Estrella Brain Dump
Feb. 21st, 2007 09:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gurdymonkeyGacked and edited from posts on the Tousando Board
I wake up in the dark wondering if I was having a weird dream. I'm in my tent, I'm pretty sure it's Estrella because I can see the darker shape of the hanging shelf overhead and I don't use it for weekending. So why am I hearing doo wop? "Pretty Woman" in three part harmony. The bass is quite good, I note as I poke my head a little further out of my sleeping bag. "Whoa-whoa, pretty woman!" comes to a rousing finish and I hear the inimitable slam of portajohn door across the road. The trio segue into "We Three Soldiers Be" and fade off into the night. Cue doumbeks with baladi. I am at war.
Photos are up and in no decent order at:
http://new.photos.yahoo.com/wodeford/album/576460762390365515
I wake up in the dark wondering if I was having a weird dream. I'm in my tent, I'm pretty sure it's Estrella because I can see the darker shape of the hanging shelf overhead and I don't use it for weekending. So why am I hearing doo wop? "Pretty Woman" in three part harmony. The bass is quite good, I note as I poke my head a little further out of my sleeping bag. "Whoa-whoa, pretty woman!" comes to a rousing finish and I hear the inimitable slam of portajohn door across the road. The trio segue into "We Three Soldiers Be" and fade off into the night. Cue doumbeks with baladi. I am at war.
I'd gotten onto site on Wednesday afternoon and spent most of that on set-up. We seem to have a fair number of walking wounded this year. Vigdis is on the mend from ankle surgery, Elsa was sporting a sprained wrist and Frederick was having bursitis attacks in his shoulder. The good news is that he's FINALLY recovered enough from wrist surgery for an injury two Pennsics ago and got to go out and fight for the West in some battles.
For one brief, shining hour on Thursday morning, it was Christmas. As Jehanne, I taught a half a dozen persevering souls several medieval/Renaissance Christmas carols. I say persevering because while the site handout had class descriptions listed therein, there were not dates or times anywhere. If you wanted to take a class, you had to FIND the A&S tent. As the map in the site book did not indicate where the A&S tent and other important locations actually were, the challenge became exponentially more complicated, unless one had previously printed out the version of the map that appeared on the war's website. While I realize a new site is going to experience some growing pains, I am scratching my head over what was printed as a site book this year. They've been doing that part for how many years now?
I was appalled to open my hurdy gurdy case on Thursday morning and discover that the instrument was wet. REALLY wet. All I can think is that one of the water jugs I'd packed in the back of the truck had leaked into the case somehow. The sound board was visibly warped. I set it on a stool outside in the sun and hoped that the desert air would effect a cure.
I took the hurdy gurdy out. I tinkered madly for an unmeasured period, applying cotton and rosin, removing paper bridge shims and at last I got the chanter and one of the drones to produce sound. The chanter sounded buzzier than normal, but sometimes the best way to get a hurdy gurdy going is to play the sucker into submission*, so George and I went down to Merchant's Row and played for awhile. It's a really good way for me to run into friends old and new who know what to listen for. Unless, of course, they're taking heads on the battlefield.
*The good news is that the warp in the soundboard is mostly gone and the instrument had reached 100% functionality by Saturday.
I took the hurdy gurdy out. I tinkered madly for an unmeasured period, applying cotton and rosin, removing paper bridge shims and at last I got the chanter and one of the drones to produce sound. The chanter sounded buzzier than normal, but sometimes the best way to get a hurdy gurdy going is to play the sucker into submission*, so George and I went down to Merchant's Row and played for awhile. It's a really good way for me to run into friends old and new who know what to listen for. Unless, of course, they're taking heads on the battlefield.
*The good news is that the warp in the soundboard is mostly gone and the instrument had reached 100% functionality by Saturday.
