Ok so I haven’t actually attended this event since I’ve only JUST learned about it and this year’s show is over. But it’s totally on my festival bucket list!!!! Here’s why I’m so stoked to check out the Air Guitar World Championships next year!
That hill was a journey in itself.
I remember seeing it for the first time. As we’d inched our way up an incline tailing the dozen before, this unassuming beast had risen from the crest of our latest achievement. My friend, pushing ahead, released an exasperated groan. I would soon echo it as I gawked at the climb ahead of us.
It was a country road. To a car the stretch would have been an effortless task—full of fresh country air and sweet sunshine—but for us each breathless push of the pedals led to a cycle that grew heavier. It was like winding up a spring. I glanced at my tires to make sure I hadn’t caught something in the brakes or chain, which could be adding friction. It couldn’t be me could it? I didn’t feel tired. Where was the weight coming from? Was this the reality between physical strength and will?
How can you tell you have the best friend in the world?
You drag her on a 142 kilometre bike trip and at the end of it all she still thanks you for the time spent together.
I wouldn’t call my friend crazy, but lord… we certainly weren’t qualified for that trip. My friend rides horses for a living and I ride my bike for 20 minutes to and from work. We’re not super fit and yet we decided heading out on a massive two day bike trip would be hilarious.
But around the cursing and wheezing I rediscovered the joys of hanging out with a childhood friend and even picked up some philosophy somewhere on the backside of a monstrous hill.
I’ve heard it said that market squares were once considered the heart of a town. Before the giant grocery stores of today everyone converged at the central market to find their wares and catch up on the town’s news. The square was home to the local economy, social discourse and arts. Everything passed through it.
Gazing around Cambridge’s Market Square I could still see the heart people have spoken about from by-gone days. Today in particular merchants mingled with activists right beside artists busy enthralling the curious crowds.
The Cambridge Buskers and Street Performers Festival is a shot of adrenaline for a city already driven by a spirit that just won’t sit still.
The bus was speeding down the road as though creatures from the shadowed pits of hell were nipping at its back bumper. It swerved and dodged the potholes flashing through the headlights. When it missed, the bus jerked and jolted. My body was thrown about as I clung to my backpack and the shred of hope of sleeping through this nightmare.
My head rose and fell, as I nodded in the peace of the day. My makeshift pillow, the soft tummy of my partner, grew and shrank with each breathe. The warmth of the sunshine coupled with the body heat under my head surrounded me in warmth. Like a cat sprawled under a sunbeam I stretched out in blissful contentment. Nothing strayed from the slow rhythm in my little bubble of perception. Silent intermittent splashes of shade played across my body as clouds drifted across the vast sky.
Electronic music, zingy and energetic blasted from the stage of the Super Mega Zone. But its contagious beat fired harmlessly over our heads as we dozed on the soft grass of the Midsummer Common. A few daring souls bounced and bumped close to the stage as the rest of the onlookers bobbed their heads in appreciation.
When we arrived in the Cameron Highlands it was dark. The dashboard clock of my friend’s little red car flashed 11 p.m. As a driver my eyes had been fixed on the curving, swirling, serpentine road. Now demoted to passenger I was free to admire the slashes of light in the distance. What were they anyway?
The goggles I’d picked up at a club two nights ago clung close to my face, which was both a boon and a bane. While the persistent waves of water weren’t reaching my eyes, my vision was constantly being clouded by condensation collecting inside. Risking a peek out from underneath the lenses after some frantic rubbing hadn’t cleared my sight, I sought my friends in the crowd.
Quick tips for Songkran (in Bangkok)
1) Don’t be a spoil sport. Be ready to get wet and enjoy it! The idea is to have your sins washed away from the previous year after all! Take it and love it! And of course return the favour whenever possible!
Where were we? We weren’t sure, but something about a waterfall.
“The sign says the temple is this way,” shouted my Japanese friend pointing up a paved, steep winding road.
“Let’s go then,” was my response as I twisted the throttle and tapped the motorbike into gear.
We pulled ourselves to the top, but no peaked roof peaked through the trees, no paths lead to a temple entrance. We continued down the road and found ourselves looping right back to the entrance.
So we changed our objective.
“The sign says the market is this way,” my Japanese friend once more pointed the way.
“The sign says the waterfall is down that way.”
“The woman said we should go that way to find the waterfall.”
Before we knew it the road had faded into a dirt track.