8/25/09 - The Greek Way

Our journey to Asprovalta consisted of a few hours of windy roads along the coast through the moisture deprived countryside. When we arrived to the festival, we glady welcomed our new accommodation in Hotel Karatsi, just outside of the festival site. This friendly, family-owned hotel was set amidst a series of courtyards that lie beneath a woven canopy of olive trees and grapevines. Without wasting any time, we picked up a bottle of South African red wine for some proper sundowners on our back balcony that overlooked the western mountains rising gracefully from the sea. That night we joined members of the Ultimae family already on site for a traditional Greek feast consisting of nearly everything on the menu which had us loosening our waistlines before the main course arrived. The weather, which had been rainy up until we arrived to Greece, was nearly perfect while we were there, with periodic sea breezes to help keep the heat down. The festival lay adjacent to the beach at a campground full of trees, and even with 4,500 people there, it was far from feeling crowded. The music and sound on the main stage overall was disappointing, but the chillout, where we were required to spend most of our time was a consistent mood of relaxed beats and ambience. The organization of the festival was far from perfect and every time something was delayed, overlooked, or half-assed, you'd hear someone expectedly murmur, "the Greek way." Ultimae Records was featured all day Saturday through Sunday morning and I drowsily followed that evening with a well-received sunset dj slot. The vibe of the festival was without a doubt the highlight, and the warm and amazing people I met ensure many long-lasting friendships. I was able to meet nearly all the chillout artists, many of my favorites, and even a few cheery old schoolers like Gaudi, Alex Patterson, and Youth. Stage managing was not so demanding, but kept me looking at the beach more so than actually using it. On the last day I had one my most powerfully moving reiki experiences involving Sunny and my dear new friend Zareen, a local from Athens. High on gratitude, blissed on many new-found friends, lubricated by olive oil, and overdosed on feta, we all exchanged our last smiles and toasted "Yamas" (the Greek equivalent of "cheers" or "boom") over a family dinner. From there I packed up my stock of honey tahini and welcomed the cooling rain that began just hours after the festival ended, escorting us back to our early morning airport departure.

All of four flights home have been smooth, except for delayed baggage, and I enjoyed the comfort of my cotton khaki shoes while sipping red wine and consuming cupfulls of warm nuts in business class. Happy that the Rockies are our home to return to, Sharon and I are already talking about how we can refine our travel plans and continue to improve and lengthen this international sojourn in the summers to come.

8/16/09 - Believe Nothing

There can't be too many more spectacular sights to experience on a plane than flying over the French Alps at sunrise. Once landed, we spent a few hours borrowing internet from an overpriced restaurant in the airport while we waited for Sunny and Iris to arrive in Thessaloniki, Greece where we picked up a rental car--our freedom. Thanks to Sharon's tapped-in-ness to Facebook, we managed to find out that Ghreg on Earth just happened to also be in Thessoliniki at the exact same time visiting friends of Insomnia Records merely 20 minutes from the airport. Thanks to Alex (Zik) and Lah (Alien Project) we found a room in the "Nice View Hotel," with beachfront property just south of town in Agio Triada. A sunset and beach stroll later, we quickly settled into cucumbers, olive oil and feta, which is becoming a staple here in the land of infinite islands. We had a great home cooked meal with local made olive oil and enjoyed conversation with native, Alex, covering everything from Greek politics, history (that you don't get in a history book), religion, education, philosophy, and mythology. Having heard nearly everything under the sun from "12 gods" to "none", he takes the motto "don't believe the bullsh*t" referring to any belief system anyone's trying to sell you who will condemn you for disagreeing. Seeking cleaner water and more secluded beaches, we headed for the land of Halkidiki, the well known mainland getaway and tri-peninsula in northern Greece. Having gotten a tip from Tristan at Sonica to check out the Goa Beach Bar, we headed straight to the town of Sarti for aid in navigating a chill place to land for a beach holiday of swimming on the Aegean Sea. While olive oil and cucumbers are plenty, coconuts are nowhere to be seen. With a countryside very reminiscent of Turkey, the hills support a patchwork of olive orchards, and here you'll find bachlava sure to rot your teeth out and a local tahini that is made with honey! Our west-facing beach views the ominous backdrop of the mysterious Mt. Athos ("Agio Oros" - Holy Mountain), a 6,669ft peak on the monk-inhabited peninsula (and center of Eastern Orthodox Monasticism) with no road access. Mt. Athos is said to be the only land that was not swallowed by Noah's flood. Needless to say we've settled easily into the new rhythm of sipping trendy frape (chilled with milk and frothy freeze-dried Nescafe) and spending hours either on the lazy shore or testing our buoyancy in the crystal clear waters of the sea. An attempt to get our dance on at the Goa Bar had us change our minds with the seemingly "urban club brought to the beach" music/atmosphere we witnessed upon arrival. Instead, we spent today there sippin' overpriced frapes and bobbin' our heads to mediocre house music. The pace was just right though for a day filled with movement not much more than shifting from stomach to back beneath the cabanas. Tomorrow we head to Asprovalto to get settled for our last week spent at the Aurora Festival where we're set to be stage managers for the chill stage--again a pace that will likely not be met with resistance.

