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A Remote Rural Rave

 

ladybower rave 2

Credit: Alice Burrow

Yesterday there was a “Peace in the Park” festival in Sheffield. This community music event started as protest to the Iraq war in 2003 and last year 8,000 attended.

I walked over four miles home from work and by the time I got there I was tired so I thought I’d save my energies for Peace in the Dark which follows. The location is released on the night in a phone message, the number of which is circulated by word of mouth. It was quite vague, the anonymous voice telling us (in a very Yorkshire accent) to “get t Ladybower [a local reservoir] and it’s dahn t’yer [down to your] left”. I’d never been to a rave this unofficial and was quite excited. Although apparently times have moved on and they’re now called “free parties”.

So after a fair bit of laser raving at mine (thanks YouTube) we set off into the early morning darkness, clinging on to the sides as we hurtled about in the taxi. Luckily the roads were quiet as we tore round corners going onto the wrong side of the road. The taxi driver said he had no idea where it was but he had been dropping people off at the reservoir all night. It was cloudy so we couldn’t see anything but taxi headlights lit the way as we joined an endless stream of people heading off along what is called the “Snake Pass” because it has narrow windy roads threading through the Pennines of the Peak District through to Manchester. We soon left the grey lake behind. The road was totally unsuitable for walking and there were no verges. It was surprisingly busy with cars beeping occasionally at the rabble winding haphazardly along. A police car with flashing lights sped past. “That’ll be on the way to the rave” I declared, “it’ll be over by the time we get there”. “That’s great for positive-thinking” a spectacled girl in front said, “that’ll get you far”. I shut up.

After a while the excitement of walking in the dark with fellow revellers beside pine tree forests, with hills outlined against a grey sky wore off and I began to get frustrated. We’d been walking for miles away from all civilisation and there was still no sight or sound of any activity other than dazed drunken youths asking each other if they knew the location. I began to loudly proclaim that there were no fields around here open to the public and we were just walking out to Manchester, that it was a big joke and I was tired already. My friend stoically and silently continued, compromising that if we walked another 15 minutes and still hadn’t reached it we could turn back.

Finally we heard the dull thuds of multiple sound systems, beating drums beckoning us to ritual raving and pounding to the beat of our hearts as we picked up the pace. A police car with lights flashing was stationed at the top of a track and party-goers were streaming past it and down the hill to the left. As we went past I heard someone inside calling for back-up. We went down the dirt path and gradually the smoke of several fires, crowds and the piles of speakers could be seen dotted about in the greyness. It was quite a sight. I imagined we wouldn’t have long to enjoy it before it was broken up.

I met one of the organisers on the way down, a cheery chap with black curls framing his face. I asked him about the police and whether the party could be stopped. “Nah” he said “they’ve been here since it started at 11 and there’s nothing they can do cos they’d need at least half the number of the crowd to do anything, all they can do is random drug searches which is what they’re doing. Are they still there? Cos I don’t wanna go up if they are.”

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Credit: Lauren-Allen Warwick

After deciding not to jump over the barbed wire fence, I opted for the gate at the end of it. It was a bizarre sight walking in. There were people tripping just standing in the field transfixed by the hills above them, muttering to themselves or just staring into space. Then there were quite a lot of people dancing as if they’d been electrocuted, flapping about manically. Others were in big groups inhaling balloons and there was the sound of gas cannisters being filled everywhere and empties lining the grass. People stared into small fires or cuddled each other enthusiastically on the field. The madness was framed by hills all around with a bank of fir trees as a backdrop. We walked round the four sound-systems playing happy hardcore, trance, drum and bass and reggae.

However I was quite distracted by the swarms of biting flies which dived from every angle. I could feel my face and hands burning from multiple bites. I danced near smokers, it is the only time I have been grateful for nicotine addicts.

I desperately started applying hair serum that I had in my pocket over my face. At least the blighters would get trapped in the goo. A guy with framed kind eyes, a shock of dark hair and a neat beard said “is that Merizalene?” “Merizalene?” I looked blankly and he took a spray out of his pocket. I assumed he was discussing some sort of drug but then he said “yeah, insect repellant”. I was ecstatic and coated my smarting face and hands in it.

ladybower rave

Credit: Lauren-Allen Warwick

Gradually it began to grow light but the party showed no signs of slowing. Less people were dancing now but there still hundreds milling about. We decided to call it a night at 6.30 and headed up the track with a great view of the craziness below. Luckily the taxi fare back was helped by others sharing the journey. The aggressive biting midges that hitched a ride with us too were not as welcome. One of the passengers said she was 15 but she looked older, wide-eyed and wrapped in an orange blanket, sitting next to a youth in a multicoloured woven poncho. At her age I didn’t even know what a rave (sorry, “free party”) was!

5.30am and we're still going!

5.30am and we’re still going!

It was a great morning but next time I’m taking insect repellent. My bacon bean and cheese pancakes were a perfect start to the following day.

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Filed under Days out/nights out, Life of Lydia

The journey to Istanbul and our First Night

I hadn’t even thought about the train journey. But it was just my luck that there were gale-force winds. When I got to the station many trains were cancelled or delayed.