Fortunately, Merchant's Row borders the battlefield. This Westerner found her way behind "enemy" lines and managed to climb the embankment at the edge of the raised viewing area in turnshoes and cotehardie while cradling a hurdy gurdy and stuffed monkey. In a sea of Outlands green, I watched for orange and brown. Thank the kami for that orange lacing, my vigilance was rewarded. Even better, the wearer came off the battlefield for a break not far from where I was watching and I got to have a visit with The Samurai From The Outlands before he went back into battle. While he was too far away at that point for me to try to get it on film, I did manage to see him engaging in a few spear duels from the viewing area. At one point, I did see him jump straight up and down three times. It turned out to be Tetsubin-do, the Way of the Teapot. Evidently performing "I'm A Little Teapot" was intended to goad the enemy into breaking rank and lunging into a killing pocket around one of the gates. They didn't take the bait.
I was able to spot some of the West's action at the opposite side of the battlefield. While I could not make out specifics, there's something to be said about seeing banners surging forward like that.
I was able to spot some of the West's action at the opposite side of the battlefield. While I could not make out specifics, there's something to be said about seeing banners surging forward like that.
I had just returned to camp from Merchant's Row after some power shopping with my campmates when Moira came up the road leading a tall, dark and handsome specimen all in black, which is how I met Yoshi-dono. He had popped up on the Tousando board literally three or four days before the war, returning to the SCA after an absence of many years and wanting to start new with a Japanese persona. Full of enthusiasm and still bombarding me with questions after we all got back from war, he is in for a heck of a ride.
After dinner, I changed into appropriate attire for an Asian Night party in Atenveldt's encampment. The new event site is a long, skinny piece of land. The West was on one side of two battlefields, Atenvelt on the other. I had to negotiate no less than three wooden foot bridges* over the drunk traps (irrigation/drainage ditches) and a distance of roughly half a mile (+/-) in the Waraji Zori of Pain while carrying dessert. And then I had to find the camp. In the dark.
*There were two ditches on the east side of the battlefields and one on the west side. One of the bridges on our side had a board missing. I made a note of remembering which one.
The good news is that I finally did. Yagyu-dono's blingy blue and gold hakama alone were worth walking a half mile to see. He and his friends were most hospitable and we brought in the Year of the Boar in high, mostly Chinese style. We burned offerings and incense, we got it on and banged a gong. Thanks to Li's deadly aim with a confetti bazooka, I was finding colored foil in the oddest corners of my tent for days afterward.
The mochi and dorayaki I brought was mostly consumed. I only took one dorayaki and three mochi home, so I guess they at least got tasted. I had the dorayaki for breakfast and got Frederick and Elsa to try the leftovers a few days later. They pronounced the mochi "interesting."
We sampled a variety of sakes, several under Momokawa's Moonstone label. The raspberry infused one was subtler than I expected and quite pleasant. I pronounced the plum infused one as "girly." (This is not a bad thing. In fact, I think I may be able to convince my fruity-girly drinkin' campmates to try that one in the future.) The Pearl (a nigori sake) was given the thumbs down by most of the tasting panel, the Wandering Poet I offered and the other Momokawa sake that Yagyu served were my favorites of those served.
And then Li decided to open the brown crock of Chinese rice wine. He pulled the cork and reeled backward as if he'd been punched. It poured out of the jug brown. We bravely filled our mercifully small cups and drank it. I'm not sure if it's supposed to taste that way or if it had gone off, but the consensus was Hair Of The Dog Soaked In Soy Sauce. At least the bottle was pretty.
*There were two ditches on the east side of the battlefields and one on the west side. One of the bridges on our side had a board missing. I made a note of remembering which one.
The good news is that I finally did. Yagyu-dono's blingy blue and gold hakama alone were worth walking a half mile to see. He and his friends were most hospitable and we brought in the Year of the Boar in high, mostly Chinese style. We burned offerings and incense, we got it on and banged a gong. Thanks to Li's deadly aim with a confetti bazooka, I was finding colored foil in the oddest corners of my tent for days afterward.
