When life is a festival
One day soon I will wake up in a real bed, looking around the room nervously, shivering, asking myself: where am I? And more important: what just happened? Canadian festival summer is what happened! Seven festivals in eight weeks make me feel weak at the knees, speechless and voiceless. All the smiles, the dancing, the new friends in colourful dress ups, the love! I'm not even talking about the numerous weddings. It's the love of strangers for each other, flowing through music and gatherings of silliness.
Why do I follow festivals all over the world to the point where my voice is gone and legs are tired but there is no time for recovery? Why do I choose to be showerless, dusty and sweaty most of the weekends? Because these festivals change my life. They make me the happiest version of myself. They inspire me so much it makes my bones rattle with delight. Plus, nothing feels better than a hot shower after five days of dancing in the mud. A steaming bowl of homemade soup after weeks of granolabars and bananas. It's the small things.
By travelling from one festival to another I try to make this magic last. They are little worlds where everyone is family. Hugging happens on a 500 a day base. You can dance all day and all night and you can play and be a child in a candy store and Alice in Wonderland, at the same time if you like. Laughing is the spoken language and rolling over the floor with laughter is considered normal. Your weirdness is celebrated by a bunch of other weirdos and that's when the real fun happens.
Shambhala was the cherry on top of the festival summer. A place where 15000 people gather to get glittered up, dressed up just to dance it all off. Every tree in the forest is decorated, every stage plays amazing music and everyone was overflowing with excitement for this crazy party. Jumping castles and little path ways leading to tree houses. An all-day funk jam, morning river swims and nights of getting lost in the magical forest. Pure bliss and gratefulness. Hugging new friends and kissing familiar faces, I felt like a bird in a love nest. One with laser shows, house dj's and so much glitter it gave me a rash. Yep, it's a thing. Too much glitter on your face and you wake up in a sparkly tent but with a bright red face. The glitter rash! The body's way of saying: my darling, enough partying. Wash your face and get a job. The only solution: cover your face in even more glitter to hide your glowing red cheeks, put on your psychedelic pants and get your ass on the dancefloor.