8/15/09 - Panoramic Friends

Seeking a good hearty meal and some pastries, we arrived to the Ultimae headquarters in Lyon. Our main purpose for this visit was not to see France, but instead to spend some good quality time with our dear friends Sunny, Vince, and daughter Iris, with whom our previous visit in 2007 allowed us only two short nights. Cloudy, cool skies with a bit of rain gave us some relief from Italy's heat and days were spent sleeping in, having cafe's in the nearby square, family dinners at the house, and sipping Pastis (local anise flavored alcohol) with Vince over discussions about the magic of music. I even got to spend a few hours in Aes Dana's studio watching him crank out a track from scratch with effortless deliberation. To my surprise and excitement, after some conversations about yoga, Vince offered to make the ambient soundtrack to accompany my in-the-works yoga/meditation cd! Wow. I can't imagine who I'd rather co-create this cd with. Sunny and Vince are in the process of relocating the Ultimae storefront to a new location--a small, cozy den a stone's throw from their 6th floor apt. (with no elevator). I was anxious to be a part of a little history-in-the-making so I offered a bit of sanding and was later picked to be the truck driver to transport the new vinyl floor for the store which is set to open sometime in mid-late September. I managed to score a pimp pair of cheap cotton shoes at the local Sunday morning market that will surely be my ticket to business class travel on the flight back to the States. ; ) Gratefully, we found perhaps the smoothest yerba mate ever from a local tea shop which should amply replenish our depleted supply from long hours of work in Italy. On our last night, Tajmahal dropped in with some home grown veggies and out-of-this-world potatoes. With time enough to catch up on whatever leftover responsibilities we had lingering from the States, we were able to pave the way for a proper holiday in Greece.

8/14/09 - Not Looking Back

As it's been roughly 28 moons since my last blog, and since I only blog while engaged in international travel, it would be appropriate to paint a little background since the spring of 2007. After returning to the states from my second trip to India, I have proceeded to teach yoga full time and have remained committed to designing a new style of living. Without a doubt the most memorable experience in that period occurred during the summer of 2008 at the Gaian Mind Summer Festival. On Saturday, June 21st, I was asked by Sunny (Mahiane) and Vincent (Aes Dana) of Ultimae Records (my favorite downtempo label) to be a label DJ/US representative of their downtempo project based in Lyon, France. Not knowing exactly what opportunities would arise, this summer brought the first experience for Ultimae related international travel. With the help of Sharon, she and I were lined up for another go on the production team for the Sonica-Reloaded Festival in Italy, only this time I was also given a proper slot on the alternative stage for an Ultimae Records chillout set. Sharon and I were in Portugal last summer for the Boom Festival, and we again set out across the Atlantic wandering if summers in Europe would become the new rhythm.

