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The first few places I checked out online were dead ends - either the timetable advertised on their site was no longer valid and the sessions clashed with my work or they'd ceased offering Tai Chi classes altogether (this was when they bothered to reply to my e mail inquiries at all!)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!
Showing posts with label Rocket Festival. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rocket Festival. Show all posts
Tuesday, 8 December 2009
Wednesday, 21 May 2008
Rocket review
My review of the Rocket Festival is now up on efestivals plus loads more photos....
we're currently chilling out on an unofficial (and therefore very cheap) campsite in Estepona, doing some laundry and enjoying the sunshine....
we're currently chilling out on an unofficial (and therefore very cheap) campsite in Estepona, doing some laundry and enjoying the sunshine....
Sunday, 18 May 2008
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.
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.
Saturday, 17 May 2008
Rocket Festival, Saturday
We completed our Friday night with a 0200 Main Stage rendezvous with an Italian gypsy band called Circus Abusivo, easily the best thing on the MS since the festival began (from what I'm told - I spent most of Friday interviewing people, editing the interviews and sending them to my old work, BBC Radio Bristol) then completed our night's revelling with a bounce around to Village Disco in naff Ozzie form in Cantina Galactica. "Nellie The Elephant" and Rod Stewart were on the playlist, you couldn't fault it really. We got back to the van some time after three, after stopping at a stall for chocolate and churros. When in Spain...
Later that same day, we emerged after a reasonably decent amount of sleep and headed straight for the healing field where I had a shiatsu massage from a lovely chap called Alan, with whom we'd got chatting the day before. He's lived in Spain since the eighties, when he joined the hippie exodus fleeing the horrors of Thatcher's Britain. He did a great job, I've had hardly a twinge from my dodgy right arm ever since.
Much of Saturday daytime was spent ambling around the site in that time-honoured festival way, but we did stop off in the Lux tent to watch an improv band comprising Clyde, the ukele-playing frontman, a harmonising woman with a puppet, an Italian playing a drum and Barry The Box, busily bashing away, as he had during a gap in the music at Cantina Galactica on Thursday night. What they lacked in preparation they made up with enthusiasm and the gambit of giving the audience three bottles of home-made wine to share (providing someone had a corkscrew - Theo did) guaranteed them a rousing reception. They did their last number among their spectators, with the grand finale involving everyone spinning on the spot then collapsing into a group hug.
We greatly enjoyed Lazy Habits, a white UK hiphop crew in Cantina Galactica and willingly received one of the free CDs they gave out from the stage (this habit of bribing the audience is something I would tend to encourage...there was a lot of it going on at the Rocket). After that, a fabulously costumed drum'n'bass rendition of the Wife Of Bath's tale by the Eat Prunes Collective in the Lux tent caught our attention - quality stuff.
Possibly the most enjoyable Main Stage act came next - Rrradio Gee, a self-styled pikey band who got the early evening crowd madly a-jigging to their fast-paced Irish folk-rock. I was so hot after all that jumping around, I opted to take a free shower when the water-spraying fire engine came by to damp down the dust in the main arena. If I closed my eyes, I could almost imagine myself at Glastonbury.
A Bristol band, Zen Hussies were next and they were most enjoyable with their mixture of ska and swing (they finished their set with a Christmas song set in Melksham - suitably random).
After that, it was back to Sheena to get into fancy dress. The theme was space, so we fashioned some alien costumes out of tin foil, empty water bottles, starry glitter and UK forces issue light sticks, which were included when we bought our van. The effect was pretty decent, we thought and it certainly got some heads turning when we went back onto the site some time after 11pm.
It was noticeably busier as loads of Spaniards had arrived, as predicted by the festival regulars.
We enjoyed the Spanish band, Muchachito Bombero Infuerno, the first act I've seen to include an artist working on a painting as part of the gig (mind you, the set went on so long, Coldcut, who were on next, were an hour late starting) and we loved Beardyman, the champion beatboxer, who played to a packed Dance Tent.
Other highlights included attempting to reunite a guy called Rob with a Swedish girl called Lena - he'd met her in Malaga a couple of days earlier and had come to the Rocket with the express intention of tracking her down. We asked for an announcement to go out over the PA, but we still don't know if he found her.
We also met Kerine and Andy, attracted initially attracted by the excellence of their fancy dress as we all stopped at a stall for food. They gave us a flyer for an "alternative living" campsite on the Costa del Sol, which seemed like a good place for us to go and hide our damaged van for a while, so we resolved to give it a try.
