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A Fire, A Wind Storm and A Helluva Mess
Wednesday 15th – Monday 20th July 2009
Benicassim Festival, Benicassim, Spain
Wednesday 15th – Monday 20th July 2009
Benicassim Festival, Benicassim, Spain
DAY 2: Thursday: An Oasis
We awoke to banana pancakes then set about planning our day. Festivals are never a relaxing holiday: provisions are needed, shuttle bus tickets and wristbands need to be collected, and sunbaking was also high on the agenda. We set off to the supermarket with every other festival-goer and proceeded to fleece them of every essential item they had – bread, milk, alcohol, mixers, sweets, and of course chorizo. Once home with our wares safely stored we hit the pool situated at the entrance to our apartments.
We were residing in Marina D’Or – a mini-city of characterless apartments lining the beachfront of Oropresa, akin to a smaller more condensed Surfers Paradise. We spotted a few Spanish families here and there but the bulk of people appeared to be there for Benicassim. I did feel sorry for them, having their Spanish family holidays loudly interrupted by a large pack of mainly English tourists. Once we’d caught some rays we set off to collect our shuttle bus passes from the same office we’d spent most of our time at the night previous.
At the office we were met with scenes of tears and sadness as hundreds of people had been left stranded. Danesfib – the company we’d booked our apartment and bus tickets through – had run out of apartments, owing to what reason no one had been told. The owner was refusing refunds even though many people had paid in advance, and was telling people to simply ‘sleep on the beach’. Police were at the scene as understandably things had become a little heated, and some of the surrounding neighbours were emerging offering rooms in their homes for inflated prices. Not an ideal start to any festival experience. Counting our blessings we returned to our digs to feast and prepare for the nights musical proceedings, thankful to have a roof over our heads.
It had occurred to me that we should have gone to the festival site early to avoid queuing for our wristbands but the urge to eat, drink and swim overtook so we didn’t arrive on site till 8pm. Once there I wish logic had prevailed. The queue before us was mammoth, a sea of people stretching for an age with an entrance tent about 3 metres wide. Taking our place once again at the back of a long line we feared it was to be a long night – several cigarettes, a few pints and 3 hours later we were right.
The opening night was by no means our big one – Franz Ferdinand and 2ManyDJs on the Saturday were what we were waiting for. I would have liked to have seen Mystery Jets but alas we were waiting in line. Oasis were then the headliner at 11pm. Once through the 3 metre mini-tent we hit a maze of crowd barriers, navigated through them to the wristbanding tents and finally made our way over the threshold 15 minutes after Oasis had started. But our mission did not end there – we then had to buy drink tokens, as none of the bars accepted cash, grab a beverage and weave our way through the huge crowd amassed for Oasis. Securing a position near the back we settled in to watch, and I can tell you a drink had never tasted so good.
The stars were shining, it was a balmy night and what ensued was the worlds biggest British sing-a-long. While they didn’t play my favourite (She’s Electric) they did deliver a non-stop array of all their hits. Stellar renditions of Morning Glory, Roll With It and more were somewhat overshadowed at times by the teetering tower of scaffolding stood behind us which was now covered with drunken daredevils who’d scaled it’s 10+ metre high frame for what was undoubtedly the best seat in the house. Eventually heavyset security guards laden with climbing gear ascended the frame to coax everyone down, but not without several arguments, vertical chases, kicks and punches to the face.
The rest of the night is a myriad of adventures including strawberry daiquiris, finding and losing friends, being sucked into The Orb, exploring the campsite and outskirts of the festival site. All which ended rather abruptly with me popping a plug on my 4 year old black Havianas (they served me well - sniff) and calling it a night. A friend and I then returned to the bus stop, now a chaotic mess of people drunkenly trying to board any shuttle in sight.
The fact our shuttle guide from Danesfib bolted past us at one point screaming ‘Did you see where that bus went?!!’ didn’t fill us with confidence, but upon finding our bus we scrambled to get on in the malaise. Until, that is, one chivalrous soul peeled open the back doors to let his girlfriend on; bypassing the frenzied pack at the front, to which we followed suit. God bless that man! We were home within the hour eating cheese, tomato and chorizo crackers and resting our heads for the next instalment of what was to be the most bizarre festival experience I’ve had yet.
