Rozzkill // Before And After.

So. Hi.

Wauw. This week has been... Eventful, to say the least.

As you might know, I have just spent 9 days of my vacation at Roskilde Festival. And though it was just 9 small days, I feel a little different, somehow. I don't know if it was the fact that I had to take care of myself, that I had to survive without any of my valuables for a week (more on that later) or that I simply went through so many jam-packed experiences, that it would be weird, if it didn't have some kind of influence on me.

Roskilde was... Well, first of all, it wasn't just an experience. It was thousands. Walking around the entire festival in the middle of the scorching hot summer's day, trying to navigate through the crowds of people. Learning the ropes and feeling my way around the different stages. Living off canned tuna and corn wrapped in tortillas, and the occasional hot meal cooked on a camping stove. Truly learning to appreciate canned mini-sausages and Dolmio sauce. Forgetting to put on sunscreen consequently every day, and therefore ending up the same color as the dried-up mud around me. Eating tuna. Showering every 3-4 days, and therefore being caked in a mixture of dust (the so-called "urinstøv") and mud. Hanging out at a skate park at 5am. Being spotted for a Danish fashion magazine for my sunglasses and "casual Roskilde-look". Discovering the "walking party". Standing alone in the rain, in a long, in fact never-ending line, just waiting to be let into the Pit of the Orange Stage. Feeling the bass of "You Only Live Once" by The Strokes reverberating through my body, as I basically clutched the loudspeakers during their concert. Eating tuna. Getting used to the smell of pot, since I walked into a cloud of weed every time I took another step. Having my beltbag stolen, with all my valuables... and by that, I mean all of them: phone, iPod, cash, credit card, health insurance... EVERYTHING. Staggering home from a long night of partying, in the rain at 6am, two girls clinging to one broken umbrella. Coming home late at night to find a wet tent, and ice-cold air. Eating tuna. Falling asleep in sweatpants and woollen sweaters and warm socks, and then waking up sweating in a boiling tent, after which I threw myself out into the cool grass.  My boyfriend coming all the way to Roskilde, on our one-month anniversairy, June 30th, to bring me food, and take me out to brunch. Singing and dancing and hopping to a song played by a band that I hardly know, but it doesn't matter, 'cause they're here, they're playing, I'm dancing, I'm singing, I'm alive. Eating more tuna. But most of all, living by myself in another universe.

I keep thinking to myself: so that was Roskilde Festival. The Orange Festival. Rozzkill. And was it really everything it was cracked up to be?

Yes. And so much more. I can't wait until next year. What am I going to do with all my time?

I find myself consequtively calling my camp in Roskilde "home". Tuna and corn in tortillas has become a standard diet for me, which I actually miss a lot. I feel surprised when I wake up every morning, clean, and most of all, not sweating in the heat of a scalding hot tent. I go to bed full. I don't drink a variation of luke-warm / hot beer all day, every day. I have a great tan (one guy actually asked me if I was from Brazil or something. That's how exotic I look from a week in Roskilde). I bought a new beltbag, John Lennon sunglasses, a tiger-striped towel, and numerous waterbottles. I can now eat things such as chocolate, cereal with milk, salad, steaks, squishy bread, cold cuts and beef stroganoff again. I don't have to debate weather it should be rubber boots or closed sneakers in the morning: I can wear sandals again, and it doesn't even have to be flip-flops. I can walk down the street without being whistled at every time I turn a corner (ah, Roskilde...). I can wear jewellery again! I can't even describe how much I have missed my rings. But most of all, I can see my friends, family and boyfriend again. And after a mere 9 days, it actually feels really good to be home again. Though I do miss my "other home" in Roskilde very, very much.

I have been to recover most of my stolen items, which were found and delivered to the "lost and found" section of Roskilde Festival... Which completely impossible to find, I tell you... It took me a whopping 2-3 hours to trample around the streets of Roskilde, until I finally chased it down (it would be because my sense of direction is COMPLETELY awful). Recovered lost valuables, and learnt exactly what will happen to phone, iPod and / or keys when they are run over, or sat on by a very fat person: they are now completely bent out of shape, and therefore unusable. On another note, I now have a new phone, have replaced most of my other things, and will buy a new iPod in the States. And though I didn't get any pictures from the festival at all  (since I neither had phone nor camera, and a single-use camera was nowhere in sight), my beloved Nikon D5000 is now back from the repair shop, good as new, and beautiful to my desperate-to-hold-a-camera-once-more hands. I'll be heading to the States on the 12th, which is this coming Tuesday (yikes!), so I'll take plenty of pictures for you -- especially on Hawaii!!

So, with everything that has happened in Roskilde, and these small days afterwards, I will try to give you a picture of how it was with a selection of photos. Hope you had a good first week of the summer holidays. Has anyone else been to Roskilde Festival? Funny, it felt like the whole world moved into that alternate 9-day universe for the time being... But I guess there was a world outside of Roskilde too (freaky).

I'll stop talking now. Yes. Goodbye.

 I N    A N O T H E R    W O R L D :    R O Z Z K I L L

This picture proves that I actually was there. There exists very little photos of me at Roskilde. This particular picture was even futured on the internet page for Eurowoman (proud much, eh?).

The lovely Alex Turner at Arctic Monkeys' concert on the Orange Stage. Which I stood in the pit for. Yay!

Coincidentally dropped by Bright Eyes' concert... Where the lead singer decided to fucking crowdsurf just as my friend and I walked into the Pit. So he was like 7 feet from me... Shit happens at Rozzkill!

Beltbag. Easily the most needed accessorie. I actually had to buy a new one, after I had my first stolen, because I missed it so much.

The Map. Also known as my survival guide. But, believe it or not, my sense of direction was so much better inside Roskilde Festival, than it was outside. Hmm. It must have something to do with the music, and my desire to find it quickly.

Oh Land's concert was... Oh my god. Easily one of the best experiences at Rozzkill. She had her awesome headdress on, her balloons with the animations of herself on them (YES!) and a great show lined up. Amazing.

I swear, you couldn't walk five feet without smelling pot. It was surreal. Don't think I've ever smelled so much weed in one place.

We actually had pretty great weather most of the week... Whith the exception of July 2nd, where we had massive buckets of rain, and thunder and lightning crashing down on us.

The skatepark became one of our standard hangouts. Every night, before we went "home" to our camp, we would sit on the rails and talk for a while, as the sun came up.

I was, in fact, outside when the lightning struck: alone, abandoned by my girlfriends, and waiting in line for The Strokes' concert. I managed to mumble angrily to myself "This better be worth it..." about a hundred times. Thankfully, it was. It was more than worth it, to be precise. It was mind-blowing.

I swear that I have never heard or seen a crowd roar so loudly as when "Last Nite" came on.

DAMER! Me and my ladies in front of Cosmopol stage, the night before the festival opened. 

 

So that was it. Or at least moments and glimpses and glances of it. I don't think "it" can be described. But by the look of it, I have tried. And I'm not nearly done. But I'm expecting that you're eyes are about to melt off your face, if you are still reading this (If you are, kudos to you! Even I'm not sure I would have lasted this long). But, as always:

Thanks for listening,

I Am Roseberry.