The mochi and dorayaki I brought was mostly consumed. I only took one dorayaki and three mochi home, so I guess they at least got tasted. I had the dorayaki for breakfast and got Frederick and Elsa to try the leftovers a few days later. They pronounced the mochi "interesting."
We sampled a variety of sakes, several under Momokawa's Moonstone label. The raspberry infused one was subtler than I expected and quite pleasant. I pronounced the plum infused one as "girly." (This is not a bad thing. In fact, I think I may be able to convince my fruity-girly drinkin' campmates to try that one in the future.) The Pearl (a nigori sake) was given the thumbs down by most of the tasting panel, the Wandering Poet I offered and the other Momokawa sake that Yagyu served were my favorites of those served.
And then Li decided to open the brown crock of Chinese rice wine. He pulled the cork and reeled backward as if he'd been punched. It poured out of the jug brown. We bravely filled our mercifully small cups and drank it. I'm not sure if it's supposed to taste that way or if it had gone off, but the consensus was Hair Of The Dog Soaked In Soy Sauce. At least the bottle was pretty.
I spent most of Friday hurdy gurdying with George. My monkey is better known than I am, thanks to the information superhighway and lots of people stopped me to say how much they enjoyed his page.
I stopped by the Crystal Flute bardic for a little while on Friday to listen. Went down to Dragonsspine's encampment - more "enemy" territory in the dark. I found it. I spotted the ghostly silhouette of The Samurai From The Outlands' armor on its stand, as well as his weapons racks and banners, but he was not at home.
I stopped by the Crystal Flute bardic for a little while on Friday to listen. Went down to Dragonsspine's encampment - more "enemy" territory in the dark. I found it. I spotted the ghostly silhouette of The Samurai From The Outlands' armor on its stand, as well as his weapons racks and banners, but he was not at home.
Donning the Waraji Zori of Slight Discomfort (I admit, they just take a bit of getting used to), the Purple Patchwork Hikizuri Of Doom and The Tareginu Of Lift And Drag, I made my way out of camp before breakfast and over to A&S. I only had three attendees for my class, Yoshi-dono being one of them. It got freeform pretty quickly, but I think they enjoyed it, at least.
To say that Saturday was windy is an understatement. Wearing a hat with a diameter of 24" in such conditions was challenging, to say the least. I couldn't even try to take photos of any of Saturday's fighting, not one handed. On the other hand, I did receive a number of compliments on my outfit from passers by.
On Saturday afternoon it occurred to me that a sacrifice might be warranted. I had packed a pad of sumi-e paper, glue, dowels and kite string, so I put together a small kite in about ten minutes (which pretty much guarantees it's going to be unbalanced and somewhat unstable because I didn't measure very well), then marched down to the edge of the battlefield opposite West Royal and fed it to the sky. It never got much higher than about 15' and it did a lot of rather spectacular spinning, but I was out there for maybe half an hour feeding the kite to the wind and crashing and retaping and flying it again. Frederick of Holland came out to the footbridge to watch and thanked me in full Heraldic Stentor (just in case any other observers were wondering what was going on) for sacrificing to the East Wind. By the time the kite was too disabled to fly, it was just about time for West Kingdom Court.
I learned that our unbelted fighters had been ordered to take and hold as much of a designated bridge while the Chivalry went off and played in the ford. So they did, most valiantly repelling charge after charge after charge. Those knights at the war took links from their chains to be given to all the West's unbelts. I almost thought my King was going to cry as he told us about their valor.
One of our lady fighters, Victoria of Lynwood, got her ankle badly stomped by an enemy fighter. He, realizing she was going to be out of it, apologized profusely and switched sides to fight her position for the remainder of the battle. She never got his name, but how freakin' cool is THAT? (Victoria was putting more weight on that leg when I saw her Sunday and she's going to be fine.)
