|
|
|
|
"Oh, so in the day it's like a mall, and at night, it's a wonderland for the hobbits?"
"Pretty much, plus, parades, and fairies and elves. We can play in Chela Mela after we have our coffee."
"CHELA MELA? I think that's my favorite new word!"
You can't see it, but the bench we were sitting on had a sign; 'stilt walkers only.'
With quickness Wednesday night, up to Ashland, and the next morning to Eugene.
Cassidaddy chauffeuring us in his sarong. “How could something be sarong when it feels so right?”
A total of 9.5 hours in the car (with views of trees, mountains, rolling hills and ranchouses),
to be released into a magical wonderland in the forest for the next 5 days. Upon arrival,
we were greeted with choices to make, of course involving the exchange of cash for convenience, and
later to be completely baffled with frustration by poorly executed Will-Call pick-up. I was certainly
shocked to hear that no tickets for admission are sold at the fair, which is roughly 15 minutes drive from Eugene.
Meanwhile, I in my state of baffle, Hylah The Barn Fairy and Cassidaddy worked their own magic, and with a little more flow of cash,
Mooklas and I got the royal hook up, with our
own full-access, unlimited passes for fun. This was a massive injection of freedom into our veins. Nothing was off-limits, except for the overt consumption of liquor,
“drugs” or smoking tobacco in the wrong place, rules which seemed to weave an unconscious comfort into my weekend.
Upon my first introduction to the Dragon entrance, I spun the wheel of Fortune, only to be told that my word for
the day was “AWAKEN.” No surprise there.
Aside from the overt infiltration of fairies, circus folk, drummers and stilt walkers,
the less obvious magic hid behind any corner you looked. At night, the little touches came to
life- the mirror-like sky view from the gazebo at Chela Mela, to the flamingos at the Ritz, from
the disco ball at Upper River Loop where it meets Strawberry Lane, just behind Daredevil Stage.
How could we miss its spinning diamond sparkles on the dirt path, on the trees and, of course on us.
The visual candy was laced with taste, sound, smell, and touch, usually simultaneously.
One night we found ourselves sitting in the dark, listening to an invisible piano as we sipped chai from
the India House- cardamom tickled our noses and taste buds. Xanthia Miss Fire, Age 7, was up on the Gypsy Caravan Stage as the intro
to the night's performance, with proud fam lining the edge of the stage.
with a dining room of the following: Hay on the floor, to be
sat upon while at the table with the red and white checkered cloth, electrically fresh flowers, tapestries on the fences,
and a dude with bottons on them that give me a taste of the politcal focus of the fair. "More blow jobs, less
snow jobs," his button says, with photos of Clinton and B#*H respectively. I asked him if he was donatcing the butons,
to whom? to me. He generously handed one over.
We crept up to the top of Caravan Cafe, as most booths had a little upstairs cazbah and I was most curious about seeing the parade from up high.
Soon we saw, heard, smelled, the Dragon Parade below. Once on Fair time, the parade button is
always ON.
Thanks to Ali Grant and Crew * Sheila from Gypsy Wings Textiles * Ra Wollenberg and Clan.
|
