Splinter Surgery & the Curious Case of the Man in the Night
2 stories from my time attending GagaEden at Orsolina28.
Photo by Lonely Girl, Lonely World.
Travel always brings with it many stories, some wild, some funny. Then there are some that are just plain odd. I attended the GagaEden dance retreat at Orsolina28 in Italy from October 16-19, 2023, and here are two occurrences that amused (and somewhat scared) me during my time there.
Splinter Surgery
Whoever put me in the same tent as a doctor is a fortune-telling genius. I’ve had my fair share of sad splinter stories over the years (including one splinter that stayed in my finger for 10 years because I couldn’t bear any more needle-pricking), but it seemed I still hadn’t learned my lesson.
In an attempt to capture the perfect I’m-free-and-wild photo on site, I climbed atop a log fence to pose. Lo and behold, I scraped my hand against a jagged piece of wood and got a splinter on the edge of my palm.
Later, I asked the kitchen staff for tweezers. Some language jousting later, they told me they didn’t have any. Finally, my doctor tent mate brought over a knife and antiseptic.
We sat down on the terrace outside, and she went to work on my splinter — at least she tried to, what with my screams of mock (but also not) agony.
“I haven’t even started!!!” She peaked back. She assured me the knife would work; leave it to her.
A couple other friends sat with us while this spectacle went on until, finally, the splinter was out.
The tension in my body finally relaxed, and we had a good laugh over that. The doctor mentioned something about the retreat being memorable, and I said, obliviously, “What — you mean my splinter surgery?” She gave me a look of disbelief, though for me, the splinter surgery was indeed very memorable.
To top it off, another guest walked by soon after to gift her a bottle of champagne for something else she’d done, and she shared it with us at the dance party that night.
The Curious Case of the Man in the Night
This was a short but slightly disturbing incident.
I would get up once or twice per night to use the outdoor toilet, and one particular night, I rustled out of bed to pull on my sweatpants when I made eye contact with a strange man peering into our tent. My bed was one of two closest to the tent flap.
He quickly moved on, and I wasn’t sure what to make of it. I didn’t know if he was another retreat participant also up to use the toilet, or if he was a local taking a 3 AM stroll (hey, you never know). He seemed way too close to just be passing by.
I waited a while before peeping my head out. I didn’t see him anywhere. Then I quickly moved to the toilet and back. Safe under the covers again, I couldn’t make sense or rhyme out of this. It was very possible he was another guest, but there were 50+ of us, and I didn’t get a good look at his face.
In the end, I never knew what that was all about. I mentioned it to the one of the Batsheva dancers at GagaEden, and they agreed it was creepy. It was also semi-humorous in a strange way, though I’m lucky nothing bad came out of it.
Moral of the story: If you’re ever unsure, always mention it. I probably should’ve. Better safe than sorry.
Photo by Lonely Girl, Lonely World.