Gaudia, gaudia;  Come one and all...                                           We welcome you with joy to this festive hall!

I have been doing the Renaissance Faire thing for going on four years now, and not only has it been an amazingly fun trip, but it has begun to identify who I am... Sound extreme?  Let me tell you how it happened for me...

I

was first lured into the magic of the Renaissance Festival by my cousin, Allison, the summer I was fifteen.  Hearing her talk so lovingly about this mystical celebration she had been attending for so many weekends, I was wonderfully intrigued, and was thrilled when she invited me along. Little did I know that the experience of the Renaissance would not only bring the two of us so much closer, but it would prove to be the path that would lead me to a part of myself I never new existed.

We went to the Maryland Renaissance Faire that October.  As I first walked in I was terrified.  I didn't understand Shakespearean language.  I didn't know anything of the history.  Surely I'd look silly.  Surely all of those experianced actors and actresses would laugh at me.  Walking up to those gates, I wished for invisibility.      We had gone in garb, and slipping into my first bodice was so much fun.  Gazing at my reflection in the car windows, I felt beautiful, probably, for the first time in a long time.  The Maryland faire had a preshow, which seemed to whipe away my inhibitions as I watched, grinning, and followed the chants of, "HUZZAH!" from

crowd.  When the gates finally opened, and I was inside, I felt at home.  I felt that I was where I belonged.  To this day I can't tell you exactly what did that for me.  But somewhere between the wonderfully friendly people, the beautiful music of bagpipes and flutes and fiddles, and Allison's being called up on stage to play the wolf in Bloody Drama Comedy Show's improvised version of the Three Little Pigs, I found myself shouting, "Down with Tiddington!!" during the chess match in the worst English accent ever, but not caring in the least!

I only made it to the faire once that year, but that was enough for me to catch the bug.  Now that the Renaissance was in my system, there was no getting it out - I only fed my addiction by teaching myself to read Shakespeare's plays, with companions such as www.renfaire.com, and Joseph Papp and Elizabeth Kirkland's Shakespeare Alive! by my side, while I listened to the beautiful music of the New World Renaissance Band and, of course, the "bad boys of celtic music," The Rogues!

The next season Allie and I were more than ready to visit the faires again.  We had spent the year preparing - making new garb, learning about new faires, and creating characters.  Money was tight that season, due to her new marriage and my penniless high school student status, but we made our way to three more faires - New Jersey, Virginia (to which we bid a very sad goodbye), and to where our loyalty will always remain - Maryland.      Of course we had a ball at each faire we visited.  It really is amazing how the different faires bring such different, yet equally wonderful additions to the Renaissance scene.  Interestingly enough, I didn't findit more or less

enjoyable at all now that I was the so-called "learn'ed Rennie."  The experiance of the Renaissance Faire is whatever you wish to take from it - I haven't been disappointed yet.

That same year I had the terrific thrill of seeing The Rogues live, and meeting them in person for the very first time.  I could go on for pages gushing about how great it was - how for a full year I'd been in love with their music, when I never imagined I'd ever be interested in bagpipes and drums, and how after meeting them, finding myself in conversation with them, I discovered that I was even more in adoration with the band itself than with the music they played (if that's possible).  At the end of the season they were what I missed most - but I had their Live in Canada and Off Kilter CDs to last me through the next year of Renaissance withdrawl.  :)

That year I began to fall in love with Scottish heritage even moreso than with the English that I had been focusing on previously.  My interest lead me to my very first novel, The Unicorn Journal.  I researched my own clan, Clan MacKay, for the core of the story, and grew very much attached to it.  Even now, it's a rarity to find a notebook paper or journal entry of mine that does not have "MANU FORTI" sketched somewhere along the margins.      Though my first two years of the faire have been called the best thing that ever happened to me, last year has been my favorite yet.  Allison and I learned about the New York faire, and

in a flash were at the nearby Ramada with our bags stuffed full of garb and pajamas.  To our delight, we found the people at the NY faire to be the friendliest we'd ever encountered.  I bought my baby, a 14-inch bodhran, and instantly bonded with the cast's chief bodhran player (once he was the King of Spain - but that was the year before we'd met him).       My favorite story, though, from the New York faire, came straight from the Kissing Bridge, through which no lord and lady may pass without paying each other a kiss.  It was early in the morning - the faire had just opened, and Allison and I had parted ways for a few minutes, when I found myself, alone, atop this bridge, gazing out at the beautiful fountain in the center.  I felt eyes on me, and turned to find two men, one dressed in the tartan of Ancient MacKay, standing at the foot of the bridge.  As they crossed, the kilted one took my hand and kissed it, paying the toll.  Well, I certainly had butterflies, and wondered if this is what all those maidens in the fairy tales feel the first time they meet that proverbial Prince Charming.  Little did I know then, that the highlander whose eyes I was staring into for the first time would quickly grow to be the significant other in my life - and just one reminder of how the magic of the fair remains with you, even after the gates close for the season.

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