I went up with A to Dancing Ground over the weekend. It’s a new festival organised by a small group of friends and there was probably around 200 people there – although I’m pretty bad with estimating numbers. I had hopes of going to a few of the workshops leading up to the weekend but it panned out otherwise.
I spent most of the time at the campsite looking out at the trees, catching up on the last issue of the Economist, snacking and sleeping. If it wasnt for the meals (the event was fully catered), I might have been even less sociable. My excuse is that where we camped, the thickly forested site in combination with the wonderfully clear weather and the early autumn light was just too entrancing to leave.
Also, I’d under-estimated how difficult it was to meet a schedule. Workshops started at 7 (way too early), 10 (still too early), 2 (too soon after lunch) and 4:30 (too late). In spite of those obstacles, I did make it to half a contemporary workshop and that gave me enough of a taste that I’m thinking of checking a beginners class in Melbourne.
I left feeling wonderfully relaxed with an 11 hour sleep on Saturday night under my belt but with a bit of regret that I hadnt done much more with my time there. It seemed a pity that it’d taken me most of the festival to get enough energy to be ready for the festival. Maybe next year.