Acts Of Kindness - 22/4/2014 - 27/4/2014

The road ahead was going to be a long one...

"Up your arse!"

- Robert

Off to Perth.

I left Confest with one of the party-goers, who took me to Adelaide, and from there I got another shorter ride to Port Augusta, where Dad and I had discussed meeting on the western exit. I never saw him, so I slept that night in some bushes on the side off the Eyre Highway.

Waking with the sun is an experience like no other; especially when you have slept in the outdoors for the night. I hadn't set up my tarp; I'd just slept in my bag under the stars, so the moment morning hit' I knew.

It took a good half of the morning to leave that long, barren stretch of road. At this time, I'd continued my tradition of being totally mapless, and had to assume I was going the right way.

This could have very well ended up being my breakfast

I got a ride with a middle aged woman and her friends teenage daughter, and the back of their car was full of apples. With the addition of some McBites, I had breakfast, and was taken to Whyalla.

I got into town and went to the bank to sort out issues with my lost debit card, then got a ride from a guy who'd seen me outside Port Augusta, to the Lincoln Highway. Something didn't feel right though - I looked around, smelled the air... I was near the sea, surely...

I trudged into town with my bag and guitar, then went into a small local grocer, where I asked directions and bought some sandwiches with the lot. Basically, I'd gotten further away from my destination, and now I had to march on through the whole town to get to the Iron Knob Road on the other side.

By the time I got there I was a stuck pig - It was HOT!

Waiting on the Iron Knob Road

The guy who drove me to Iron Knob was fucked. I could have avoided a LOT of stress not getting in that car - not Wolf Creek or anything, but just crazy. He rolled up in a red sedan and had zebra stripe seat covers. Straight away he asked me to work out his car radio.

"I want the fucken races, but I can't work the fucken thing out!"

I turned on the radio. Music crackled weakly through the speakers.

"Ah it's fucked! I just want the races!"

I continued surfing - all the same, and every time my driver swore harder; I was getting a bit on edge. The ride continued at roughly the same pace; I gave up on the radio and decided it was best to let this guy talk about himself, express HIS opinion on things, and then I'd nod and smile avoiding conflict as much as possible.

Alcoholism.

Fucked liver.

Getting my licence back.

Rehab.

Depression.

Gambling.

The list goes on. Part of me wished the ride had been "serial-killer silent" instead. He dropped me in the town of Iron Knob just outside his place, and I moved on with haste back onto the Eyre Highway, turning down his invite to come in and watch TV.

I couldn't help it... it was very funny to me at the time

 I waited; it got dark, and I ate my sandwiches. I needed water, so I hid my bag in the dark and walked into town to find a tap to fill my bottle. Every house had it's lights off, and there was only one shop - this town was tiny and very slummy. I stepped into the little corner store and inside were three men at a table drinking beer.

"Um... hi. I couldn't fill my bottle could I?"

One of the gentlemen stood up and walked over - he clearly owned the establishment. He took the bottle and invited me in. "You staying in town tonight?"

"Yeah, I'm camping out on the Eyre highway tonight." I replied. The store owner came back with my bottle and gave me a sympathetic look. He then walked over to the customer fridge and brought back a two litre bottle of Solo.

Even though I had plenty to drink that night, I didn't sleep comfortably at all.

The next morning, I stood here shivering in the fog as the sun had barely risen on the outskirts of Iron knob, cursing every vehicle that sped past me. Two hours passed and finally I got a ride, but It wasn't the usual ute, fourbie or sedan. Optimus Prime screeched to a halt in the iron riddled gravel on the side of the road, and the door popped open. I was happy Indeed!

I was halfway across Australia now. The sign said so:

Hooray!!!

 And then I got picked up by Darly

Confestions To Make #1: MUSHY SPOTTING!

One of the various species of mushroom you can find growing on the Confest site

DISCLAMER:

I AM IN NO WAY AFFILIATED WITH DRUGS AND NOR IS ANYONE IN THIS BLOG POST, AS IT IS A WORK OF FICTION.

I DO NOT BY ANY MEANS INTEND TO PROMOTE DRUG USE OR MUSHROOM PICKING IN THIS POST, AND IF YOU DO THESE THINGS AND KILL YOURSELF, DON'T BLAME ME.

IT'S YOUR FAULT.

kthnks.

Mushrooms. 

Mushies. 

Shrooms. 

If you can't afford a rocket, these bad boys will take you on a trip to the moon no problem. I've heard of people stewing them and making tea with them, but you can just eat them raw, and the Confest site is absolutely littered with them.

