Space toast for breakfast

Two weeks ago I left the lush Comox Valley for dry and dusty Merritt. The journey from island to mainland. A ferry ride salty with goodbyes, straight into Vancouver's traffic jams. Welcome back. I left the island but not the pace. Slow tunes singing along in between the honking smog of busy city streets. Vancouver family welcomed me with birthday hugs and dinner, a home to come home to. Heart overflowing with love, I left early the next morning, too early for traffic to be jamming my jam. 

Merritt appeared after many a mountain pass, little screams of delight whenever I drive through majestic mountain views. Jimi Hendrix blasting out of my open windows, letting in freedom and dust. The Bass Coast site in full build up mode. Welcome home. Again and again. When you travel, many places feel like home. Because of the family you made, the memories that fill your mind with sweet butterflies, the times you shared on the land. Merritt, as dry as it is, holds a place in my heart. Wild roses and sage brushes form the landscape. The best sunsets I have ever witnessed throw pink golden spotlights on the sandy mountains. Gravel roads and prickly thorns, a fast flowing river to wash away the day.

A festival had to be built. Tying thousands of ribbons to catch strong winds, a main stage with a space ship, a cantina for Sunday soul sessions, decorations and installations for extended forest frolicking. Bass Coast, I missed you. Your quirkiness, craziness, you absolute beauty of a festival. Run by women, it's all in the details. Like a big open air living room that welcomes people to connect, dance, swim, chill, run around naked, a house with doors wide open. 

Nothing beats thousands of awesome people coming together to play. Nothing is serious. Mornings are for skinny dips, baileys coffee and mushroom honey. Burlesque workshops and the famous twerkshop gather a floor filled to the brim with booty shakers. Most of the weekend, I was dancing and laughing so much, I forgot there was gravity to be maintained. Babe Coast made me fall in love about 135 times a day. People looking so handsome there was almost something indecent about it.

A wacky group of eccentrics, drinking their whiskies and swallowing their pills. Dance floor moves kicked up the dust, throwing energy balls around, losing all track of time until the morning comes. The sun rises over zombie faces, still dancing, can't stop won't stop. I am one of them, drowning in my big fake fur coat. But the bass keeps me up, and the dancing is only really done when the music is turned off. We linger, hiding ourselves behind sunglasses, giving last hugs goodbye. 

It felt like the festival happened in five minutes, too fast too soon. So I stayed. The river massaged my sore bones, dust and sweat washed away. Others sticked around too, so we gathered under the stars for jam sessions and late night talks. Letting it all sink in. So much joy, music, dancing. So many new friends. I left Merritt with a family I can always come home to. 

Happy festival summer!

Festival galore

I'm happy to announce I have found the silliest, most hilarious festival in the history of festivals. I'm talking crazy dress-ups, weird machines and monkey business. I thought Australians were masters in dressing up, but Canadians reach a whole new level. Big men wearing tiny elephant costumes, dinosaurs, full bodies spray painted gold, Gucci tuxedos, a suit made out of mirrors, fancy fur coats, tutus, anything, everything and of course nudity. 

Then the machines! A cash register making sound effects with every button you push. When you crack the code, the till opens up and tadaaaa! You hit the jackpot! A drawer filled with joints, condoms, candy and other festival goodies invites you to take some and leave some. The Mission Machine is another one of my favourites. An oldskool gumball machine full of plastic balls with a piece of paper inside, like a fortune cookie but more fun and less cookie. The paper tells you your mission for the day. It can go from 'contact dance with someone' to 'act like a gorilla' or more specific 'stare into Mike's eyes for one minute'. 

I waited to act like a gorilla until the time was right. I saw a man on the dance floor with a banana in his shirt pocket and things started rolling. One moment we were dancing to hiphop together, next thing you know we are chasing each other around like gorillas, making monkey sounds to everyone we crossed. Nobody even looked at us in a strange way. Because it's Bass Coast and everyone is weird which makes two people running after a banana like gorillas a normal thing to do. 

Or how about the treeplanter, digging little holes in the ground to plant bananas. After which someone went around to water them. Trampoline foam parties on Sunday afternoon. Reggae yoga. Twerking competitions. Swimming in the river and seeing a man in a suit, looking all fine and dandy, standing on the bridge. Running to the shore, getting into my wedding dress asap and marrying that man, right then and there. The happy newlyweds were greeted with big smiles and pictures. They arrived on the dance floor just as the music went all hip and funky and the crowd turned into soul train mode. I don't know about you, but I've always dreamt of dancing to soul train in my wedding dress so I was all smiles. 

My cheeks still hurt from laughing for days and nights on end. I swear I would fall asleep and wake up with a big smile on my face. Feeling like Alice in Wonderland, fluttering from one adventure to another. Bass Coast is one big playground, I couldn't stop giggling and dancing. All play and no work. Until Monday arrived and my early morning volunteer shift started. The green team aka trash club was ready to tidy up the festival grounds. I wasn't really looking forward to the big clean up, but I had so much fun finding treasures. Golden pumps, a snakeskin vest, a camping chair, curtains, coffee cups, a Pocahontas necklace and all other things that make life great. I might have gone a bit overboard but hooray for having a car that can store all the goods you find at festivals! 

Happy festivalling!