Tai Chi

Sometimes I can be really impulsive; I think of something and I do it, and I'm quite single-minded about it. On other occasions it can take me ages to act upon something. This was one of those occasions.

It all started with a workshop on the Sunday morning of the Rocket Festival in May 2008. We were feeling a little groggy so, looking for something to perk us up a bit, we headed to the healing fields and ending up taking part in a Chi Kung workshop with some friends. I really enjoyed it.

Now the most well-known form of Chi Kung is Tai Chi, so I guess it was back then that I first got the idea that I would like to take up Tai Chi. For a while I had a decent excuse for doing nothing about it - Kate and I were on the road. I couldn't join a class. Then we moved to Madrid and I didn't have that excuse anyone, so that key skill of all art graduates - procrastination - came into play. It was only on our return to Spain this autumn that I thought I really must get around to joining a class. I was feeling physically inert and Kate's dedication to her morning yoga routine shamed me into doing something about it.

The first few places I checked out online were dead ends - either the timetable advertised on their site was no longer valid and the sessions clashed with my work or they'd ceased offering Tai Chi classes altogether (this was when they bothered to reply to my e mail inquiries at all!) Eventually I found the Centro de Relajacion in nearby Quintana that had a Monday class I could make from 12 til 1pm. So along I went for my free trial lesson.

I suppose if I'd thought about it a class from 12 til 1pm on a Monday was unlikely to attract large numbers of young professionals, who are no doubt gainfully employed at this time. However I was still surprised to find myself the only male and only under 60 in the class! Still, the senoras were very welcoming and laid back. It was also helpful for me as the class I was joining was technically an advanced class; what I lacked in experience I was able to make up for in youth flexibility. They were very complimentary about my efforts to copy the tablas they were working through - for while the teacher was giving us instructions in Spanish it took me a copy of seconds to translate - too slow, so in the end I just focused on copying. I had been worried about following the instructions but as it turned out I was able to understand most of them, though this was occasionally detrimental; during the relaxation exercise to start the class I was so busy concentrating on understanding I wasn't able to relax!

Rocket Festival, Sunday

This time it was gone two pm by the time we made it out of the van. Heading to the healing fields for our favourite juice bar we caught up with Fran, Pete and Ayesha and then got chatting to Jacob, the very friendly head honcho of the healing space who soon had us all taking part in a Chi Gong workshop. Just what we needed to get the energy levels flowing.
General ambling for a while saw us take in some improv music in the healing field (Barry The Box again, this time with a sitar-player and violinist), checked out the stilt walkers (including Kate's former neighbour Lucy and Theo's former mentee Lewin) and an excellent bout of tag mud-wrestling.

We watched Miss Cecily, another Bristol band play at the Solar Stage, then wandered back to the van for some R'n'R, which involved a hefty dram of the port we'd acquired while visiting the Ferreira HQ in Portugal. Well, we might be in southern Spain, but it gets damn nippy at night in those mountains. This was purely medicinal.

Back on site again and as we settled into watch the much-touted Los Deliquentes (who were very good, it must be said), the all-too-familiar sound of rain pattering on canvas was heard overhead. We could scarcely believe it, this is what we came to escape!

In the end, the chill in the air and general dampness saw us heading to the dance arena, where we eventually pitched up in a tent full of green laser-light and techno. There we both became ever more ebullient, befriending a couple of Spanish guys, Diago and Manuel (and managed to fix up Manuel with Ayesha - score!) and a French girl called Bem. We also spent much time hugging numerous other festival chums who came to join in, including Fran and Pete, Extremely Tall Sham and Matt the fence-jumper-turned-wristbanded-performer.

Eventually, the effects of the beer, the shots of neat rum and gawd-knows-what-else took their toll on our sense of balance and co-ordination, so I figured (Theo was too far gone to make the decision at that point) it was time to have a cup of tea and get vertical. It was almost six by the time we got back and settled down. It had also been the best night of all at The Rocket.