glass magazine || reporting Erika

01/08/2012 14:11:20

Croatia has pulled me in by the hips, ran her hands up my back and tilted my face towards hers. She used Hideout Festival to lure me in and I was hopelessly seduced.

It was the perfect premise: a relaxing beach holiday cushioned with ample dancing at the hands of Ricardo Villalobos, Jamie Jones, Four Tet and Caribou, Soul Clap and ohsomuchmore. Set on the Isle of Pag, Hideout ran from Friday, June 29 until Sunday, July.

My friends and I packed in a few more days allowing a full week of hedonism on the Adriatic coast. Like pilgrims we persevered from London towards our dance mecca joining 10,000 other revellers on the notorious Zrće Beach where there was no escaping the Croatian heat. Her smothering warmth reached over the balcony, past the wooden shutters and into our un-air-conditioned rooms. But, a blessing in disguise: High temperatures demanded the sweat of last night’s debaucheries, drawing out any dreaded hangovers. Coupled with an omelette and fresh orange juice? We’d be as right as rain.

Hideout had set the pace with several warm-up parties ahead of Friday’s official start. It was easy to succumb to Thursday’s taste of the festival. On our first traipse down Zrće Beach (Ibiza’s worthy opponent) we visited the white washed Aquarius. It stands boldly in the centre and is colossal in size but divided in half (aptly named “1” & “2”). We ignored the left sweep of the beach to pop into the second of the three major open-air clubs. Papaya, the handsomest and largest of the three, greeted us with glowing pools. We walked past them delving deeper and deeper into the rabble of ravers. Our beacon – Heidi.

She induced great verve from the dance floor. The crowd’s energy surged beyond Papaya and rippled through the Adriatic Sea. It satisfied an evening’s desires while tomorrow’s fancies revolved around a boat. Party vessels drifted out to sea and back during the Hideout affair. Our ride, the Phantasy Sound boat, sailed off early Friday evening with its precious cargo – Erol Alkan, Jackmaster, Stopmakingme and People Get Real. Aeroplane, though not scheduled, was smuggled onto the boat too.

As the land faded behind us, hot beats caused us to sway while fervent sunbeams forced us to glisten. It was a scorcher of a party on so many levels. But lo! The sun, poised like a maiden, blushed until the heavens reddened in kind. We watched with mirth until she graciously bowed out. It was nearly 9 pm when the boat docked and Hideout opened in only a few hours’ time. We freshened up (and snoozed briefly) before reaching Zrće Beach. Once there we sauntered from Four Tet and Caribou to Aeroplane to Kerri Chandler ... My man and I stepped out of Chandler’s set and plopped down on the beach. We didn’t feel the need to hasten. We were too transfixed by the sun’s rise up to the skies.

The next day’s return to Zrće Beach (after a standard omelette and orange juice fare) affirmed the rumours whispered – the beach presents herself differently beneath a glowing sun. Waters of azure stretched towards the silhouettes of faraway land. Soft waves glided up to the pebbly coast. Sun-kissed bodies, locals and guests alike, were draped lazily over sun loungers. Papaya held the choice pool-party that afternoon: Hot Creations bash featuring a favourite, Jamie Jones. We gingerly stepped in. The reverberating sounds dominated. Everywhere you turned, bikini bods danced. It was a strange sight to behold in daylight; I couldn’t stomach the crowded swimming pools where I witnessed a few tangerine Barbie and Ken dolls festering. As good as the music was I wasn’t interested in being poolside. I longed for the sea and left as gingerly as I had entered.

In a matter of moments I was afloat the Adriatic, eyeing the cloudless sky.

Ashore, we lounged closest to Papaya where we heard the DJ sets perfectly. Further ahead, people swam. To the right, a daredevil bungee-jumped. On our left, a grandmother tapped her feet to Jamie Jones’ set. Bliss. And then nightfall once more. The beach changed attire for the evening festivities. Glowing tents decorated her shore, soft light flickered from food vendors and clubs radiated against the dark sky.

We travelled through one dance floor to another. Maya Jane Coles reigned over Papaya, Shy FX had Aquarius 2 thumping, and Claude Von Stroke commanded our bodies in Aquarius 1. We manoeuvered through the throngs and planted our feet upstairs for a bird’s-eye look of Jack Beats and the stomping mass. We moved in unison until the sun woke up. In another fluid moment, we exchanged one club for another. It was Scuba's turn on the decks at Kalypso – the third of Zrće’s finest. While Aquarius (1 & 2) and Papaya were phenomenal, it was here that I grooved easiest. Though less swish, Kalypso dared to be more colourful than her neighbours – I had met my Zrće Beach match.

And on the Sabbath, a new day, we reassembled by yesterday’s lazy spot. To our aural delights, Papaya hosted the Mulletover pool party starring Nina Kraviz, Geddes and a tardy Seth Troxler. It being our last day, we vowed to gobble up as much of Hideout’s finale. This included a slight curiosity: Skrillex...We lasted two minutes, tops. Where Jack Beats had stormed through, Skrillex was quiet and weak. There really wasn’t much to hold our interest so we moved to Kalypso and SBTRKT restored loss vigour. Then, a migration to Papaya, where we remained for the majority of Ricardo Villalobos' set.

There is no mistaking Villalobos. He moves with a lazy gracefulness. After a drop at the decks, he’ll ease his arms up, swaying them to the track, or maybe he’ll carelessly alternate one shoulder for the other. And he is always sweaty, his dark hair matted against his forehead. It was infectious. I was sweaty too. My hair, scrunched, spilled over the right side of my face. My shoulders, loose, felt like they fell apart at the seams.

When day broke, we bid the Chilean-German DJ adieu and retreated to the opposite end of the beach.
Pearson Sound’s sunrise set complemented Kalypso's scene perfectly. We considered leaving Hideout on that high note when we spied a large basin being carried out. It was filled with bottles of vodka, whiskey, mixers, and ice – preparation for a long haul. To our delights, Seth Troxler, Damian Lazarus and Subb-an all came out to play for Monday morning’s after party. I felt the bubbling excitement of a child who had just received a gift, the day after her birthday bash.

I remember Troxler dropping Si e spento il sole. The track was a refreshing break, a shower of smoother beats in anticipation of the dirtier and heavier sounds to come. There were a few glitches but it wasn’t long until all was sultry, sweaty and summery.

Now, at home in rainy London, I’m a lovesick teenager.

This Croatian summer fling was a treat; Hideout was unlike any other. There were boats, pools, pebbles and the sea. The people, gorgeous. The artists, stellar. They played club nights as opposed to a restrained 45-minute set. I appreciated the ease I had in floating in and out, from the party to solitude where I, vulnerable to the Balkan beauty, didn't stand a chance against her romances.

Photographs courtesy of Hideout Festival.