Dances, tents, rain and a rainbow. How the first day of the Viva Braslav festival went
In July, the city transforms into a city of tents. Onliner.by tells how Friday went — the first day of Viva Braslav.
If you arrive closer to Friday afternoon, it might seem that the festival hasn't started yet. The main stage is just waking up. But there are places where life is already bustling, even everyday life — that's the "Polyana CAMP" tent camp. Let's go see those who come to Viva Braslav in entire motorhomes and bring suitcases full of pillows.
Where the tents begin, the first pre-festival party appears. People arrive at the festival with their own playlist, where Max Korzh can be a headliner even if he's not in the lineup. It's enough for two guys to play his songs from a speaker — and gradually a new stage gathers around them.
Two girls from Braslav sell handmade bracelets for 5 and 10 rubles.
— During festival days, people buy well. Most of the jewelry we make right here.
"Every day is a holiday, every day is a festival" — Mot's song is already playing from the tents.
The guys from the tents are getting ready for his evening performance. They say there are "many beautiful girls" here.
They comment on Viva Braslav itself with restraint:
— Everything that depended on the organizers, they did very well.
Some are still struggling with their tents. Others are already sleeping in them or partying hard. But, it seems, they are just waiting for someone to approach them.
— We just accidentally met at the festival, — the company says. — And now we come together every year. We even have our own chat now.
One tent covered part of the "Braslav" sign near the stele. It turns out that this tent has its own story.
— Five years ago, we accidentally came here from Vitebsk, knowing absolutely nothing about Braslav. We stopped near the stele because it was the only free spot. We liked it so much that we've been coming back every year since.
During this time, the accidental company grew: new friends appeared, a common chat, and now five groups who agree to come here together.
— One of our neighbors said last year: "I told you I'd take your spot before you next time." As a result, they arrived on Monday and lived here, in the forest, for a week. This year we had to cover the sign a bit. But the spot is still ours.
Festival territory: "If they give us the good, we'll give the good back"
At the checkpoint, a light rain begins — the entire queue moves in unison under the roof and waits for permission to enter.
— If they give us the good, we'll give the good back, — the ticket sellers joke.
A few minutes later, the gates open, and everyone goes to check out the most important place for any event with a large crowd — the restrooms. Inspection passed, now you can relax and explore the territory further.
There's still time until the main concerts, so Viva Braslav currently exists in its daytime version. People survey the area, study the map, move between venues, and patiently stand in queues. If you love festivals, you also love queues for face painting.
But there are also those who don't wait for the festival to finally start, but simply live at their own pace.
On the pitch, guys play basketball to drum and bass. Nearby, girls have set up a yoga retreat in a tent. It turns out that even at a multi-thousand-person festival with such a drive, you can find time to slow down.
Some people spend time at the food courts: it's both a rich program and a full stomach. Or they choose shopping in the artisans' tents (but cash might be needed). The girls can't pay by card, and they shout: "Nadya, run up the hill to catch a signal."
In addition to the main stage, there are three other music stages: Lid Stage, Frudoza Stage, and Gorilla Energy. On the first, they are currently teaching a dance to "She dances to Sade". On the second, Dima Bilan and Vanya Dmitrienko are already playing today — though only from speakers for now: officially they perform tomorrow.
We constantly meet two girls in police uniforms.
— We've been coming to the festival from Riga for the third year. Last year we were Mario's girls, if you remember. Every year we try to come up with something new — this time the guys chose mustard and ketchup costumes, and we decided to be police officers.
To avoid getting lost in the crowd, groups invent their own navigation systems. The cutest are the guys wearing frog hats. There were also yellow and red arrows above heads, bucket hats, Plumbobs from The Sims game, and gloves with a hand like at basketball games, raised up to find their people.
On the way to the main stage, we notice a wall that was empty just a few hours ago. Now it's completely covered with inscriptions. Almost everyone left the name of their city here. Borisov, Pastavy, Hantsavichy, Zhodzina, Minsk, Vidzy, and Astravets took up most of the space. This is where true patriots live.
The most dramatic story happened with Novopolotsk. A pair of graffiti artists drew a cat on the wall, a guy appeared nearby and started writing "Novo..." right next to the drawing. There wasn't enough space not to touch the cat. He looked at the situation, sighed, and started again from the other side: "Novopolotsk". Because relocating the name of your hometown is too much.
Performances: "You can live a small life at Viva Braslav"
The artists' performances begin. When access to the stage is opened, I initially think someone announced a race. A few seconds later, I realize it was a festival 100-meter dash for a spot closer to the artists. Finally, school physical fitness standards came in handy.
The first to perform are artists from Novopolotsk: Varzan, Roomee, and Kapshul.
A light drizzle begins, and LYRIQ performs a cover of Seryoga's gangsta rap. The sun, in its most beautiful golden hour, illuminates the raindrops, a rainbow appears over the water — it seems the festival specially included all possible special effects.
True, the grass in front of the stage quickly gets a new name — "slurry". But you can perceive it as part of the program: you're not just going to a concert, but taking a mini-route through the Yelnya swamp. Especially since rubber boots have almost become a dress code element here.
In the evening, Viva Braslav changes. Lights come on, the music gets louder, and the territory transforms into several parallel universes. You want to walk through all the stages once more and see what the festival lives for after sunset.
On some stages, beloved pop music of the 2000s plays, on others — music for those who came for something more niche. I go to where jungle, drum and bass, and UK garage are played — to the "Poima" stage. There are fewer people here than near the main stage (because the stage itself is smaller), but those who came seem to know exactly why they are here.
At one point, a man simply walks up to the DJ during the dance and offers him a beer for the music. It seems hard to imagine a clearer gesture of gratitude.
On Montana, the DJ suddenly asks the crowd: "Why aren't you on the main stage? Why are you here?"
And "Komnata Kultury" (Culture Room) is performing there now. Their main hit is "Trains," which went viral and almost became an anthem for truckers' wives.
Mot comes onto the stage. He calls the festival "Viva Belarus" several times, and his live performance is completely unlike his recorded tracks. He moves a lot, dances, and looks as if he also prepared for this evening with everyone on the Tonight stage.
At the same time on this stage, DJ Frukt plays Fly Project — Mandala and simply makes people happy with songs that are already 10-20 years old.
As always at festivals, some quarrel and embrace, get lost and found, arrive alone and leave with a new company.
At Viva Braslav, you can live a small life, and that's exactly why adults come here — like children to camp. And they even bring their own children.
It's still early for children — 11:00 PM, but we say goodbye to the festival here. And for those who stay, a busy weekend still awaits.
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