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Who goes to RTD?
In the week before Rocking the Daisies (RTD), campuses in the Western Cape become desolate monuments where only confused engineering students make their way to class. Students make up more than half of the nearly 16 500 campers that rush to Cloof Estate in Darling annually to pitch their tents on the estate’s now (and forever) demolished lusern fields. The remaining lot of campers going to RTD are all middle-aged men with awkward beer bellies, or old grey hippies who feel young again when tripping with the youngsters.
Regardless of who’s going, it seems everybody with a RTD ticket switches to ‘auto-pilot festival mode’ the week before.
Why do they go?
Everybody who takes the N7 or the R304 to Darling for ‘the Daisies weekend’ is in fact in search of some kind of speed wobble (literally, in some cases). The average festivals-goer likes to believe that these parties serve as a temporary escape to nearly all forms of social order. 
Ironically, it takes much, much more than social ‘order’ to host an eclectic party for 16 500 people – it requires social engineering; something of which there is no shortage on the RTD terrain. The overall organising is impeccable and nowhere, except at the pop-up potties, are there ever any ques.
How do they do it?
The camping site’s blueprint is exactly like that of a major city – designed to accommodate those with the most money, most comfortably. Yes, even on this kwazi-cultish camping site where everyone is supposedly equal in every way, you will find a well establish and strict hierarchy of class.
First class: In the secluded camp sites (surrounded by high fences to keep out the lower classes) you can enjoy the comfort of a private bathroom and a luxury two-sleeper tent, at the low, low cost of “only R5995” for the weekend.
Business class: Right next to this “Capitol” is the not-so-glamorous-but-still-VIP-Area, guarded by a bright yellow jacketed security guard. The said security guard should be considered for a raise, as he is constantly battling to keep drunken crying/shouting/swearing/laughing/screaming persons out of the VIP bathrooms. In this area, you’ll find the middle-classes.
Economy: Outside, far away from all bathrooms, music stages and civilization, you’ll find the lower class masses trying to make a living in makeshift tents that sink into the lusern fields-turned-swamp. Twenty porta-loo stalls serve as sensory markers that guide you to your hole after a night of ‘stomping’, kilometers away.
Here’s a few handy tips how to make it through the entire weekend:
7 items that would make you fit in:
1. Flat leather ankle boots – the older they look the better
2. Sunglasses – regardless of the weather
3. A bikini top – regardless of the weather
4. Your father’s big Parka jacket
5. A headband
6. Drugs. They are as abundant at festivals the world over as Enterprise viennas on a campsite. You can be certain that some sort of opportunistic dealer will stumble upon your tent with his colourful, woven moonbag containing a variety of sorts. It's literally a toss up between a blurred out festival of note or a criminal record. You decide!?
7. A ‘Onesie’: For those who don’t support the above mentioned entrepreneurs, it tends to get really cold at night. The best – and most festival appropriate – way to keep warm, will be to wear an ‘onesie’. These one-piece baby-grows for grown-ups are made from a cheap flannel material and are available in a wide range of animals figures, including possums, cows and crocodiles. They go at +- R700 a piece.
Why go?
On paper, ‘Daisies’ is certainly the eco-friendliest place on earth. According to their website the festival has won many awards for just how well they manage their rubbish. Last year they managed a total of 32 900 kilograms waste, of which they recycled 20 340 kilograms. They also only use something called ‘grey water’ to flush the porta-loos with, which is good. Yet it’s difficult to believe that anything would ever grow on those premises ever again.
As the festival draws to an end, campers pack up and leave all remnants of their “social eclipse” behind. All those devoured Enterprize Vienna packages lay sown about as if they are intended to grow into new Vienna-providing trees for next year’s festival.
The papers and bottles do get picked up eventually, but it’s a bit optimistic believing that RTD is actually good for the environment.
To summarize, festival going is not for sissies, it’s for idealists. If you go, do not over-think the true implications of all that hippie-talk and la-di-da quotes printed on eco-friendly paper stapled to the trees; otherwise you might miss the point.
Oh and don't forget to watch this hilarious RTD advice video...
Also see: Bottoms up in Hermanus!
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