The other great part about Saturday night was simply hanging out with Fran and Pete, our mates from the Grenada campsite and other buddies they'd collected, including Ayesha, who'd travelled to the festival from London alone after splitting up with her boyfriend a couple of weeks earlier. It was Fran's birthday, so much toasting involving Jack Daniels and coke went on - and what a place for a party! We caught a couple of songs from Coldcut before calling it a night sometime towards 5am.
Later that same day, we emerged after a reasonably decent amount of sleep and headed straight for the healing field where I had a shiatsu massage from a lovely chap called Alan, with whom we'd got chatting the day before. He's lived in Spain since the eighties, when he joined the hippie exodus fleeing the horrors of Thatcher's Britain. He did a great job, I've had hardly a twinge from my dodgy right arm ever since.
Much of Saturday daytime was spent ambling around the site in that time-honoured festival way, but we did stop off in the Lux tent to watch an improv band comprising Clyde, the ukele-playing frontman, a harmonising woman with a puppet, an Italian playing a drum and Barry The Box, busily bashing away, as he had during a gap in the music at Cantina Galactica on Thursday night. What they lacked in preparation they made up with enthusiasm and the gambit of giving the audience three bottles of home-made wine to share (providing someone had a corkscrew - Theo did) guaranteed them a rousing reception. They did their last number among their spectators, with the grand finale involving everyone spinning on the spot then collapsing into a group hug.
We greatly enjoyed Lazy Habits, a white UK hiphop crew in Cantina Galactica and willingly received one of the free CDs they gave out from the stage (this habit of bribing the audience is something I would tend to encourage...there was a lot of it going on at the Rocket). After that, a fabulously costumed drum'n'bass rendition of the Wife Of Bath's tale by the Eat Prunes Collective in the Lux tent caught our attention - quality stuff.
Possibly the most enjoyable Main Stage act came next - Rrradio Gee, a self-styled pikey band who got the early evening crowd madly a-jigging to their fast-paced Irish folk-rock. I was so hot after all that jumping around, I opted to take a free shower when the water-spraying fire engine came by to damp down the dust in the main arena. If I closed my eyes, I could almost imagine myself at Glastonbury.
A Bristol band, Zen Hussies were next and they were most enjoyable with their mixture of ska and swing (they finished their set with a Christmas song set in Melksham - suitably random).
After that, it was back to Sheena to get into fancy dress. The theme was space, so we fashioned some alien costumes out of tin foil, empty water bottles, starry glitter and UK forces issue light sticks, which were included when we bought our van. The effect was pretty decent, we thought and it certainly got some heads turning when we went back onto the site some time after 11pm.
It was noticeably busier as loads of Spaniards had arrived, as predicted by the festival regulars.
We enjoyed the Spanish band, Muchachito Bombero Infuerno, the first act I've seen to include an artist working on a painting as part of the gig (mind you, the set went on so long, Coldcut, who were on next, were an hour late starting) and we loved Beardyman, the champion beatboxer, who played to a packed Dance Tent.
Other highlights included attempting to reunite a guy called Rob with a Swedish girl called Lena - he'd met her in Malaga a couple of days earlier and had come to the Rocket with the express intention of tracking her down. We asked for an announcement to go out over the PA, but we still don't know if he found her.
We also met Kerine and Andy, attracted initially attracted by the excellence of their fancy dress as we all stopped at a stall for food. They gave us a flyer for an "alternative living" campsite on the Costa del Sol, which seemed like a good place for us to go and hide our damaged van for a while, so we resolved to give it a try.
The other great part about Saturday night was simply hanging out with Fran and Pete, our mates from the Grenada campsite and other buddies they'd collected, including Ayesha, who'd travelled to the festival from London alone after splitting up with her boyfriend a couple of weeks earlier. It was Fran's birthday, so much toasting involving Jack Daniels and coke went on - and what a place for a party! We caught a couple of songs from Coldcut before calling it a night sometime towards 5am.
Friday, 16 May 2008
first impressions
We're at the Rocket Festival and it's fabulous! Not much is going on yet - it's still Friday morning - though we had a lovely boogie at the Space themed Cantina Galactica last night as well as meeting lots of very friendly people.
Anyway, while Kate is off conducting various interviews she has instructed me to write a piece for BBC online which goes into far more detail
They credited it to Kate but I wrote it and took them snaps. What's mine is hers now, apparently.
Anyway, while Kate is off conducting various interviews she has instructed me to write a piece for BBC online which goes into far more detail
They credited it to Kate but I wrote it and took them snaps. What's mine is hers now, apparently.
