What on Earth did we stumble upon?

Imagine a shantytown of multicoloured tents stretching down a clear blue river on a hot California summer's day, as far as the eye can see. Over 10,000 people crowded together, coming together to share one of the world's simplest and most powerful pleasures: music, specifically, reggae, GOOD reggae. Everyone you meet has a shit-eating grin on their face, an unusual story to tell, a pocketful of hallucinogens (most probably) and a passion for reggae and livin' the good life. My boyfriend and I stumbled upon this insane event a couple years back, by, what I'm starting to believe, were fated events, to be sure. Coming home from seeing Bob Dylan on a hot Cali day on the 101, we stopped for a swim to cool down from the blazing heat. Long story short - we dropped the only car key we had in the river. Sayonara. Noone's around to save our dumbasses. We wait for almost an hour before we see an old VW van trundling along the highway. We hitchhike with the van's owners, a granola-eating, tree-hugging, bongo-drumming couple upriver to a festival where we hope to find a locksmith. Reggae on the River. Little do we know that this is THE festival upon which all other reggae festivals are measured against. We wait for close to 8 hours outside the will-call station for the locksmith to come save us. The lady at the will-call station feels so bad for us that she ends up giving us 2 free wristbands to the 3-day festival. (Did I mention that these are $150 wristbands and the show's been sold out for months already? Or that, earlier on in our trip, our car window was smashed and everything we owned was stolen from us, down to the dirty socks and underwear?) Reggae on the River is like Christmas, Easter and 10 billion birthdays all combined into one, to the true reggae fan. One of those HALLELUJAH moments where heaven comes crashing down to Earth, and you start to see what good livin' is all about, you know. Apparently, angels masquerading as will-call ladies walk this Earth...

Back to the story at hand. Exhausted, we drag ourselves down into the dusty concert bowl to check it out. It's 12:30pm. We walk straight into the headlining event - Damian and Stephen Marley - 2 of Bob's sons - soulfully wise talent that I've never before seen in guys so young. They continue his legacy with an unparalleled intensity - incredibly conscious, powerfully provocative, mystically wise - I can't think of enough good adjectives to do justice to these guys, for real. They sing to our generation, generation X, a generation that's otherwise jaded beyond our years, and manage to do what is otherwise impossible - they uplift the soul (accompanied by some of the heaviest bass lines ever dropped, and I mean, EVER dropped). They wail like their message will never be heard again, and they capture us. This is the begining of a new take on life for us. We walk away 4 hours later, blown away and feeling better than we've felt in, well, forever. Who knew all it took was a little reggae, eh? Stay positive, open your heart, and give thanks & praise,

-Gabrielle