So, it comes as no surprise then that one day, as I was helping set up the Vibes Space, Jonah walks up with a mushroom in his hand, looking very pleased with himself and impressed by it's size, claiming there were larger ones around where he'd found this particular specimen. I asked how he knew it was trippy and not poisonous, and here is what he told me...

(Please get out your pens and paper, it's time to take notes, class)

SHROOM PICKING 101:

A WHAT TO LOOK FOR BASED ON WHAT I HAVE BEEN TOLD BY HIPPIES AND THE LIKES OF

Step 0: Google this shit before you believe me and do the smart thing (I can't be bothered) and make sure you have an emergency plan ready in case shit goes BAD

Step 1: Find a place where mushies grow (I guess)

Step 2: Find some mushies (could be a smart move)

Step 3: Pick mushy BUT DO NOT EAT! (you could die)

Step 4: Search the stem for any skirting (it should be smooth. If there is any skirting at all, fuck it off and wash your hands before eating)

Step 5: Search the cap for any oily residue (there should be NONE)

Step 6: Now you know this particular fungi is fairly not too poisonous really (possibly), feel free to break it open with your fingers (no eating yet). If this mushroom is going to get you high, you should see this:

The yellow (or whatever color the mushy is) flesh of the shroom will slowly (or rapidly, if it's SUPER trippy) turn blue.

Step 7: If you have followed all the steps above and are feeling confident about your little "Fun Guy", take a tiny bite to test exactly how strong it is.

Step 8: enjoy the effects, and take as much as you feel up to, or as much as you can handle! 

Safe to say, none of us went past step 6. I was game to try mushies whilst at Confest, but not until I was TOTALLY sure that they weren't poisonous (taste tester, hehehe). This day never came, but it was only my first, and I plan on going back to this marvelous festival again and again!

If you aren't sure what any of this is about, here is a link to my Confest article:

http://acoupleoflines.blogspot.com/2014/05/confest-1742014-2142014.html

Other than that, thanks for reading! More Confestions to ome, and more travel stories to tell! Feel free to share and follow!

Confest 17/4/2014 - 21/4/2014

Aboard the "Marakesh Express" bus

Photo by Guy Menzies-Saunders

"I'm coming back every chance I get"

- Me... hehehe

I have no idea what I expected to write about Confest. I did have a vague idea for a post before the festival started; but that is a post which would now mean nothing based on what I saw there, felt there and left with afterwards.
So here goes...

The first thing I noticed immediately was the mix of cultures pouring through the gates on the 17th, and by "cultures" I'm not simply speaking of ethnicity; I'm talking about identities. Each person I saw was as different as the next, sporting a different look, ideology, personality and attitude to life.
Before I saw what Confest was truly about, I laughed foolishly among my friends about it being a "Hippie Festival", but honestly many of these people were anything but hippies - some were, certainly, and indeed many had been coming to Confest for years. Yet as I walked around the site watching people set up their tents, I saw that some were just day to day city slickers like myself, or just country kids who had no clue what to expect. People old, young, child and newborn; they all had this in common:
they were all there for the show.
The show.
That is what Confest was, or rather, it is, because as people finished setting up, many began to transform into whatever they pleased - some dressed as the opposite sex, some took all their clothes off, some took it to the next level covering themselves in mud. Some preferred fairy wings or eloquent clothing and face paint. There were couples, singles; saints and sinners, and there was something else in the forming in the air that I couldn't define at the time as it was still growing, something subtle but beautiful. The first night was quiet, though the Vibes Tent ran at a low hum, and people still insisted on running in the steaming hot sauna and then running out again into the freezing cold river.

The wild nature of Confest really came to life the following days.The "Mud Tribe" began it's fun and games, parading around the festival site, speaking in jibberish, screaming at cars and bikes and smacking each-other's bums, guffawing loudly. They were totally unrecognizable as their former selves; it was total method acting for these people. Everywhere there were workshops running, for people who wanted to learn to do practically anything - tantra massage, how to twirl, music lessons, how to survive zombie apocalypse - you name it. Not to mention the music.
Over the course of the days, more and more drum circles formed, and at night, every musical talent migrated to the arts village and created what can only be described as a titanic, earth trembling roar of djembe bass and drums, the almost symphonic armada of guitarists and strings, and a choir of absolute angels who sang late into the night, whose every word was as deliberate and full of heart as the next.
And they would smoke, and sing, and laugh, and cheer, harmonize, chatter and go to bed. Once one person left, another three would arrive to take their place. It was fun, passionate, sensual, sorrowful, energizing and at the same time meditative.
None of the songs played during those long night time jam sessions will ever be listened to the same way again, I am certain of this.