Thursday, 15 May 2008
strange meetings
"Theo!" came the shout down Calle de Reyes Catholics in Grenada.
Expecting it to be some other Bristolian heading, like us, to the Rocket Festival, we were both surprised to meet instead Andy and Tracy, the Kiwi couple we had met on the campsite outside Burgos. Their itinerary had brought them to Granada and later the same campsite as us.
Our neightbours at the campsite turned out to be from Bristol, Pete and Fran, over here to celebrate her birthday. A very convivial evening was spent in their company and we were later joined by Andy and Tracy, which cheered us up greatly after the depressing morning at the garage.
Tomorrow we're going to drive - very carefully - to Rocket.
Expecting it to be some other Bristolian heading, like us, to the Rocket Festival, we were both surprised to meet instead Andy and Tracy, the Kiwi couple we had met on the campsite outside Burgos. Their itinerary had brought them to Granada and later the same campsite as us.
Our neightbours at the campsite turned out to be from Bristol, Pete and Fran, over here to celebrate her birthday. A very convivial evening was spent in their company and we were later joined by Andy and Tracy, which cheered us up greatly after the depressing morning at the garage.
Tomorrow we're going to drive - very carefully - to Rocket.
Friday, 25 April 2008
where we've been and where we're going
An update then, for regular readers, and for others a quick summary to avoid trawling through the past 19 odd posts.
We caught the ferry at Poole at the beginning of April, and drove down the West Coast of France - Cherbourg, Mont Saint Michel, Dinan, Carnac, Nantes, La Rochelle, Ile de Re, Rochefort - to Montcuq in the Lot region. We've been here for two weeks now drinking and eating far too much at Cathy & Jean's - Kate's mother and her French-of-Italian-extraction boyfriend. We've been relaxing, washing clothes, shrugging off colds, taking day trips to Carcassonne, Toulouse & Cahors, learning Spanish, doing odd bits and bobs to Sheena, and playing lots and lots of card games. This Sunday there's a big party for us that is basically a second wedding reception for those French friends who couldn't make it to Bristol.
Where to next?
We're both looking forward to getting off - it's been great chilling out here and being spoiled, but we're itching for the road. Bilbao, probably via Biarritz, is our first stop - we've met some people through Global Freeloaders there who are going to let us park up and use their kitchen and bathroom, while we find out whether we've learnt any Spanish at all. Then Madrid, Salamanca, Porto, Lisbon and Seville are the next stops on our rough itinery, before we rock up at the Rocket Festival outside Grenada on May 16th. Afterwards we plan to check out Granada itself then head up towards Barcelona for the Primavera Sound Festival, both of us having secured press passes, which starts on the 25th - SJ Esau, Portishead and Fuck Buttons on our 'to see' list. Then back to France - probably via Andorra - and on, via the French Riviera, to Italy, where we plan to spend most of June, before heading back to Cherbourg via Slovenia, Switzerland and Paris to catch a ferry back to take our turn as wedding guests.
We caught the ferry at Poole at the beginning of April, and drove down the West Coast of France - Cherbourg, Mont Saint Michel, Dinan, Carnac, Nantes, La Rochelle, Ile de Re, Rochefort - to Montcuq in the Lot region. We've been here for two weeks now drinking and eating far too much at Cathy & Jean's - Kate's mother and her French-of-Italian-extraction boyfriend. We've been relaxing, washing clothes, shrugging off colds, taking day trips to Carcassonne, Toulouse & Cahors, learning Spanish, doing odd bits and bobs to Sheena, and playing lots and lots of card games. This Sunday there's a big party for us that is basically a second wedding reception for those French friends who couldn't make it to Bristol.
Where to next?
We're both looking forward to getting off - it's been great chilling out here and being spoiled, but we're itching for the road. Bilbao, probably via Biarritz, is our first stop - we've met some people through Global Freeloaders there who are going to let us park up and use their kitchen and bathroom, while we find out whether we've learnt any Spanish at all. Then Madrid, Salamanca, Porto, Lisbon and Seville are the next stops on our rough itinery, before we rock up at the Rocket Festival outside Grenada on May 16th. Afterwards we plan to check out Granada itself then head up towards Barcelona for the Primavera Sound Festival, both of us having secured press passes, which starts on the 25th - SJ Esau, Portishead and Fuck Buttons on our 'to see' list. Then back to France - probably via Andorra - and on, via the French Riviera, to Italy, where we plan to spend most of June, before heading back to Cherbourg via Slovenia, Switzerland and Paris to catch a ferry back to take our turn as wedding guests.
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