This trip quite unexpectedly began a day sooner than scheduled. On my way to our regional outdoor gathering of the summer, Vayeb - the Mayan Day out of Time party located in south central CO, I received a call from my flight agent that I might have to catch a plane that night! Begrudgingly, I rerouted back home, stuffed my things in my backpack and headed soon after to the airport. With a big favor from our agent and friend (Antix's mom), we received a great deal on companion tickets to standby for a business class flight to Rome. While I was aware of the dress code for this type of ticket, my judgment in footwear was a little lacking, and thus, after a scornful gaze from the flight agent at the gate counter, found myself demoted to seat 23A in economy class. An exhausted laptop battery and without sleep or the book that I packed in my checked baggage, I finally arrived to Rome. An hour north and I was in the beautiful Italian countryside at the new Sonica location. With barely enough time to change from my "business class" upperwear, Sharon "Storm", who arrived nearly a week earlier, wisped me away to the production office to get straight to work.

The festival was strewn along a river with little shade, but contained a series of waterfalls and a pool deep enough for swimming. Filled with some tall, graceful, wind activated art pieces on the dancefloor, a series of shops and restaurants, and familiar faces, the festival enjoyed a much more mellow, family vibe than I remembered from 2006. I struggled to remember all the fuss about Italian food. Oh yes, pizza, pasta, bread, cheese, pizza, pasta, bread, cheese, pizza, pasta, bread, cheese...tomatoes. The Indian restaurant "Dharamsala" was the saving grace with extremely large portions and perfect mango lassis that tasted EXACTLY like Goa's Mango Shade, our favorite breakfast spot in the season of 2007. Atriohm stole the show for me with a set that was the best swampy, night time forest music I've heard since Deviant Species, GMSF05. I didn't get much dancing in, but had a nice tumble off a bike in an overanxious rush to get to the stage in the thick darkness one night. The alternative stage was mostly minimal techno, with very little chillout and greatly lacking in any "chillout" environment to encourage people to enjoy time out. Mahiane, Aes Dana, and Solar Fields all played beautiful sets, but lacked many people do to the ill-equipped space. I followed that morning with my chillout set, which seemed to get a good response from those sparse individuals seeking a smooth descent from a full night of dancing. My final day in Italy was spent with a dip in the waterfall and lazily wandering the country roads picking and eating sweet blackberries by the handful.

4/4/07 – London Underground

There’s not much more of an abrupt transition from noisy, filthy India, to the technologically equipped, spotless streets of my friend Debbie’s East London neighborhood. In hopes of catching up with a few British friends, Sharon and I scheduled a few days in London prior to reaching the states without realizing what a prime social weekend it would turn out to be. Our goal is pretty much to do as much dancing as possible wherever we go, and this weekend was undoubtedly the right weekend to pass through the UK. (Though in a city this alive, I’m not sure if there is ever a bad weekend to be here). After an excess of scones and clotted cream, we met up with Santos (Deviant Species) and Adi (Scorb) for some drinks before catching Adi’s set at the infamous “Fridge,” one of the birth spots of trance in London. We ran into Greg (Mubali, from the states) and a friend of Sharon’s previously residing in NYC who would generously escort us through the non-stop weekend ahead. After Scorb we decided to check out the Synergy Project event that was taking place in a warehouse under the arches. Composed of about 8 rooms, each with a different music style, art stations and workshops, costumes and full décor, this was the classiest event I’ve seen of this type and greatly reminiscent of “the good ole days.” Evidently a monthly, this event is a collaboration between many artists and environmentalists pushing a shared platform for music, art, and education. We saw some familiar faces from Goa, Rane (Phuture Primitive from Portland who was performing), and I even bumped into my good friend Christina from Fort Collins, Colorado currently attending school in London. The event wrapped up by an unforgettably dynamic and powerful set by Man with No Name, followed by a funky morning set from Dick Trevor. The following night, after nowhere near enough rest we experienced a most proper Squat Party with Trold, Psymmetrix, Beardy (Wild Things Records), and our good friend Layla (Dragonfly Records) being some of the headliners. Again enjoying the company of familiar faces from last year in Portugal, Turkey, and Italy, we danced through the morning and into the afternoon like true Londoners and managed to meet a couple locals who invited us for afternoon tea in the back of their “mobile home van” just down the block. Chasing what was left of the first sunny day we’d seen since we hit London, we all dropped by the quick store for some picnic snacks and hit Hyde Park with a blanket just in time for a bottle of sundowners. A perfect end to a perfect weekend, we crashed in their van before heading back to our friend’s house and awoke the next morning for our final departure to the states.

