For all of my photos from the trip, go here:
www.flickr.com/photos/nadia-louise/sets
Day 1
Thursday July 31st 2008
I was beginning to think the time to leave for the Splendour Adventure would never come! I woke up stupidly early after a late night shooting Spod and Regurgitator at the East Brunswick Club (for the record, it was amazing). I went to work for five hours (I may or may not have had a power nap on the loo) and then rushed back home to finish throwing crap into bags and frantically charging an array of different batteries for things. I shot out the door at 3pm, almost forgetting my boarding pass. After a quick stop to Subway I was on my way to the airport. I say this every time, but man, I love the airport. My step-dad who drove me put it perfectly... even if you’re not going anywhere; the exciting buzz in the air is so infectious. After I finally checked in, I went outside for one last pre-flight cigarette with Steve and a woman dropped a bottle of wine mere centimetres from my feet. Red liquid splashed everywhere, as did shards of glass. It scared the crap out of me but I decided that spilt alcohol is a good omen. Last time I flew was when I was going to Tasmania to shoot the Falls Festival, and just before landing I managed to get myself drenched in bourbon. I had the best weekend of my life, so I decided then and there, that this mess of wine and glass could only be a good sign. While waiting at the gates for boarding, I observed the crowd and about 80% of the people waiting were definitely going to Splendour. Unwashed hair, deliberately unfashionable attire, they were festival goers. Steve and I passed the time by making up stories about all of them. When I boarded I suddenly felt sick with nerves, I was going to an unfamiliar place, on my own, at night. I felt pretty average before we even took off. I then realised I’d been seated next to a group of Barbie and Ken dolls, who had clearly jumped on the bandwagon of going to festivals despite not really listening to any of the bands. I spied on one of the girls flicking through her iPod and wanted to smother her with my neck pillow when I saw her go past Cold War Kids to Craig David. Then further down the menu – TLC. What are these people doing?! They were all orange skinned, with white hair, and chewing their gum in a manner that would make your typical barnyard animal seem worthy for lunch with the queen. The girls clucked together the entire flight, comparing jeans and loudly talking about what bands they were going to see, obviously hoping to impress the people seated around them – Scribe, The Fratellis, “British India for suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuure, they go off!”... While the guys were just laughing dopily about funny stuff that happened after too many VBs. I don’t understand these people. I’ve always had an observant nature, I am a terrific judge of character and there’s not many people I don’t get. But these metro types with their ugly Supre outfits and over-bleached hair who are infesting music events? I have blamed the media for so long, when I reluctantly flick through girly magazines at the hairdressers, I literally always cringe when I get to the section where they review CDs, or list gigs you “totally HAVE to” get to... They’re always the CDs or events that I go to. To enjoy the music, to absorb the atmosphere, and in recent months, to capture it all on my camera. Why is it fashionable? More importantly, why won’t it go away? I missed out on tickets to the Falls Festival when Modest Mouse played, and I cried. I actually cried. That’s how much of a fucking music nerd I am, and I didn't get to go. Why? Well... I was talking to a co-worker one night at the pub the following January, and when she told me she went to the festival, I immediately asked how MM were. Her response of course, was “Who? Oh I didn’t really watch any of the bands”. Okay. I’m sure there are occasions out there where people just get drunk, eat dodgy food and “experiment”. Why do they have to choose to do it at the big festivals, the ones with the best bands playing? Why do they have to aid in the tickets selling out in the first day? ORANGE PEOPLE, GET OFF MY TURF.
Wow, that got off topic... where was I? Oh yeah, worst flight ever. I planned on editing photos during the flight but Ken in front of me was so restless in his seat that he was just knocking my laptop around, so I gave up. I couldn’t sleep, I just tried with all my might not to listen to the moronic conversations going on. But of course I eavesdropped for the rest of the flight – I seem to enjoy upsetting myself. It’s the same at work when they have the radio on, I listen intently to every word the radio announcer is saying so that when they say something stupid (approximately every few seconds that they're speaking) I can whinge about why they’re stupid. Oh, off topic again.
Then began the ride from the airport to the hostel. I had spent the wait at the bus stop praying with everything I had that the walking Fanta bottles weren’t getting on the same bus, or staying at the same place as me. They weren’t, but I did have to listen to some girls from Carlton pretentiously talk about their lives and I found myself just as frustrated as I was on the plane. I NEED AN MP3 PLAYER. I think I would’ve strangled someone for an mp3 player, or earmuffs, or some knitting needles to shove into my eardrums. By this point I had spoken about one sentence in three hours, I had done nothing but listen to assholes rattle on about absolute shit, and I feared for my sanity. I’m not a talkative person, but I do get lonely quite easily. My Splendour buddy, Carole, wasn’t due to arrive until Saturday morning. I decided at that point never to travel alone again – not even to go to Splendour with free tickets, it didn't seem to balance out.
I eventually got to the hostel and checked in. I didn’t get to suss the place out much because it was so bloody dark, but the room was as I had expected – a little box with a bunk bed on either side. The walls were brick, painted yellow . There was a little bar fridge and a mirror in the corner, and a window facing the common room with curtains that didn’t fully close. The door was broken too and I had four cameras and a laptop with me... I liked it though. It was so quiet that night, the walls of the rooms were paper thin but I couldn't hear a thing. I didn't put music on, I just enjoyed the silence and I spent the night finally editing the photos from the gig on Wednesday, and then had what was possibly the greatest sleep of my life. I had a dream that I won an award for something, I wish I could remember what.
1 comment:
This post is beautiful Nadia! Even though you go off on tangeants, everything flows so nicely and tells such a wonderful narrative. I really enjoyed reading this.
-Beth
bethkeating.wordpress.com
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