Everything we miss about Lowlands
This is really crying, you know. 2020 has probably not been what anyone thought it would be, but I could deal with most things. No vacation? Bummer. But not a disaster either. No festivals, which is also a real shame. But now. This weekend. I'm typing this from my house. In Amsterdam. Not from a campsite. In Biddinghuizen. And I'm bummed about that because hello, LOWLANDS. I would have arrived there last night and by now I would already have a massive hangover. I would be sweating out my tent. You get it: I'm bummed. You too, if you were going. And I even miss the dumbest Lowlands things now. And the fun of course too.
Everything I miss about Lowlands
1. The swearing upon arrival. When you're stuck in that gigantic line. In fact, swearing when you're stuck in traffic on the dike. Thinking that you really left early enough. But that waiting and complaining about the waiting is so cozy. Shamelessly cracking open a first beer while it's barely afternoon.
2. Just the whole campsite. Lovely being crammed together, stressing whether the whole group can fit, because holding a spot for too long is rude and you don't do rude at Lowlands. That first drink when finally everything is set up and you flop down in your camping chair. No comfort anywhere, but oh man, what a joy.
3. Thursday. Parties at the campsite and for a few years now also parties on the grounds themselves. That Thursday just belongs to the whole festival, even if there are no performances to be found yet. Waking up already hungover on Friday but that doesn't matter at all because that's when it really starts.
4. Speculating in advance about what the weather will do while it actually doesn't matter. The best Lowlands memories I have: no idea if it was beautifully sunny then. Sure, thunderstorms are unpleasant, but rain, sun, heatwave (although I found that a bit too intense for Lowlands), it doesn't matter at all. Because you're at Lowlands so you're happy.
5. The food. Ohhh, THE FOOD. I can seriously get so happy about the food here. I can look forward to the kebab sandwiches all year round, but the healthier options are also so delicious. The spring rolls and the accompanying parties at that food stall there. Eating here is really a party.
6. Hanging on the hill by the Alpha. It doesn't really matter which performance is going on; just hanging out with a group and a drink on that hill. Preferably with a bit of sunshine, of course, but really: ultimate enjoyment. Pure happiness.
7. Letting yourself be surprised by acts you didn't know yet. A few years ago I was at a completely unknown Dua Lipa because I found that one song Be The One catchy. But also ending up at Die Antwoord (back then still in the Grolsch) and not knowing what hits you: what a show.
8. Getting swept away by the acts you already know. Losing my flip-flop in the front section during The Opposites. Being amazed by Muse. Singing along with Bastille. Being thrown back to my skater phase with Blink 182. The Foo Fighters who always remain unmatched.
9. On Sunday always going just a bit too hard so that on Monday morning you absolutely aren't sober when breaking down your tent (or just leaving it up). In a daze heading towards the car, of course having breakfast at McDonald's and then recovering for five days — and then the countdown can begin.
Have I forgotten anything? Oh definitely. Toilet concerts. The wait for the shower. The unknown people who suddenly become your best friends. Losing everyone and having the night of your life. Not having a voice anymore. No mirror, no makeup, and no straightener and feeling your absolute best. Saying you're going ‘home’ where you mean a tiny tent for the next four days.
Now excuse me, I'm going to rewatch this concert and pretend I'm there anyway. Sorry neighbors.
