When you think of a power flower, one’s inherent reaction is a rose; robust, littered with thorns, and generally pretty god damn bad ass. The adversely inverted notion of a wimpy, impotent flower for “pansies”: is the daisy. And for all intents and purposes, for 362 days a year, this holds true. Yet for one long weekend, shit gets undeniably real. Rocking the Daisies is a cultural Shangri-La that plays host to hipsters, hip-hoppers, housers, people with hip replacements, and Mormons. This playground for the enlightened features a wide scope of music, comedy, theatre and if last year is anything to go by; a completely nude Philippino man covered in purple paint with an inappropriate penchant for cart-wheels. The small town of Darling, known for cultural heritage and sophistication, does a 180 degree head spin and becomes a carnival of global proportions. But it’s a hard rocky road out there, and if you haven’t been before, here are some hints and tips to guide you to a flawless dance floor victory.
It might sound relatively minor in the grander scheme of things, but your first purchase should be a pass for the private toilets. Come Sunday, the fields of public green port-a-loos do a fantastic rendition of a mid 90’s Chernobyl, where life is seldom found, and the phosphorus landscape permeates the nostrils with great vengeance and furious anger and strikes down upon thee. Theres a lot of shit. Avoid it.
Have enough H2O to water-board a rhino. The baking sun and dry terrain, coupled with endless bars of alcoholic delights, means that cotton mouth, dehydration and even certain death lie in wait behind every corner. Fountains are available, but only if you purchase specific Rocking The Daisies water bottles that are bound to get lost anyway. Bring as much ice as your cooler box will allow, never doubt this. Do not question this. I will be accepting hugs for this advice at a later stage.
Do not try and out hip the hipsters. Those guys are fierce. Niche music inherently attracts weathered skinny jeans, faux spectacles, suspenders and vintage waistcoats playfully adorned with pictures of cats. You wont be the coolest person there. But this is ok, even a good thing. Wear something you’re comfortable in, and then poke fun at those trying to navigate the grassy terrain in their grandfather’s winkle pickers. Luckily there will be plenty of space to swim as the hipsters are averse to bathing costumes and will stay away from the “mainstream”. Oh no he didn’t.
Stray from the beaten path. This isn’t Hilbrow, if you see a dark alley leading to an unknown discovery, go down it. There are so many nuances and tiny nooks and crannies that you could be there the whole weekend and never truly discover it all. The map is more intricate than the freckles on a red-head’s back, the landscape is vast and I recommend pulling in to the often untapped Balkan tent. Gypsies might be bad people, and often smell like they didn’t take my advice about the private loos, but their music is slamming.
Glow sticks have an exponential relationship with the amount of gees you can experience in the Red Bull Rave Cave. Get your sweat on, your veins pumped, and categorically klap the shit out of the warped bassliness. Just watch out for your fellow raver’s jaws, which shall often lie scattered over the floor of the cave, or wrapped around the sides of their heads.
Come and greet your blogging heroes at the blogging tent. Don’t Party, CapeTownAlive and ourselves have been blessed by Touareg Tents and Rain Productions. We will be holding body building competitions, a round-robin mud wrestling contest, and if you play your cards right we might just pimp out some hoes in your direction. Also Kreg will be doing tattoos. Chix get inked for free China. But we’re friendly dudes and would love to meet you. There might even be a drink in it if you ask nicely.
So drive safe, party hard, and never look directly into the eyes of a hipster, they will steal your soul.
*Follow @Stroobz on Twitter as he leopard crawls to Daisies in the name of Chlamydia research, and posts pictures of stray cats.