Orange pride

Already sick for a few days now.
As always I use my customized get-well-soon program, consisting of taking rest (meaning not doing as many things as usual), taking in lots of vitamins and listening to music, the best medicine in time. I consider myself to be a healthy person and I believe that your body should try to heal itself first before feasting yourself on the medicine cabinet. Almost everyone I meet here believes in the opposite; pills please! They might think now my attitude towards medication is a Dutch thing but don’t  worry, it’s a Dennis thing only.

However, my method is not working. I should have known, this is India; positive or negative, everything is more extreme here! So I went to see a doctor this morning. Feels like a personal defeat but it has to be done. Being refused at the first hospital for questionable reasons, I start wandering around to look for anything that slightly resembles a doctor’s practice. While being harassed by an Indian guy/boy who wants to be more than a good friend (if you know what I mean), I finally find another ‘hospital’. I love the way they dare to call such a small practice a hospital. They kindly help me within several minutes and I walk out with a bag of medicines, fewer rupees in my pocket, but a bit more hopeful.
I’m back home. A bit hesitant at start to actually take in all this medical crap, but after gangster Gabi tells me to “just ride the trip and you’ll wake up a new man” I swallow the 3 different pills and start writing on this new medicine high. Usually my writing process is initiated with a nice glass of rum and coke. But this is also just fine..  

Anyway, new topic: cricket.
India is cricket. You will see kids play it here every day and everywhere. I still don’t understand what makes the sport so attractive. Maybe because it connects the people? When the Dutch football squad has to play for the Euro or World Cup for instance, the entire country slowly turns orange and everyone seems to love football all of a sudden. The country is never more harmonious as during these tournaments.
I miss that feeling. Although I’m not always happy with the climate/way of life/cold people in my own country, I do feel proud wearing an orange jersey or seeing the Dutch tri-coloured flag.
So when I heard there was going to be a cricket match between the Netherlands and South Africa for this year’s World Cup, my orange heart grew of happiness and curiosity.
I bought so-called student tickets at the stadium a week before, the Indian way. That means not at the official ticket counter because I couldn’t prove to be a student but after some asking around, making a scene here and there and being sent to some back-office, I finally got hold of the tickets. 50 rupees only (almost 1 euro) for a 6 hour match, no bribe needed. Incredibly cheap! And incredibly helpful people. Oh, and I almost forgot; some local news channel also interviewed me regarding the upcoming match. It was time to act as a big time cricket fan and although I didn’t even know before that Holland had a cricket team, I think they bought it.

Between buying the tickets and the actual match, I just want to mention this epic, out-of-control, party-hard, hilarious and most of all perfect weekend in Delhi. There are a few reasons why it was that good:
For one, it was my return. As you may recall, I spend my first day in India there, totally blown away by the chaos. Now, I was coming back more experienced and capable to handle its extremes. And it was a proud moment walking out of the station and feeling like a king, the king of Delhi.
Second, we went with an amazing group of (crazy) people. Each one of them having a positive attitude and fulfilling a certain role within the group, complementing the others. You feel like you’ve been with these people for years. It doesn’t get any better than this.
Furthermore, the previous weekend trips were to spiritual and religious places. It made you think, it made you calm and quiet. Delhi on the other hand, nothing spiritual about this place! Delhi equals crazy! It therefore really felt like going for holidays with friends, just forget about work and obligations for a while and just go wild. The ‘jumping pics’ express these feelings.
Last but not least, lots and lots of alcohol leading to drinking games and a ‘masala peanut’ war in our hotel room (declared as Bagdad) until early in the morning. I have seen things that night…my god.

 

Alright, back to cricket.
The day before the match me and Gabi, my half Filipino/half Dutch partner in crime, are being interviewed by a news reporter of the Indian Express. He wants to do a story about the Dutch connection with cricket and how we are planning to support our team.

How we eventually supported the Orange cricketers?

First of all by waking up with a huge hangover thanks to a memorable party I don’t remember, me calling everyone else on their cell phone to wake the fuck up and by putting on our orange outfits. Part of the outfit was the orange turban. Problem: no one to tie them. Solution: Martin going on the streets to ask random Sikh people to help us. Result: wearing a great orange turban! The face painting session follows and we get more and more excited. But the hangover is holding us down. So let’s drink some beer to kill it! We get into a tuk-tuk to the nearest liquor store, shout “HOLLAND” to all the people staring at us, chug some Kingfisher and we feel sooo good! Slovakian Martin acts like even a bigger orange supporter than me and Gabi looks like she just stepped out of the Dutch 60’s. Karan, the first Indian with Dutch flags on his face is there to control us.

Then, tipsy tuk-tuk to the stadium, taking pictures with the security guards, robbing another liquor store from its daily routine and finally arrive at the entrance of the place where the magic is supposed to happen. We enter the stadium, shout “HOLLAND” and hundreds of Indians simultaneously turn their faces to us; crazy white people, wearing turbans and dressed in orange. Phones are appearing everywhere, pictures are taken and we’re able to sweep up the not so impressive crowd whenever we want. It doesn’t take long before we get tired of it but I think we had a nice 15 minutes of funny fame. Finally settled in our seats, our African counterparts under the lead of Malick join us. Orange together with Green in colourful India.

The match takes long. Too long. The effect of the beers runs out and we get very sleepy on this sunny day. I realize that cricket is not my game.  But let’s be honest, it might also have to do with the fact that Holland is not good at it.

Next day: Orange and Green all over the newspapers!

"A journey is best measured in friends, rather than miles" - Tim Cahill