Hove: the arrival.

   So, our adventure got off to a rocky start when I accidentally locked my festival pass in Tredvin´s apartment. This led to both me and Nina only getting 45 minutes of sleep before hopping on an airport bus around 4.00 with our belongings packed in the largest and uncomfortable backpacks ever created. Strangely, we were on separate flights to Oslo, which both left and arrived at almost exactly the same time. How or why they pulled that one off, we´ll never know. Only one difference was noticeable- I was the thankful recipient of an absolutely enormous breakfast.

  In Oslo at a bright and early 8.30, it dawned on us that we had an impressive five hours in which to entertain ourselves. We took the airport express train into the city and proceeded to sit in a variety of locations and talk about conspiracy theory until our bus to the festival showed up. During those four hours on that crowded bus, the only thing we could do was appreciate the invention known as air conditioning, which this bus failed to possess. The bus driver himself agreed that the bus shouldn´t actually be in service due to the suffocating air quality, but there was nothing he could do. We spent four hours too hot to sleep, too hot to think, yet on the verge of unconsciousness due to the humidity. Needless to say, Hove was a welcome sight when we finally arrived on Tromøya, the gorgeous island the festival is on. We were each given three bracelets – a camping pass for the “Green Camp”, a festival pass, and a “skjenkebånd”, roughly translated to “get-drunk-bracelet”. Ready to party? I think so. 

  We began by situating ourselves with our surroundings. An endless campground, complete with a grocery store, restaurant stands, and mandatory festival debit cards gave an extremely surreal feeling. Days, and life for that matter, had nothing to do with time, daylight, or the outside world. Music, sunshine, and fun were the primary reasons for all activity and existence. Due to cheaper airfare, we had decided to arrive two days early, which unknown to us, was a designated vorspiel, a pre-party before the festival started. The partying was thus in full swing, and we set up camp among a sea of tents, chairs, and scenic summery nature. The first night was as cold as ice, and we snuggled into our sleeping bags wrapped in long underwear, jackets, hats and wool socks. Little did we know how hot it would be the next morning.





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