Friday:

Akim and I loaded the SUV pretty early, but didn’t really set out to leave town till 9 AM. We took a route other than that recommended by Google and by our GPS, because the road we wanted didn’t exist when our GPS was loaded into the car. We’ll update that soon enough. Akim was all hot to drive, so I didn’t argue, just enjoyed the scenery. We stopped a few times to get drinks or use the bathrooms along the way, and arrived at the Simple Day site at… I don’t know what time, actually. Maybe, oh, 3:30 or 4:00 PM?

Akim set up the tent while I went back to town for last-minute ice purchases and some extra citronella candles. The no-see-ums and other bugs were out in force, and I always get eaten alive, so this was necessary. By the time I got back, Akim had finished the tent set-up. He took a break and I set up the cots, bedding, and arranged our living space. We were camped over by the hound coursers because last year we enjoyed their company, and didn’t regret it for an instant.

Evening dinner was Israeli salad, rice, hummus with pita for Akim, and hummus with gluten-free rice crackers for me. Plain, good, refreshing, and cool — no cooking necessary. We ate our meal, then socialized with the coursers for a bit before heading for showers and changing from mundane clothing to medieval garb. Just in time, we got back to our tent, set up the Sabbath candles/wine/bread, and made the appropriate prayers. Even after the sun set, it had to be at least 85F with an extremely high humidity. I remember praying for rain, which I figured would break the humidity, but it didn’t come.

After more socializing, we said our evening prayers and then hit the proverbial sack. At home I generally wear pajamas, but I couldn’t bear the touch of fabric in such heat, so I didn’t. I’m not sure that Akim did, either, even though he handles heat much better than I do. Hard to tell, though, since the ‘cupping’ nature of our canvas camping cots is that we can’t really touch one another without draping our arms across the hard, uncomfortable side bars. The temperature fell enough to be actually comfortable, a great physical and emotional relief, even though the humidity remained quite high.

Saturday:

I awakened at I-know-not-what-time, dressed, said morning prayers, and went straight to the bath house for morning ablutions. Once finished, I joined Akim, who had done the same thing but earlier, and the hound coursers. Akim had eaten some more of our Israeli salad for breakfast, but to me it was just too hot to eat already, so I drank a 52oz insulated mug of water while we enjoyed the Shabbat morning among our new friends. I like the coursing hounds and their humans. Good folks, every last one. Most are not concerned overmuch with garb or encampment authenticity. Or, rather, they would be except that their spare income goes to supporting their greyhounds rather than themselves, so they put together the best garb they can with whatever’s left. That’s as it should be, I feel: take care of living creatures first, and only then devote resources to appearances. Too, they haven’t all been quick to settle on specific times and places within our period of study, and instead they’ll jump from time to time and place to place depending on what they have, what interests them in a given moment, and what the weather’s like. It’s not the route everyone would choose, but for them it works nicely, so I can only judge them with kindness. They’re really delightful to be around.

Akim and I have been looking long and hard for services we could perform at events, which tend to mostly take place on the Jewish Sabbath and therefore our activities are severely curtailed. Friday during social time, Mistress Rhiannon Siobhan Shynane mentioned that though they had people to clean up after lunch, they still needed two people to serve. We looked at one another and both decided that yes, we could do that without issue. So we headed to the lunch pavilion at about 10:15 or so, and started setting up and serving.

You know how when you’re sick, you’re completely rational, reasonable, and intelligent, while all around you there are overreacting idiots who keep squawking nonsensical stuff? Yeah, that’s what happened to me. I felt a little nauseous, I told Akim, but at least the heat had really broken nicely, and I wasn’t quite so sweaty, which was nice. Akim glanced at me and then shouted, “D’VORAH SIT YOUR @$$ DOWN RIGHT NOW.” From that moment on, my life consisted of at least a dozen people shouting nonsense at me, trying to undress me, force-feeding me with gallon upon gallon of water and fruity punch (which was delicious, but I was utterly stuffed and my belly actually hurt from the icy cold feel of the liquid they kept forcing me to drink), asking me when was the last time I went to the bathroom and/or insisting I should try to go right now, pouring water on me — alternating ice cold with boiling hot, which they all insisted was lukewarm and/or tepid — and demanding answers to ridiculous questions. Complete strangers, most of them. Only Akim was really recognizable, though there was one person named Jane that looked vaguely familiar. I kept asking what in the world was going on, why there was such a fuss, why everyone was angry at me, and why they couldn’t all just leave me alone and let me either sit down or get back to work as I’d promised.

