So, everyone’s always going on about these big music festivals in Europe, right? You see the photos, everyone looking super cool, sunshine, amazing bands. Sounds like a dream. Well, my first few tries? Let’s just say they were more of a learning curve than a smooth ride. It wasn’t exactly the effortless cool I’d pictured from the brochures. More like organized chaos, if I’m being honest.
That Time I Nearly Gave Up on Festivals Altogether
My first big one was in Germany. Berlin, I think. Or maybe it was Hamburg? Details get fuzzy. Anyway, I just rocked up, ticket in hand, thinking, “This is gonna be epic.” Epicly stupid, more like. I hadn’t booked anywhere to stay. Figured I’d “find a vibe” with some cool people and crash somewhere. Ended up in a hostel dorm with 15 other people, one of whom insisted on playing the accordion at 3 AM. Not the vibe I was going for.
Then there was the festival itself. Massive. Way bigger than I thought. I wanted to see this one band, got there, and it was like a human tidal wave. Couldn’t see a thing. Lost my mates within the first hour. Spent half the day trying to find them, phone dead, no signal anyway. And the food? Don’t get me started. Paid a fortune for something that tasted like cardboard. By day two, I was pretty much ready to pack it in and go home. It felt like hard work, not fun.
And trying to actually see the city? Forget it. You’re either rushing to the festival site, recovering from the festival site, or trying to find somewhere to charge your phone that isn’t already mobbed. The “major European city” part felt like a backdrop I was too knackered to explore.
Figuring It Out, Slowly But Surely
But, you know, I’m stubborn. And I’d already bought a ticket for another one in Spain a few months later. So, I thought, okay, gotta do this differently. And slowly, festival by festival, I started to actually figure out how to make these things enjoyable, not just survivable.
First off, planning. Not crazy, minute-by-minute planning, because that just sucks the fun out of it. But basic stuff. Like, where am I sleeping? Booking that hostel or cheap hotel before I even bought the plane ticket became my new religion. Turns out, having a guaranteed bed and a (semi) hot shower makes a world of difference to your mood.
Knowing the layout became a thing for me. I’d actually download the festival map. Revolutionary, I know. Figure out where the stages are, the toilets (crucial!), the water points. Saves a lot of aimless wandering and panic when you’re trying to catch your favorite DJ.
Packing smart was a game changer.
- A portable charger. Non-negotiable. Your phone will die. It’s a law of the universe at festivals.
- Wet wipes. My god, wet wipes. You’ll feel like a new human.
- Earplugs. For sleeping, for when the bass is just too much, or for when your tent neighbour decides to practice their Tuvan throat singing.
- A decent pair of comfy shoes. You’re gonna walk. A lot. Forget fashion, go for comfort. My feet learned this the hard way.
Pacing myself. This was a big one. My early attempts, I tried to see EVERYTHING. Rushing from stage to stage, no breaks, fueled by caffeine and hope. Burned out by day two. Now? I pick a few must-sees. The rest is a bonus. I actually sit down. I eat proper food if I can find it (sometimes a mission, but worth it). I even take a damn nap back at the hostel if I need to. It’s a marathon, not a sprint, especially for those 3-4 day festivals.
Going with the right people helped. Or just going it alone. Being with mates who have totally different music tastes or energy levels can be a drag. Sometimes it’s better to just agree to meet up later and do your own thing. Or, honestly, some of my best festival experiences were when I just went by myself. No compromises, just pure, selfish enjoyment.
And you know what? Actually exploring the city became part of it. I started adding an extra day or two before the festival madness, or after to recover and actually see the sights. Turns out, Paris is quite nice when you’re not covered in mud and glitter. Rome has more to offer than just a cheap flight for a festival.
So yeah, it’s not always the glamorous party you see online. There’s dirt, there’s queues, there’s usually some kind of minor disaster involving a leaky tent or a lost wallet. But when you get it right, when you see that band you love, when you connect with a bunch of random strangers all buzzing for the same reason, it’s pretty damn cool. You just gotta learn the ropes. My ropes were mostly learned by tripping over them first. But hey, that’s half the story, isn’t it?
