The only real currency in this bankrupt world is what we share with other people
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1. Prologue (Sunrise...)

The first rays of light are starting to faintly sneak a quick look from behind the mountains on the horizon. It's early morning, as we're waiting for the sun to awaken from his lethargy and warm our chilled and tired selves, sitting side by side on the cold, dried out lake bed that is the Black Rock Desert. During winter, this desolate and lifeless flat land turns into a small seasonal lake. Tonight, it turns into a glimpse of hope in the heart of upper-middle class white America. An instant frozen in eternity, or at least in my timeless memory, as I listen to her heart rhythmically beating in concert with my own, whispering sounds of hope and fear. Just before the crack of dawn, the clear Nevada skies get painted pink and orange, untouched by anything but the orgy of stars gazing down upon us. As I hold her hand, I realize that I have never in my life seen such a beautiful sunrise. From the look of awe in her smiley eyes, I venture to think that this is not a common sight in Vancouver either... <>

2. Thank You.

So after that pseudo-poetic prologue, it is time to say hello once again, so hello once again! It is very nice to see that what used to be my sporadic and almost impulsive bursts of storytelling and drunken ranting has now developed quite a following; in other words, I love it when people take an interest in my stories and encourage me to write the next one sooner and better! So friends, family and just randompeople: Cheers =).

3. Goodbye Mademoiselle Amsterdam.

Saying goodbye never gets easier, but this time it was really tough. Amsterdam is always a great playground, and now it was also a kind of a romantic fairy tale. I never really thought about it, but between the cloudiness of my eyes when I said the last goodbye to her, and the cloudiness of the sky that got me soaking wet even before catching the tram to the Amstel station, this was definitely not my favorite Friday morning. I still had a tough day ahead; my flight out of Europe was the following morning, and the last place I wanted to be at now was Paris. Usually I wouldn't pass the opportunity to spend some time in the city of love and expensive croissants, but I was really not in the mood. I really missed her. I made it straight to the Charles de Gaulle, resigned to waste my time in Terminal E, watching people arrive and depart in the never ending symphony of an airport hall .When I finally decided to be brave and switch on my phone, the screen read: "Goodbye baby. I've stopped crying now".

4. The Black Rock City Journals.
(An experiment in community, radical self expression, and radical self reliance)

4(A)- Where the fuck am I going?
I started to feel that I was are up for a very odd experience when the first thing on my shopping list were a pair of goggles. Yeah, like those for swimming, only not. Then comes the moment of understanding, when I realized that they were not kidding when they printed the ticket with a big warning: Participants willingly assume the risk of serious injury or death.
This is held in a harsh desert environment governed by harsh physical laws.In San Francisco I met the guys who made most of it possible: The Biran brothers, two of the most interesting and good-kind-of-insane people anyone is ever likely to meet. As this was not the first time for them in BRC, they knew what to take which saved us the embarrassment of getting there completely unprepared and probably get left out in the dessert feeling a bit stupid. As I heard them talking about previous year´s experiences, I imagined everything yet understood nothing. It is completely true what they said: It is impossible to try to explain; you just have to experience it. From now on I stopped calling it a "festival". This is a league of its own.

4(B)- Initiation.
It´s really been a while since the last time I felt truly andsincerely overwhelmed. Okay, It is not very easy to impress me, I´lltake some credit, but when that lady at the gate asked for all the first timers ( a.k.a . virgins) to come out the car and hit a hugebell (the announcement to the "tribe elders" that another newcomer has arrived), and then get a very loving hug, I started to realize that I was going to be somewhat overwhelmed. In a very good way. As if I was about to become part of some sort of an almost sacred ritual, exclusive to a very special breed of people. And, the best; an almost sudden, immediate and warm sense of belonging. It doesn't happen to me very often, though it has happened quite a few times over the last few months. It makes me happy, because to me it means that i somehow find myself at the right places at the right timing. I´m not sure what it is that I´m doing, but its working out great. No wonder all the cars, trailers and such along the way read: Coming Home!.