Everyone ELSE, mind you, has a different story. Akim says that I complained of nausea, but in the hottest part of the day insisted that it was cold, and I had stopped producing sweat. He recognized this as heat stroke and suggested that I sit down, drink something. He told the Sternfeld chatelaine and her husband — lovely folks, by the way — that he needed a moment to take care of me, and that was when people looked and realized that my beet-red color wasn’t from a sunburn. When I complained at how cold it was, apparently heat was pouring off me in waves, and it burned his hand to touch my face. They kept pouring water over my head wrap, and could actually see steam evaporating slowly from me; they couldn’t keep me wet and cool. Several people escorted me back to the hound camp, where several angels — a female nurse, female EMT, female flight attendant with emergency-in-flight training, and two male ex-military folks — continued pouring water over me and into me, and offering me Pedialyte until I finally did what they were telling me to do. At the time they were perfect strangers to me, though when I had recovered somewhat, they turned into the same hound camp folks among whom I’d spent a day already — Caitlin the Red (the one I insisted was Jane), Juliana, Fiona, Corin, Cynwreg, Rodrigo, Matthias, Aidan, Torvall, Thomas, Amalie, and a lovely man in a purple tunic whose name I forget but whose face I doubt I ever will. They took my coat off me, which was really too heavy to wear to such a hot event. They tried to take my head wrap, but I shrieked and cried, so they simply loosened it and left my head nominally covered for the sake of modesty; they also sent the men away, though I didn’t realize that until later. I was left in light muslin tunic, trousers, and barely-still-on head wrap. They tell me that I alternated between being beet red and being ashy grey-white, because my blood vessels’ capillary action was impaired just as much as my inability to sweat or urinate. I’m told that instead of asking intelligent, reasonable questions, all I could manage was “What’s happening?” and “Akim?” Later, someone told me it looked as though I had an entire haram of women treating me like some big-shot empress or something. The head chirurgeon and the event autocrat were among them too, both very concerned and very gentle; that much I did notice, but I didn’t notice much else that survived in clear mental images for me. I’ve no doubt that the rest of them won’t forget it, though. One thing I do remember is the constant talk of emergency rooms, and constantly protesting that it wasn’t serious enough for that yet, for violating the Sabbath by driving, carrying money, or signing papers. Only if my life or health was in serious danger would that have been appropriate. I of course had no idea at the time that that was exactly what was in danger.

I have no idea how long it took before I finally started understanding what was being said to me, but I know that it was even longer before I was able to make my answers understood. When finally I went to the bathroom — which is supposed to be private, personal me-time — the whole camp needed to know about it, or they wouldn’t let it go. I know it’s for a medical reason now, but at the time I was still fog-minded enough to consider it no one’s business and very intrusive. There are still images in my mind, but I don’t know if those images are of things that happened, or “only the fatal vision[s] of a heat-oppressed brain.” I just know that there was a very real danger of permanent damage or death, and these wonderful people averted that danger in spite of my protestations and objections. I will always, always feed them and be grateful to them.

At about 4:30 PM, everyone agreed that while I was still foggy-minded, I could probably be allowed to go to court. “Because what if you get called up? Didn’t you enter the A&S competition?” someone said. “I won’t win,” I assured them all, “but if I do, I’ll probably do a chicken-dance.” I was in no danger of that, I knew, but suddenly they were all saying that I had PROMISED to do the chicken-dance, so I laughed and said sure.

Wouldn’t you know it, I did get called up. I’d won 4th place in the A&S competition. Just as I was on my way up, I heard my entire encampment singing what I think of as a German song because I heard it at Oktoberfests growing up. I couldn’t figure out what that was about, until I heard Akim yelling, “Chicken dance!” Traitorous husband! But at least I knew what was going on now. I laughed, a bit light-headed and confused. I mean, this wasn’t sitting around in camp, this was COURT. I wanted to go up with all solemnity and there they were, singing this polka (which as it turns out isn’t a German dance song, it’s a Polish dance song, hence the name). I was saved by His Majesty, who said he hoped I wouldn’t do the dance. Bless the man. I promised him, “For your pleasure, your majesty, I won’t do the dance here.” Then I got my prize from Mistress Rhiannon and sat back down.

