Letters from the front: Day 3.

Sunday starts much the same as Saturday did: I am up early, with very little to keep me amused.  But there's one small difference this time: now I have friends other than Brother and Girlfriend.  Two of my new friends (Ashlyn and Luphin) are also up early, and headed up to the Merchants to get coffee.  They invite me along. 

This is the only War I know of that has coffee shops.

Sitting and chatting with these people over my very Period German Chocolate coffee, it's weird to think that I've known them for less than 48 hours.  In fact, that's a common theme with the people I met at War - it's hard to imagine that there was a time when I didn't know them.  There's no small talk with these people...just conversation.  It's easy, and interesting, and fun...right off the bat.  It's rare to find a group with that kind of chemistry.  I want to do a little bit of shopping now that it's daylight and I can actually figure out where the hell I am, but the Merchants aren't really open yet for the most part.  Ashlyn asks what I am looking for, and my top priorities are a belt and pouch.  These are essential - pockets are not very Period, so a belt is the primary means of transport for money and all of the other things one needs to carry around.

When we come back to camp, Brother and Girlfriend are stirring, and making breakfast.  I sit down to have another cup of coffee and some cereal with them, and Ashlyn appears with a belt and a pouch for me to use until I can buy my own.  This is the same girl who helped Girlfriend make some of my Garb without even knowing me - seriously, these are awesome people.  Girlfriend is going to a Persian Veil class in the early afternoon, and I figure that sounds like fun.  Plus, I'm DYING to get out and do something outside of camp, since I still don't really know my way around.  Have I mentioned this place is HUGE???

The Persian veil class is taught in a smaller tent, tucked in amongst some of the other camps, rather than the main teaching areas.  Walking down there gives me a chance to get more of a lay of the land and see how some of the other camps live.  This is the area that contains some of the more established, better-known camps.  There are actual Structures still under construction - castles, Viking ships, pirate ships, Roman camps...a little bit of everything.  Some of these camps are legendary for various reasons: fabulous parties, the pubs they run in the evenings, or perhaps taking themselves a little too seriously.  Some of the members of my camp settled at Blood Moon after defecting from other camps because they were too busy being Period to remember to have Fun.  This is a common ailment among SCA types - once you take something that is fundamentally silly (grown-ass people playing make-believe) and start introducing things like power struggles and politics and work ethics...well, you're kind of missing the point. 

Class starts off slowly, but by the end I'm glad I went.  I learned that Persian veil is a little different than regular veil because it was originally intended as a private show.  Wives would come out completely naked, only covered by an opaque veil, and perform this dance to seduce their husbands, only revealing small portions of their body at a time before eventually dropping the veil and going for it.  While I appreciate this morsel of historic context, I spend the next hour trying not to think about the fact that I am taking this class with MY BROTHER'S GIRLFRIEND.  I already feel like I know way more than I want to about their sex life, and this is NOT HELPING.  (If you do not understand why this might be traumatic, please see pictures from Day 2.  Even if you're not related to him, nobody really wants to imagine Brother naked.  Take it from my cousin's wife, after a pile-on gone horribly, HORRIBLY awry: "So....much...hair!")  One of the moves we learned involved tucking part of the veil into your waistband.  The natural question here is, how do you do that if you're supposed to be naked?  The answer: you're wearing a belly chain.

Girlfriend and I decide to do some shopping before heading back to camp.  One of the things on her shopping list?

A belly chain.

<BANANAHAMMOCK!!!BANANAHAMMOCK!!!BANANAHAMMOCK!!!>

But at least I'm getting an opportunity to pick up a belt and look at some jewelry and bellydancing garb in the daylight (and take my mind off of my brother's private dancer, a dancer for money, I'll do what you want me to do, DEARGODMAKEITSTOP!).  These are things that you just can't purchase at night.  I haven't found a pouch I like enough to spend actual money on, but at least I've got a loaner, so there's no hurry.

I have left out an important detail here: namely, the flyer we see on our way to class.  One of the camps we pass (sort of a vaguely Robin Hood-ish camp in the woods) is teaching a special dance class that wasn't listed in the formal class listing.  They are teaching it within their camp, and flyers are the only form of advertising.  The sign says:

 

LEARN TO DANCE...THE THRILLER!

 

With a piece of notebook paper right next to it, handwritten, that says:

 

Class 5:00 TONIGHT!!!

 

If you know me even a little bit, you know that I am giggling and clapping uncontrollably at the very notion of a mob of people in miscellaneous Garb, dancing like zombies to the cheesetastic 80's goodness of Michael Jackson.  I mean, seriously, let's just all take a moment to let that mental image sink in.

 

...just let it wash over you...

 

You know what that is?

 

FUCKING FANTASTIC, that's what that is.  It is a creatively anachronistic pop culture wet dream, is what it is.  It is...SO ME I CAN'T STAND IT.  Seriously, it has "Wahooty" written ALL OVER IT.

Honestly, I don't think Girlfriend is all that into it, but she can see how excited I am, and says that she would come back for the class with me.  This is why Girlfriend is amazing.  That, and the fact that she actually likes the thought of my brother naked.

When we make it back to camp, there is a group hanging out under the (Very Period) Tiki Hut again.  We manage to rustle up one or two other dancers with a wee bit of arm-twisting (again, probably would've been a futile effort were it not for my completely unbridled and apparently infectious enthusiasm) and a videographer (because I am NOT ABOUT to spend the next several months telling my friends, "you had to be there!" - this is an event that requires documentation for posterity).  We are all in agreement that this has the potential to be awesome, as long as turnout is good.  Five people in Garb learning the Thriller dance = sad and kinda lame.  Fifty people in Garb learning the Thriller dance = hilarity ensuing/potential YouTube stardom.

We get down to the camp where we saw the flyer.  It is suspiciously quiet.

Hmm...

Apparently, it was an old flyer.  The class was the previous evening.

<pout>

Had this actually happened, it would have gone down as my favorite example of Creative Anachronism for the week.  As it is, it is merely my favorite mental image for the week. 

We drag our disappointed asses back to Blood Moon for dinner and campfire time.  Having managed to rope some of my Clanmates into doing something ludicrous with me (even if we didn't actually get to follow through) has made me truly feel at home in camp.  At home enough that it doesn't feel weird when NostraThomas pulls up a chair to chat with us while we eat.  And explains how he can be a vegetarian, yet not fazed in the least by the pile of rare lamb on the plate on our table, which we are devouring with abandon.  It's so rare to meet a non-preachy, non-judgmental vegetarian.  And, as the group congregates around the campfire after our independent dinners, I'm even feeling comfortable enough to sing aloud in front of these people.  Ashlyn and I are trying to find songs that we both know, and not really succeeding much, but we get an A for effort.  We manage to harmonize a little bit on some showtunes before we let it go.  As the evening wears on, the group dwindles, and eventually I find myself sitting by the fire and chatting with NostraThomas as it dies down.  And I realize that he is asking me questions, not just to make conversation, but because he's actually interested in what I have to say - who I am, where I've come from, what I've been through.  When you've been feeling like the New Kid, it's nice when someone actually wants to know more about you. 

And enjoys your singing.

And will help you hatch your Evil Plan.

But more on that tomorrow.