I survived the first weekend of Rock in Rio so you don’t have to learn the hard way. This isn’t the usual list, the powerbank and sunscreen one everybody already knows. These are the things you only find out once you’re already there, too hot, dust on your shoes, and the night coming down. Go grab a pen and paper and take notes. I’ll wait.
Dress to survive, not for Instagram
Don’t break in new shoes. Two reasons: they’re not worn in and you’ll leave with blistered feet, and the ground there is packed dirt, so they’re going to end up filthy and dusty anyway. Break them in somewhere else, and bring comfortable shoes you won’t mind taking home looking like they walked across a desert.
For the crew who want to be fishnet-top fashion victims: please, don’t. And it’s not about the look, it’s that you’ll struggle to put sunscreen on underneath, you’ll have to reapply the whole time, and you still end the day with the mesh tattooed onto your skin in the shape of a sunburn. If anyone asks how I know, I’ll say, between coughs, that a friend told me.
It’s not really worth straightening your hair, or spending a fortune recreating Allie-Cat’s hairstyle from Off-Campus (always worth it, just not to last so little at Rock in Rio). It’s hot, you’ll sweat, the wind is from hell, there’s dust everywhere, and then, with the night humidity, you end up with your hair in a paste, like a living statue, those people who paint themselves and stand still in the street for coins (with all due respect to said artists, of course). Go for a hairstyle that survives the battle instead: a braid, a bun, anything that keeps the hair off your face and doesn’t depend on still looking good after thirteen hours.
And bring something for the night, because after all that heat, the moment the sun goes down, it gets genuinely cold. You don’t need a big coat: I brought a little cropped cardigan with half-mesh sleeves that takes up no space in the bag and felt so good at 2am. If you’re lucky enough to win a sweatshirt at a brand booth, even better.
Your body handles whatever you prepare it for
Earplugs, and your eardrums will thank you. The sound is always too loud, a concert like this runs at 100 to 115 decibels and your ears start to suffer from 85 up. At 100, it takes about 15 minutes for the damage to start, and you’re going to be there thirteen hours, not fifteen minutes. The good part is that, with earplugs, even if they’re not perfectly fitted, you can still hear everything clearly, without hurting your eardrums or ending up with tinnitus the next day. Loop are the best known, but there are cheaper versions you can get for 10 euros or less. Mine came in a travel kit (with a little pillow and a sleep mask) and were the best thing I bought.
For my thick thigh girlies, and this works for your feet too if they blister: anti-chafing balm, the kind you rub on before heading out. I use the Migou brand and it lasts ages, but with the sweat you might need to reapply. If you want to wear a dress all day without tight shorts underneath, this saves you.
Bring electrolyte sachets to top up. Water alone isn’t enough when you’ve been sweating for hours, and by midday your body starts complaining. Properly rehydrating isn’t just drinking, it’s replacing what you lose.
And the tip nobody gives you and that you’ll thank me for at three in the morning: leave a tube of aloe vera gel in the fridge before you leave the house. However much sunscreen you put on, there’s a good chance you come home toasted, and there’s nothing like cold gel on burnt skin when you get back wrecked and just want to fall into bed.
Bring something that unfolds so you can sit on the ground, like a sarong, or a scarf. Some brands give these out as freebies, even cushions, but don’t count on winning one, guarantee your own.
For the crew who want to be fishnet-top fashion victims: please, don’t. And it’s not about the look, it’s that you’ll struggle to put sunscreen on underneath, you’ll have to reapply the whole time, and you still end the day with the mesh tattooed onto your skin in the shape of a sunburn. If anyone asks how I know, I’ll say, between coughs, that a friend told me.
It’s not really worth straightening your hair, or spending a fortune recreating Allie-Cat’s hairstyle from Off-Campus (always worth it, just not to last so little at Rock in Rio). It’s hot, you’ll sweat, the wind is from hell, there’s dust everywhere, and then, with the night humidity, you end up with your hair in a paste, like a living statue, those people who paint themselves and stand still in the street for coins (with all due respect to said artists, of course). Go for a hairstyle that survives the battle instead: a braid, a bun, anything that keeps the hair off your face and doesn’t depend on still looking good after thirteen hours.
And bring something for the night, because after all that heat, the moment the sun goes down, it gets genuinely cold. You don’t need a big coat: I brought a little cropped cardigan with half-mesh sleeves that takes up no space in the bag and felt so good at 2am. If you’re lucky enough to win a sweatshirt at a brand booth, even better.
Don't let the hunger rob you
Bring your own snacks. Food inside is expensive and there isn’t always a decent option, so bringing your own saves you money and queues. My pick: the dried-fruit-and-nut bars from Pingo Doce [PT supermarket], which have no added sugar (and no, this isn’t sponsored). They have Pistachio and Coconut/Almond and they genuinely fill you up. Babybel are good too, but the wax melts and they get fiddlier to peel. Lidl also has these Mozzarella cheese sticks that are excellent. You’re allowed to bring in four pieces of food per person.
Wellbeing and the unexpected
If your period shows up, Evax is there handing out pads. But heads up, sometimes they give them out at the entrance at random, other times you have to go to their booth, so don’t rely on getting lucky at the door.
There’s a Sensory Room, and this matters for whoever needs it. It’s a calm space, with reduced light and sound, designed for neurodivergent people or for anyone who goes into overload and needs a few minutes away from the noise and the crowd. There are occupational therapists on site the whole festival, and they say 15 to 20 minutes in there is enough for a person to regulate and be able to go back to the party. They also lend out sensory kits, with noise-cancelling ear defenders, dark glasses and objects to help manage the stimuli. It’s in the accessibility area, on the left just after the entrance.
Now the part nobody tells you: access may require registering at the Accessibility Centre with a medical certificate or a Multi-purpose Disability Certificate, and every day, not just once. Which means it isn’t quite a space where anyone can walk in asking for a few minutes of quiet. If you think you might need it, ask right when you arrive how access works, and bring your documents if you have them. And I’ll be honest with you: on the first weekend, I didn’t even find it. It’s there, but for something designed precisely for people in overload, it should be a lot easier to find.
The exit: the trick that's worth the whole guide
Decide how you’re leaving before you even go in. The worst time to improvise transport is at half past one in the morning with a hundred thousand people all wanting the same thing.
And the gold, the thing I learned the hard way: don’t try to order a car in the middle of the gridlock, because that’s where everyone is ordering and the cars don’t get through. Walk out of the congested zone, go a few minutes past the bottleneck, and order from there. When we walked to Olivais, we got a car in no time. Walking a bit saves you hours of waiting.
And that’s it. Have fun, stay hydrated, protect yourself, and don’t say Marti didn’t warn you.
Notes: In partnership with MoshBit Gaming
Featured image by @adriviworks
