When different cultures came together: International Street Fair

Irish, Brazilians, Persians, Japanese, Arabs. All of them and many more were present at the International Street Fair today. An exhibition of vibrant colors. A Gala, if you may. Each country had their individual stalls that showcased their country's tradition in fine fashion. Ranging from delicacies to rare traditional items. Trying ever so hard to impress the passer-by. And they succeeded too. I must say that it was tremendously hard to look past certain stalls.

The diversity of people, both, took me by great surprise, and interested me greatly. For one, I clearly underestimated the number of Arabs on my campus. For a little while, I thought I was in the middle of Hala Febrayer celebrations in Kuwait. Wherever I turned, I spotted people in Keffiyehs. Some even turned up in their dishdashas! I loved it. 

This diversity heightened the need to associate with your own culture. You either stuck to your culture or risked being left alone. Sans identity. And I had a culture to fall back on, one that I could call my own. Usually, I don't talk to people about my culture unless a topic pops up, but today, all of a sudden, there I was, going on and on about my culture. Conversing with a stranger about my culture without even being asked to. I didn't care. There was a lot of pride at stake today.

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Caribbean Steel Drums 

(All rights belong to Arnab)

There was a choreographed dance to a Bollywood mash-up, which I thought was quite nicely done. The whistling and howling after the performance gave a true indication of how many Indians were present. What's a celebration without a Bollywood dance and some loud desi-style whistling eh? 

After the Bollywood love, came my most favorite performance of the day. A band that played Irish trad to perfection. I found a good vantage point to view this performance. Couldn't miss it. I don't know the name of the track was played, but it didn't matter to me. The music was transcending, even amid the clamor of the crowd. The fiddle, banjo and accordion were the only instruments that I spotted. They combined to produce magic. It was magic. As if that wasn't enough, it was followed by an Irish Set Dance.  Needless to say, that left me out of breath. And no, I am not exaggerating. 

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There was Baklava too at the Turkish stall, priced at a ridiculous 5 dollar per cube. And then, at the Iranian stall, my friend and I, tried this drink called Saffron Sharbat - a mixture of sugar, rose water, saffron and ice. It was refreshing. And brought back certain memories associated with Rose Water. Yes, even a simple drink has the potential to unearth old memories/desires. 

To sum up the day in one word: Success. 

A creamy cupcake holding Syrian and Mali flags

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It is twenty minutes past three. And all I hear is my neighbors playing some good music, some really groovy music, some not so good music.  I guess when you have enough alcohol in your system, most music sounds good. She did play Gotye's Somebody That I used To Know, though. A hundred times at least. 

But it's chai for me now, as I resume on my adventure with a certain Mr. Holden Caufield, after a week's suspension. Sleep has to wait it's turn.