Welcome to the Big Lodge
It was nearing eight o´clock, and daylight was fading fast. We caught the last bus from Granada to the small community of Orgiva at the base of the Sierra Nevada mountains. It was here that we were told to look for the community of Beneficio, tucked neatly into a valley three kilometers from town. This was all of the knowledge that our group - consisting of three Aussies, two Yanks and a Kiwi - had at hand when we set out on our mission.
We jumped off of the bus just outside of town upon the advice of an old Spanish man in a straw hat setting in the seat in front of me. He was obviously accustomed to fielding questions in broken Spanish regarding the whereabouts of the commune just outside of town. Beneficio exists because of this type of oral tradition. No signs mark the entrance, and there is no website to find directions or a map. You need to ask.
A small cafe with a burro posted as a sentry stood at the end of a rocky path into the darkness. It was here we bought water and a few supplies before heading off into the unknown night. I have since walked down this path from Orgiva to Beneficio numerous times, yet none seemed take quite as long as that first night. A small stream trickled through the valley dotted with fig trees and prickly cacti to our left.
We pressed on until we were confronted with a stern "Privado" sign posted on a chain running across the path. I did not remember checking the "trespassing" box on the list of activities on my traveler´s insurance application. No one was home at the small farm house, so we pressed onward into the night. A thirty minute walk can feel like an eternity when you have no idea where you are, nor where you are heading with the faint light of the moon serving as your only guide.
Moments after passing the deserted farm house Cuzz, the Aussie surfer with a sense of adventure to match his semi-Mohawk-Butthead haircut, spotted something moving off in the distance. It was a man in tattered fatigues and a long beard. His face was dotted with piercings that seemed to glisten in the faint moon light that was guiding us down the path. In the spirit of kindness and generosity that permeates the people of Beneficio the man gestured for us to come forward and gave us directions into the dark eucalyptus forest towards the community of Beneficio.
We came upon a small gravel parking lot packed with old VW vans and small fires patrolled by dogs nearly as unkempt as their owners. A grizzled Czech man wearing no shoes strained to remove the lug nuts on the rear tire of his ancient Mercedes ambulance turned mobile home. Faint drum beats tapped away rhythmically in the distance.
We followed the beacon of the djembe through the forest into a clearing where a massive tepee glowed orange against the black starry night. The African rhythms pouring out of the Big Lodge, as the spiritual center of the community housed in the tepee was known, filled the valley with a type of energy unlike any I had ever felt before. It was as if I had stepped out of the twenty-first century and into an alternate universe devoid of time and place. This was the magic of Beneficio.
The tired band of travelers assembled from all points of the globe dropped our packs appreciatively at the door of the tepee. Shane, the natty´dreaded Kiwi chef and master of the campfire Chai tea, was the first step into the small opening of the great canvas lodge. As none of us had lived in a community of this type before we had no knowledge of the customs or traditions with which we were to be expected to adhere. No shoes were allowed in the Big Lodge. Our gracious gift of a bottle of wine was tactfully declined as alcohol was strictly forbidden within the spiritual center of Beneficio.
The scene inside of the Big Lodge that first night will be forever etched in my memory. Twenty-six people sat with legs crossed, some holding flutes or guitars while others straddled large ceramic drums covered with hides stretched taunt to keep the mystical African beat. One song bled seamlessly into the next as the collective energy of the people in the lodge poured forth from their souls into the rhythms of their fingertips.
A German woman bearing a large steaming pot and a kind smile was followed by her two children into the smoky lodge. Four long blasts from a conch shell echoed through the valley telling everyone that dinner was served. Felix, an old Mexican man with a thick beard and gnarled short fingers stained black from the embers of his camp fire, entered shortly after as if he knew before the conch was blown that it was time to eat.
The host of the meal dished out a vegan feast of brown rice and lentils accompanied with a salad of fresh vegetables dressed in lime juice and garlic. Each plate was passed around the circle in a clockwise fashion. Cuzz, who was famished from the long hike, hooked into his meal immediately before everyone had received their plates. This was quite the social fopaw. Rookie mistake. The kind young German girl of thirteen years politely introduced us - in perfect English as she spoke four languages fluently - to the ceremony of dining in the Big Lodge.
After the plates were distributed everyone joined hands in thanks for the bounty before them. A gentle hum began with one person, and everyone followed suit filling the air with deep vibrations that reverberated deep into your being. At this moment I forgot everything from the outside world. The latest Gallup Poll shows that I could not be further from the dog and pony show election madness taking place back in the states. The sense of guilt I had been burdened with for abandoning my country in her deepest time of need was suddenly, if only temporarily removed from my shoulders. As Felix was keen to say: "Hay un energia aqui."
After giving thanks the hungry band of travelers dove into our plates and quickly finished our first meal in Beneficio. As soon as the lentils and salad were finished the circle dropped their plates and picked up their various instruments. The joyous tempo of Italian folk songs filled the room as anyone not holding an instrument could not resist clapping along with the beat. Time dissolved from existence as the music continued long into the night. This was an evening I will not soon forget.