4(C) The Emotional Bit.
The best was yet to come, of course. Burning Man in itself was a very good enough reason to come to this secluded part of our lonely planet,but for me it was not the main one. On the other hand, meeting some of my favourite people on the face of the earth, that's a pretty good excuse. The magic of sharing such a unique and mind blowing experience with people who are able to connect with me in that special level . For me, this time the formula was complete. I get to be there, and I get to be there with my brothers: Gomez, Najer and Meppen. So how are you guys doing?

4(D) The New Order.
I wont try to explain any further because there is no point. Just imagine this:
A society with an economy based on smiles, hugs, and stick lights.
A place where you show up with your underwear and you feel overdressed.
A place where you're tripping (visuals and all) with or without psychoactives.
A place when you feel out of place (or not) when you´re running on anunaltered state of consciousness (alright, we also have Amsterdam here, but you get the point).
A place where you can attend a "Bush voodoo doll workshop",
You can open up some forgotten chakras with Coffee and Enemas,
You can drink Wasabe Absinthe, Smash´s Demon Rum,
Go for a drink at the Whisky and Whores (21 to drink, 18 to whore),
or just plain Whisky and Insults,
Or you could try some Vodka Snorting,
You can sign up for the Canadian beaver eating contest, and show your skills at the delicate art of pleasuring a woman,
Attend the G-Spot happy hour or just a game of Naked Twister,
Or just watch a Sex over 60 demonstration,
You can catch Ben from "Ben and Jerry´s" handing out tons of ice cream to overheated burners, You can rave with Moby, Paul Oakenfold, D.J Tiesto weather they´re at the D.J. stand or just at some random camp,
Or just dance, bounce, and hop around dozens of different raves, parties,
discos, moving art cars and any other kind of party in the playa.

Of course, you should not worry too much about where do you want to go; you will rarely get to the place you were headed to in the first place. Just go out and explore, and in no time you will be very lost and very happy. Make no mistake: Nothing here costs money. Currency is not allowed. Still, nothing here is for free. Its for sharing. Participate, Interact, Understand. Communicate. Exercise those useful but rarely used basic human skills . Have real human moments.

("Here's your change." "Paper or plastic?" "Credit or debit?" "You want ketchup with that?")

4(E) Burn Night

"So we burned a man near Reno, just to watch him fry …"

The man stood tall and proud the whole event, the landmark and orientation point overlooking the playa from the center point of the city. From its beginnings, 20 years ago, on a beach on San Francisco, a huge wooden sculpture of a man is burnt to the ground. This is the culmination to the week long orgy of drugs, drinks, sex, depravity, debauchery. Burn the motherfucker down, and, as far as I can see, get a reality check. It is very simple: The burners are mostly from the bay area, most of them 25+, well educated, with good jobs,and after all, a normal and pleasant life to get back to. After its all said and done, it is time to drive back and count the time until next year. This is not a reality, it could never be. Thats why it is so great. The magic lies in it being a city that comes to life once a year for one week. The only thing you really want after that is a good shower.

5- Epilogue (Sunset...)

The last rays of light are starting to fade beneath the pollution of the crowded city. People running like ants, among the stress of the urban noise, trying to escape from the slavery of a job that they could not care less for, working long hours doing random office bullshit, providing security services for paranoid minorities with too much money, selling and pushing all sort of crap that nobody really needs, getting drafted to an army that will give them the opportunity to travel to exotic places, meet new and interesting people and then kill them, exploiting the earth's non-renewable resources to make more noise and pollution and fucking it up for the next generation. People, like me and you, who never took responsibility for wasting our time in this planet, and never realized how we are getting eaten, chewed up and spitted out by corporation whatever, selling our life and principles for minimum wage. Here's a newsflash: WE ARE a non-renewable resource, and our time in this world is no more than a blink. Use it wisely. Love and be loved.

Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery;
None but ourselves can free our minds.
Have no fear for atomic energy,
'Cause none of them can stop the time

-Bobby Marley


This story was written in Los Angeles, CA, Mexico City and Veracruz, Mexico,
and was first posted at The Cellar Door in October 2006.

Links for further reading:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Burning_Man

http://www.jewishworldreview.com/weekly/standard092499.asp

http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?file=/gate/archive/2003/09/03/notes090303.DTL