I remember feeling this sudden, irresistible urge to go to Woodstock, the festival in Poland. It was in a place called Przestanek… somewhere in Kolobrzesk—I never really cared about the exact geography. The festival wasn’t far from Berlin, and it was known as this massive, almost mythical celebration, something like a fruit festival, with music headliners that were legendary—a gentleman and a prodigy.

Back then, I just knew I needed to be there, and I wanted my friends to come along. So, the three of us got together, made the decision, and said, “Okay, let’s do it.” We were going to chase concerts, joy, and that feeling of pure freedom.

The journey itself, traveling by hitchhiking, was surprisingly easy. And as we got closer, the festival’s energy started to ripple into the roads, in the people we met along the way. What made the adventure even more daring was that we started with no money at all. But for a free festival, you hope—no, you trust—that happiness can be found, somehow, for free.

Our little group was… interesting, to say the least. There was Anton, my really, really good friend—just as crazy as I am, always up for any adventure. Then there was Madra, someone we didn’t know very well at the time. We just figured, “Why not take him along?”

Madra didn’t even have a sleeping tent when we started the journey, but halfway to Poland, we stumbled upon a tent on the side of the road—perfect for him. A small stroke of luck that felt almost like fate.

When we finally arrived at Woodstock, we knew it would be free, and we expected a lot of people, but we had no real idea what we were stepping into. The festival was massive—700,000 people. That’s the same number as the entire population of Slovakia’s capital, all gathered in one sprawling campsite.

From the moment we entered, everything was over the top. Every sound, every sight, every step felt overwhelming, exhausting, yet incredible. Walking through the sea of tents and people felt like stepping into another world entirely.

After shaking off the initial shock, we found ourselves walking toward the main stage, fully immersed in the chaos and energy around us. But then reality hit—what now? We had no money, and maybe it was time to figure out food and, ideally, a drink to kick things off properly.

Then luck smiled on us. On one of the streets, a Polish man shouted something at us and pointed toward a sofa. We couldn’t fully understand him, but it was clear he needed help. Without hesitation, we jumped in. The man was trying to load his car with some big sofas, and we helped him out.

When the task was done, he insisted on giving us some money and wished us a fantastic festival. That small encounter was an amazing start. Suddenly, we were stocked up with food and some cheap, strong Polish beer. With that, we were ready to dive headfirst into the festival.

The people at the festival were, without a doubt, the craziest, most extraordinary crowd I had ever seen. It was like stepping into a parallel world of wild creativity. Some pretended to be monkeys, throwing nuts at passersby. One man carried a long stick with an enamel piece—something you were supposed to kiss under—and wandered around asking girls, “Do you know where we are standing?” Oblivious, they had to give him a kiss.

Then there were the Volkswagen camps with trees decorated with cans of beer, creating “beer trees.” Every corner felt alive, chaotic, and entirely unexpected. The main stage was enormous, but even reaching it came with challenges—queues for the toilets were endless, and if you wanted a morning shower, you could easily spend four hours waiting.

There were other stages too. The Christian stage, small and oddly placed, was surreal—it felt almost comical compared to the massive Hare Krishna stage, which rivaled the main stage in size. Music played non-stop, beautiful dancers moved across the crowds, and we found ourselves dancing at the Haribo disco, surrounded by sugar and neon lights. And then came the moment we’d been waiting for—the headliner.

By the time the headliner was about to take the stage, we were already mingling with a crowd of Polish youngsters, having a blast and testing our limits with vodka. But everything truly clicked that night when we stood in front of the main stage and Prodigy was about to play. The roar of half a million people—it was electrifying.

I remember jumping on “Spitfire” with a friend, feeling like the entire universe had suddenly made sense. I tried to capture the madness on my handy camera, but the sheer flow of people made it almost impossible. I managed just a few shaky shots… and after the trip, the camera was lost, leaving the experience alive only in memory.

After the headliner finished, chaos struck. We got separated in the crowd while searching for our tents in the dark, everything looking the same. One friend, carrying the camera around his neck, got approached by a group of skinheads trying to steal it. They were trying to sneak through the tents while everyone else enjoyed the music. In the end, nothing serious happened, just a big lip and a memory that became hilarious over time—like a surreal Rasta festival moment gone wrong.

We returned to Bratislava soon after, but that trip is etched in our memories forever. Something like that doesn’t happen every day. Would I do it a second time? Probably not—but the experience, the people, the music, and the madness—it’s unforgettable.

The reflection came once we were back home, sitting with friends and recounting our mad journey. Experiencing a festival with 700,000 people—it’s not something you come across every day. The bizarre encounters, the wild crowd, and the fact that we had no money but still survived and thrived on the festival grounds—all of it made the experience feel extraordinary.

What made it even more special was seeing the very artists we had grown up listening to. It wasn’t just a festival; it was a full immersion into a world we had only dreamed about as kids. Looking back, it wasn’t only about the music or the chaos—it was about friendship, spontaneity, and the pure joy of diving headfirst into something completely unpredictable. That trip, that madness, it’s an experience that will stay with us for life.