Something that’s always been on my bucket list is to go to a renaissance faire and over the summer, I finally did! The Renaissance seems like almost a time of magic and celebration and embracing the very wonder of life. It has always fascinated me.
When I was around 10, I started reading Shakespeare, disappearing into my mother’s giant collection of his works, a book that felt like it weighed as much as I did. (Aside: can we please go back to saying “do you bite your thumb at me?” or any of these?) It was only a few years later that my friends and I started nicknaming each other after Tudor royals. And hello! The Renaissance, aka Rinascimento, came from my motherland of Italia! How could I not find this time period to be the stuff of fairytales?
So now I’ve crossed that off! Twofold actually, if you count the Icelandic Viking festival, which I totally do.
The closest Renaissance Faire is held every weekend in August into September in Tuxedo Park, New York. To be honest, it was a little more gimmicky and consumerism-driven than I was expecting. Still! There was fun to be had. I dragged my mother and brother along with me, and we explored. We went to a birds of prey show that convinced me a hawk or owl or turkey vulture would be a snazzy pet.
After I have my tortoises, of course.
And there was a guy who taunted at you, while you threw tomatoes at him. I did not partake in that. We wandered the shops, on the hunt for swords and knives (this is how my family operates) but were disappointed. Oh well. It was still pretty there! I loved all the costumes and the maypoles, their colorful ribbons streaming in the air.
I think it would have been more fun if I was actually part of the faire, or in a group of people who all dressed up, or if this particular faire hadn’t become so Disneyfied.
Next time, I’m just going to invent a time machine and go back to the actual Renaissance for the real deal. Feel free to join.