Five nights down, two to go. If we make it through one more night without being fallen on in our sleep, it will only be 50/50 odds of it happening as a farewell gesture on night seven. There’s not much to report because we’ve been beaching out, Courts has been in the ocean as many waking hours as possible and I’ve swam in the Mediterranean Sea four times. Mum was quite proud of Courts for getting me in the ocean at 6pm the first time I swam, knowing I’m not much one for oceans or cold (and yes, by my standards the ocean is often cold even in this heat). She would be shocked if she knew that today there were waves and I went in twice.
Courts thought it was hilarious to watch my expression as the waves I despise so much loomed over us and then gently tossed us behind as they passed through to break over other people’s heads. For me it was a necessary evil as the heat intensified (and the ocean actually got warm enough for me to consider it not-cold) and we stayed deep enough to avoid most of the breakers.
The only problem now is that without hotel TV’s, English language books, battery power for music and audio books or the blinding hangovers that seem to keep everyone else occupied, we’ve run out of things to do and we got bored for the first time since we’ve left home (long queues not counted). After a long mid-afternoon walk home from the beach - made longer by the fact that three perfect days of lovey-dovey coupledom (being united by hatred for a place does wonders for a relationship) had to give way to an argument at some point – I even had a cold shower at camp, finally washed my hair for the first time in Benicassim and relished in using the Spanish Leave-in Conditioner we deciphered at the Super Mercado. Skip back to the bit about disliking the cold to understand why I hadn’t been convinced to shower long enough to wash my hair since San Sebastian, but heat and boredom lead to crazy ideas, and washing my hair was one of them. The three wasps hanging around the button I had to push every 30 seconds made for light entertainment and then it was a snooze in the tent before some writing and the nights festivities.
The previous night we went into the festival for the first time. We saw a comedy hour (the only part of the festival Courtney actively wanted to see) and then half of The Paris Riots set*before Brandon Flowers from The Killers did his solo set. It was awesome to walk around and eat vendor food and see bright lights and screens and take it all in. Courts did a good job of pretending well, not to like it, but to not-hate it, and even sang along when Brandon Flowers closed with a Killers song, though he’ll kill me when he reads that I told the world he knew the words. Brandon Flowers was good until halfway through his set when he kind of seemed to just give up and let his back up singers do the hard bits. He gave me the impression that he just really doesn’t like his job, and I don’t think he’s ever spoken to his band mates if their chemistry is anything to go by. Still, the bass player was into it and it was cool to hear the songs live.
Best of all was just that vibe I’ve been craving, it made the mad crush to get out totally worth it. They’ve really just sold too many tickets this year and don’t have the infrastructure to support their big ambitions – we left with the intention of going back 2 hours later for The Strokes and just couldn’t be bothered dealing with the crush to get back.
So we’ll see how tonight goes, I’m seeing Mumford and Sons because AnnMarie back home said I had to, and The Arctic Monkeys afterwards if I can be bothered with the crazies for that long. We’re considering heading back to Valencia tomorrow before the big finale – Portishead and Arcade Fire will make this whole ordeal worth it and then we can Speedy Gonzales outta here and say Hola to Barcelona.
*Note to Squish – worth looking up if 6 live songs are anything to go by, let me know if they record well xx
