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MY WATERLOO DAYS...A REVIEW BY WILLA'S SISTER, WANDA
by Tanya Schofield, Former Faire Virgin

My experience this weekend (June 3rd) started long before the actual event, and was nothing but positive. I came to Iowa to visit my best friend, who also happens to moonlight as Mistress Willa of the Washer Well Wenches. It was she (and the dashing John Paul) who opened her home to me, dug around in her spare laundry, and found me some more appropriate clothes for the event. (It was also she who had to cajole me out of them once I had tried them on — a new garb addict had been born.) I was taught the basics of speaking with an accent on the ride to Waterloo. My persona had been developed in the weeks prior to my visit — I thought I was prepared. Umm, no. That was only the start.

Arriving in Waterloo, I met the man formerly known as Marco the Magnificent and his lovely wife, two amazing people who had opened their doors and their hearts to a gaggle of us. I've heard of the kindness of strangers...these two personify it. But before we all poured down into the basement for our slumber party, there was dinner at a local Chinese restaurant (dry ice: the amusement of the future) and then off to a hotel to meet Renaissance Sword Theatre. They were great fun, and the evening’s progression found us acting as half the lounge’s population for karaoke. (Lessons learned: Ms. Andy has a fabulous voice, margaritas are my friend, and the bartender’s version of a Diet Coke and spiced rum is much different from the rest of the worlds’.) It was there I first met Mistress Sheila, another of the Washer Well Wenches, and felt instantly at ease. We left there and headed back to Marco's house, where we kept the house occupants awake 'til some silly hour just chatting and playing with the cats.

Morning arrived, and once again our hosts amazed by providing the most delicious breakfast I've ever had. And coffee .... mmmm, coffee. But enough lounging about, it was time to dress. In garb. And go out in public. Eeek. Suddenly I was nervous. It's astonishing how nude one can feel when wearing 6 layers of clothing. Maybe it's the bodice. Anyway, it was off to the faire with us, and there I met Washer Well Wench #3 (Kierra) - a friendly, maternal bundle of energy who also made me feel instantly at home. That afternoon, in just the 6 hours of the Faire, I saw and learned some valuable things, which I offer here in no particular order.

I learned the fine art of tucking in a bodice rose. I learned that your accent doesn't have to be perfect, so long as it’s close. I learned that the recipe for corn dogs has been preserved and cultivated since the late 14th century, as with the medieval funnel cake and happily, that tasty lemony malt beverage. Huzzah! I was taught the fine art of swooning by the imminently swoon-worthy Robespierre Someoneorother of Shattock Schoole of Defence. (mmmm, Frenchmen...) I learned the rollicking crowd favorite “Do Re Me of Beer” by watching the wonderful Wild Mountain Thyme. I got to play and flirt with very tall men in a manner quite unlike my “real world” self, and saw for the first time the actual act of the Washer Well Wenches. I even had a complete stranger buy me a rose! (which I later gave to a very sweet little future-wench after a photo opportunity.) I was privileged enough to watch the devastatingly charming John Paul George the Second (but I can call him Ringo) teach countless fairgoers the proper way to present a rose to their beloved. I spent 5 minutes after each presentation missing MY beloved, but on the whole, managed to stay in high spirits.

I was taught what a “reverence” is and how to do it and when. I was introduced to the charismatic and stunningly beautiful Queen Verity and her equally charismatic and charming King Thomas. I got to be in a parade with the Wenches. I saw belly dancers and swordfighters, and was sneezed on not once, but twice, by the wonderful wandering nasty icky Rufus-person. Apparently that means he likes me. I listened to a storyteller and more music, this time from Orckes and Trolles, and right about the time the Wenches were performing their last show, I came to clearly understand what a bodice-tan was. Well, more like a bodice-burn, but I’m assured it will turn into a tan. I wish it would hurry.

To close out my day I was escorted to Last Huzzah by a very tall Scottish-clad man from Renaissance Sword Theatre whose name eludes me (Charlie? I think?) but he did have the world’s heaviest weapon. (I wasn’t even sure the thing was real, but when he held it out for me to lift I couldn’t even move it. I have infinite respect for the warriors of old.) Anyway, it was there that I had my proudest faire moment — I actually knew all the words to one of the songs they sang at the end!! (Barrett’s Privateers - that mix of Scottish / Canadian drinking songs my friend made me came in handy for something!)

All in all, I had a fantastic day. Everyone I met made me feel welcome and accepted, after about an hour I stopped feeling naked in the bodice, and even with the sunburn it was a very happy time. I was kind of sad it was only 6 hours, I would have liked time to see more acts and visit the vendors. As it was I missed RST’s act completely, only saw one fight from Shattock, one belly dance (not counting the last huzzah) and entirely missed Minstrosity. I do get to visit the Council Bluffs faire this weekend before I fly back to my beloved in Georgia, so with any luck I can see and do more (and Willa says I get to keep the bodice!).

A faire addict has been born.

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1. anothercrappypodcast.com
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Permanent festivals in our area: Kansas City Renaissance Festival, Bristol Renaissance Faire, Des Moines Renaissance Faire and Minnesota Renaissance Festival.
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