Eugene seems to be a place full of unique experiences. The Oregon Country Fair, held every July for the last 39 years, is definitely one of those. I had heard about this weekend event from many locals, some of whom would be working there. I decided to get some tickets expecting a throng of pitchouli oil smothered earth muffins dancing around a dusty mosquito filled field, kind of like the Dead show parking lot extravaganzas we used to attend.
I was right, kind of. Liz was not feeling up to attending so I went with my new transplanted friends, Jay and Adrienne as well as my old friend Kim Hove (Mason) and her husband, Aaron. Kim and Aaron had been a handful of times before, which afforded Aaron the opportunity to tell us EVERYTHING we were going to experience before we got there. As you drive up to this huge hay field surrounded by oak and maple trees, volunteers in purple shirts are wavi
ng and giving cheerful Hellos! to you; welcoming you to the festivities.
I was right, kind of. Liz was not feeling up to attending so I went with my new transplanted friends, Jay and Adrienne as well as my old friend Kim Hove (Mason) and her husband, Aaron. Kim and Aaron had been a handful of times before, which afforded Aaron the opportunity to tell us EVERYTHING we were going to experience before we got there. As you drive up to this huge hay field surrounded by oak and maple trees, volunteers in purple shirts are wavi
ng and giving cheerful Hellos! to you; welcoming you to the festivities.We get inside and are immediately greeted by a band of jump roping pirates on stilts (you can't make this shit up). Naturally the crowds were swelling because who doesn't like a pirate.....on stilts..... jumping rope. The fun continues as we made our way around all the booths and vendors selling hacky sacks, windchimes, fairy wings, etc, etc, etc. And the food was outstanding. Every type of world cuisine is represented. Aaron was a fan of salmon on a stick, which is a more labor intensive version of shrimp on a stick.
The entire fairgrounds don't exist the rest of the year except for the trees and some posts. In the span of two weeks the fair organizers set up tree houses, clear the field, bring in huge pieces of art, and make an entire village that is reminiscent of Tolkien's Shire. We hadn't been there for more than 20 minutes and we started to here whistles, drums, and trumpets coming down the wooded path. A parade of minstrels and dancers made their way musically like a New Orleans style jazz band.
It was amazing how kid-friendly the whole event was. There were little tikes in radio flyer wagons with sunshades being pulled through the meandering paths. There were magicians, face painters, acrobats, puppeteers, jugglers, fire breathing dragons, tiger men, com
edians, ballet dancers, fiddlers, fuddlers, puddlers, and muddlers. I embraced my inner child, as I do everyday, and bought some juggling balls intent on learning because I realized that it doesn't count as juggling if its just two. My very patient wife knows how and taught me; all the while being entertained by the lack of hand eye coordination and extreme left handedness.
This guy was named Captain Elvis and he was a real time video game. He would give kids a Nintendo controller and as they pressed the buttons he would jump, jive, duck, and make laser sound effects as if the kid was controlling him. He was fueled by a very full tip jar called the Rocket Ship Fuel tank. Genius!
edians, ballet dancers, fiddlers, fuddlers, puddlers, and muddlers. I embraced my inner child, as I do everyday, and bought some juggling balls intent on learning because I realized that it doesn't count as juggling if its just two. My very patient wife knows how and taught me; all the while being entertained by the lack of hand eye coordination and extreme left handedness.And I haven't even mentioned the boobs. I will leave this one to Adrienne on her blog about all the painted boobs. Check out http://www.oregongoldbergs.com/ for some refreshing Midwestern insight into the cultural mystery that is the West Coast. All boobs are painted, which, apparently makes it OK to stare. In "normal" culture if a guy gets caught staring at a woman's breasts, his wife either rolls her eyes or slaps him on the arm. Here at the Fair, its encouraged. Clothing is optional but naked is done in a rather tasteful way. The fat old naked guy painted lime green even had the decency to position his fanny pack slung low in front to cover his package. The fanny pack is also necessary because where else do you put your sunscreen, touch up lime green body paint, cash, and car keys. An entertainer and a problem solver.
Music,music, everywhere. There were at least 10 different tree shaded stages playing everything from folk, bluegrass, reggae, classical, acapella, spoken word rants, open mic, and vaudeville. What's vaudeville?, some of you may ask. Good question without a clear answer but something about makeup, sword swallowing, and olde english lyrical ranting. The Mother Hips were playing the next day for those of you from the Bay Area. Kim was enthrawled by the drum circle that was set up around a bunch of hay bales. Gypsies and princesses spun around possessed.
All in all it was a great time. I guess the hot tip is to volunteer to help and then you get to camp overnight and party with the tiger man, painted boobs, and stilted pirates after us, the day tourists are ushered out at 7pm. 
Anybody reading this is welcome to join us next year. Adrienne is going to make coconut people faces and sell them a booth, Jay is going to open a boob painting booth, and I am going to juggle with the parade.
Anybody reading this is welcome to join us next year. Adrienne is going to make coconut people faces and sell them a booth, Jay is going to open a boob painting booth, and I am going to juggle with the parade. Peace and individual expression are alive and well in some parts of the country.
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