Back at camp, everyone was disappointed, but I reminded them that I’d said probably, and I’d never said I would do the thing in court. Also, that I had meant to just strut around like a chicken, not do some “German” dance (I was at this time corrected — it’s a Polish dance, hence the name) that I didn’t even know. Someone taught me the dance, and I did it, to much applause (and a honk and thumbs up from someone in a car nearby), and thus I discharged my obligation.

The rest of the evening was, thank G*D, largely uneventful. We shared our Israeli salad, rice, hummus, and pita with everyone, because we’d brought too much as usual. They passed around bottles of this and that, and we each took a taste of spiced rum (only a bit, because no one wanted to see any more heat-drama, especially not alcohol-enhanced). After sunset, Akim and I mentioned we were going to make havdalah, the ceremony that brings an official end to the Sabbath and begins the six-day work week again. To our surprise, almost everyone in camp wanted to come with us for it, except two or three that were too tired, so we gathered up for the ceremony just outside our tent. It’s very short, just lighting a candle, sniffing spices, sipping wine (grape juice), and saying a couple of blessings. Once that was over, we all sat back down and socialized a bit more. Then we both showered (and by the way, I have a personal grudge against whoever urinated in the women’s shower, but at least I had my plastic shower shoes) and went to bed.

Sunday:

Overnight it had rained a little, and while the later day would prove to be almost as hot as the days before, morning was actually cool. Akim and I spent a grateful morning fielding questions: Yes, we have breakfast food; would you like some? Thank you, I’m feeling much better, thanks to everyone around me who gave me such good care and help. No, we have to leave by ten at the latest, but let’s exchange emails. We helped clean up the hound camp, packed up our own things, sat down to socialize more.

Just before we left, Cynwreg beckoned us over to speak with him. I won’t say what he said, but it touched our hearts. We made sure first that it was allowed for a person to be in more than one household, and then asked him if he would allow us to consider him our tattie, our little father (Yiddish, not really persona-appropriate for us, but he understood the fondness expressed in the word). He said yes. He also gave me a necklace that he’d been wearing for many years, a six-pointed star surrounded by metal and red-amber beads. I shall wear it often and think fondly of him.

I drove the first hour of the trip home, thinking I was fine. Then Akim noticed that I had no facial expression at all; I was devoting all my energy to road-concentration and none to conversation or expression. He very correctly said, “Pull over right now, sweetie.” I did, and he took over the driving. I don’t remember much after that; apparently I spent the rest of the ride asleep.

We got home, unloaded the car (mostly Akim, bless his heart), showered, sat down with carefully-prepared leftovers, BIG cold drinks, and our beloved feline daughters on our laps. Home.

Here’s something:

I’ll let D’vorah explain what happened to her!

Why the title? Well beforehand, D’vorah and I were sitting outside the library, where we were waiting for everyone in our garb, and I quipped ‘iPhones and ancient Israelites! Can’t get much more anachronistic!’

So far none of the garb has been sent to me yet, but then, I haven’t sent their feast gear, either. It took me a while to make, since I had to experiment with size, shape, glazes and underglazes, in order to get just what I wanted and just what the clients wanted. You’d be surprised how hard it is to get really good heraldic colors (red, yellow, green, blue, purple, white, black) in the colors prized by fans of heraldry. I mean, you can do it, but it takes a lot of trial and error, if your pottery studio doesn’t stock those colors. I had to go through a lot of glazes in the studio, and a lot of underglazes in the studio, and finally I just went out and bought some underglazes of my own because it’s so much easier to just paint on the color you’re after than to use the shop glazes — which are far more beautiful, in my opinion, but they’re not what people are looking for.

