‘MY IDEAL holiday would involve jumping out of a plane, in New Zealand or
Patagonia, and, in a perfect world, never landing. I love bungee jumping and
want to try a parachute jump, with the longest free-fall possible. I love
the sense of liberation that comes with falling through the air. While it
lasts, there isn’t a single variable in your control. You can only savour
the sensation.
I’m afraid of lots of things, including bumble bees, but I don’t seem to have
the gene that causes midair panic. Once, I was flying to New York through a
thunderstorm, with the worst turbulence ever, and I loved every minute. It
felt as if giants were playing tennis with our airplane. The man next door
to me was sobbing and gripping my arm in terror, but I found it very
exciting.
My last holiday was a trip to Big Sur, on the Californian coast, with a few
friends. We stayed at an old progressive hippie retreat called Esalen, where
Aldous Huxley had lived and Hunter S Thompson had once been a security
guard; Henry Miller and Orson Welles both lived up the road, too.
Big Sur has to be one of the most beautiful places on the planet. The
spectacular Santa Lucia mountains run right down to the Pacific Ocean and
Esalen sits on a plateau in between, with a cascading canyon stream and hot
mineral springs gushing out of a seaside cliff. Most of the other guests
were there to do yoga or release their inner potential, but I just wanted to
have a good time, in spectacular surroundings. I spent most of my time
hanging out with the punk kids who worked in the kitchen and getting drunk,
while those around me wove baskets and did the lotus position.
I spend so much time in hotels that I can’t stand them – especially anything
with a star-rating, which guarantees that it’ll be anonymous, airless and
impersonal. The one place I do love is The Phoenix in San Francisco, a funky
old rock’n’roll hotel in the middle of a ghetto, where the sidewalks flash
with gold teeth and kids deal bundles of dollars as if they were trading
cards. I sometimes wonder what’s wrong with me, that I’m more comfortable
somewhere like that than in a beautiful hotel overlooking the ocean. I guess
that’s where I feel at home, as I spent most of my formative years living in
really rough neighbourhoods.
The best holiday I ever had was in 1988, when I went water-skiing with friends
in upstate Connecticut. We stayed in a house on the edge of a lake and spent
the entire time on a boat, going as fast as possible before jumping off the
back – or being pulled along in an inner tube while the boat driver tried to
make us fall out. At dawn and dusk the surface of the lake was like glass –
no waves, nothing choppy – and skimming along it was one of the best things
I’ve ever experienced... nearly up there with free-falling.
My favourite place is probably New Zealand, because it’s so incredibly
beautiful and varied. It’s a place where many of my musician friends have
moved and I wouldn’t be surprised if I ended up there too, in a city like
Auckland, with its vibrant culture, beautiful black-sand beaches and
20-minute drive to the mountains. Where else can you find all that in one
place?
Another place that looks spectacular is Patagonia. I like the desolate air of
sparsely populated places, like the north of Scotland and the American
southwest; and the dramatic landscape of islands, glaciers, icebergs and
mountains in Patagonia really appeals to me.
I have a rule that if I’ve never done something before, I have to try it at
least once. So, for my next holiday, I’m going on a meditation retreat in
Iowa. It’s not something I would normally do and I’ve no idea what to
expect, but I was invited by David Lynch, and if David Lynch asks you to do
something, you do it.’
Moby talked to Lizzie Enfield
