Whether it’s sipping a mug of chai tea in the sunshine whilst listening to power ballads, having Dermot O’Leary ask me if he could use the toilet, or kicking back on an inflatable sofa sharing a beer with the security guards to the dulcet tones of Metallica, UK festivals have provided me with many a fond memory. Naturally then, when I arrived in Spain I was keen to see what my Hispanic friends could offer up in the way of summer musical madness. Not counting the one-day events often labelled as “festivals” which, in all honesty, are just glorified club nights, there’s still a whole lot of stuff going on, and, not surprisingly, there’s a whole lot of differences with the UK scene.
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First and foremost: the weather. In sharp contrast to the more-often-than-not soggy nature of British festivals, throughout the summer most of Spain is pretty damn scorchio, with hour after hour of guaranteed glorious sunshine. No wading through waist-deep mud to get to your tent here! Although some might say the drizzle adds to the unique ambience of UK festivals, I personally prefer not to return to the campsite to find my pitch has been swallowed up by an ocean of muddy water and my tent is now halfway to Bristol. Unfortunately, the heat also presents problems for campers, since aforementioned tent is consequently transformed into a cosy little sauna and is too hot to set foot in for most of the day, let alone sleep in at night. Perhaps this is why the camping culture (hanging a pair of knickers on a flagpole so you can find your tent, drinking warm cider round the fire with your mates, drunk people tripping over your tent pegs at 5am…ah, memories!) isn’t such an integral part of the festival experience in Spain, with some events not even offering the option to camp.
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Another thing I’ve noticed is that people don’t like to dress up so much for festivals here. Us Brits just cannot get enough of fancy dress, we LOVE it! When I worked as an Oxfam steward with a mate at Reading Festival back in 2003, we were one day confronted by a dozen Smurfs kneeling before us chanting “Bless you Oxfam ladies!” Would this happen in Spain? Unlikely. Skanking like a crazy thing to Madness surrounded by a bunch of pirates? Tampoco. Watching a man dressed as a giant sunflower struggle out of a portaloo? Don’t count on it. In fact, that whole element of silliness, daft people doing daft things, the idea that a festival is a weekend off from the world and anything goes, is something that’s missing from Spanish events. Don’t get me wrong, the line-ups are great, the atmosphere is brilliant and I’ve always had a fantastic time. Just don’t expect too many silly hats or lizards on unicycles.
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