Koktebel Jazz Festival: Cha-Cha & Illegal Camping

A few Peace Corps friends and I went to Crimea for the Koktebel Jazz Festival, held annually on the Black Sea peninsula.

We don’t have anywhere to stay and brought our tent hoping to catch some tunes and camp, somewhere, for the weekend.

Getting to the Koktebel Jazz Festival

After the 12-hour train ride and few hour bus ride, we arrive to the Crimean beach town. We walk towards the beach, through people selling jewelry, water, shashlik, beer and other festival goodies. We plop our stuff down at the end of the beach and start setting up our tent.

Cha-Cha and Skitzy McGee

Some guy who says he works for the beach, (more likely he just charges tourists to sit on the lounge chairs that are really free) says we can't camp there now but can set up our tent after midnight. He shows a liking to my friend so he doesn’t charge us for using the lounge chairs for the day. He would later be know as Skitzy-McGee, because he is kind of skitzy. He’s pretty attractive, until he opens his mouth and shows his jacked-up teeth.

After his "shift," he comes by and offers us some Cha-Cha, a really strong and delicious licorice flavored liquor. I think he was saying it is from Greece. He doesn’t speak English so our limited Russian knowledge is coming into use. Skitzy-McGee’s buddy comes by and we start drinking that Cha-Cha.

Another guy comes by after hearing us speak English. He’s carrying a clarinet case that I recognize immediately. We connect. He speaks perfect English. In my Cha-Cha state, I’m convinced I can play the clarinet, or at least make some sounds – hey I play the saxophone, both woodwinds right? Nope, so different. We chat about Taoism and he lights up a bowl.

We are posted up on some lounge chairs, sipping Cha Cha with our new Ukrainian buds, laughing and skinny dipping in the Black Sea until the sunlight starts peeking up.

More Cha-Cha and Some Janis Joplin

The next morning Skitzy tells us he got in trouble for letting us camp there and we need to move our stuff to the real camp ground. We didn’t even know there was a real camp ground, thanks Skitzy! We walk up on this plateau where we see a couple dozen tents set up, where we are supposed to be camping, where everyone else is camping.

We spent the day eating, drinking Cha-Cha and listening to music on the free stage set up right on the beach.

We make some friends with a group of people who have a table, drinking beer, smoking, and playing music. With a guitar, drum and a woman’s beautiful voice, they played Janis Joplin’s Mercedes Benz to perfection, switching from English to Ukrainian with each verse. Such a surreal and incredible moment.

After that incredible jam session, we cruised the beach, laid out, trying to survive the hangover from last night.

Camping: Take Two

We wake up the next morning to 2 policemen outside our tent telling us we have to pay. Apparently, we were supposed to pay to camp here, thanks again Skitzy! We played the ignorant American card because they were going to fine us for not paying. We talked them out of it somehow and packed up our tent, rent free, without an idea of where we were sleeping next. Their price was too steep for our Peace Corps volunteer salary.

After packing up, we met up with some of the people we met at Hippie Beach the month before and chilled with them (check out my Hippie Beach adventure: 8 Days, Naked and Happy, at Fox Bay on the Black Sea Coast).

Firedancers, GBs and Farewells

Later that night, one of our buddy’s led us to a spot tucked back in a field where they set up their tent for the weekend (so smart! Veterans). They had a big set up with a few GBs and were excited to share with the Americans. Light, pull, inhale, blow.

The three of us head back to catch a band. I didn’t pay attention to how we got there and the GB was making it difficult for me to navigate. It felt like we were far away, in the woods, dark sky, with every star in the sky visible. One of my friends went into survivor mode and led us back to the beach, how she did it I don’t know.

Back at the beach there is a fire show starting. We’re right in front, in awe of these fire dancers. We can’t believe how lucky we are to have backstage passes to this incredible show.

A guy comes up to us simply asking for some water and we blankly stare at him, not answering, too high to comprehend his request. He asked a few times to no avail and left, confused. We just laughed.

A perfect last night of this trip, all three of us together, high AF, listening to music, watching these fire dancers, laughing. This was my karma trip – we just showed up with the best intentions and good vibes. We camped for free, drank for (practically) free, smoked for free, listened to music for free.

Koktebel Jazz Festival, I love you.