It was culture shock yesterday trying to acclimate (although here everyone says “acclimatise”) to the routines and flow of festival/camping life. There was an impromptu camp meeting and then everyone went off to do their own things and I had some small adventures like going to Andy’s big Thai peanut curry dinner party and walking around with Thomas including a visit to the Nest library.
After attempting to go out dancing with a group I just couldn't get into it and went back to camp solo hoping to find people in our teapot dome doing a more chill activity. I was happy to find a great group of Panravians who were listening to music and then our camp lead turned on the absurd movie Barbarella which I'd never heard of.
It's a very strange late 1960s film that provides the perfect crowd-pleasing amount of poor special effects, incomprehensible plotlines, and plenty of things for us to heckle loudly. We laughed so hard we cried, and came away with two ongoing jokes that involve us yelling “crime!” at things we don't like and singing “maximum efficiency!” I'd recommend you watch the movie for the context, but truly, don't.
Today we did a whole camp activity and then had a magical day of wanderings. I've definitely found my mini tribe within the camp, led by a fellow American who has the driest most sarcastic humor that leads to much cry-laughing. As she led us through the Glade she kept jingling a tambourine and telling us “dirty hippies” to follow her. She'd loudly complain about all of us with the most motherly kind of tolerant love.
I'll call her Mama L. She treated us like a pack of feral children to entertain, which I could not have appreciated more. At one point I was jokingly complaining about a small hike and she said “I see how much you've been climbing! And just a little ways more and you'll be there!” and it was so lovingly caregiving that I almost cried. Someone later described it as just “acknowledgement” and being seen and included, which felt exactly right.
It was really a day of so many absurdities. A small band of green people were offering space frog adoptions. A man with a fake mustache and beret snuck over to quietly open a briefcase in front of us, which turned out to be full of ice and pickles. At one dance floor mid-afternoon a crew of people in vests and bunny ears carried in a human-sized baking tray which was covered in nachos.
After dinner I didn't feel like seeking out any dancing and really don't have much interest in that here honestly, so my mini tribe caught the end of the Cabaret event which is like a whole-festival talent show and then I headed back hoping to find some fun activity in the dome. Sadly there was none so I sat solo to eat a PB&J until eventually my tribe returned and Mama L asked if I needed to be taken out for any final mischief of the evening. How could I resist? Our tribe has one member who is such a character, dressing all in yellow and coming and going like the sun, and she came with us as well.
As we walked the two of them talked about me like I was a young child and what activity would best tire me out before bedtime. They thought the troll bar but we decided it was too much work and then had the idea of a sort of whimsical small random Scandinavian camp that offers a Whine List. This was perfect because I could start random conversations with people immediately, and then realized that I recognized one of the guys there as the Kebab Guy. If you don't know from my prior blogging about the Kebab Guy, my apologies.
The Kebab Guy and his friends are the pinnacle of taking weird silly shit too seriously, and they essentially have created an entire church cult that is such deep satire it's hard to tell what's real. Within 30 minutes I had been initiated via “plugging in” and was gifted a necklace and offered a role within the church. The best part is that Shabbat service was a bit of a bust and I left, so all in one night I managed to abandon my religion and find another. Well, for now.
So many more little details I don't want to forget. A fire dish above a really cool lounging area so that you can watch the flames. Groups of people waving at one another for no reason and yelling at each other to “act normal.” Trying to define the different groups of hippies and coming up with no better description of ours than “mixed nuts.” Some frankenshirt that’s three shirts sewn together for a hug monster.
It's 3:30am and Mama L has told me to go to bed and that we can do more trash-talking and bullshitting tomorrow. I did everything I could this evening to avoid anything earnest or spiritual so it was a little painful to have to shift the vibe to tell her just how much I appreciated her shepherding today and how good she is at caring for others. She waved it off with a dismissive comment, appropriately.