The gig in Trencin
An addendum to "Musings on Music" and the tour for a Rammstein concert (14th/15th June 2023)
In the previous post on Music I said that the trip to Trencin deserves a separate post. Let this story be then the addendum to my trips for heavy metal concerts so far. And so we’ll jump back to the sunny June of 2023…
I knew well in advance that we were heading to Slovakia to party on a Rammstein’s gig, but other than the date I had no more info. The entirety of organisation was traditionally on my dad and uncle Bogdan, diehard fans of the German band, so having fresh in my mind the pretty decent journey to Prague the previous year, I was expecting similar experience. However, when I learned about our plan, I was in for quite a surprise and a certain amount of anxiety. As I learned later, all the details of the trip were decided until the last minute, and behind each there was uncle’s Bogdan’s reluctance to endure a longing return, paying extra for a hotel and his workplace affairs on the following day.
The concept of executing the trip was as following: we depart from Kraków early in the morning and head to Slovakia, driving the car to Zilina. There we’d eat dinner and then to save fuel and on parking costs we leave the car and take a train to Trencin. From the railway station we were to walk straight to the airfield of a local areoclub, where we were to have fun on the concert. After its conclusion we sprint like there’s no tomorrow (which in fact there was not, given the upcoming part of the plan) back to the main station, to hop on the last train returning to Zilina. It was scheduled to depart around midnight. And we’d better arrive there on time, because next one was set to leave five hours later and nobody booked a hotel, which would most probably mean wandering across the town or napping on a bench, but nobody let such thought to themselves. We assumed we would be able to be on time, because we had to be. After retrieving the car from the parking lot in Zilina we were to ride for the rest of the night back to Poland, so as to arrive around dawn in Kraków, catch a short amount of sleep and move on with our lives.
On the day of the show the meeting point was set in front of a flat owned by uncle’s family in Kraków’s city centre. The concert squad arrived in the roster of: my uncle Bogdan, my dad, my younger brother Ignac and myself plus Marek, a friend of uncle’s from the times they have been living in England. Initially it was my other brother Antek who was supposed to go, but he had to drop off due to sitting an exam. Nevertheless, our fivesome got into uncle Bogdan’s car and headed southwards.
At first our rout took us through known whereabouts and expressways, yet sometime after a quick stop for coffee the roads got narrower and our speed slower. It surprised us, but trusting the Google Maps’ guidance we didn’t investigate the matter and let my uncle drive, admiring the landscape outside the windows. For the ride we have equipped ourselves with sandwiches and water, so whoever wanted was eating the eatables. Marek counted in too, but he politely declined, so Ignac and I shared his part. The situation changed sometime after driving past the county town of Sucha Beskidzka, when some of us began to need a bathroom break and fuel station or fast food was nowhere to be found. The tension was getting problematic, but then we found a reasonable place for stopping in a small, remote village deep into the countryside. We halted the ride on a tiny petrol station, where dad and uncle decided to investigate why we have been travelling mainly through small country roads.
When everybody ate, stretched their legs and used the toilet, dad & uncle told us the reason behind riding such a strange route. It turned out that our driver forgot he turned on the switch for avoiding the major roads, although the construction sites or traffic james were not gonna impact the total time of our travel. To catch back the lost time, uncle set what was needed in his mobile phone and we quickly returned to the expressways, which took us past the border and without other major adventures we carved into Slovakia.
And so have we reached Zilina around dinnertime. While looking for car parking we wandered around the city centre, driving near the stadium of local football/soccer team MSK. The city left an intriguing impression on me and brought back a certain memory. Located in a valley between mountains with the buildings not spreading too far from one another, it gave me a feeling as if I have been in a pioneers settlement, although the building facades or the condition of streets and pavements brought to mind more what could be found in Poland around fifteen years earlier, prior to spending EU funds on the infrastructure modernisations. I had same thoughts while in queue to the tickets booth, looking on the station’s platforms.
Before we left to Trencin, we had eaten the dinner in a bar next to the parking and owned by the same person. The speciality of Czechia and Slovakia is the famous fried (or roasted) cheese, which most of us ordered. It tasted wonderful, just like usually is the case in both of our southern neighbours, hence everybody had excellent moods walking steadily to the railway station. We purchased the tickets without switching to english, as in this part of the country the slovak language isn’t too different from polish and we could understand each other on the basic level. The coach’s interior was definitely less tidy than carriages in Polish companies, so was the case with restrooms. It seems the Slovaks allocated Union Funds for other areas, but it’s their business. The landscape outside the windows and on the two stations between Zilina and Trencin was almost pristine, the small population and tight location of the buildings in the region left plenty of space for the forests and rivers, as well as the beautifully maintaned arable fields. Bare rocks stuck out up above, reminding abouth the not too distant Carpathian Mountains, and the whole impression of being merely guests in the kingdom of nature was completed by a single road, on which the cars and trucks lazily glided.
