Today I'm going to share a piece on my earlier adventures, written for a writing contest organized by Matt. Well, I'd even say "the writing contest", since as far as I know it was the one and only endeavor of that kind (club members themselves organized something similar later, but on a smaller scale). The task was to describe one's ideal travelling experience, either an imaginary project or something that has actually happened. And yes, I was among the 2 absolute winners and got a lasting practical present from the US! According to Matt, some parts of my text are unquestionably funny :)
Enough with intros, let's take a look at the text itself!
THE EPIC WIN
AMIDST AN EPIC FAIL
or My Ideal
Travelling Experience
Not long ago at
one of our English club’s meetings Matt mentioned, how getting into troubles
while travelling can considerably improve a vacation. Most of us readily agreed
with this notion, and came up with a dozen of benefits one can get from an
unexpected failure: challenge, adventure, finding oneself in unusual surroundings,
meeting unexpectedly kind people, and above all, making the best memories. I
hope this story will take it to a whole new level. Yes, finding your way out of
your own problem can be quite entertaining; but partaking in someone else’s
failure can at times become your Ideal Travelling Experience.
The thing took
place in summer 2009. The Polish NGO I worked for granted me a vacation. Among
other plans, I contemplated visiting my motherland. A short internet search
drew my attention to Svirzh 2009,
a new open-air festival. Its impressive program,
gleaming with well-known names, left me no choice than to go there. In order to
spend less money and have more fun, I applied as a volunteer and made online
friends with Kate, the Head Volunteer Manager of the festival. At the same time
I learned about some Polish festivals, which had failed to provide a huge part
of their declared event schedules (keep in mind that the devastating 2008
crisis was still very tangible). Shame on them, I thought, no such thing could
ever happen at a Ukrainian festival. Now perhaps you've guessed where I'm
heading with this…
Since no one was
coming from Vinnytsia to bring my tent, I arranged with Kate that I’d sleep in
hers; thus, I unwittingly landed in the best place to witness all the
backstage life of the festival in real-time. At the volunteer’s sector, where
the tent was set up, I met a group of volunteers who had come there 1 or 2 days
before to help organize the campsite. Those brave and energetic people, most of
them men, proudly referred to themselves as the Construction Brigade.
Amusingly, they where the only volunteers who actually completed their task at
that festival.
The first night
was marvelous. Having got tired of walking around the huge festival’s territory
and shouting cheerful nonsense, amazed by the scope of the forthcoming event,
many of us decided to sleep outside the tents, chatting and watching the solemn
star-filled sky.
The next morning
all the volunteers got T-shirts and caps with the festival’s logo and started
to work. Everyone had a different task: selling tickets, meeting and
accommodating the performers, assisting in putting up tents, etc. As for me, I
was helping to do sound checks at one of the numerous musical stages. The work wasn’t
difficult; I even managed to get a brake and, among other things, spent some
time near the Literature Stage, where – for the first time in my life – I was
able to meet Anna Russ (the famous Russian woman poet) and some well-known
Ukrainians. The great evening concert further increased my enjoyment. A rumor
came about that the next day there would be no concerts, ‘cause the organizers
were out of money. But I didn’t believe that.
The next day the
rumors proved true. Performers and security guards were leaving (most of them
not paid enough), the stages were dismantled. They still sold tickets, but for
one day only. Volcanoes of hate speech were exploding here and there – most of
them from people who had bought tickets for the entire festival.
Many of them
wanted to talk to Armine, the head organizer of the whole thing, but she was
rather
speechless; some
of the active members of the Construction Brigade volunteered to help the
organizers to keep at least some order and safety. There were no sound checks
anymore, so I was free to visit the Literature Stage, explore the Svirzh castle
and do anything I wanted.
The head
organizer managed to talk some performers into playing for free, and paid the
partners to leave one of the stages for one more day. So in the evening there
was a sort of improvised concert. Since almost all the electricity generators
were already taken away, the concert took place almost in complete darkness.
Between the songs some desperate presenter (leader of some band, I suppose) was
talking to people with fake enthusiasm. When that theatre of the absurd was
still on, some creative minds came up with an effigy representing the
festival’s organizers, and – after some ritual procession with dances and
torches – burned it.
In the morning
another set of presents was waiting for me: someone brought to our tent several
boxes of Tshirts, caps, festival CDs and some other trifles of that kind. Each
remaining volunteer was encouraged to take several ones, and so I did. In
addition, there was a batch of preprinted “Agreements with volunteers”, which we
decided to use for kindling the firewood. As the majority of people were
leaving, I took a notebook with my poems and went to see, what was going on at
the Literature Stage. Of course, there were no actual stage anymore, but the
poets didn’t seem to need it in the first place. Luckily, some interesting
people were still present, so we had poetic readings and even a slam contest.
And – all of a sudden – I won it. The audience liked my humor and a lot of
people donated something to reward me. Thus, beside some cash, my “prize” included
several candies, apples, condoms, batteries, a bracelet, a lip balm tube, and
even half a glass of beer.
Someone joked
that I was one of the few people who actually got paid at the festival. The
money was immediately spent to buy a funny T-shirt – the Ukrainian inscription
on it read “Learn our language, bastards”.
Since I didn’t
drink alcohol, the beer was carefully brought to the remnant of the
Construction Brigade. I was happy as a sandboy. I won many more contests later
in Poland, but am still thankful for that first victory.
I decided not to
go home that day, and joined a group of volunteers going to swim in the local
lake.
Interestingly,
one of them came from Vinnytsia and was a student of the faculty I’d graduated
from. Later in the evening, when we collected and inspected the foodstuffs we
had, she suddenly transformed into an experienced chef and cooked the most
delicious vegetarian dinner I tasted in half a year. The smell was so appetizing
that we made quite a lot of new friends that night :) In the background there
was another effigy burning of the organizers. Since Kate left in the morning, I
had no tent to sleep-in, but a certain well-wisher quickly found me another
one.
The camp was
woken up by a thunderstorm early in the morning. I packed all my stuff and
helped to pack the tent I slept in. Everyone was leaving the camp in haste,
often loosing or forgetting things. Since I was one of the last people to
leave, I got a bunch of new knives, spoons, forks and a bucket…
P. S. In 2010 the
organizers were planning the festival once again, in a different location
closer to Kyiv. But this time they failed even to begin it :)
© Dima Kushnir,
2011
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