Renaissance Fair


Rhiannon went to her second Renaissance Festival yesterday, her first being in Kenosha, Wisconsin, when she was two. This fair is located just east of Apache Junction, Arizona, at the foot of the Superstition Mountains, a Medieval oasis surrounded by desert scrub, barren mountains, and cacti. This was likely the first fair that I have ever been to that had no mud at all. Or bugs. Fine by me.

Rhiannon wore a purple dress, black tights, pink princess shoes, a pink, ankle-length princess cape. She also brought a circlet for her hair, but that stayed behind in the car. Rhiannon is obsessed with head-dresses, hats, circlets, wreaths, garlands, twists, braids, bands, veils. I think she knows that she has a good head on her shoulders.

The first thing she saw at the fair was an ent. This walking tree stood ten feet in the air, and inside the flexible trunk was a man on two pairs of stilts, one set for his legs, one for his arms. Rhiannon stood transfixed, half in wonder, half in fear, as this tree lumbered around (pun intended) talking to people. The Green Man is in evidence everywhere here, showing up in the very architecture of the place. He even has his own stage-show.

Immediately after the ent, Rhiannon saw her first fairy. She was a young woman adorned in flowers and leaves, wings, bare feet. She did not talk. With a little encouragement, Rhiannon walked up to her. The fairy smiled, dipped her hand in a pouch, and withdrew a clear stone dusted with gold glitter. Rhiannon silently, gravely accepted the gift, courtsied, said 'thank you'. I love it when Rhiannon is spellbound. At five, she is still squarely between the worlds of fantasy and reality (from and adult standpoint), but as a child she has one foot always in the dreamworld as we slowly draw her out of it. It is a shame all children must grow apart from that fantastic reality, and perhaps this is why we play.

Around the corner from the fairy was an enormous, swan-shaped swing with seating for four. Two cowboy-thin wranglers pushed the swing into its pendulum state. It looked like big fun, so I asked Rhiannon is she wanted to ride it.

"Noooooo waaaaaay, maaaaan. That looks toooooo scary." Rhiannon actually uses the word "man" appropriately, and this (and other) turns of phrase still mystify her kindergarten colleagues. One day she'll tell them that the first album she ever listened to from start to finish was Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, So Far. And they will say, "huh?"

For snacks at the fair, Rhiannon chose an orange half topped with strawberry-flavored Italian ice which made her lips impossibly red. Even food makes this child look storybook pretty. It took her an hour to eat it; the weather did not top 70F (although in late-summer it will be 70C, or at least feel like it), so cold things stayed cool, and Rhiannon kept her cape on.

She spent most of her time walking around looking at people's crotches (she is of that regrettably awkward height now), or ducking into shops, the majority of which sold hats or headgear. She had no interest in swords, daggers, dirks, shields, leather, plate, mail, etc. For her it was anything silk or satin, frills, lace, and gold.

"GOLD IS MY FAVORITE COLOR!" she told every shop proprietor. To my surprise, none said "gold is my favorite, too!"

Taking a break from the shops, we went through a maze at the end of which was a giant slide that we careened down together on. Rhiannon also received a fakey gold coin struck with the image of Julius Caesar around whose bust was inscribed, "Veni, Vidi, Vici". Always the archaeologist, I noticed that the coin also bore the year 1994 in Roman numerals, yet on the reverse was stamped, "Made in China 2000".

Hmm.

We stopped at one empty stage so Rhiannon could practice acting. As she was about to start, the hypnotist approached her and asked her if she wanted to try on a straitjacket.

"No thanks!"

"Ah, but it's fun!"

In the spirit of Renaissance Fair behaviour, I informed the man that Rhiannon had already been in one and hadn't like it then, either. He did not know what to say.

Then it was time for an elephant ride, and I think it was a first for both of us. The carnies kindly placed us aboard the raft strapped to the top of an enormous elephant, and we were off, led around by an illustrated man without many original teeth. After one circuit, Rhiannon and I dismounted after petting our ride on the head. Rhiannon was amazed at the rough-yet-fuzziness of the elephant's skin.

"You did great out there, kid," the carnie said. "You've got what it takes."

Hmm.

From there we got a late lunch which for Rhiannon was a caramel apple topped with sprinkles. I had a bread bowl full of chili which was called "chili in a bread bowl," as opposed to something a bit more Renaissance-ish like "ye olde breadde bowel" or "bowel of hot chilli" or something which could both describe the meal and what would happen later. Rhiannon, she chose wisely.

Lunch in hand, we went to the jousting arena and unwittingly sat directly below the drumcorps and trumpeters who played a steady tattoo throughout the ensuing performance. At first almost in tears, Rhiannon warmed to the bloodsport, especially heartened by our champion, a drunken pirate captain, and his lusty, busty ginger-headed pirate wench whom Rhiannon insisted we meet after the show. It was all her idea...honest!

Perhaps the low-point of the trip was taking her into the museum of torture, which, for the low-low price of $1.50 a head, we could be treated to the screams and laments of chidren whose parents had also exercised bad judgment. We learned all about traditional racks, wheels, and thumbscrews, along with lesser known (at least to the polite population) biomechanical devices which employed rodents, hot coals, and metal. Rhiannon freaked out, but we were trapped in an enormous queue of horror fans along with a few who thought this was the fairy princess museum.

Exiting that ordeal, Rhiannon wanted her face painted, so we went to the appropriate hovel and stood in line to pay $12 for what actually resulted in an amazing mermaid design (pictured above). Once the painting was done, Rhiannon had to take the Mermaid Oath from the artist. Rhiannon raised her right hand and repeated that she would be kind to animals and would eat all her vegetables, at least for tonight. Which she did, by the way.

On our way out of the fair, Rhiannon saw the same fairy she had met earlier, but she was standing in a different spot. Rhiannon gave the fairy a dollar and in return, Rhiannon got another stone (blue this time), plus a small song played on a pan-flute. Rhiannon became quite shy and retreated, amazed that there really were fairies, although bigger and more beautiful and more magical than she had imagined.

We listened to Classic Yes on the ride home, Rhiannon adding her harmony to Anderson and Squires', enjoying the sunshine through the window, remembering everything.

Rhiannon's grandparents are visiting this week, but are staying at a time-share in Scottsdale. When asked about the Renaissance Fair, Rhiannon wasted no time telling them about the unspeakable horrors in the torture museum. Fairies and pirates forgotten, she relished in describing the gore in great detail, eyes alight. I think this is normal for children to frolic in the obscene; their innocence perhaps protects them. She is now in her bedroom listening to "Lovebug" by the Jonas Brothers, reading a princess book and coloring with watercolors. She is at home in the past and present, real and other. May she always have such comfort in being in both worlds.

Rhiannon. Fairly Cute.

Andrew (Papa)