We awoke to banana pancakes then set about planning our day. Festivals are never a relaxing holiday: provisions are needed, shuttle bus tickets and wristbands need to be collected, and sunbaking was also high on the agenda. We set off to the supermarket with every other festival-goer and proceeded to fleece them of every essential item they had – bread, milk, alcohol, mixers, sweets, and of course chorizo. Once home with our wares safely stored we hit the pool situated at the entrance to our apartments.
We were residing in Marina D’Or – a mini-city of characterless apartments lining the beachfront of Oropresa, akin to a smaller more condensed Surfers Paradise. We spotted a few Spanish families here and there but the bulk of people appeared to be there for Benicassim. I did feel sorry for them, having their Spanish family holidays loudly interrupted by a large pack of mainly English tourists. Once we’d caught some rays we set off to collect our shuttle bus passes from the same office we’d spent most of our time at the night previous.
At the office we were met with scenes of tears and sadness as hundreds of people had been left stranded. Danesfib – the company we’d booked our apartment and bus tickets through – had run out of apartments, owing to what reason no one had been told. The owner was refusing refunds even though many people had paid in advance, and was telling people to simply ‘sleep on the beach’. Police were at the scene as understandably things had become a little heated, and some of the surrounding neighbours were emerging offering rooms in their homes for inflated prices. Not an ideal start to any festival experience. Counting our blessings we returned to our digs to feast and prepare for the nights musical proceedings, thankful to have a roof over our heads.
It had occurred to me that we should have gone to the festival site early to avoid queuing for our wristbands but the urge to eat, drink and swim overtook so we didn’t arrive on site till 8pm. Once there I wish logic had prevailed. The queue before us was mammoth, a sea of people stretching for an age with an entrance tent about 3 metres wide. Taking our place once again at the back of a long line we feared it was to be a long night – several cigarettes, a few pints and 3 hours later we were right.
The opening night was by no means our big one – Franz Ferdinand and 2ManyDJs on the Saturday were what we were waiting for. I would have liked to have seen Mystery Jets but alas we were waiting in line. Oasis were then the headliner at 11pm. Once through the 3 metre mini-tent we hit a maze of crowd barriers, navigated through them to the wristbanding tents and finally made our way over the threshold 15 minutes after Oasis had started. But our mission did not end there – we then had to buy drink tokens, as none of the bars accepted cash, grab a beverage and weave our way through the huge crowd amassed for Oasis. Securing a position near the back we settled in to watch, and I can tell you a drink had never tasted so good.
The stars were shining, it was a balmy night and what ensued was the worlds biggest British sing-a-long. While they didn’t play my favourite (She’s Electric) they did deliver a non-stop array of all their hits. Stellar renditions of Morning Glory, Roll With It and more were somewhat overshadowed at times by the teetering tower of scaffolding stood behind us which was now covered with drunken daredevils who’d scaled it’s 10+ metre high frame for what was undoubtedly the best seat in the house. Eventually heavyset security guards laden with climbing gear ascended the frame to coax everyone down, but not without several arguments, vertical chases, kicks and punches to the face.
The rest of the night is a myriad of adventures including strawberry daiquiris, finding and losing friends, being sucked into The Orb, exploring the campsite and outskirts of the festival site. All which ended rather abruptly with me popping a plug on my 4 year old black Havianas (they served me well - sniff) and calling it a night. A friend and I then returned to the bus stop, now a chaotic mess of people drunkenly trying to board any shuttle in sight.
The fact our shuttle guide from Danesfib bolted past us at one point screaming ‘Did you see where that bus went?!!’ didn’t fill us with confidence, but upon finding our bus we scrambled to get on in the malaise. Until, that is, one chivalrous soul peeled open the back doors to let his girlfriend on; bypassing the frenzied pack at the front, to which we followed suit. God bless that man! We were home within the hour eating cheese, tomato and chorizo crackers and resting our heads for the next instalment of what was to be the most bizarre festival experience I’ve had yet.
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