Heavy Music, Easy Life (, Lame Title)

More than two years ago – I still remember it clearly, like some kind of iconic summary of my newly emerging thoughts – I was lazily lying on a couchsurfer’s bed with my friend, chatting about the future. Among other worries we shared, one was clearly dominant.

Our lives have been so interesting thus far. Damn, how to make sure they keep on being that interesting???

Studying abroad, spending a week in Barcelona, smuggling alcohol into public transport – yep, everything’s pretty exciting now, but what happens when the real life comes?

After some more minutes of semi-panicking, we decided that there is indeed a cure to our worries. And it’s a pretty simple one: to stay the way we are. I don’t mean closing yourself to any kind of changes, but to stay as interested, sociable and, well, hungry for something new. Iggy Pop might call it lust for life, and although I’m not as adventurous as I like to present myself in this blog, I do like that phrase.

Like in a sci-fi movie, I’m skipping through time, back to my veranda from which I’m writing this entry. Frankly, there’s nothing too exciting here. Maan, even the weather sucks at the moment. But a bracelet from Thailand on my wrist and a drum from India on the shelf indicate that everything has been OK. There’s no need to panic: even though I haven’t smuggled alcohol into public transport – at least in Spain – again, life has been rather eventful.

The same goes for this summer about which I’ve blogged already.  And one of the most recent elements of this time at home is my volunteering at a music festival. “Kilkim Žaibu” – Lithuanians know what this is; for the rest of you – it’s a festival that mixes traditional Baltic culture with heavy music. The music, I though, would be way heavier than what I listen to, but the company – and the whole experience – should be nice. Getting into a cool festival for free AND having a

Beers by the fire and a reggae tune constantly in mind – here’s a nice summary of how it was for me. Also, there was an element of secrecy involved: how not to show to people that it’s not some heavy music tune but “I wanna love ya, and treat ya riiiiiight” that is spinning in my head and that is also making me walk in a sort of semi-jumpy way (c’mon, it’s hard to resist the temptation of walking to the beat you have in your head).good time with other volunteers? Hells yeah.

Besides that, I made a very pleasant discovery, although it could have reached me in more pleasant circumstances.

That discovery was: I’m glad I don’t weigh fifty kilos! I uttered that phrase in the middle of a storm, alone in my tent at night, kneeling on the mattress, sort of holding to the tent walls and already imagining my temporary house being flipped on the side or even flown into the air. Someone skinnier might have died. I survived and so I should get another bag of chips to celebrate and commemorate it. Another discovery was that no matter how convenient it is to have a tent for yourself, it would be sweet to have some just to shout “holy shit, holy shit, this is a serious storm!” together.

Ah, yes, and the very activity itself of selling band T-shirts and other attributes (which was my main activity during the festival itself) taught me a couple of things. For example, that it is highly unproductive for me to answer “yes, I do” to a question whether I speak Russian and then struggle to comment on any other inquiry. Mixing numbers like sixty and sixteen, apparently, can also be rather inconvenient.

A flow of new discoveries and new friends (…and a discovery that it’s a bit redundant to add ‘new’ to ‘discovery’): if this is what escaping that real life is, then I’m doing well.

PS. The reason why in this post I have such nice photos is coz one of our volunteers, Simona, is a professional photographer. That’s why, if you have the time, check her out at MonaFotografija (at blogspot). Though, to be honest, I wouldn’t be recommending this if she wasn’t an awesome person in general. Maybe I’d even trash her photography skills instead, who knows.

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