Off the grid, in a remarkably rural and enchanting place. We are permitted to be here due to our friends Caroline and Jane Kurtz. This place is a part of them, and through them we are able to experience something few tourists ever get to experience: a place untouched by tourism.

Because of this, we are roughing it. No electricity. No running water. But at night, I hear the crickets, a few barking dogs and little else. The days are filled with the sound of birds and cowbells chiming in the distance. It’s magical. Again, I find words fail me.

Waking up, we do as we did the night before: We chase the sun, walking in the fields as the sun rises. We’re humbled by the hard-working farmers, up and at it already.

We are invited into a hut or two, but realize it’s time to find our group and have breakfast — then, Maji. High on a mountain top, so completely enchanting. Pine trees mix with eucalyptus, and the sweet smell fills the air … the crisp, precise air of high altitudes.

 

We wait for the sun to warm us on our high perch and get the blood flowing for the energy we will need to create. And create we do. We paint, a little short of breath. Is it the beauty or the altitude — or a little bit of both? Everywhere you look is paintable. And nowhere is there a tourist in sight.

 

This is one of those anomalies of modern life, a place untouched by those of us who want to roam, and experience something special, something different from our everyday life. I have found this in Maji; I have definitely found heaven. A place not elsewhere at all, but right here, right now.

I think as the day draws to a close we all have that feeling of walking on air, of being a part of something truly unique. We feel lucky, and our creative wheels are spinning.

And so we paint, and …