Something pretty sensational happened during my recent trip to Georgia and Armenia. As I found myself on foreign lands, there were quite a number of times – quiet ones, reflective ones; while dancing among hundreds, or striking up a sweet conversation with locals in restaurants – there were defining moments where interestingly enough, I was experiencing a kind of déjà-vu that was not really one. A sip of Armenian coffee reminded me of a delightful rose-shaped salmon sashimi that a chef friend concocted for me when I was living in Oslo. Perhaps because the coffee mug had a print of a rose on it. The first bite of the incredible Georgian national dish Khachapuri propelled me back to that spring years ago when my oldest brother invited me to a Cheese Ham marathon. I am convinced Pizza Hut's prime inspiration is this specialty's heartiness. And for a second in the sublime techno club Bassiani in Tbilisi, the peculiar face of a man that walked past me the very first night I arrived in Berlin, which truthfully I discarded until now, crystallized in my head; a blur suddenly clear as day as the music fed my soul in that darkest, most wholesome of clubs.
Glorious Mount Ararat before me in Armenia took me back to all those nights I was in the gutter – at the same time, that majestic view also summoned my ability to successfully pull myself together. Over and over again. Without question, no photograph will do justice to seeing the unique cave city of Vardzia with my own eyes. I had planned on going there, and there I was. Then, it had me be confident about the grandeur of my endeavours. I was so free because of techno in Bassiani, and it breathed life into those memories I had already felt that way. In thirteen years in the scene, there have been plenty. Still, this was another one that would go down in the books. Beautifully so, the past, present and future version of ourselves mesh perfectly on foreign grounds. Old impressions and new become one and the same in the present moment, this time frame subtly letting the banal and the extraordinary meet. Indeed, something sensational occurred to me during my trip to Georgia and Armenia: I celebrate the ordinary. I always have. And sometimes, it takes that extra to write about it.