Holi Festival

I’m ba-aack!
How much has happened in the past three and a half years since my time in Spain! While I have heretofore reserved this blog for extra-U.S. experiences, there have been two adventures that have not graced the digital pages of this blog. Alas, my internet access in Ecuador was sporadic and in Honduras nearly nonexistent. (Maybe some day I'll get my act together enough to write some retrospective posts.) But there will be more electronic autonomy in Uganda, I’m hoping, at least. Then this blog will be truly world-wide-accessible!

The event photographed in this post appears to have taken place outside the U.S.—in India actually—since it is the Hindu celebration of Holi, also known as the Festival of Colors. In fact, upon seeing my pictures of the event on the internet last year, a high school friend of mine inquired as to whether or not I was in India at the time, where she actually happened to be. (How cool would it have been to rendezvous?!) Regrettably, I informed her that my pictures had not been taken in India, but in Spanish Fork, Utah of all places. There just so happens to be a substantial number of Hare Krishnas in the area, and a beautiful Hare Krishna temple. Holi festival has come to be known to some as the Unofficial BYU Spring Break (since we don’t get the traditional Spring Break that every other university in the nation gets. No, I’m not bitter about this at all.) and this year’s celebration was bigger than ever, thanks to spreading the word via Facebook.


In preparation for the big event, my good friend Lauren and I embarked on an errand in search of authentic Indian color in Salt Lake City, where we know for a fact that our friends have been successful in procuring the rich, vivid, brightly-colored Holi powder in past years. Lo and behold, the kind folks at India Unlimited were unable to supply us with our demand. ☹ They attempted to offer us consolation by mentioning that the Spanish Fork temple had ordered sufficient color for the anticipated crowd, but we left feeling dejected. We did not want the American-made chalky, pastel, looks-gray-when-it-mixes powder that they have sold in past years. But alas! Turns out the temple provided the real stuff this year, and it made a huge difference. I owe it to my lovely friend Vanessa for waiting in line ahead of time and purchasing it for me and the caravan that followed me down as we snaked our way through the traffic jam backed up 3 miles from the freeway exit to the temple. I managed to meet up with Vanessa just in the nick of time before the throwing of the colors commenced and plumes of indigo, hot pink, bright yellow, and forest green shot into the air.