After we left the Trencin’s station there was a pleasant surprise waiting for us - the concert’s organiser, expecting a high attendance, had decided to improve travel for those using public transport and provided shuttle-buses, which for a small charge were bringing the attendees to the gig’s site. We bulged into one of them, barely getting for the last spots before the organised groups and the need to wait several more minutes for the next one to fill up. We rode through Trencin in slightly more than a quarter, this town’s architecture I associated in my mind with that found in Kazimierz Dolny upon Vistula river back in homeland, passing by the long columns of cars filled with fans heading to the concert. The bus dropped us around a kilometer from the entrance gates, which we reached via a mixture of residential and field alleys.
On entry the first of that day’s stresses had been awaiting us - Ignac was about to get inside on Antek’s name ticket, but he had only his own personal documents, so had it come to a thorough checking we’d be in trouble. This and the prohibition of umbrellas, despite the concert taking place outdoors were our biggest worries. Luckily for us, the stewards weren’t demanding ID checks and didn’t inspect too strictly the contents of backpacks and bags, so we brought inside what and whom we desired without problems.
We have entered the show’s area with a solid time reserve, so we decided to look around the area. After a snap toilet break in pretty well mainained porta potties with working sinks we reached both edges of the concert zone, checking merchandise and tasting snacks from the food trucks/tents. Somewhere then I’ve found a short while to write a comment under this webcomic by
, which gathered few likes from other readers, making me feel happy and grateful. In the meantime the performance of the French girls doing support for Rammstein was taking place. When it was about to conclude, the time for a short parting has come - Marek had a standing ticket on the airfield’s grass, while the rest had seated entries, in the middle of one of the stands vis-a-vis the scene.
Finding our places wasn’t hard, but we sat in two pairs a little bit from one another, what in spite of all seats being sold-out didn’t allow for us taking other people’s places. With Ignac we took ours, and dad with uncle Bogdan went to the other half of the row. Next to me was sitting a very energic and engaged slightly overweight Slovak man from the south, who had great fun and cared for mine as well, even though we couldn’t understand each other (here the language barrier happened to bee too evident). We weren’t waiting for too long for Rammstein to begin their show.
Despite the open terrain, the warmth emanating from the blazing fire and pyrotechnics reached our stand in a quite noticeable way, making us feel its warmth all the time. The biggest enjoyment was brought by both the old and new classics - “Ich Will”, “Du Hast”, “Puppe” with a burning stroller as an element of the stage show, “Engel” with the lyrics on the big screens and the fans waving their phones with torches on or “Deutschland” and the electro prelude prior to it.
The weather was wonderful till the end of the performance, and the the rain began to fall. Then it turned out that the umbrellas ban has been collectively ignored by the crowd and the round protectives have massively appeared above people. Uncle Bogdan called Marek and navigated him to the meeting place in front of our stand, from where we went to return beverage cups for a deposit. Then we rushed to the exit, as the pivotal moment of the evening has began.
Having left the gig’s area my dad looked the train’s departure and the time. We had merely few dozen minutes for reaching the railway station, otherwise the last train would ride off, leaving us for an interesting night in Trencin. We hurriedly, almost running, led ourselves through the city streets, hoping to outmaneuver the traffic jams, cars, and other spectators. The minutes that remained in our supply dwindled, so did the people walking around us, until we were left alone in the silent and sleeping downtown, disturbed only by the rare night streetcar delivering the last partying fans.
When we were walking by a municipal park, a part of our group including those I’d never suspected for doing so had gone through a little crisis. Despite using the porta potties the effects of drinking many fluids that evening were still bothering them, which is why they’ve made toilet out of Trenčín's bush beds. Only by incredible luck (or maybe experience from past parties) they haven’t delayed our walking run to the station - they disappeared suddenly, forcing others to carry on, then catching us up after doing their business. Having said that I’m really sorry for the Trencin's municipal greenkeepers and gardeners, who cared really well for these plant beds.
We arrived at the station with moments to spare, taking into account freeload riding, initially cementing that desire by what we saw in the ticket booth info board. After a brief while of polish-slovak negotiations we managed to buy the tickets and get on board on time, but the train has managed to have a slight delay in departure in order to collect the fans, yet it was only a couple of minutes. Midnight found us on the ride, which we’ve spent mostly on napping and without stopping anywhere. We were in Zilina around 1 a. m. and immediately drove back home.
This time around we blasted on the highways and everybody barring the driving uncle Bogdan and navigating dad were trying to catch at least some sleep. It was though often interrupted by emotions and stopping for our driver’s ten minute “power naps”. One of such breaks had witnessed my only mistake of the entie trip. We stopped at McDonald’s for a late supper, but I pretended to sleep when uncle, dad and Marek asked whether we’d like something (Ignac told them he wasn’t hungry). To this day I regret declining an “uncle-sponsored” fast food meal, which doesn’t happen too often. Luckily next time out in Chorzów he once again offered, and I didn’t hesitate.
And so we were back in Kraków, very tired but really happy with this extraordinary trip and lovely concert, arriving slightly before dawn, just as planned. We bid farewell to Marek, who hopped off a bit earlier and then with uncle Bogdan, who went to sleep in the flat. Dad, Ignac and I rode back home, where we came just past five a. m. Following uncle’s footsteps, we immediately went to bed and had a short, yet very much needed sleep, waking up late morning and going on with our matters. That’s how the story of the most insane journey for a concert in my life to date had concluded.