The unfriendly, unwelcoming, and arrogant security at the stateside airport was our first indication that we were no longer in a foreign country. After being away so long, I had again settled into the traveling, free-spirited frame of mind that greatly differs from one that isn’t. Not feeling completely at peace to be back yet, I’m sure all discomfort will dissolve after a few reassuring speeches by G.W. and a few long nights of restful sleep. As Goa was a dream come true, London was certainly the cherry on top for a conclusion to another chapter of this most memorable adventure.

3/31/07 – The Spirit of Goa

How quickly 3 months can pass and even more so how abruptly it can all come to a close. To experience the magic of Goa has been a dream for me that I thought I may never have the opportunity to realize. A culture that has influenced and inspired so much of myself that seemed to have almost flickered out of existence, is contrarily still burning deep within the ancient, holy land of southern India’s beach fringed coastline. My hopes for a balance of adventure and productivity were undeniably high and while neither fell short of fulfilled, the picture painted was altogether different than what I anticipated. Sharon and I had high hopes for accomplishment and where we may feel we felt short in practical research and development in designing our new future, we believe we gained in personal development. Days that weren’t filled with research, were filled with a large amount of yoga, reading, and meditation. In our final weeks in Goa we did manage to speak with a good handful of experienced individuals who offered many insights into the potential directions we may consider taking for creating a new business. Perhaps the greatest lesson I’ve learned is to have no expectation when surrendering to the flow and while you can have goals for what you want to achieve on an unknown journey, ultimately you are at the will and malleability of the canvas on which you paint.

The world of travelers never stretches out of reach, especially when you run into a good German friend of Caryolyn’s (with whom I traveled through Africa last year) from the Soulclipse Festival in Turkey or her temporary travel buddies that were from Aspen, Colorado. With only one week left in Goa, we enjoyed a visit from Milana and her daughter Bella—two extremely brave friends from Boulder, CO who had only days before moved to India to stay in Amma’s Ashram indefinitely. Admitting that we had reached the limit of productivity able in Goa with only a week to pack and tie up loose ends, Sharon and I decided to squeeze in as much adventure as we could. Milana and Bella immediately took to the easy lifestyle of Goa and we did our best to show them the best finale week possible. The adventure began immediately with a scooter accident where Sharon, carrying 10 year old Bella, hit a stone wall. Frightened, but with all limbs in tact and only a few scrapes and bruises, we set off for the northern beach of Asvem. We swam with a school of mystery fish which felt like eels circling our ankles and enjoyed a nice sunset-beach dinner before joining some friends for their outdoor short-film movie night at a nearby beach hut. They showed independent films they had produced featuring documentaries on India and the like. A late night headlamp hike with no moon illuminated the gallery of sand paintings that high-tide brushed across the beach. It was almost as if in a dream that we actually got lost on the beach as the tide completely transformed the landscape filling swales with lakes masking our coconut hut just inland. The next day we spent at the long, flat, white-sand beach of Arambol in anticipation of a huge gathering that night. With noise complaints before it even started, the party was cancelled and we ended up lounging in the spacey atmosphere of the Russian “Psy-bar” for some juices. We finally caught up with Anjuli, a friend of a friend from Colorado for breakfast at Double Dutch, the local pixie hot-spot. A countryside scooter back down to Anjuna and without reminders from my friends, I probably would’ve completely missed my own birthday. The day was spent sorting out Milana and Bella with some nice beach front property and concluded with our final sunset party at Curlie’s. I had the hardest stomp of the season and a high-energy party that pushed beyond the usual 10pm all the way until 12:15!—all I could really ask for.

