Next to the Geisha Lounge - a small tent with a winding path leading to it marked out with fairy lights held up with bamboo sticks above. A short queue suggested that this fully enclosed tent was worth an inspection. Organisers asked us to remove our shoes on the way in. With a deep red carpet and comfy seating throughout, the mass of festivalites taking a moment to relax was only broken by the dozen or so people shacking out to the drum and bass DJ in here. It was nothing too hardcore but scored high on the "get up and dance" scale. Sadly, like most of the festival, this tent shut down at 4am and we were left with no option but to retire back to camp. 


                                                           Saturday


Saturday’s excitement truly began when my eyes met the bare white ass of a middle-aged-man in nothing but a thong and a lime-green tutu. Talk about "morning has broken"… so were my eyes.

Although I have nothing against healthy vegetarian food, mushroom bolognaise (served with rice because the pasta had run out by the second day) and veggie burgers leave hungry meat eaters like myself craving the drip drop of grease and blood that a mushroom cannot supply.. Despite its vast amount of eateries, the variety was, it has to be said, poor. There was not one pie and mash stand in sight or a tasty hot spud caked in cheese and beans to be found. Very upsetting.

But because food isn’t everything (quite), I have got to say that Shambala redeemed itself with a huge variety of activities. I never thought I would enjoy hung-over urban dancing with hundreds of strangers, but I really, really did. Fit and fabulous instructors Nigel and Tash got us all warmed up before teaching us some outrageously naughty dance-moves. I couldn’t help but cringe at the front row of two-foot-tall toddlers attempting to Beyonce shake their booties to Missy Elliott’s "Shake it like a pom-pom". This was explicit dancing right here, some parents are so cruel!


Following the excitement and giggles of the Krump class, life’s brilliant curse of up’s and down’s threw me the wonderful gift of a wasp sting, right on the old thigh. Luckily I was surrounded by a bunch of hippies who, hearing my screams, brought me a cloth soaked in an unknown "special" mixture which I held on my swollen lump of a leg. I soon realised that this was just vinegar – not so magical, but what the hey, placebo allowed it to work. So while I bathed in balsamic, we watched a cracker eating competition at The Social Club tent which despite my constant sting, really was rather funny. This was followed by the Pub Olympics, which included kids as young as three years old flipping beer mats on a table taller than them - my simple mind was amused.


If anything was likely to take the sting out of the bite it was a bit of comedy, so we headed off the Wandering Word tent, which was not much bigger than the three-man one I was sleeping in. Anna Freeman brought grotesque but incredibly witty anecdotes of her life as a "ginger lesbian", such as smelling a pair of her girlfriend’s pants which actually turned out to be her sister’s. This was followed by a brilliantly comical poem reminding all gingers in the room (myself and just two others I was with included) that we must all stick together down this hard road. "We are the cockroaches of the genetic world", she proudly laughs at, as did I.


Following this was half an hour of comedy genius from Stanley Forbes and his band, who reeled out side-splitting song after song with casual ease. Their song, "I love Anne Robinson" was a personal favourite of mine as the whole room belted with laughter to the lyrics 'her mouth reminds me of a lipsticked arsehole' This was followed by "Who else has a job they hate?" and a humorously political song about his home-country, Jersey, in which he cursed the 'filthy French' to wincing audience members trying to restrain their cackles at his naughty naughty jokes! The highlight, however, was "Pungent David". Forbes talent as a performer shone as he commanded every person in the room to hum the melody, as he told the sad tale of an unfortunate chap called David who 'stunk like the poo of a malnutrition-ed elephant'. The crowd chanted and begged for one more.


Tired from all the laughing, it was time for a nap. But on the way back to camp we came across a most bizarre Barbie Maiming Workshop. Yes, people (mostly adults I must add) were sitting around a table and savaging these helpless children’s dolls.　And on display were some of the most alarming models. A Barbie’s legs were spread into the splits to create a disturbingly erotic coat hanger and one had been stripped naked and forced to wear the small rubber pig glued to her crotch area. If I was still a child, I'd surely be scarred for life. Maybe even more troubling was that they were SELLING the finished goods. Oi, you... join the queue.


After having a siesta, we went to the Geisha Lounge, but were not impressed by Elvis and the Geisha’s, which really did what it said on the tin- a terrible Elvis impersonator with four very serious looking Geisha girls dressed as old-age pensioner’s. Beyond strange.


Being a big drum and bass lover, I dragged everyone I knew to the Kamikaze tent for DJ Die who attracted a huge crowd of late night wreck-heads to listen to his satisfying selection of both classics and fresh beats.


We spent the rest of the evening in the lantern-lit Bedouin tent surrounded by an assortment of hippy-types, students, and even families. Perfectly content sitting amongst a mass of balloons, fag ends and spilt drinks, I really was enjoying this quirky little festival.

                                                       

                                                                Sunday


Admittedly, I lost a lot of Sunday to a deep and peaceful sleep (well as peaceful as a hard cold ground and no space to move or breath can be). Our first stop on Sunday evening was "Scrumping and Krumping", a combination of a 5-piece live dubstep band and some down and dirty street dance. This took Saturdays Krump class to the next level by adding the live band, whose improvised performance was more than impressive. In the hour that followed I learnt another routine, which I WILL be busting out at my next London rave.


After learning how to get down to dubstep, the crowd proved that, yes, in fact there really is "no rest for the wicked" as the Shambala bosses injected our ears with another dubstep dose; we danced to DMC UK champion DJ Switch. He span a well-received dub version of La Roux’s "In For The Kill", which mixed smoothly into a rendition of Snoop Dogg’s "Drop It Like It’s Hot". Inevitably this transformed the arena into a karaoke night and even posh-types beside me sang "oh... yes… drop it like it is hot".

To top off this fantastic weekend acrobats, gymnasts and aerial dancers Cirque Du Freq took the roof off with a high-energy circus display to live music performed by Dubrovnik. Despite the infuriating arrogance of the eldest dancer (and ringleader – literally), who clearly loved nothing more than the sight of her own ankles wrapped around her shoulders, the show was sensational. The audience let out uncomfortable "is she gonna’ drop?" squeals as a girl swung above us, supported only by the rope she had twisted round her left ankle.

So it is easy to see why this festival has become so popular in just ten years. What I love about it is that despite the absence of well-known musical names, unsigned artists and quirky bands offered entertainment at least as good. With dozens of "rubbish points" supplying free bin liners and recycling bags across the campsite, this festival is also one of the most environmentally-friendly I have seen.


Oh yes, and not to forget those late night hot-tubs! How I would have loved to scribe out tales of being sloshed and splashing around, but the truth is, I took one look inside and saw a group of liberated 60+’s　 baring their bosoms, balls and bums. This is the naked truth! And despite their Yorkshire-sounding beckons of "come on in pet", I thought it better not to intrude. Maybe next year eh?

All photos taken by Lara