Colours

What an interesting weekend.

Having caught the trailer of "Hitch" during one of my movie excursions, I decided not to give it a miss and gathered my international alliance of friends-cum-colleagues for a good Friday night outing. The group comprised a healthy multicultural mix from Singaland, Malaysia, Sri Lanka, India, Britain and Jordan. After 2 hours of satisfying entertainment and laughter, the diversified us chilled out at the Wharf, exchanging our lives and cultures while savouring the piping-hot pies from the Harry's Cafe-on-the-Wheels. As we headed home, the streets were still bustling with young blondes and brunettes boozing their nights away in the various pubs.

We drove down to Sydney the next morning, with the sole aim of catching the per annum Mardi Gras celebrations, a high-profile and most daring Gays and Lesbians parade of the year. It is the loudest civic-rights demonstration in Oz and is brimmed with political and religious connotations.

The whole stretch of roads from Elizabeth/Liverpool to Oxford Streets were cordoned off by noon and curious spectators started parking themselves there 3 hours before the commencement of the event, with the hope of catching the best glimpses and snapshots of the parade.

We made our way to the destination at 8, just when the parade had started. The lure of the bright blue neon light and throngs of people heading towards the main site was irresistable. Amidst shrilling whistles and cheers, the multi-coloured floats adorned with the trademark rainbow emblems streamed along the roads, with entertaining performances and dances by the representatives from various ethnic groups and associations, some dressed controversially, others simply unattired.

The air was thick with humour and politics, with faces of the PM J.Howard and US President G.Bush making regular appearances, whether as the head of a "dragon dance" or integrated as part of the amusement, with "Bush" slapping the bum of the gyrating "Howard". There was also a spoof on Prince Charles and his aging mistress Camilla which was rather ticklish. We could not help but ogled at the well-toned 6-packed torsos of some of the male performers and the delicate features of their female counterparts.

After a fulfilling dinner at the Mokoto Sushi Bar when the performances ended (2 hours later), we made our way to one of the gay pubs at Oxford Street, armed with an open mind and an inquisitive attitude.

The party was certainly not over as the street was still littered with large crowds of merry-makers and spontaneously gyrating transgender street performers. There was minimal trouble and crime, with hordes of patrol police stationed on their stylish horses and on the ground. The displays of human rights and freedom were evident.

As we joined the long queue outside the pub, I was particularly conscious of our only female presence amongst the XY majority. Our male companion was reluctantly dragged to join us, much to his exasperation and discomfort. It was only when we offered to pay for his cover charge that he eventually relented.

It was an eye-opening experience for us. We did not feel a tinge of intimidation despite the large population of males and were intrigued by the open displays of affection among the pubbers. The music was engaging and the "sights" fascinating. After a drink and some "touchy-feely", it was with satisfaction and awe that we left Sydney in the midst of the night back to the highway for home.

That was indeed a unique way of spending an entertaining evening and night.