After a couple days of packing and sorting, it was time to play, so we all headed to Vagator beach for some hiking and waves. I stumbled across a hidden Shiva cave, perfect for meditation, then joined the rest of the crew in getting tossed by the largest waves of the season. That night atop south Anjuna hill was a proper tribal gathering and the last we’d see for the season. A camp fire, drumming, didges, Indian chanting, fire spinning, moon set, hellos to faces I hadn’t seen yet and goodbyes to those I’d shared joy with all season. The next morning we rose early, packed and hit club Paradiso which was conveniently hosting a 36-hour party for our last sweat-drenched stomp session. We finished our goodbyes and caught the night train to Mumbai to join Ishwar for our last few days in India. A final trip to the market, some awesome Indian food, nearly a full day’s meeting with a large clothing manufacturer in Mumbai, and a quick stop at the local underground dvd shop for some rock-bottom purchases, and we thanked Ishwar and India for all it had given us.

I see now that the magic of Goa lives on even if hidden beneath the worn surface. I went without expectations and left with some of the greatest memories. The overabundance of bad music characterized by anthems and drum rolls was a bit of a shock, but those familiar, smiling faces, that I repeatedly see around the world are a reminder that it’s magic still burns in the hearts of all those it has touched. It always brings a huge smile to my face to see the Indians on the dance floor dancing harder than anyone, fully embracing this transcendental culture. No one is left unwelcome and the arms reach far is this global family. In the end, a perfect day in Goa could best be described by Doctor Seuss’s “A Great Day for Up!” story with a sky filled with kites and parachutes in celebration of life and an embracing of this one great moment worth living. (See my photo for blog entry “Coming Into Being”). “Ooo-kay Ok,” is what they reassuringly say in India, and it is certainly how I feel every time my thoughts drift back to the sunset beaches of Anjuna.

3/10/07 – Overcome with Gratitude

Fourteen years is a great distance in time from discovering a fantastic, new, inspirational world to the realization that you have come to be an active character in that very same reality. For me to say that my openness to living a life driven by my passions and my new commitment for pursuing my dreams has found me to be realizing them seems a bit redundant at this point. There does comes a point where you can view your grand experiences as a series of ripples on your life’s timeline, but remain uncertain whether or not you are merely enjoying the grace of those cosmic blessings, or are somehow responsible for attracting their existence altogether. If time is in fact one single moment and not linear, then while all that occurs is introduced to you, would you not simultaneously participate in its conception?

Now awakening as that character finds me in a state of immense gratitude. One of my greatest wishes has been not only to experience the heart of the artistic movement that helped transform my life entirely, but to have an opportunity to tell my story in the fertile setting in which it blossomed. On Friday, March 9th, I was provided with that opportunity. The Nine Bar is the most active outdoor venue in Goa featuring a different dj from around the world every night from 5-10pm. It sets atop a bluff north of Anjuna offering perfect, palm tree framed sunset views overlooking the Arabian sea. A dirt dance floor covered with a sky full of stars is all I could really ask for when my chance to spin there had finally arrived. Five hours was more than enough time for a proper, dynamic trance journey in the spirit of storytelling, and more than nervous I grabbed my digital recorder and threw on my “Choose Bliss” t-shirt ready to go. Whether it was the fact that there was no moon overhead at the time or the residual effects from the disassociating lunar eclipse earlier in the week, my headspace was somewhat off and I was feeling somehow detached from my surroundings as I began to play. Being a giant inside of a covered dj booth didn’t help, and the overhead light while improving navigation filtered much of the view to the initially sparse crowd. I continued pulling chapters from my library and at times felt nearly alone except for the lizard that crawled in through the root like window hole carefully dodging sunset as it perched above my head where he remained for the duration. Believed to be the keepers of the dreamtime, I felt honored that this reptilian shaman had chosen to assist me in this particular dream sequence. In those moments of detachment I felt that my technical focus was somehow fine tuned and so I allowed it to consume my attention. Eventually gaining some sense of the external world, I could see the amorphous silhouette of the crowd that had at some point grown to the neighborhood of 200 people, filling the entire dance floor. Peepholes through the dividing veil slowly gave way as I recognized a few familiar faces below. Finally unleashing some of my best tracks, the experience climaxed when some of the old-timer hippies easily in their 50’s gave me the “thumbs up” sign of appreciation for the classic goa melodies. As my last track tapered off, I couldn’t believe 5 hours had gone by and the crowd’s appreciation seemed to flood in all at once as if the gates dividing my experience from theirs had finally been broken allowing the larger experience to be realized.