So, anyway…

One of the people who responded to my call for garb was a lovely woman who goes by the name of Lady Verena within the SCA. I’ve seen some of the garb she’s made and designed, and I am utterly certain that I’ll be thrilled with what she makes for me. But then I learned something else. She doesn’t just make stuff, oh no. She actually goes out and researches what people from X area of the world, who belonged to Y religion or ethnic subgroup, wore in Z century. She finds pictures, researches sumptuary laws, looks at extant textiles from that time and place, and really goes to town on it. She kicks research’s tachat. She photographs and photocopies her research and her clothing patterns, too. She comes over to your house and measures you in person, so you know you’ll get an outfit that not only looks amazing, but also feels really comfortable and fits beautifully. Then she puts it up on a website in order to keep track of it all. Check that out!

Also, just to mention, it is not easy to find information on Yemenite garb from the early 13th century. There’s very little information out there, so there’s a lot of room for error — but that also means there’s a lot of room for creativity. Given Yemen’s location, and especially the port city of Aden and its importance to the spice and silk trades, the easy proximity to India, mainland Africa, and of course the entire Arabian peninsula, there’s a lot of opportunity there for very multicultural fashion. This is especially true within the Jewish Yemenite community, whose members often either were well-travelled or were connected to travelers. So if someone gets something “wrong,” it’s just as easy to stay in-persona and say “Yes, I learned this style of clothes-making on our most recent voyage to India/the Maghreb/Cyrpus/the Holy Land” as it is to go out-of-persona and say “Oh, oops, guess I should have done more research” or “You may be right, but there’s so little knowledge that I decided to take liberties.”

Lady Verena is making one suit of garb each for me and for Akim, plus all that research, in exchange for one set of feast gear for herself and one for her Lord-boyfriend. But now that I’ve seen all the extra work she’s doing, I think I’d feel like a class A jerk if I didn’t throw in a couple of extra pieces for them. And a meal or two at an event. And the undying adoration of a true fan.

TENT: SoulPad 5000-Lite. (http://www.soulpad.com)

Size: 16.5 foot diameter, 24″ high walls, 8′ high center pole.
Construction: Cotton roof and walls, plastic tarp floor, thin metal stakes, nylon ropes & sliders.

I bought a SoulPad 5000-Lite because it has a detached floor. The 5000-Ease has an attached floor, which is easier to set up but heavier to schlep; we went with our upper body strength as our guide. It rained our first night, and the SoulPad’s cotton kept us dry and happy. It didn’t keep us warm, but it did breathe more and keep us slightly warmer than a nylon earth-pimple did last summer at our first event; we’d have been fine if we’d brought more bedding. Akim, Tziporah, and I started setting up together. Akim had me stand in the middle and hold up the pole while he put the door frame in; after that, he sent us off to the grocery store for fresh vegetables. When we got back, the entire camp was set up; that’s how easy it was for Akim working mostly alone. He needed our help for a total of less than 15 minutes, and even then, we were mostly just being given something to do. Akim is not a large man (his persona is 6′ tall and powerful, but his portrayer is 5’6″ and of skinny-scholar build and strength), so clearly it doesn’t take much in the way of upper body power or athletic prowess to erect a SoulPad successfully.

Things to keep in mind when contemplating a SoulPad:

(1) Measurements, including weight, are in metric. 25 kg is NOT 25 pounds. It’s 67 pounds. Thou hast been warned. And yes, I’m the one who didn’t read carefully enough. I are a idiot.

(2) The ground ‘cloth’ is plastic tarp. I thought that would be a drawback, but after a couple of nights when we woke to frost on the ground which turned to mud, we were pleased to only have to wait for the floor to dry and then sweep with a whisk broom, rather than knowing we’d have to launder the floor when we got home.

(3) You can fit three people plus a respectable amount of gear in a SoulPad 5000-Lite or 5000-Ease. We would have been entirely unable to fit a fourth person in there and still have walking space to get into the cots. And to be truly happy, we’d have loved to put two people in there, plus gear, and then had a little more walking-around room.

(4) If your budget permits and if you have the skill to install it, get a wood burning stove for your SoulPad. I consider this of vital importance. I’d have cheerfully committed blackmail or murder to acquire some sort of heating device when the temperature at Gulf Wars dropped below 40… and it got below 30, if the frost on the ground is any indication.

