After seemingly endless winding roads, seeing the dust clouds rising from Burning Man was a cruel joke. It was over an hour between first seeing the playa (Spanish for 'shore' affably used to describe the dried alkali lakebed floor that temporarily fills with water come winter) and the front gates of Burning Man. The area is used for open range cattle farming, although 
it's not really clear what there is to eat around there. Jungo Road then met up with the paved highway 447 to Gerlach, and a welcome gas station stop despite a grouchy and abrupt attendant, who seemed a bit flustered with all the presumed activity, none of which were evident at the time I pulled up. 8 miles again, and we're on the playa. Just to keep the drive interesting, every 5 metres an interesting quote would be placed on signboards, in increments, so that each moment, you could com
plete the quote simply by continuing to drive. Other thought-provoking statements about cities and urban centres patiently built momentum and anticipation for Burning Man: Metropolis. The theme of each year's festival is meant to rally the participants' thoughts and motivations for coming to the event. For me, I wanted to question the value of cities, and my place in them. I grew up on a quiet farm, and a part of me, whether it is being ignored or not, craves that speed, and pace of existence. What is it about the 'busyness', the competition, the social ills, the excitement, and endless opportunities, that dually attract and repel me? With the festival collectively creating a city of over 50,000 people, and Nevada's 3rd largest for a week, a great deal of energy, focus and teamwork must come together to even make it possible. One can imagine the permits, law enforcement, street signs, emergency preparations, civic liabilities, only scratch the surface when it comes to planning a temporary city. Many start planning the day they get home for the next year's Burn. None of this was crossing my mind as I continued to drive through the hardened, bumpy sand: I simply wondered how I would cope with being stuck with all those people, or an intimate group camping together with all their idiosyncracies, arguments, trysts, and political games. There was no re-entry allowed: once you are in, you must stay in, or leave and not come back until next year. Finally, the line-up, and a chick with fluffy white leggings, puffy white coat with multicoloured hair and bugs-eye goggles is accompanied by another with Care Bear pajamas on, two Care Bears stuck in her back pocket, a rainbow of fake dreadnoughts in her two ponytails, accessorized with bright pink armbands and yellow vest. The first is opening up the back door of the U-Haul in front of me, and I ask if they need help. No answer; they just continue on. I'm thinking, "Geez, the festival hasn't even started, and I don't even fit in." I trained myself to remember to stay calm, don't put out any needy, desperate energy to people, and everything will be fine. Picturing the cool, unattached adage of a Lou Reed, or Ric Ocasek, or even Jimmy Dean. Suddenly, 3 women dressed even more outrageously swarm the motorbike, asking all sorts of questions. Upon finding out that I was a 'virgin', I was forced to be deflowered at the mercy of these three vigilantes, these three crusaders for breaking boundaries. First, an initiation with the playa dust via laying down, performing a sand angel, then turning over to get the other side. A valuable experience considering within a couple days, this dust is everywhere, and you've gotta be ok with it. Then, a bang on the massive oriental gong, as hard as you can, with an official "I'm not a virgin anymore" screamed at the top of one's lungs. This was my experience, and yours may not resemble it in the slightest. Either way, just do as you're told. I believe the way you start any event, can help, or hinder, the enjoyment of the rest of it.
it's not really clear what there is to eat around there. Jungo Road then met up with the paved highway 447 to Gerlach, and a welcome gas station stop despite a grouchy and abrupt attendant, who seemed a bit flustered with all the presumed activity, none of which were evident at the time I pulled up. 8 miles again, and we're on the playa. Just to keep the drive interesting, every 5 metres an interesting quote would be placed on signboards, in increments, so that each moment, you could com
plete the quote simply by continuing to drive. Other thought-provoking statements about cities and urban centres patiently built momentum and anticipation for Burning Man: Metropolis. The theme of each year's festival is meant to rally the participants' thoughts and motivations for coming to the event. For me, I wanted to question the value of cities, and my place in them. I grew up on a quiet farm, and a part of me, whether it is being ignored or not, craves that speed, and pace of existence. What is it about the 'busyness', the competition, the social ills, the excitement, and endless opportunities, that dually attract and repel me? With the festival collectively creating a city of over 50,000 people, and Nevada's 3rd largest for a week, a great deal of energy, focus and teamwork must come together to even make it possible. One can imagine the permits, law enforcement, street signs, emergency preparations, civic liabilities, only scratch the surface when it comes to planning a temporary city. Many start planning the day they get home for the next year's Burn. None of this was crossing my mind as I continued to drive through the hardened, bumpy sand: I simply wondered how I would cope with being stuck with all those people, or an intimate group camping together with all their idiosyncracies, arguments, trysts, and political games. There was no re-entry allowed: once you are in, you must stay in, or leave and not come back until next year. Finally, the line-up, and a chick with fluffy white leggings, puffy white coat with multicoloured hair and bugs-eye goggles is accompanied by another with Care Bear pajamas on, two Care Bears stuck in her back pocket, a rainbow of fake dreadnoughts in her two ponytails, accessorized with bright pink armbands and yellow vest. The first is opening up the back door of the U-Haul in front of me, and I ask if they need help. No answer; they just continue on. I'm thinking, "Geez, the festival hasn't even started, and I don't even fit in." I trained myself to remember to stay calm, don't put out any needy, desperate energy to people, and everything will be fine. Picturing the cool, unattached adage of a Lou Reed, or Ric Ocasek, or even Jimmy Dean. Suddenly, 3 women dressed even more outrageously swarm the motorbike, asking all sorts of questions. Upon finding out that I was a 'virgin', I was forced to be deflowered at the mercy of these three vigilantes, these three crusaders for breaking boundaries. First, an initiation with the playa dust via laying down, performing a sand angel, then turning over to get the other side. A valuable experience considering within a couple days, this dust is everywhere, and you've gotta be ok with it. Then, a bang on the massive oriental gong, as hard as you can, with an official "I'm not a virgin anymore" screamed at the top of one's lungs. This was my experience, and yours may not resemble it in the slightest. Either way, just do as you're told. I believe the way you start any event, can help, or hinder, the enjoyment of the rest of it. 
It kind of reminds me of the infamous Rock Creek camp out for enlightenment and freedom about four decades ago on top of a mountain near Osoyoos (except the dress code was non-obligatory nude). I had arrived three days late for the 40-day workshop and was greeted in such a relaxed manner with a silent gaze (for essential contact that transcends ego) that I felt completely at ease despite the unconventional social environment. Thanks for blogging Jason, we feel like we're there with you, the writing's that good.
ReplyDeleteSuzanna A.