Culture flash, arrival, Budapest. Rich, decadent empires, Rome, Paris, high-above balconies, beautiful ladies waving their satin handkerchiefs, men, dazzled, loose their perfect manners on shiny horses, nervous, in stuffy evening sunlight. Everything is melting into the other. Crumbling facades, birches on ruptured sills. Dour observers behind blinded windows, old widows carrying their shopping on cracked pavements, bored Roma kids playing on dusty roads, father’s fat bellies, pondering on doorsteps.
Cut. 140 kilometers. Speeding on the highway, bumping about back roads, through dozy villages, immersing into endless corn- and sunflower-fields. Arriving suddenly, in the middle of nowhere at what it says to be the official gate to Paradise.
Everything that comes behind this gate arose from pure love. It sounds like a quote, but it is true. We entered the Ozorian world! You feel it, everywhere, within everything. It’s baffling. All the little creatures and decorations made devotedly and everything human beings need for a week of camping and having the time of their lifes has been thought of carefully. Joy and Happiness, peace and love and harmony literally inflates us. People are curious and fraught and excited and overly friendly. A party, a gathering arises, with colors, cushions and comfort dotting it. Bass, lights, ecstasy. Power and abandon breaking loose. Food is plenty, music is on, everyone being exhilarated and nice.
When you’re looking for a one-week-paradise the Ozorian valley is definitely the place to be. There’s everything a more or less hippie-minded person could wish for. A full-on party, arts, workshops, finest international food, relaxing, inspiration, fun. It is a place of beautiful people and good spirits.
But after seven days of the “oh-so-beautiful-One-Love” you also see the facades crackle. People start getting tired of it. Not everyone is always smiling, always happy and caring anymore. After some days of having worn the full-psy-hippie-costume it becomes obvious that not everyone honestly has the inner peace and hippie-mind we were all pretending to have when the festivities where still at their beginning. People are littering. They get careless, get ensnared in their own problems, scream at each other on the campsite. Shopkeepers get grumpy, people in queues get annoyed and reckless and 200 plugs are full of smartphones.
We all came for the nature and the love-one-another-experience. And it has been amazing. But in the end most of us are still normal people from luxury backgrounds who get tormented by permanent baseline, the lack of retreat and comfort. That even the beautiful bees and fairies and pixies can’t turn into a happy smile all the time…