Les Eurockeenes (2th-5th of July)
It was hot. And it was dusty. So dusty in fact that when I returned and showered, most of my celebrated tan washed away. That is, except for two patches of horrid red on my back which is due to either sunburn or being repetitively thrown into the air by a bunch of 30-year-old British guys who were on their stag weekend during the Hives. Who were awesome, by the way. The Hives, that is. And that was the only time it rained (or, more accurately, poured) - during their set - and if the through of mine and Molly's tent having a few holes in it never thought to cross my mind, it would have been the perfect accompaniment to thousands and thousands of people dancing crazily after an unbearably hot day.
I - to put it very simply - had a freaking awesome time. It was just so much fun. The atmosphere was very relaxed, one might even say nonchalant, but there was a great, friendly vibe that surrounded that.
Here are some things that happened over my 3 days in Belfort. (In no particular order)
- They had these large helium balloons for sale in the shape of various characters. All of whom were ignored except for Spongebob Square pants and his friend Patrick. Whenever the crowd caught sight of one of these bogging just above everyone's heads, they'd start chanting 'Spongebob libere!' (Free Spongebob!) until finally the balloon was released into the air and floated off into the distance. The thousands in the crowd would cheer deafeningly for the cartoon characters' liberty - louder even than they would cheer for the bands on stage. but the sheer ridiculousness of their enthusiasm was so infectious, and I found myself shouting 'Patrick libere! Patrick libere!' as loud as the rest of them by the second day.
- The festival started at about 5pm (but the best acts weren't on until 7pm-midnight) and we never got back to the tent before 3am. Usually, the sun was waking as we went to sleep and we'd walk through the campsite towards our tent watching the sun creep slowly up behind the misty mountains of South-East France not too far in the distance. However - though beautiful - the sun quickly proved it was not our friend. Very early in the morning, Molly and I would awake suddenly to find ourselves burning (or melting at least) in the claustrophobic tent. Opening the tent flap or attempting to sleep outside was futile - the vast, flat meadow did not accommodate for any shade whatsoever and there was no escape from the sun. However, because the festival didn't start until evening, there was ample time to chill out and relax during the day. Which usually involved scouting out and grabbing any patch of shade you could and not leaving except to get yourself a nutella crepe... or a coffee ice cream... or more often than not a Heineken.
- My favourite acts were the Hives and the Dead Weather. The former I have been waiting years to see live (and was definitely not disappointed) and the other I had hardly heard of (because I'm so behind the times). For the record, yes, Jack White is a genius on stage. He has an inexplicable charisma, which only highlights what a talented musician he really is. As Molly so wisely pointed out, you can feel him lead the band; drive and command and direct the band even though he's almost out of sight at the back of the stage playing the drums. And, although I enjoyed several other acts (Hot Chip, LCD Soundsystem, Julian Casablancas, Kasabian, The Black Keys, even Jay-Z) those were the two in which I really connected to the music itself, rather than simply enjoying the festival experience and atmosphere. What I really love about the lead singer of the Hives - and of course the band as an entity - is his obvious sincere belief in the power of rock and roll. You just knew he truly loved the music he was playing, but more than just music. It was a belief system. And that might sound - whatever - but when that passion and that energy is projected and spread around the thousands in the crowd like wildfire in what is both strongly collective and quietly personal, it is very powerful, and not to be underestimated.
- As I haven't been staying in hostels or anything since I arrived, Les Eurockeenes was my first real example of how easy it is to make friends amongst travellers. Like having a suitcase or more accurately, a ridiculously heavy and oversized backpack, was a password into a special club that welcomes its members with open arms. I thoroughly enjoyed meeting almost all the people we did, which in addition to stag-weekend buddies included: an Aussie bloke with an Aussie flag cape who we ran into many times. As well as telling us his life story, he also imparted slurred words of wisdom for us young travellers: 'Don't... be afraid to ask yourselves the big questions, yeah? And... don't... be afraid... to answer 'em?' Um, strangely philosophic. Thanks, mate. At first it was a novelty to converse with other Australians, but after meeting some unfriendly Queenslanders and as the festival went on, the Aussie twang and bogan slang became a bit irritating, and later still, rather embarrassing. Along the way we also met a guy who looked like a fawn (who we very imaginatively called 'The Fawn') and his happy, funny, dancing friends who would run off with my sunglasses and laugh at my socks (which were just black and not funny at all); some very shall we say... forward French guys, 3 English guys our age who matched our music tastes to a T who were always arguing with a group of rather obnoxious English girls who lived in the next tent who I awkwardly ended up getting stuck on the plane home with. Just to name a few.
- Also, you can say what you like about French cuisine - but French fast food is terrible! A tiny bit of lettuce on my burger wouldn't have gone completely astray!
But I am not complaining - I appreciated every minute as part of the festival experience. I really loved my time at Les Eurockeenes. As you can probably tell.
posted by Tamara at
8:39 PM
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