I forgot that today is the Indian holi festival or otherwise known as the festival of colour. Driving from north goa after saying a sad farewell to my two new mums I am overwhelmed in the taxi journey to south goa with all the people on the streets covered in bright chalky paint. We drive past motorbikes with guys all painted like a messy rainbow with electric blues, fuchsia pinks and neon yellow daubed all over their faces and bodies.
Whole families line the streets throwing paint on cars and passing pedestrians, there is a real fun party atmosphere and I’m desperate to get stuck in! After a few hours we arrive in a tiny beach called Patnem in south goa that will be my home for the next week or so. I meet up with Irish Desiree, who I met in Thailand around New Year’s Eve time. She has been here for the past two months so knew everyone in the small beach huts we were staying.
Changing into my bikini and getting straight on the soft sandy beach I instantly felt a million times happier. There are only a handful of sun loungers, huge expanse of clean sand and instead of irritating beach sellers or pervy men there are people contorting themselves into downward dogs and other random yoga positions. We were staying at a place called ‘Chillies’ ran by a few lovely Indian guys who were only too happy to bring us cocktails whilst we were sunbathing. My room was a small beach hut that was made out of wood with a palm tree strewn roof, given the rustic feel it wasn’t uncommon to share my bathroom with a variety of creepy crawlies and frogs!
I meet up with the little ‘Chillies’ gang of such lovely people who are also staying here. Norwegian mid forties guy called Lars is the daddy of the group, the mum is Londoner and spiritualist Jennie, two fun party girls welsh Laura and Cambridgeshire lass Rachel as well as Desiree are all giddy about the colour festival party we are going to tonight. We dress up in white to show off maximum messiness and head off in tuk tuks to this remote rave taking place in the forests.
It is a crazy sight to see people from nearly every nationality dancing around and running up to complete strangers throwing paint over them. It was so good to just feel carefree and not care that I was slowly turning into a walking smurf. Usually when out dancing and getting sweaty there is the fear that makeup will run and hair will be a frizzy mess but tonight the main worry was the chalky paint mixing with sweat turning into a paste!