We had learned that the Indian Holi Festival was going to be on Saturday, March 10 -- the day we planned to leave. We went ahead and made all our clearance papers, but stayed long enough to witness, and join in, this happy holiday affair. Nobody seemed to be able to tell us much about Holi other than it was the Festival of Color. I imagine it is like people in the USA having a hard time trying to explain about Haloween to visitors. We often find this is the case with traditions. They are just there. You grow up with them and don't need explanations. Or maybe you just don't pay attention to them.

The day before Holi, the streets were full of vendors selling packets of colored powder -- small, large, or huge bags of the powder which were then ladled out and wrapped up in cones of newspaper. VIVID color -- purple, yellow, red, teal, orange, green,magenta. We bought small bags of the first two. Also for sale were squeeze bottles; for the powder, we assumed. OK... We could see that. But there were what looked like water squirters as well. This seemed a bit alarming, and was, as it turned out.

The minute we tied up the dinghy and stepped ashore the kids were ready to "color" us. These kids were a riot of color all over -- their hair, face, clothes, arms and legs. Pat and Jim had been through this once before and had warned us to wear old clothes. We could now see why! The kids giggled and slapped around and then took some of our color powders and placed splotches on our cheeks and foreheads. They were very gentle. And we of course gave them a dose of color in return. From then on we were part of the game, part of the Holi Festival.

	Getting another touch of red for my blue cheek! All the fellows were very gentle when they put the color on.

We quickly saw who were the main "kings" of this color parade, and also realized that we should have come along into town a lot earlier. The streets of Port Blair had been taken over by groups of boys and young men -- say ages 10 through 20, now in a full color frenzy. You only saw a few adults with color on. There were no young girls participating, certainly no women at all. Many of the shops were either closed or had all the lights turned off.

The squads of boys colored us (gently) with powders, and we colored them. Most of it was good-natured and happy, with singing and impromptu dancing. Our only concern was that the powders would drift off our face and forehead and get blown into our eyes. We had to be careful. And of course the cameras. It wasn't until we got caught in the crossfire of some overly exuberant guys on opposite sides of the street, going beyond powder to squirt guns filled with colored water, that there was trouble. We got pasted with blue-green streams of water. Al shouted to them to back off, that the camera was vulnerable, and they did. But the next color squirting group wasn't going to listen until Al picked up a rock.

They got the message. After that it wasn't much fun anymore. We stopped for a soft drink, then to the market for a few fruits and vegetables. The vendors smiled broadly when they saw our colorful appearance, but were too polite (amazed?) to say anything. We changed anchorages to the west side of the harbor where the water was cleaner for swimming. The powdered color washed off skin and hair with soap and a good scrubbing. We left the next morning for the short passage back to Thailand. I still wore a blue-green cloud of color across my jaw and neck; Al had a big green handprint right in the middle of his back! They gradually faded away, but our memories of Holi Festival will remain bright forever.