"Where am I?" I've been asking myself that for two days, the length of time it takes, in my opinion, to acclimatize to an environment as atmospheric as it is festive. And if there is one thing that you can develop in the desert of Black Rock City, it's the art of the absurd. You walk on the playa and you come across endless surrealistic scenes that just make you shake your head...
BRC is laid out like American cities divided up into blocks. Most camps have a dome, a collective living room for camp members and for entertaining visitors. The luckiest have an "art car" to get around. These are the only authorized motorized vehicles on the playa and in the 'streets'. The first night, I saw a funky bus go by having a counter and bar stools set up in back with a dance floor upstairs -- which was barreling along to the music of James Brown. Trailing behind was a motorized sofa with three guys on it...
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