Blame Canada

Saturday distinguished itself as the day in my life spent entirely in a robe. Okay, I’ll explain. First of all, I played Mary telling a story about Jesus in our church’s video for kids (here I am dressed in not much more than a sheet, drinking coffee through a straw to avoid smudging my very un-Marylike lipstick).

Then, in the evening, we went to a Sikh wedding where I wore my friend’s beautifully coloured, but marginally oversized, pyjama suit (below). Actually, it was the reception rather than
the wedding, but it was still brilliant fun. The bride and groom arrived about an hour late, and were immediately treated to a performance involving folk dancing girls and boys doing bhangra. The girls were of, shall we say, varying quality, but the guys were absolutely brilliant.

They came on holding these lattice things that looked like they should be holding up the flowers in someone’s garden. When these lattices were compressed together, they made a loud ‘clack’ in time to the music. The guys whirled around the dancefloor, synchronized and in formation, moving their hands and feet and clacking to the bhangra beat. It was all very rhythmic and hypnotic – I’d never seen anything like it.

As they danced, people came and threw money at them as a kind of thank you. Except they were throwing money at them – often in a teasing sort of way, often with a little jig of their own. It was something I couldn’t quite work out, and it was way, way too loud to ask anyone.

After that, the bhangra started up again and everyone came on the dancefloor to have a go. And I mean everyone – there were even granddads up there! The guy on the left in the black turban (pictured) had invited Joe and I (his wife was the one I partied with a month ago). At the end of the evening, he told me he’d never had a sister, and would I be his panji (Punjabi for sister)? In return, I could call him bhaji (brother – or, if you’re feeling literal, a deep fried onion snack) and he would beat up anyone who hassled me. I agreed enthusiastically – not only is having a tall big brother extremely handy, it was also a huge honour. And I get a Punjabi title!!

[Left: cute kids at the wedding]

Of course, this being an Indian wedding, the entire family was there to the fifth and sixth generation. It didn’t entirely surprise me that this included English people. But due to a reverse cultural snobbery in me (I’ve only just left the place!), I didn’t talk to them for very long. Especially when they started banging on about being homesick, having been away from England for all of three days. I mean, they were from Southall. It’s a great place to buy Indian stuff, and I’ve had very nice food in their Gurdwara (free meals for people of all faiths is a highlight of Sikhism), but it’s not really a place I’d pine for. I mean, what’s to miss? “Oh, how I long to sit in the perennially still traffic jam that snakes along the high street! I yearn for the days when I couldn’t walk from shop to shop without bumping into people for lack of space! I dream of crappy public transport, and those rancid and inexplicable smells that each gust of wind would conveniently waft up my nose!” As if.

[Right: Balwinder, mum and friend enjoy the show]

These were the thoughts going through my head as I talked to an English girl during a fresh air break. “You don’t get things like this in England, either,” she said, dubiously nodding towards a scrap unfolding a short distance away. I wondered what kind of social life she’d led, presumably one involving an ivory tower and being fed grapes, that didn’t mean going into an English town centre on a Friday night. Because fights are what guys do for entertainment there. Not to mention the girls.

[Left: All the women wore candelit jars on their heads in a ceremony at the end of the night. I'm under the jar on the right]

“And they talk funny here,” moaned English girl. This from someone who finished every sentence with the word “innit”. I guess some people just aren’t used to travelling abroad. And Canada is as capable as any country of inducing culture shock (I’d experienced it myself). But after three days? Come on.

Anyway, I’ve gone on for long enough. I’ll just leave you with a picture of the motor racing on Sunday, when we watched Joe’s boss burn rubber in his Corvette. He’s also English, has twelve exotic cars, made his millions in Canada, and wouldn’t go back to Blighty now for all the tea in China (or India). That’s the attitude : )

# posted by Suzie : 4:00 PM