LOCATION: Al-Mahala

One spot was very like another in terms of geography, but the amenities and proximities made all the difference. Al-Mahala was very close to two banks of port-a-privies, for instance, which helped a great deal, first thing in the morning. Not to be indelicate, but when I wake up, it’s usually because I have about 30 seconds to make it to the Necessary Room, so having the porto there was a lovely thing indeed. For all that I hate portos, I was grateful for their nearness every single morning.

We were about a 2 minute walk to the nearest bath house, behind the Green Dragon. Again, I don’t love the bath house experience — I keep myself covered, not even exposing my HAIR, so showering with insufficient curtains and having to dress out in the public room was painful for me — but nearness was a blessing. If I could have figured out how to use the camp shower that was less than 20 feet from my tent door, I would have, but I wasn’t smart enough, so I had to eschew it.

The camp kitchen, though… Whoever thought to bring running water into camp, and whoever made it happen, I love you. Tell me who you are, and I’ll find a way to cook for you. You made our camp a convenient one to live in, and you have my undying gratitude. A thousand salaams.

And finally, though I resist ghettoization in my ‘real’ (modern) life, I found it wonderful to camp with so many people who share my interests in my medieval life. I only wish I’d had more time to attend classes and get to know more of you.

FOOD: Plentiful, varied, tasty.

We were not on the Al-Mahala meal plan because I and my two campmates keep kosher, so we couldn’t share the group’s food. I smelled some of that food, though, and wished I could sample it. The smells were delicious and tempting. We must share recipes.

That said, our own food was also delicious. The three of us (Akim, Tziporah, and I) shared responsibilities.

I’d marinated some lamb and beef riblets for the barbecue competition; but because we didn’t arrive at camp and get ourselves set up until the competition was starting, we didn’t get to enter it. I’d love to know who won. I’m of the opinion that if we’d entered, our meat would have gotten an honorable mention, though we probably wouldn’t have won. I’d have preferred to be there Monday and begun the long slow smoking process then, but… oh, well. The results were delicious even if we didn’t get to share them in the competition format. We supplemented the meat heavily with roasted vegetables. Dessert that first night was baked apples with jaggery, ground nuts, and a sweet spice mix (cinnamon, clove, mace, nutmeg, cardamom).

Each day, we breakfasted on homemade, gluten-free, nut-free granola with almond milk, as well as boiled eggs for protein. Our lunches were leftovers from the previous evening, plus additions such as more/different roasted vegetables, egg salad, injera, baba ghanouj with cucumber slices for dipping, and the like. Dinners included roasted za’atar chicken, vegetarian dahl, vegetarian chickpea and almond pilaf (which we mixed with the dahl and gave to the hospitality table for sharing), and so on.

We didn’t stick to our original menus, because there were some ingredients that we didn’t have room to pack in the car and couldn’t find available in Lumberton. We also had to emergency-use-up a lot of our supplies and/or find people who could use them, because we left early — more on that later. But what we did make, whether planned or improvised, satisfied us in terms of taste and nutrition. And while we didn’t do a single speck of intentional research on period-authenticity of our food, we did know that the ingredients were available in period; and we knew that we were like many private families that cooked what sounded good together, rather than preparing a feast from set recipes for a calif’s or sultan’s table. We felt good about our dishes, as did those who came and ate with us.

NEIGHBORHOOD: Al-Mahala ROCKS.

There probably aren’t too many places we wouldn’t have thoroughly enjoyed our neighbors, but for our first Gulf Wars, we definitely picked the right set. Al-Mahala folk were universally kind, welcoming, and friendly. We felt immediately enveloped in their Near Eastern hospitality.

When we (stupidly) used fallen wood to build a fire, we accidentally smoked out some of our neighbors. They let us know, and pointed out better fuel sources, so that we wouldn’t torture them again. We felt like jerks, but they handled us gently and forgave us readily for our error.

The nightly drums chanted us to sleep. The first night, drumbeats faded into raindrops on our tent, a musical and magical experience that helped us to more easily put up with the cold for which we had not adequately prepared. The next night, dancers demonstrated their athletic prowess and their great artistry and control. Of particular note, an incredibly skilled and captivating fan-veil dance and a flame-haired young lady that moved like a graceful bird. If I hadn’t had 4 AM watch duty the following morning, I would have loved to stay later and see more. I’ll take the memories of those whirling, flashing movements with me into the future. They made me wish I could dance, too.

