The parallel reality of Burning Man is lowly sinking in, or opening the gates. I feel I’m arriving.

Whatever you need in Black Rock City (BRC), they say ‘the playa will provide’. You’ll find a missing part to your art construction, water, drinks, music, a costume, a hug, an ear to listen to you, a teacher, a student, a goal, a purpose, fun, love, laughter, sex, music…

Sure, you must prepare yourself and bring tons of stuff. After all, this is a desert. And as a good citizen of Black Rock City, you should give something back to the community, share something, give something for free, or volunteer.

This morning I slept in a bit – meaning I crawled out of my tent at 9.40 to find the others all ready and at breakfast. I wonder how they do that, and even more so: why?

If I go to bed at 2 or 3, why wake up at 8? But then the rising heat in the tent leaves you not much choice.

I started the day with a sip of coffee and a flip through the daily program with the recurring events and those only organized on the day in question. There is such an incredible choice, it’s impossible to even just attend a fraction.

As every theme camp is supposed to organize something and give something to the community, the choice of things to do on the playa is incredible.

Today, we missed out on the coffee enema, where you get a shot of caffeine not in the usual way, but(t), well, I leave this to your imagination…

We walked through the Center Camp instead, getting some coffee and looking at the art, and on the way back I stopped at a camp that provided French toast, the guys and girl appropriately dressed as French maids.

During this day alone, I got sprayed with lavender water by one camp while riding my bike, got snow cones with different flavors in another (jump to the front of the queue if you put out your junk to the barman), received a quick back massage by a guy with a floor polishing device (incredible), was offered spam martinis, had a 10-minute walk-in facial with a cucumber mask, shoulder and head massage, while swinging in a hammock (so rejuvenating).

I got another round of snow cones (and putting out of junk) at Paradise Motel, then I went through their gift closet with different costumes. Pick one, it’s free. I opted for some tight tiny bright red fur shorts, finally a bit of a weird costume. I’m getting there.

I stopped at the Euro-Burner’s meet&greet for lemonade where I met my friend Thilo from Berlin, I went to Pink Mammoth for drinks and electro-beats, got a cold hug from a guy wearing a water soaked body suit (refreshing!) and stopped at Primate Playground for more dancing to perfect 80s mash-ups.

Finally, after a yummy dinner cooked by Tim, we dressed up and headed over to GlamCock’s for a bit of dancing, then I rode my bike in the dark over to the esplanade.

I was looking for a disco that played 80s music all evening, and found it in Planet Earth. I danced for an hour or two, time is irrelevant in BRC, and there’s no way to tell anyway…

To get there and back, I had to cross the playa with all the art and the man that will be burned next Saturday.

The playa at night is a show-stopper. or better: it is the show.

 

It is something I cannot describe, and probably you have to see it to believe it, and know what I mean.

We’re in the middle of the night, in a desert in Nevada, but what is happening around you is simply indescribable.

On the central playa, itself maybe a mile wide, you’ll find dozens of art installations, lit up, to be seen, touched, crawled onto and into, surrounded by people, or filled with them.

People are hanging in the air, sliding down slides, walking through art gates, sitting in the playa dust, dancing to music.

Art cars are driving back and forth, left and right, up and down, flames burst, electric sparks fly, music is pumping, it all blends together into a giant throbbing being.

The city is alive. It is one giant living being.

I repeat: it’s midnight, in the desert.

When you come to think of it, it is so surreal you want to laugh loud. Or scream. And no one would mind. You’d probably get a knowing nod, a hug and hear the words: welcome home.

I think everyone who has ever been to Black Rock City knows that feeling, and remembers when he became a citizen.

I’m no longer a virgin. The playa has provided.

Welcome home.