If you had "a thing", you could show it at Confest. I'm not just talking about genitalia; it is more than that. Your art, your views and everything about you is appreciated, admired and respected, and it is impossible to describe just how that feels when such a large number of people greets your identity in such a way,
which leads me to the final and most important detail of this incredible and stupendous festival, the thing which, at first I could not define:

Love.

Love that breaks you down to your very core, as genuine and as passionate as you could ever dream of it being; love that never patronizes, yet always stays with you, no matter how far you are from the people who shared it with you.
It's love that inspires you and motivates you, and it comes in such a variety of ways, whether it's a simply gesture like a hug or a meal, a conversation that lasts for hours, or to be told you are loved; to be held by genuine person or to have company for the night and leave with a powerful bond and friendship that will stay in your heart for the rest of your life.

Without the faintest shadow of a doubt, you can be certain that nothing was shallow, hurtful, misguided, or of a nature resembling anything but that short, but immeasurably powerful word, and I know very definitely that I love every soul I met there and look forward to seeing them again at the next festival, outside it, and on the road in my travels. I know now from this experience that every person, no matter how they dress, walk, talk or differ from the next, is capable of this, and it is such a beautiful thing to see it so concentrated in one place, to create an environment I will never forget, yet such a terrible shame that the world isn't always this way. I suppose for love to exist, pain does also, but I at least know which one will always be stronger in my heart from now on.

To end this blog here, to some may seem unfair. I hyped Confest up quite a bit as a crazy, no holds barred madness educed party, and in many ways it was.
For me, however that wasn't the highlight.
That is why I have decided, between blogs, I am going to once in a while share a story with you wonderful readers out there, which means plenty of photos and plenty of the shenanigans that I got up to whilst at this incredible occasion. This series of blogs will be titled "Confestions To Make #(1,2,3, etc.)", (hahaha, i know, very punny...) so keep an eye out for those.

And the drugs were great! (DISCLAIMER!)
Can't get too soppy...

Hopefully I can keep you all updated more frequently than I've been doing since arriving in Asia - I have come a long way since Easter. For now though, thank you everyone who helped make this years Easter Confest everything it was, especially Dad for taking me.
I hope all of you out there take my experience with you and keep festivals like Confest alive by attending, volunteering and supporting their existence; I plan to.
If it isn't your cup of tea, then I implore you all to do one thing, and that is to simply love.
It's a choice we can make, and a choice we will never, ever regret.

More coming soon, but for now feel free to share and leave feedback!

Nothing Is Simple Around Here (Mostly Photos) - 3/4/2014 - 17/4/2014

Confest Motto

Outside the workers kitchen with the team

"The party hasn't even begun yet, man"
-Emmanuel Marshall, my father

DISCLAIMER
ANY MENTION OF 
PERSONS 
(INCLUDING, BUT NOT LIMITED TO ME)
 PERFORMING 
ILLEGAL ACTIVITIES ARE
FICTIONAL!
OKAY!?
K THNKS

I rose early from the Dasha; I'd had a great sleep after chilling out with Sage the night before, who was still asleep, and there was no sign of dad anywhere. I remembered he mentioned the gate would be marked, and yet had seen no marking. I rolled a fire barrel to the edge of the gate, and started walking back to the site.
"HOOOOOOOEEEEEEEEEEE!"
Dad was right behind me.

J's for breakfast

Sage woke up and we chatted a while over breakfast, and then Sage and I got to work while dad took a breather from his travels (not being lazy or anything...).

The Dasha

The Kitchen where the previous night's events had taken place

"Perfectly functioning" site vehicles

Peter and Boris, the suave storage crates

The ticket booth

Sage and I chatted while we put up fence posts and tape around restricted indigenous land. She said that we would be the only three for a day or so, and then people would gradually turn up to help set up the place. Surely enough they did.

The next day I met Simon and the tastiest dried dates I've ever eaten.
Simon is a man with a philosophy:

Simon

"You should eat something"

Whenever things got frustrating and difficult, it was time for lunch according to Simon. 

Simon was right. 

Dad and Sage managed to get a brown 4WD running that day, so doing the posts was going to be quick work. It would also be slightly entertaining when i realized what the white paint on the van had been applied with.