People came by at all waking hours to chat, to offer helpful comments, and just to spend time. I didn’t get every person’s name or contact information that I wanted, so I hope that my wonderful new Al-Mahala family are reading this and will message me. Lady Amina, Lady Edwina, AJ, Natasha, Renda, Ursula, Mad Dog, and others whose names I didn’t get (or can’t spell)… come eat at my fire any time you like.

Someone let us know how to spot areas that would become rivers when it rained. Someone pointed out that the wind direction when we were setting up was unusual, and told us where the prevailing wind would come from, so we could set up our camp in a better way. Someone loaned us salt when we forgot our own. And everyone who wasn’t already stuffed with delicious Al-Mahala meal plan food came by to sample ours and gave us generous compliments to help swell our egos. Thank you all. You are amazing. You’re the reason we’ll try to make it to another Gulf Wars soon, rather than going out to Estrella or An Tir/West War after the obligatory Pennsic pilgrimage — maybe even before we try for the closer-to-us Lilies War.

VOLUNTEERING: Mixed success.

I signed up for two 4 AM shifts at the Watch Point, Wednesday and Thursday mornings. That was under two assumptions, the first of which was that we would get to the GW site around 1 PM Tuesday, so that I could leave Akim and Tziporah to set up camp while I checked in and found out where to go. Instead, we arrived at about 4:30 PM and I had to QUICKLY run back to town to pick up charcoal. That took an hour and a half, so there was no one at Volunteer Point who could tell me where to go in the morning.

The second assumption was that Akim’s iPhone would ring loudly enough for me to hear and awaken at 3:30. Instead, the phone got bumped in such a way that it flicked over to silent mode. We didn’t wake up until 7:30 that morning, at which point I heard Akim muttering, “D’vorah, 7:30.” My immediate response was, “My duty devolved onto someone else.” I felt horrible.

Later Wednesday, I went to Volunteer Point, who showed me where Watch Point was, so at least I’d be going to the right place on Thursday morning. We also re-set the alarm and its volume, so that it wouldn’t fail. It didn’t. Thursday morning, 3:30, I heard the iPhone’s happy little church bells (closest we could come to a period/peri-oid sound), and I hustled myself down to the Watch Point.

The duty wasn’t hard to do, and I got to spend the early morning with Lie du Bosc, a kind and entertaining second-generation SCAdian. She mentioned her volunteering as if it was nothing, but it sounded huge to me. I’ve no idea why she doesn’t have a Pelican elevation yet, let alone a Pelican mentor/master or even an AOA. She apparently volunteers for the ‘invisible’ duties, the things that happen while others are asleep, so she doesn’t really get noticed. Well, I noticed. I get the impression that while Lie doesn’t do anything for the sake of recognition, and might be embarrassed by recognition, it would be an embarrassment she’d enjoy, and it would do a lot to keep her enthusiasm for volunteerism. Please, someone in her kingdom, point out what she’s done and recognize her for an award she’s waited 20 years for. If Lie du Bosc doesn’t have that award by next Gulf Wars, I will be very disappointed.

I wish I’d volunteered for more shifts. I wish I’d awakened in time for that first shift that I missed. I wish… but I didn’t. Now I know what it is to have regrets about an SCA experience. I didn’t give nearly enough to others. I feel unsatisfied with this part of my War.

SUMMATION: Mixed success.

We’d have stayed longer, but I caught a nasty flu and my campmates decided to bundle me off to a hotel with a cushy warm bed and a hot shower, for which I’m eternally grateful. I was feeling bad from about Wednesday night onward, but didn’t speak up until Thursday night. I’m glad I gave us that extra day to be there, but I did suffer for it, that last night. Part of me wishes that I’d spoken up in time to leave Thursday night instead of Friday morning, because Thursday night I barely slept, froze my yarbles off, and was generally miserable. I’m sure my snuffling and sneezing kept my tentmates and other Al-Mahala denizens awake, too, and for that I’m extremely apologetic.

