Letters from the front: Day 2.

So the problem with living in a Mundane tent is that, in the morning, the sun hits it and they heat up pretty quickly.  This is why, on a normal camping trip, I tend to be rather early-to-bed-early-to-rise.  In the dead of summer, the sun comes up early, and heats up fast, so sleeping in isn't really an option.  This is why most people at War try to camp in tents that look like this:

Notice the hanging bar for clothes in the back, and the curtain that makes a lovely changing area.  Just for good measure, let's look at the living/dining room:

That tent was designed and built entirely by Brother for his second year at War (first time he went for the full two weeks).  There are 10,000 people at Pennsic, and his is the only onion-dome tent.  People build castles, and Roman temples, and pirate ships, but his is the only onion.  This was its fourth War, and it is still used as a landmark - there are people who, when trying to give directions to their camp, say, "we're up the hill from the onion dome."  And for the entire week I was there, Brother was inviting curious onlookers to come in for a closer look when he saw them stop on the street to take a picture.  I guess during its earlier days, one of the security folk riding by on a golf cart came to a screeching halt and threw it into reverse to get a better look.  Of course, he dyed the fabric himself and it is entirely homemade, so it bleeds, and isn't 100% watertight, which is why it is now the living/dining room.  And also why, a couple of days after I arrived, Brother slapped a "For Sale: One Onion Dome" sign on it.  But lest you be concerned that this is the end of an era...he is trying to get rid of it to make room for a bigger, better, two-domed model for next year.

So anyway, onion-shaped or no, these sorts of tents are breezy, and cool, and dark in the mornings.  So when the morning sunshine on my Mundane wakes me and forces me out of bed at 7:30, the only company I have are a handful of the kids in camp.

"Are you Omar's sister?"

It takes me a moment to decipher that one.

"Oh...yes.  Yes I am."

Omar would be Brother's persona.  Most of the people in our camp that have an SCA name treat them as just that - names.  They don't play a part, or cultivate a character, it's just something to add to the fun.  To a newbie like me, it makes it hard as fucking hell to learn names, because you have to learn twice as many.  Balls!  Do you have any idea how long it took me to figure out that Pico and Jeff were the same person????  I never felt the need to have a persona, so I didn't.  There was talk of giving me a name, and I think if I'm ever going to assume one, that's how it will have to happen.  I mean, my persona is and always will be a saucy gypsy, but for now, she remains nameless.  Feel free to submit suggestions in the comments.

But seeing as how I have only ever thought of Brother as brother, even though I know his alter ego is Omar, I am a bit thrown by the fact that the kids seem to know him by that name.  It may have something to do with the fact that our Chieftain has the same Mundane name as Brother - the persona may have stuck just to simplify matters.  We also had another Beth in camp, but she always goes by her SCA name of Bounty; so while there generally wasn't any confusion as to who was being addressed, she did always do a double-take when people would say something to or about me.

So after a brief chat with this lovely young lady, I try to read my book but am getting nowhere because I am still a bit restless, trying to figure out how I fit into this world.  So I retreat into the class listings, trying to sift through the pages and pages of offerings and figure out what might be interesting.  This proves to be an impossible task - the listings are organized by topic, not by time, so it's impossible to keep track of what is happening when and even less possible to figure out which teachers are the good ones, so I throw in the towel.

Luckily, by now, Brother and Girlfriend have gotten up and are starting work on breakfast.  After a decent amount of puttering, I ask Girlfriend, "Would you be interested in going to a Beginner Bellydance class with me at 1?"

"Mmmm....nah."

I should mention here that we are a Slacker Camp.  Most people don't go to half of the classes they are interested in.  9AM classes are almost unheard of.  Girlfriend has already written off anything that happens before 11AM, and even those are iffy.

I'm not feeling bold enough to wander off and find classes on my own yet, so I go with the "when in Rome" approach and Slack myself.  In fact, will make it more than 24 hours from arrival before even venturing away from camp for the first time.

So we decide to put the finishing touches on the vests Girlfriend has made for me.  This involves a quick fitting session before heading up to the oh-so-Period tiki hut that has been erected in Upper Blood Moon for daytime shade and social interaction.  In said Tiki Hut, Blade, Omar-proclaimed "alpha male" of Blood Moon, is holding court.

"What are you guys doing?"

"We are certainly not drinking already."

A bottle is being passed around - it is offered to me, but I decline, mostly because I don't know yet what's in it.  It is 12-year-old Guatemalan rum.  Now I am declining because I feel guilty accepting some seriously good shit from a complete stranger.  I keep fairly quiet because again, I don't know these people, and want to get a feel for the vibe before I start, you know, being all kinds of myself in front of them.  After a bit of banter, Blade apologizes and says, "Sorry, we get a little crude."
To which I say, "Hey, I've been holding back 'That's what she said's ever since I sat down!"

The next time the rum bottle makes a lap, I partake.

This is about the time the group seemed to decide I was okay.  If you're willing to take a swig right off of the bottle everyone else is swigging from, then you're Clan.

Oh, my That's-what-she-saids also got me in good graces with the guy known as Scoundrel.  You'll be hearing more about him later.

After we kill the rum, Brother disappears and reappears with some good tequila.

Blade disappears and reappears with some better tequila.

This is when I get my first inkling of how much fun War can be.

 

After a long afternoon of crafting and drinking under the Tiki Hut, it's eventually time for dinner.  This is the one communal meal that Blood Moon has - it is Scotch Broth, a lamb/potato/barley soup.  Simple, tasty goodness.  There are certain ceremonies that go with Scotch Broth night...as we eat, one of the little ones in camp reads a letter from a member of the Clan that wasn't able to attend this year.  Every year, she takes some of the ashes from the fire on Scotch Broth night, and saves them in a jar.  The following year, those ashes are dumped on the fire, and new ashes are collected in the morning after the fire pit has cooled.  It adds a very sweet, spiritual quality to the meal.

Now, before I go any further, I have to explain how Brother got involved with all of this.  Brother teaches pottery classes.  Once upon a time, Chieftain and his wife had the good sense to sign up for one of said classes.  The rest, as they say, is history.  And now, Chieftain and wife make a whole mess of pottery so that every member of camp can take home one piece on Scotch Broth night.  The selection order is determined by the order of arrival at camp - by some delightful little loophole, I get to go up with Brother and Girlfriend, even though I arrived a full week after them.  I now am the very proud owner of a very cool goblet that is very different from anything I own that was made by either of the two potters in my family.  That is the beauty of pottery.  Plus, now I won't have to drink wine out of a mug for the rest of the week.

After dinner, Brother takes out his guitar disguised as a lute and finds himself in the middle of an impromptu jam session with all of the kids in camp:

And I do mean all:

 

So cute I can't stand it.

At some point, someone (I think it's Scoundrel, but at this point, I don't remember) asks if anyone has taken me shopping yet.  Shopping is one of the prime pastimes at War.  There are TONS of merchants, selling everything from garb to armor to weapons to dishes to musical instruments.  And I still have yet to leave camp, so I go.  Don't actually buy anything, but it's enough to remind me that this place is friggin' HUGE and I do NOT know my way around enough to venture out on my own.

 

That will have to wait a couple more days.