Saturday evening, back in European tunics, I marched BACK over to the Outlands. Dragonsspine was dark and deserted. Again. I spent a couple of hours two camps down at a bardic with some other Outlanders I know. Saito-dono told a Japanese ghost story that I informed him I fully intend to borrow - and probably tell a bit differently than he does. I left some time around 10 or so and ran into Yagyu-dono and Li-Of-The-Smelly-Dog-Wine on my way back down Merchant's Row. I did a little busking with the hurdy gurdy for the Midnight Madness crowd, went back to the West, shuddered at the noise and crowds at the West Kingdom party and ended up sitting and chatting with Frederick and Roland back in camp.
To say that Saturday was windy is an understatement. Wearing a hat with a diameter of 24" in such conditions was challenging, to say the least. I couldn't even try to take photos of any of Saturday's fighting, not one handed. On the other hand, I did receive a number of compliments on my outfit from passers by.
On Saturday afternoon it occurred to me that a sacrifice might be warranted. I had packed a pad of sumi-e paper, glue, dowels and kite string, so I put together a small kite in about ten minutes (which pretty much guarantees it's going to be unbalanced and somewhat unstable because I didn't measure very well), then marched down to the edge of the battlefield opposite West Royal and fed it to the sky. It never got much higher than about 15' and it did a lot of rather spectacular spinning, but I was out there for maybe half an hour feeding the kite to the wind and crashing and retaping and flying it again. Frederick of Holland came out to the footbridge to watch and thanked me in full Heraldic Stentor (just in case any other observers were wondering what was going on) for sacrificing to the East Wind. By the time the kite was too disabled to fly, it was just about time for West Kingdom Court.
I learned that our unbelted fighters had been ordered to take and hold as much of a designated bridge while the Chivalry went off and played in the ford. So they did, most valiantly repelling charge after charge after charge. Those knights at the war took links from their chains to be given to all the West's unbelts. I almost thought my King was going to cry as he told us about their valor.
One of our lady fighters, Victoria of Lynwood, got her ankle badly stomped by an enemy fighter. He, realizing she was going to be out of it, apologized profusely and switched sides to fight her position for the remainder of the battle. She never got his name, but how freakin' cool is THAT? (Victoria was putting more weight on that leg when I saw her Sunday and she's going to be fine.)
Saturday evening, back in European tunics, I marched BACK over to the Outlands. Dragonsspine was dark and deserted. Again. I spent a couple of hours two camps down at a bardic with some other Outlanders I know. Saito-dono told a Japanese ghost story that I informed him I fully intend to borrow - and probably tell a bit differently than he does. I left some time around 10 or so and ran into Yagyu-dono and Li-Of-The-Smelly-Dog-Wine on my way back down Merchant's Row. I did a little busking with the hurdy gurdy for the Midnight Madness crowd, went back to the West, shuddered at the noise and crowds at the West Kingdom party and ended up sitting and chatting with Frederick and Roland back in camp.
Sunday morning as my campmates and I were debating whether the continuing sirroccos are worth sticking around for, one of the ladies in my encampment informed me, "Oh, Jehanne, there was this guy here looking for you last night." Upon eliciting further details, I determine that The Samurai From The Outlands and I have initiated the Estrella ritual of Missing Each Other Yet Again. Since he completed last year's ritual by finding me before leaving site, it is therefore my turn to find him. So I hightail it down to Outlands' again. I run into Yoshi-dono and we're standing in the road chatting when a flash of orange pokes itself into my peripheral vision.
Shopping acquisitions: one gorgeous tablet woven belt. A brass annular brooch from Gaukler. A "Yes, Captain Tightpants" badge from RedWolf (which needs to be mailed to someone), a copy of Guernin's new novel, Storyteller, a dark green beaker from Ash and Griffin, and five yards of summer weight chocolate brown wool that didn't look good on Eilis but will look right fine on me.
Photos are up and in no decent order at:
http://new.photos.yahoo.com/wodeford/album/576460762390365515
