While waiting for Ed to finish getting his hairs cut, I accidentally stumbled upon a Bhangra Festival:
I originally had grand plans to go buy makeup, but I found myself utterly entranced by the colours and music. I ended up inching my way closer to the stage for a better look, eventually getting clear view of the action (save for the guy standing in front of me dancing along and waving his arms in my face). It was so cool! Can’t really go wrong with dancing men in bright colours .. which brings me to my point: I would like to file a complaint against my heritage for not having bright shiny dance times. As far as I can tell, there is nothing about being a half-Malaysian half-Canadian-Euro-Mutt that allows me to bounce around in glorious silken robes festooned with sequins and jewels and that is NOT FAIR. Perhaps I need to invent some sort of movement that will allow me fantastic sequins and fun music (I think I will skip the Macklemore mix though). I am endlessly jealous of Bhangra dance, and wish Ed had more hair that needed to be cut so I could have watched some more. Alas, we had to leave all too quickly, and now I have nothing more than a bunch of Instagram photos and a yearning for spangled tunics.
Today was the finale of the Vancouver International Bhangra Celebration, but now that I know what the deal is, I will make plans to attend next year. MORE DANCING! AND SEQUINS!
Time for bed. Gotta go to London.