Being involved in a Green summer experience for a second year in a row speaks for itself. Had I not been satisfied, I would have never applied for a project for a second time.
Second year, again, I am spending my summer in a placement in the Green association. My memories from last year still linger with coziness, sharing, seaside and mountains, remote villages and a modern house. Some of my experiences from this year I share, innumerable others feel too close for them to leave my mind and be shared in the open.
Starting the volunteering with heading for the first alternative festival for the year, going to the forest, food waiting for us, people around a campfire. Waking up in early mornings, because the sun has heated the tent and sleep is no longer possible. Late night conversations. Writing. Picking sand, putting it in bags. The Green minivan. Indian-style cooking. Placing cables alongside the desired electric highway, in order for the festival lights to shine, when the guests arrive. Ethno music. Painting and meditation modalities. Guitars. Sharing, as a tribe, what has touched us so far on the project and the difficulties we are each experiencing. Lectures on fermented bread, alive bacteria, tasting fermented chocolate and kim-chi.
In between the two festivals, playing board games in the stronghold in Momin Prohod. Going to Kostenets for the traditional market, seeking beetroot and kefir for an Estonian cold soup that still remains to be cooked.
Coming back to Beglika lake to build the second festival. This is a place, which feels like home to me, now. Clear sky, mountains, forest, around the water pool. Placing my tent in the middle forest, looking to the main road. Steam, coming from the lake, welcoming me in the morning, while the waters are silent at night, before going back to my tent to sleep. Re-membering how to make bread without technology. Teaching new team members what is needed. Laying in the afternoon sun. The morning circles, taking responsibility for the most demanding job. Gifting an Irish man four different types of rakia to taste and choose, yet, him still preferring whiskey. Accordeon. Late night cleaning of dishes, along with singing French scouts. Seeing Sandra from Barcelona gipsy orchestra backstage, gifting her my bread.
Being with some familiar faces from last year, getting to know new ones and wishing for this whole experience to happen at least once more in my life. Coming back home, sitting with memories burning brightly, knowing, for a second time, that a life outside the usual one exists.
by Zapryan Hizhev