The mushrooms are back again!

After lunch, once again in a bit of a rush, I arrived to the coach station to set foot on folk music... again! It had been a while since I last danced and being back again to the folky circuit feels tremendously well, like a warmth cosy feeling over myself. Funny enough, was the fact that I found a friend, on the same coach, heading to Skint as well ^^

Her name is Cassandre, with whom I experienced the first french folk gig in London, at SOAS. In between catching up with each other, reading and sleeping the journey was, despite exhausting, very light to carry with.

Once we left, an escort was waiting for us! Nahhh, just kidding. We happened to arrive at the same time as other people and Ella drove us to the centre of the return of the mushrooms to Skint! A whole 2 days and a little more hours of music, dancing and good fun of french, english and scandinavian folk!

Next morning, still half awake, I open the curtain that separate the main hall to the stage, now served for some of the people to sleep in - other were in other divisions of the Hall and a few more moved instead to a Village, just to see the end of a Ioga session, while some other were still happily devouring the amazing breakfast, courtesy of the best festival cookers: the Vaughan's!

Oh, how can one describe their food? Imagine the best dish you've ever ate at a festival and multiply it by one hundred... and you'll get way behind what their food tastes like.

I can for sure and a lot of people will stand by me when I say that Skint without them wouldn't be the same thing :)

With the help of a few volunteers, all sorts of aspects of the festival were handled with no major issues: from making sure all the rooms are ready to hold the sessions and breaks to making the food ready to the hands of the chefs, everything is done with the most joy and love, making it an essencial ingredient of this gathering.

Clothes here, mattresses there, bags and instruments over there, every corner had some element of presence, memory and suspense. And the certainty of this are the sounds that dance throughout the building. Either it be music, or just conversation, the whole Hall is lively and merry, for everyone's reason to be there is the communion, and Folk! 

A little before lunch time, I set out with Amy to go for a walk and see what Ashover had to show us. We carried along the football field, jumped over the fallen wall and went down the road that led to the village's church. There, we found a very friendly fella who told us, right after Amy opened the door of the church "I'm sorry, but there's a weeding being held there now" to which we stepped back, thanked them and asked for a way to get over the hill. "Turn right after the church, follow the path over the tiny bridge and you'll face a upward muddy road that shall take you over the top of the hill. If you carry on that path, you can manage to get down again and be on the nearest village from here."

Following his instructions, we saw the road becoming more and more forestry, muddier and more like what I was expecting to see. The wind was whispering the coming of the winter but the sun still is strong enough for us to feel it embracing us.

After a while discovering around, we felt like going back and have a proper lunch; our bellies were shouting the same. It is wonderful to have moments like these, when the simple act of walking outside your frontyard proppel you to unknown lands, might they be as close as the hill you see from the windows of your house. The distance and toughness of the achievement do not have a thing to do here. What matters the most is how joyfulness of what you do. And if you enjoy what you do, the day seems to go right on the spot, like this whole festival felt to me.

And for now, we stay here.

Carambal, the day after

Still, on the same day of Carambal, at around lunch time I was woken up by the rest of the house; a quick wash, some clean clothes on and we went out, to have a branch coffee to help us wake up; also to have a few more memories to keep safe of the people and adventures we had had there.

But after such lovely time we had, time was hushing us home again. But it wasn't my time now yet, as I had another half-a-day in the french metropolis. Funny is to see how the land shifts as we move souther in the continent; how the language changes, the way of being in the environment, the way people dress and their day-to-day doing. And I thus wonder, if there is such a change in such a little gap, between London and Paris, I wonder how grand will these changes be when I leave the European borders to embrace the remaining lands over the mountain? 

A quick about, before dinner, at Cour Saint-Émilion, suggestion of Alizée, to see not only but also this market, a former building that was after converted into this kind of street market, with plenty of restaurants and galleries, worth to pay a visit to. A thing that I tried to see again but realised the reason why we didn't go the first time I visited Paris, was Le Gare Montparnasse.

The first time I came here, I witnessed one of the best sunsets over Paris I've ever seen but had no chance to record it. So, when faced again with that giant building and the possibilities to be made on that terrace, I just didn't took the change this day because of the certainty that this day wasn't the ideal day to do it an also the acquired fact that I would be there again, soon enough to try again this attempt of a magical photograph still to be accomplished... it shall be done, that is certain. When or under which conditions, that I'm yet to know.

Monday morning, and the room that was once lively and very folky, was now empty to none but two people; me and Alizée. A drink a tea and grab a biscuit, pick up your backpack; don't forget half of the stuff behind. But please, do not get late to the coach!

I do not yet understand why I push myself so much to get to thing right on the limbo. Is it that felling the rush and questioning the possibility of the already arranged; what can come due to that was not accomplished, when the reason why we went there had been already satisfied to the marrow, not making the last step puts us in that very questionable situation of "damn, what next?"

This felling of the uncertain is.... very.... very good a-having!

And for now, we stay here.

Carambal, mon ami

The sun was yet to be seen, already was I exiting the coach that had taken me all the way from London to Paris, were I would spend three amazing days dancing, discovering the city and of course, spending a great deal of time with incredible people.

Having arrived so early to Paris (Alizée was still asleep) gave me the opportunity to go around a while and see the sunrise over the Eiffel city. Despite my walks, I soon realised about my dead phone and thus, the inability to get in contact with Alizée and thus, manage to get to her place. This made me go around a few blocks until, near Louvre, I manage to find a free-internet shop where I managed to get online, hence managing to top charge my telephone and consequently comunicate with her.

Soon after I was at her place, which is quite near Montmartre, and people were starting to put a small street market on. Time to rest a while and wait for the rest of the group, still on their way to Paris; to Carambal.

When everyone arrived, a little chat, some tea and many laughs, we head out, to see Montmartre, and the yet to re-discover bits and dips.. A few hours we spend, catching up or knowing the newly-made companions, while trekking  up the steep roads that lead to Sacre Coeur. Many clouds hovering the sky were making preparations for a rainy festivity day but yet, we carried on, for no rain would be impediment of having a good time of the little hours we had to be there.  

We hence moved on and, close to the time the ball was about to begin, we head back to put some food on the belly, rest and get ready to dance a whole night long!

Immense traffic, a lot of rain and a little delay didn't make any difference to our mood. Rather, it made us more anxious about what was about to happen! As we goot in, we realised a grand space, big and wide like a warehouse, split into two: one of the divisions was the stage zone and the opposite, on the right, the restauration space, with amazing crepes and cakes; a cloakroom for everyone to hang their rainy coats and extra layers.

The ball itself started at 7.30pm... already past half six in the morning me and a still big group of yet resistent ones were dancing, and playing or just hanging a bit more until our bodies could not handle any other step. It was what indeed happened to me! While dancing with Lúcia, until my body, wrecked by so much dance, crashed on the ground, along with her, in a bumbling way. No need to say that, once we got to the ground, we couldn't stop laughing by what had just happened and, despite laughable, my body shouted "this all you danced at Carambal".

This said, hugs and kisses given, I went towards the metro. The only issue about taking metro at this time of the morning is that the tiredness on my body was so much that every seat on the metro seat felt like the best mattress ever. This lead to have to change direction and metro three times before I was able to exit on the right station.

No need to say that wen I go home, I crashed almost immediately to recharge batteries.