✨ Another Little Throwback to a Summer Sunset – Awaken as Love Holland Tantra Festival ✨

It’s not nostalgia, it just finally made it to the top of the list. These beautiful sunny days keep dragging me away from the keyboard and out into the world 😎.

Looks like I’ve officially caught the Tantra festival bug. Somehow, this type of “vacation” really works for me. This time, the venue was already familiar – the estate and castle Baarlo de Berckt, near Eindhoven. I was there before, for an Ecstatic Dance festival. I knew the way! Which, believe me, is a big deal for me. Normally, I’m the one being left by a bus in the middle of nowhere, desperately chasing down a ride, a carpool, or whatever moves – because these festivals are always “somewhere” deep in a forest, miles away from civilization. This time, it was easy: one bus, a plane, a sleepover, another bus, a train, and then a final bus. Simple, right? 🤣

Once again, I was part of the Love Angel team – I’ve written about this curious “job” before. Being part of the team is a whole different festival dimension compared to the “plebs” – the regular participants just soaking up the festival vibe. We are the workers. Real mining shifts, barely enough time between one task and the next. I stuff everything into my bag in the morning, changing outfits and putting on makeup while literally running from one place to another.

Of course, even regular participants have their share of frustrations: Which workshop to attend when THREE are happening at the same time?! Or when they arrive a little late, only to find the temple full… or worse – when they can’t find a partner! And the ultimate disaster – when they do find a partner, but the partner shows up late, leaving them standing at the door like a sad puppy, frantically racing down the hallways hoping to sneak into another workshop in time. And then comes the comforting: “It’s the Universe’s decision, I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.” While silently thinking: f*ck… I totally blew it like a clueless teenager. But hey – what’s the point of all this “self-work” if one missed workshop can ruin my peace of mind?

Been there, done that. Those days are behind me now. As a Love Angel, I’m spared these emotional tortures. If we’re not on duty, there’ll always be room for us at the workshops. Yeeaahh… one less frustration in life.

Now, about the travel wardrobe struggle. Because of astronomically priced plane tickets and a last-minute decision, I only had a tiny backpack (max 8 kg). On the way there, I smuggled in a little cloth bag with sandwiches and water, but on the way back they made me cram everything into my backpack. So I piled on every piece of clothing I had, like Quasimodo, and passed the grumpy Helga at airport control without blinking.

And while we’re on the topic of sandwiches… There I was, sitting at a random train station somewhere between Eindhoven and Venlo – because I got so caught up chatting with DS that I missed my stop. Sitting, waiting for the next train, munching on a leftover sandwich from the day before. In summer. Which means – beautifully matured. And I’m thinking… People say “Wow, you travel so much, such amazing places, festivals…” And I just wanna say, “Sure, come with me sometime – stale sandwich included – then let’s talk.” When am I finally going to travel like a lady?? Thank God for Dutch trains.

Now, back to packing. We stayed in an 8-bed dorm. The other girls came with suitcases the size of closets. Summer clothes, winter clothes, mid-season clothes… and feathers. I instantly felt defeated with my tiny backpack. Luckily, my clothes weigh about 5 grams each – including my sister’s prom dress from the previous century. It all worked… until the grand finale – the ball, masquerade, sparkle night. Alright fine – a little white, a little gold, a dash of glitter, and a mask I drew with a fluorescent marker I managed to squeeze into my bag (from now on, I’m never traveling without it – it literally saved my personality and identity among the insanely creative and carefully prepared costumes that night).

Now looking at the festival photos (attached), I can hardly believe it. All these super educated, well-traveled people, who can afford to attend these pretty pricey festivals – HOW CRAZY DID THEY GO ABOUT MASKS?! Was it for the art? The photos? The disguise? Maybe we finally took off our daily masks just to put on a real one and be ourselves. Fascinating. Either way, creativity had no limits.

Maybe next year I’ll finally splurge on a checked-in bag. Or, honestly… I might just make a lace mask from my grandma’s old curtains from the flea market. My Ruža Selectronic sewing machine still works wonders 😂.