I missed out on shopping. Wednesday I went out with Tziporah and saw maybe ten shops in all before we had to get back to camp so Akim could go to a class. Then Akim and Tziporah wouldn’t let me go out and see more merchants on Thursday, once I let them know I didn’t feel good, so I missed out on a good 3/4 of the shops.

I was upset that we didn’t get to cook more of the food we’d planned, shopped for, and spent money for. We wound up leaving most of our meat and vegetables with others, rather than sharing our creativity and skill with them as we’d intended. We never got to open our Sabbath table to our new friends, and that’s my biggest regret.

I also felt terrible that we’d paid to stay Tuesday to Sunday, but had to leave Friday morning instead. I’d have really liked to be able to pay a per-day rate instead of paying “from arrival to the end of it all,” though I understand the bookkeeping hassle that would have been necessary for day rates. We only made use of half of the time we paid for, though, and I kind of itch when I think about that. Still, out of that three-instead-of-six days, we made a SCAdian convert, and I’m willing to bet she’ll eventually convert the rest of her family, too. Another family, five more Children of the Dragon to enrich the Middle Kingdom and the Society. I’m looking forward to that.

The time we spent there was wonderful, even with my influenza. I will consider Gulf Wars a home from now on.

Next time we listen to Lady Amina. Seven blankets below, seven above.

And me? I want a little Coleman (maybe this one) so that I can make a quick cup of coffee (or 12) without the need for a big fire. I’d still want the grill, mind you, for BBQ.

So you’re interested in eating with us? Great! Here are some things to keep in mind:

The meals on Friday night through Saturday night are special, at least for us here at Meals On Camels. They’re our Sabbath meals, which means that often our conversation will center around topics of interest to us as Jews (in both modern life and medieval life) — Jewish history, law, customs, ideas. Guests aren’t obligated to take part, but if you’re interested, questions are highly encouraged, because learning is a sacred thing with us, and we’re all about sharing knowledge.

We’re not offering this as a “class” per se, but if you come, expect to learn something and to eat well. After the Sabbath is over, if you feel you’d like to help us offset the cost of the meal and enable us to create more such experiences for others at future events, we’re grateful for contributions. However, that’s on a strictly voluntary basis, not something we request or require; and we will neither accept nor discuss money between the start of Friday evening and nightfall Saturday.

Tuesday [Night]

Barbecued lamb & beef riblets, baked apples, grilled vegetables, green salad

Wednesday

Breakfast: Granola with almond milk, hardboiled eggs (?), fruit, tea (make oat bread for 2 days)
Lunch: Dahl, bread w/oil, leftover grilled vegetables, fruit, nuts, sweets.
Dinner: Chickpea almond pilau, lettuce wraps.

Thursday

Breakfast: Oatmeal with honey, fruit
Lunch: Egg salad on injera, cucumber salad
Dinner: Vegetable and soybean stew, rice, cici-pom salad

Friday

Breakfast: Pancakes with jam, fruit, hardboiled eggs
Lunch: Homemade hummus, vegetables in brown rice wraps, leftovers
Dinner: Kiddush/Hamotzi. Za’atar chicken soup, cucumber salad, mushroom salad, baked gourd by Tzipi, grilled chicken thighs by Akim, apples, dates, nuts
Desserts: Dried fruit, laddoos, nuts with honey, Moroccan date balls and date-nut balls (separate them please!), baklawa, lokum (Turkish delight), halwa

Saturday (Shabbat)

Breakfast: Ataief by Tzipi, fruit, almond/soy milk
Lunch: Kiddush/Hamotzi, adafina with eggs & sausages, kubeh, millet tabbouleh (no tomatoes), olives, pickles, greens salad, chopped salad (similar to dak-dak)
Desserts: Laddoos (with margarine), fruits; date-nut balls; leftovers from night before
Dinner (Se’udat Sh’lishit): Leftover za’atar soup, leftovers , cherry-apple crumble
Melava Malkah [opt.]: chai masala, left-overs, fried salami wraps if needed, leftover sweets

Sunday

Packing (so anything left is fair game).

Also, due to the merchant rules at Gulf Wars (and space on our camel, Shelby), we WILL NOT be selling D’vorah’s pottery wares, but if you come by and like the fancy bowls and plates we’re eating off of, we’ll have her card and you can drop her a note.