The title of the post is a lie. I stayed over for another 24 hours till Tuesday morning to see what Fusion after-hours are. Most of the friends and acquaintances had left earlier, the festival area looked deserted and on top of that it started raining. I was sitting in the empty camp in a grumpy mood contemplating what the hell I was doing there. But then I had a realisation that it was way better to wait for the rain to stop at the festival with people and music than all alone in the middle of nowhere. How different things can look in another light. I met more people on Monday than during all the previous Fusions combined. The festival atmosphere is not the best setting for having a profound conversation, but the after hours were different. It seemed people were more down to earth and had no rush to see the festival programme. Food was shared with strangers (including smuggled bratwurst!) and stories were told. Highlights are anarchy of Berlin’s nightlife in early 90s and incostistencies of German traffic lights. Long story short, traffic lights in Germany do not make any sense. This is a topic for another post, though.
Monday did not have those “a day after, a Monday morning” qualities (but Tuesday had!). While most of the stages closed, Bachstalzen kept on deliveribg a mixture of deep house, slow techno, lo-fi, 80s hits and everything in between. Something that works really well both for dancing or as a conversation background. A full-on party nevermind the slow bpm with the packed dance floor and people hanging out in the trees jungle style A club for cool boys and girls, just like Guy’s Bar in Koh Phangan with sand and fancy dresses making the impression complete. As shocking as it sounds at some point of the night the bar ran out of beer (we are talking about Germany here). Mate was mixed with vodka and the party continued… As the official programme was approaching its end, entertainment was put into the hands of fellow partygoers. After music ended at Bachstalzen, sound production got rather lo-tech with people drumming on anything remotely generating sound and producing acid sounds by scratching air balloons. There was a “the rave is on” van cruising over the camping area and blasting drum & bass. It made brief stops inviting people to join this mobile mini-rave. Then there was a disco bus equipped with a decent sound system/lights and a mad party inside. I have been to many parties in my life, but never to a bus party. Fusion surprised once again.
Tuesday was a true day after. Music stopped, people were tired, food was difficult to come by. A quick cold shower (my first one ever in Fusion!), musli with a banana and milk for breakfast and I was on the road again. My bike gear raised questions from several people. One guy was so impressed by my story, so despite my protests he gave me five euros telling me “to buy something nice as long as it is not meat”. Funnily enough on my way from Fusion, I stumbled across a restaurant serving “after Fusion freakadellen”. I ordered frikadellen with potato salad and an orange juice, which cost exactly five euros. Remembering the condition of the gift, I paid with my own money. Universe balance was not upset. Bad karma avoided. Fusion ended.