The attempted digital recording didn’t work (always read the manual before assuming you can use the equipment in an unfamiliar situation regardless of how straightforward it seems) but the priceless memories continue to sink deeply as the space afterward has finally allowed them to be absorbed. Now if my story is remembered or only resonates in the memory of the swaying palms and setting sun, the fulfilling sensation of deep gratitude that permeates my being is enough. “Just another beautiful sunset in Goa” holds new meaning, and now in some strange way, I feel like I belong here.

3/7/07 - India's Splendor (Part 3)

One of our main draws to southern India was to see the infamous backwaters of Kerala, where the sea stretches inland creating an endless series of channels and canals. We met a couple of other Americans and lazily drifted along in a canoe enjoying a soundtrack of Hindu chanting as it echoed through the canals from a nearby temple in celebration of a holy day. The guide made stops for us to see coconut twine making, wooden canoe construction, and a small spice plantation—the backbones of business along the backwaters. Hoping to catch Amma (The Hugging Mother) at her ashram and receive one of her infamous darshan hugs, we spent a night there on our way north, surprised to find out that not only was she not there, but that the schedule was quite loose and currently lacking any yoga. I did, however, score a great deal of sandalwood beads for a fair price in the ashram shop. Another 5 lazy hours on a ferry headed north, drifting and napping through rice fields at sunset had me longing for another beach. We finally made our way to Gokarna, our final destination where we planned to park for a few days on Om Beach. This was meant to be our official downtime with no schedules, obligations, or travel. Perhaps the laziest beaches in India, here you’ll find nearly deserted, beautiful shoreline fringed with thatched and mud huts for a buck a night, and activity that doesn’t exceed leaving a hammock. Needless to say I got a lot of reading done, yoga, a few shades added to my tan, and spent a great deal of time impersonating seaweed on the churning waves. There was a perfect point for meditation on a peninsula overlooking the sea doubled with prime viewing of the school of dolphins below. In celebration of the full moon, we enjoyed a very inspirational music meditation to FSOL’s “Lifeforms” album (what else), but didn’t make it until the am to see the lunar eclipse.

Now we’ve returned safely to our base in Anjuna feeling refreshed and grateful for the many colors of India we had the opportunity to see. Having missed our “home” in Goa a little, we already have a list of all our favorite spots serving unmatchable fruit juices and lassis that we have to visit. Once again we now look toward the future we are trying to create with renewed inspiration and a journal of new experiences.

3/7/07 - India's Splendor (Part 2)

Now with Sharon getting her first taste of real India, we set out for Hampi, another backpacker hot spot known for it’s 42+/- sq kilometers of amazing, but not-so-ancient ruins from the 13th-16th century, lush rice fields, groves of banana and palm trees, and a winding river all set amidst a rolling boulder-stacked landscape similar to that of Vedawoo in southern Wyoming. Other than the hungry touts seeking to snag tourist business, the atmosphere is summed up by rooftop restaurants, stepped vistas overlooking the river, and a tendency for hours of boulder watching. After more than a days worth of ruins we enjoyed a 360 degree view at sunset on Matanga Hill, the most choice peak in the area. As nothing but the peaceful breeze over our faces was felt in an extended moment of silence, Sharon mutters, “I like the weather here.” Not nearly ready to tackle the bustling air of Bangalore, India’s most progressive city, and what I refer to as the “western east”, we meet up with Sharon’s friend Mithune, now living there and willing to give us the official tour. The City of Gardens, as Bangalore is known, with a large central city park (filled with perfect climbing trees), runs off of the caffeine of multiple coffee shops per block. We found it is best experienced through the cuisine, but requires a native to guide you, for victimization by artificially “urbanized” food is rampant. While being a huge fan of Indian food, Sharon and I agree it’s a bit too spicy and heavy for breakfast. Masala tea (chai) is hard to come by there, but we finally filled our craving for carrot halwa (a fine sweet desert). I got my teeth cleaned for about 20 bucks, but curiously right after the their sparkle returned, the dentist asked if I wanted to join her for some abnormally sweet Indian-style coffee. Why not, it’s India. Our Bangalore stay ended with another 360 degree view just in time for an impressive sunset at Nandi Hills, a favorite nature spot of Mithune.

