a bald guy whose head is a bright yellow.  She says she can’t get the colour out. I am so glad we took the precautions and I wore the plastic shower cap with the bandana over. The lady tells us that  she thinks the bonfires are to be lit after 8pm.

John and I show up to the one effigy near us at 7:45pm. There is nothing going on. The traffic is heavy and I don’t feel like walking around in the dark looking for burning Holikas. We sit and wait till 8:30pm. No bonfire yet. There are no women around and I’m feeling uncomfortable so John walks me back to the apartment and goes out on his own. I go to bed so John will take it from here.

 

I walk down the street for about 30 minutes to Holi Gate which is the centre of the festivities. A large Holika bonfire sits waiting to be torched. The Holi Gate is decorated in lights and a large crowd has gathered. On a stage in the street  loud music blares as brightly clothed dancers whirl around getting the crowd to clap and chant on cue. At night there is no colour throwing. But vendors have piles of coloured powders for sale on sheets spread on the ground or from carts in preparation for tomorrow’s festivities. Still no bonfires by 9:30pm so I start walking back. 

 

 

When I reach the effigy Kimberly and I sat by earlier I see that poor Holika is in the process of being burnt though the cow patty fire has yet to reach her body. I stop and watch the smoky event for a bit as crowds of mostly teenage boys also gather to watch. Some of them want selfie photos with me. I oblige but they start to get rather rowdy. One pulls me to the side and echoing my own thoughts that I should leave. I heed his advice and quickly head off back to the apartment.