Mystical Hari Krishna chants echoed gently through the corridors of my mind as I fell asleep in the flickering candle light of the Big Lodge. That night my dreams were filled with the memories of the person who walked blindly down the dark path and hopes for the future bathed beautifully in light. Felix is right. There is an energy here.
We jumped off of the bus just outside of town upon the advice of an old Spanish man in a straw hat setting in the seat in front of me. He was obviously accustomed to fielding questions in broken Spanish regarding the whereabouts of the commune just outside of town. Beneficio exists because of this type of oral tradition. No signs mark the entrance, and there is no website to find directions or a map. You need to ask.
A small cafe with a burro posted as a sentry stood at the end of a rocky path into the darkness. It was here we bought water and a few supplies before heading off into the unknown night. I have since walked down this path from Orgiva to Beneficio numerous times, yet none seemed take quite as long as that first night. A small stream trickled through the valley dotted with fig trees and prickly cacti to our left.
We pressed on until we were confronted with a stern "Privado" sign posted on a chain running across the path. I did not remember checking the "trespassing" box on the list of activities on my traveler´s insurance application. No one was home at the small farm house, so we pressed onward into the night. A thirty minute walk can feel like an eternity when you have no idea where you are, nor where you are heading with the faint light of the moon serving as your only guide.
Moments after passing the deserted farm house Cuzz, the Aussie surfer with a sense of adventure to match his semi-Mohawk-Butthead haircut, spotted something moving off in the distance. It was a man in tattered fatigues and a long beard. His face was dotted with piercings that seemed to glisten in the faint moon light that was guiding us down the path. In the spirit of kindness and generosity that permeates the people of Beneficio the man gestured for us to come forward and gave us directions into the dark eucalyptus forest towards the community of Beneficio.
We came upon a small gravel parking lot packed with old VW vans and small fires patrolled by dogs nearly as unkempt as their owners. A grizzled Czech man wearing no shoes strained to remove the lug nuts on the rear tire of his ancient Mercedes ambulance turned mobile home. Faint drum beats tapped away rhythmically in the distance.
We followed the beacon of the djembe through the forest into a clearing where a massive tepee glowed orange against the black starry night. The African rhythms pouring out of the Big Lodge, as the spiritual center of the community housed in the tepee was known, filled the valley with a type of energy unlike any I had ever felt before. It was as if I had stepped out of the twenty-first century and into an alternate universe devoid of time and place. This was the magic of Beneficio.
The tired band of travelers assembled from all points of the globe dropped our packs appreciatively at the door of the tepee. Shane, the natty´dreaded Kiwi chef and master of the campfire Chai tea, was the first step into the small opening of the great canvas lodge. As none of us had lived in a community of this type before we had no knowledge of the customs or traditions with which we were to be expected to adhere. No shoes were allowed in the Big Lodge. Our gracious gift of a bottle of wine was tactfully declined as alcohol was strictly forbidden within the spiritual center of Beneficio.
The scene inside of the Big Lodge that first night will be forever etched in my memory. Twenty-six people sat with legs crossed, some holding flutes or guitars while others straddled large ceramic drums covered with hides stretched taunt to keep the mystical African beat. One song bled seamlessly into the next as the collective energy of the people in the lodge poured forth from their souls into the rhythms of their fingertips.
A German woman bearing a large steaming pot and a kind smile was followed by her two children into the smoky lodge. Four long blasts from a conch shell echoed through the valley telling everyone that dinner was served. Felix, an old Mexican man with a thick beard and gnarled short fingers stained black from the embers of his camp fire, entered shortly after as if he knew before the conch was blown that it was time to eat.
The host of the meal dished out a vegan feast of brown rice and lentils accompanied with a salad of fresh vegetables dressed in lime juice and garlic. Each plate was passed around the circle in a clockwise fashion. Cuzz, who was famished from the long hike, hooked into his meal immediately before everyone had received their plates. This was quite the social fopaw. Rookie mistake. The kind young German girl of thirteen years politely introduced us - in perfect English as she spoke four languages fluently - to the ceremony of dining in the Big Lodge.
After the plates were distributed everyone joined hands in thanks for the bounty before them. A gentle hum began with one person, and everyone followed suit filling the air with deep vibrations that reverberated deep into your being. At this moment I forgot everything from the outside world. The latest Gallup Poll shows that I could not be further from the dog and pony show election madness taking place back in the states. The sense of guilt I had been burdened with for abandoning my country in her deepest time of need was suddenly, if only temporarily removed from my shoulders. As Felix was keen to say: "Hay un energia aqui."
After giving thanks the hungry band of travelers dove into our plates and quickly finished our first meal in Beneficio. As soon as the lentils and salad were finished the circle dropped their plates and picked up their various instruments. The joyous tempo of Italian folk songs filled the room as anyone not holding an instrument could not resist clapping along with the beat. Time dissolved from existence as the music continued long into the night. This was an evening I will not soon forget.
Mystical Hari Krishna chants echoed gently through the corridors of my mind as I fell asleep in the flickering candle light of the Big Lodge. That night my dreams were filled with the memories of the person who walked blindly down the dark path and hopes for the future bathed beautifully in light. Felix is right. There is an energy here.
posted by Yonder Vittles at 6:41 AM
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