Hehehe

Being happy with the passenger seat

Another day passed, and things were pretty easy. Sage and I finished up working and we headed back to the kitchen to rest.

That was when the confusion began.

Meet Jonah

Here was the situation; Jonah is roughly six-three, has dreadlocks, plays guitar and sings

My name is Jonah, I am roughly six-three, I have dreadlocks, I play guitar and I sing. HA!

Time to confuse the shit out of people!

(And we are both extremely sexy)

Jonah and I got on great! We mirrored each-other in many ways, and differed in many more - he was even left handed, so if we looked at each other with out guitars it was perfect. Jonah lives on a property owned by the local community, almost completely off the grid. He has no power, no land line, no internet or plumbing, yet he and his friends who also live there are frequently picking each other's brains to try and find solutions to these dilemmas (solutions I'm sure power companies frown upon). Jonah doesn't work either unless it's random jobs for the locals. Their food comes from the ground, and their water comes from the freshwater waterfall by their homes

To say the least I was impressed by this.

That night we smoked and jammed hard with my father, and chatted until it was very late.

Dad with all the class

Everyone continued working very hard, mostly with odd jobs here and there. I helped build a tool that would fix a gate,

Like some sort of badass

and I also helped Jonah set up the Vibes Tent in the Arts Village.

But you might be wondering to yourself: "What the hell is a Vibes Tent in the Arts Village?

Well, let me explain:

You get the idea

The arts village is where it all happens. It's where everyone jams, does body painting, gets covered in mud, and deprives each-other of sleep. Naturally, having no tent, I had to build a home there.

The foundations and early stages

(Insert montage and motivational music here)

The real deal, baby

Safe to say, I didn't have to listen to this guy snore anymore

More and more volunteers arrived, and now work was getting serious - we had to earn our cheaper volunteer's ticks. Jonah and I were on plumbing duty, and believe me that is harder than it sounds.

Essentially the water ran from the river, but due to it being undrinkable (I found out the hard way by drinking from the wrong tap), it had to run through a couple of filters first. Our job was to lay:

- 6km of 2 inch pipe across the whole site

- A line of 1 inch to each of the villages which include

    - Arts Village

    - Bliss

    - Tranquility Village

    - Tantra Village

    - Gypsy Kitchen

    - Market

- A line of half inch pipe from the 1 inch for each required location at each village, including toilets around the sites and also random drinking taps here and there on the path

We also then had to check for leaks and execute them with extreme prejudice.

Jonah sorting out the 1 inch pipe

To put it simply, our job was pretty important - possibly one of the top three most important jobs to prepare for Confest. In fact, we were volunteer superstars. We were THE JONAHS!!!

Inside Jonah's car with his growing artwork: "CD's Suck And Most Of Mine Are Broken"

Lunch and Confest stories with Peter, the legend behind the Arts Village

Peter's place

Guitar Tuna - I'm so clever

In the Moulamein library blogging with dad

Jonah's homegrown "chop-chop" tobacco

Doing my usual thing with some bolt cutters in a stinky, old on-site caravan

"Dr Who" in the evenings with Jonah. We also watched "The Mighty Boosh" and "Blackbooks"

Hard at work in our new van

In the evenings we jammed

Is he? Well, Cosmos Magazine studies show...

Confest transport to assist the Dreadful Journeyer

Wrapping my beard with Jo, who arrived at Confest a week after me from Pete's farm

Sheries; a new addition to the team. We also had assistance from Neville and Shift (Cheers guys!)

Hard at work merely hours before the festival start

Final touches to the Arts Village by Sheries & Jonah (Jon & Sas)

Finally, two weeks had passed; thousands of cars, vans, utes, campers, hitchhikers, gypsies, hippies, skinheads, metalheads - EVERYONE was piled up at the gates to get inside and begin partying. The vibe was immediately changing and Confest was coming to life.

I'm sorry I haven't been keeping up to date as much as I have previously, but I can tell you I am currently in Thailand, experiencing the culture, lady-boys and shifty hotel rooms. I miss you all, and it's great to see that my audience isn't just in Australia; I have views from all over the world and my blog has been read over 1000 times, something I never expected. WTF!?

When I started out, I intended to write to keep my friends and family up to date on exactly what I was doing and where I had been, so thank you strangers who have found me somehow and please keep reading, and please share, and please leave feedback, and PLEASE go out there and see the world for yourself! It will change you for the best, as I feel it is still doing for me.

Thank you!

To be continued...