Emerging from the dust

Surprise! 

I've returned from the sojourn out to that thing in the desert. You know that weeklong festival that takes place annually in Northern Nevada based on radical self reliance, community, and far reaching, creative self expression?

Now smacked in the face with the real world after my departure from Burning Man, I'm moving at a snail's pace to properly undust myself from the beautiful mess I've made of the items that traveled the long way by my side.

Amelia Bedelia would be most proud! 

photo credit: flickriver.com

Dust the furniture? 

Did you ever hear tell of such a silly thing? 

At my house we undust the furniture. 

But to each his own way.

Joined by the valiant Barron Von Richter, Serendipity Scattergood and WendyT, my fellow San Diego Fire Conclave members, we journeyed in our faithful, magic love bus all the merry way, trusty bikes in tow.

Our captain, the fierce, double fire whipping consummate, navigated the adventure while properly outfitted with a deluxe German pith helmet. 

"I pithy the fool!"

We arrived to the normally uninhabited white alkaline region, elated, and took to dancing madly. Kicking up the first bits of the bewitching playa while queuing up for our grand entrance.

Then spent the days marveling in the magic,

in the spectacle of sights,

photo credit: Angelina Aria

in the beautifully colorful humans,

photo credit: Angelina Aria

the delectable eats,

A Gruyere and Emmental fondue served with chilled white wine was kindly offered by a darling staff clothed in nothing but aprons.

The elusive Tuna Guys were back for their fourteenth consecutive and delicious year of running their covert Black Rock citizen feeding operation, just because they're swell guys (and gals!).

The Black Rock French Quarter is an astronomical engineering and epicurean undertaking. This desert replica of New Orleans oldest neighborhood is set with a bakery, bath house, voodoo shop, a brewery, a gumbo cookery, vineyard, a climate-controlled wine cellar to prevent your wine from getting the playa burn, and a colossal Fat Tuesday Mardi Gras celebration, complete with a flaming tuba parade.



and the impossible art...
 

photo credit: Leila Dora

Some of which can not be described in a mere mortal's words.

♪ Working at the "Char"wash ♪

El Pulpo Mecanico, the Steampunk Octopus

photo credit: Leila Dora

A sinking ship in the desert

 photo credit: Stuck in Customs

I suspect that somewhere, beyond Thunderdome, there is blood on the sand.

photo credit: Angelina Aria

The burning of Wall Street, a fully funded (and then some) Kickstarter Project was a much anticipated and emotional blowout.

This renegade scribe here much enjoyed the task of pounding the playa in search of gourmet fare. Wielding a stripedy parasol in one hand, with a hard bound notebook tucked beneath my arm, I took to the streets of Black Rock City via my flying monkey beach cruiser bike, Wicked Witch of the East theme song in tow.

Finding feasts of Iced Vietnamese coffee, a grilled cheese camp, The Fucken' Eh Gourmet, John Cougar's Melon Camp (where the lovely John's dressed as cougars fed us chilled melons), the Golden Calf Cafe, a soul brunch, Porn & Eggs, a RAW bar, and so much more.

Oh the Pho and the fun!

Undoubtedly so, the desert has been invaded by foodies, my friends.

Working as a bona fide Burnalist, the Playa Gourmet, was my greatest, most rewarding, and most challenging writing assignment to date.

Writing articles with full protective gear, in near desert white outs is no cakewalk, my friends.

 photo credit: Aleeza Gerstein

Fortunately, I brought plenty of cheese reinforcements to keep my strength, and feed my darling campmates, the mighty Beaconeers.



Fine artisan cheese in the desert?
The playa provides!

I even found this fun, little dust devil of an art car while bicycling along the powdery pathways.

The week drew to a close much too quickly, and we wrapped it up with a kickass Fire Conclave performance in the Great Circle. This cowgirl here, armed with my mighty fire lasso hula hoop, kicked up her heels, do-si-do'ed, line danced, and smiled all the way.

When it was said and done, I sat amongst my fellow conclave crew and marveled in the magic of the perfectly-perfect evening.

Mother nature was kind to us, giving us a clear night to enjoy the spectacular spectacle that was the climax and final celebration from the week's proceedings.

Together as a team, we watched the man burn to a pile of smoldering embers. It was the most brilliant spectacle I've ever witnessed in all my days on earth.

I will never miss Burning Man again for as long as I live.

Now if you'll kindly excuse me, I'm off to wash my hair for the seventh time. I trust that the enchanting playa dust and its pixie powder residues will soon wash away from my mane. Those beautiful and magical memories however, will forever remain nestled up in my headparts for safekeeping.

Viva la playa.

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