Already burnt from the chaos and air pollution of the cities we headed for the beach in south Kerala to Varkala. FINALLY able to get large pots of spiced chai (about 9 cups for 60 cents) and a proper fruit muesli breakfast we quickly sank into the traveler vibe again atop the west-facing cliffs that overlooked the sea. Filled with hammocks, yoga and reiki on the beach, and ayurveda spas everywhere we knew 2 days wouldn’t be enough time here. Kerala is also home for Kathikali dancers (traditional costumed Indian dance/plays) and we managed to catch a colorful performance in a small, cramped, non-ventilated shed. We got to experience a seasonally unusual rainstorm, and a bit of rumbling serenity on the beach where the bellowing thunder rolled down the cliffside colliding with the crashing waves. All the men in Kerala wear diapers, though there I think the proper spelling is “dhoti.” So "when in Rome"…I went out and bought a couple of diapers for myself, which I must say are quite comfortable...

3/7/07 - India's Splendor (Part 1)

It’s amazing when you remove all points of reference that bind you to a familiar timeline, how adventure and the directions of unknown currents can sweep you into a flow of timeless experience continuously revealing the most sacred beauties through a myriad of forms. Without trying, old dreams can be fulfilled and new ones created within one single breath. Nearly one moon ago, through the interwoven threads of friendships, Sharon and I found ourselves spending a most magical sunset in an intimate home setting with Goa Gil (Indian sadhu/godfather of goa-trance) and his wife, Ariane. We were invited and honored to join them for one of their African drumming practices in their backyard. The picture-perfect view toward the setting sun across rice fields, I swear I must have seen on a goa-trance compilation back in the mid 90’s somewhere. The deteriorating ruins of a neighboring building and the tree that effortlessly overtook them created the perfect backdrop for this rhythmic ritual. I managed to snag some recordings and hope to go back again for a full session of recording as Gil expressed interest in my doing so. Finally meeting the legend was in some way fulfilling and his gentle and fun nature perhaps inspired or at least reflected the shanti spirit of Anjuna.

The next day, we finally experienced a proper beach party at Curlie’s for sunset packed with smiling faces on a sandy dance floor. Following, George was kind enough to spend some time showing me some tips in music production and we spent a day writing a trance track, exchanging ideas and sipping chai under the hanging canopy of the German Bakery. Soon after, the time had ended for George and Alanna’s stay in Goa and we awoke for sunrise and some morning dancing before sending them on their way to Nepal. Later that week we hit Ingo’s night market—an international market with a large amount of European artists/designers—for the annual Goa fashion show and to do a little research. Definitely styles that attempt to avoid the mainstream, the creations were across the board available at European prices, and it was the first fashion show I’ve attended where a trance party among the models actually broke out on the runway. Ahhhh…Goa. The following weekend was Shivaratri, a major Indian holiday, and accordingly there was a gathering held at the Hilltop Lodge. Pumping trance, blacklight painted palm trees, a sky full of stars, and over 500 people made for the most amazing gathering we’ve experienced in Goa so far. It seemed reminiscent of a proper Goan gathering with Tristan playing “behind” the audience, and focus instead directed toward the deity tapestries of Shiva, Ganesh, and Buddha, that garnished the temple of speakers. The annual Carnival was held in Arambol the next day, on a long, flat beach in northern Goa. Seemingly a little piece of Burning Man, the carnival was an excuse for all of the westerners to display full costumes and body paint as a moving drum circle paraded down the beach from one circus-themed art installation to the next. Climaxing with an amazing fire spinning circle, we decided to head home and pack for our two weeks worth of travel through southern India which began early the next morning...