Bestival is the festival that is not taken seriously. I realized that in my mid toboggan ride. Periphery of the hills on the outskirts of the site, rickety toboggan (slogan: "Your safety is in your hands") trundled uphill on a conveyor belt. He passed a sign that I am commanded to "obey all signs, then someone who just read "!!!", at this stage to reach the top of the hill, took a sharp U-turn me around and view of the festival below. I saw a spider-shaped stage, spewing flames (see photo), a collective Tinky Winky, Princess Mononoke, Jigglypuff, and 55 000 other costumed revelers. I was all peaks, when suddenly he fell down toboggan.
The festival is the goal - to "the magic of [the Isle of Wight] and the spread of love in the world" - is quite Woodstock, but it is satisfied by the neo-hippie crowd and quiet psychedelia of the decor. Also essential to the meaning of the feast of carefree friendship is relatively small scale. Place (as opposed to site) is easy to navigate - unlike Glastonbury, it covers an area the size of Sudan, and unlike Benicassim, is divided into two parts of a village. How to accommodate all the North London is a mystery. Yet this was the year, Bestival is increased to major league - its composition is first in the world, and tickets sold faster than ever. Rumors that she would move to a much larger site in 2011 bothers me.
For Bestival is the festival that does not take seriously its logistics. Although smaller than Glastonbury and others, it still aims to transfer tens of thousands of entry and exit from a small island. The organizers are at the heart of the case. In a strange reversal rate movies, ferries and buses pass by as if with stones return bus Monday morning drove past twenty minutes, ironically pumping "Beatles" "Get Back", as they picked up thirty passengers on road mile-long queue. If Bestival is to expand into next year, this problem will be addressed.
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