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There were crowds of people staring at the boards in desperation, or anxiously chatting into their mobile phones. I assumed the worst, but scanning down I saw my train was at least running and only delayed by five minutes. I had set off at a perfectly respectable hour, 2pm. I even had time for a haircut and colour and had made the split decision to go brunette. I wasn’t sure of it, but the styling was good. By the time I got to London my train had been delayed by half an hour and my boyfriend had already had dinner.

When we got to the airport hotel I was suitably impressed; it was the sort that had Kettle Chips in the vending machine.

The next morning we were up at 7am which was easy enough. From there we drove to the cheap car park my boyfriend had booked online and then took a transfer bus the short distance to the airport. I hadn’t been to Gatwick before and was pleased with the variety of shops on offer. It wasn’t hard to choose where to have breakfast – Jamie Oliver had a restaurant there, which was a pleasant surprise. I expected only low-calorie options after his drive for healthy meals and so was astounded that a “full English” was on the menu. 019

After that I felt as heavy as my cabin bag, which luckily made it on to the plane with 0.2kg to spare for souvenirs on the way back.

We flew by Turkish Airlines and they were excellent, with complimentary Turkish Delight of course. I read my pocket guide book and phrase book and attempted to test my boyfriend, but he had no interest in it and said they’d speak English anyway. He was probably right but I wanted to make an effort. I then leafed through the book that had almost taken me over the 8kg limit: “Strolling Through Istanbul”, a fascinating guide book of the history and attractions of Istanbul. Unfortunately sometimes there was so much detail that I found myself reading the same paragraph multiple times. It all blurred into one literally as I found myself getting tired. 023 As we arrived four hours later, we flew low across the entire city. On emerging from the clouds we first passed long lines of hills illuminated purple in the sunset. Then as we got closer I caught glimpses of domes and minarets, even getting a picture of the Haggia Sophia (pronounced “Aya Sofya” in Turkish) and the suspension bridges criss-crossing the Bosphorous. It was magical.

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View of Haggia Sophia from the plane. Originally a church and built around 500AD, it rises majestically into the air. From the ground its minarets appear to touch the clouds.

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The Bosphorous

However we were brought sharply down to earth (and not just on the runway) when we tried to get out of the airport. It took us a while to find  the subway as there were not many signs until you had actually reached it. Then we assumed they would have ticket offices. No, there were only machines, and they didn’t take anything less than 10 Lira. This was a bit of a problem, we only had 100 Lira notes.

I sleepily suggested going back into the airport and buying something, at which my boyfriend pointed to the queue of disgruntled travellers waiting to get their bags through security. Oh of course. Well why didn’t we see if there were any shops in this large hall area then. We couldn’t see any nearby but I thought surely there would be some further along. Exasperated, we followed the sign for “buses”. This led to a car park with a couple of minivans parked up and guys sitting around smoking (almost everyone smokes in Istanbul).

So we headed back inside, with my boyfriend now thoroughly agitated and fed up. By this time we’d probably spent half an hour finding the place and wondering what to do, so my boyfriend finally decided to give my idea a chance and we went off in search of a shop. Sure enough, we found a “market shop” further down. We breathed a sigh of relief and bought refreshments. I got some sickly sweet cherry juice (I found most of their drinks are either too sweet or too bitter) and some watermelon chewing gum, what a novelty. We then spent some time trying to distinguish our route from the blurred map available and worked out that we’d need to buy a 3 Lira token for any number of stops in one direction. What a bargain compared to the tube in London!

My first impressions of Istanbul (formerly termed “Constantinople”) were that there were lots of mosques… 042

and stray cats… 039 It was heartbreaking seeing the poor mangy fluffy things scavenging in bins, some of them mere kittens. My boyfriend loved watching though them as he has a pet cat.

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I was expecting a standard modern posh hotel. However when we got there it was more vintage posh, or at least had been once. There were signs that the place was a shadow of its former self and the decor was quite overpowering. Everything was gold or crimson, even the walls. My favourite part of it was the winding staircase all the way up, which made me feel like a princess. The roof terrace was also fantastic, offering views across the city. We just walked up there and it was deserted.

Our bed was a modest double but all in gold velvet, with “Palace” written slightly off to one side in the middle. When we went into the bathroom there was a hanging basket overflowing with freebies, from dental kits to fluorescent blue shampoos.

There was a spa in the basement and I proposed we relax from our airport ordeal with a massage. We went down to the reception, which consisted of a small bar. When we turned around there was a small swimming pool and some rooms behind it, presumably the steam room and sauna.

After five minutes or so a young blonde and a Chinese girl turned up and booked us in. I went for a Swedish and my boyfriend went for a “Medical” as he had a sore back. We were sent to two rooms with glass doors. Thankfully part of them were opaque. There we were covered with so much oil that after having every limb attended to we slid off the table and into our clothes a little too easily.

I discovered that the girl I thought was Chinese was actually from Uzbekistan and had emigrated to Turkey for a better life. She had come from a large family and had considered going to university in Uzbekistan but it had been too expensive, so she was now excitedly saving for hairdresser college. She said she preferred Turkey as it was cheaper and there was more to do. None of her family had joined her and had no plans to, and I thought she was rather brave, being just 21 years old.

Following that my boyfriend and I could hardly keep our eyes open and we stumbled upstairs in a happy sleepy daze.

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December 15, 2013 · 10:03 pm