The past week and half has flown by, and I have flown with it. I write this as I sit on the plane about to return to Napa from my first visit back east. I’m a mix of emotions right now – sad, happy, content, unsettled, all at once. Do I miss living in New York? I can honestly say I don’t. But, was the trip worth it? Absolutely.
It’s hard to believe it was only a week ago that I was frolicking in the Nevada desert, proclaiming the end of my Burning Man “virginity,” as experienced Burners refer to us first-timers (I was instructed to roll around in the desert sand and ring a bell on arrival). It’s even harder to believe that it was only three months ago that I left New York. Time seems to be passing quickly and slowly at the same time.
I’m not sure it would have been possible for me to have had two more drastically different experiences in a single week. Burning Man was the epitome of everything against my nature – free-form, abstract, an ultimately non-conventional environment.
New York, on the other hand, was a return to my roots – the hustle and bustle that my Type A personality thrives off of.
Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed both – there’s a time and a place for each – but I don’t think I belong in either. When I moved to Napa, I knew there would be things about New York that I would miss, but I regularly tell new people I meet that New York is a great place to visit. And that’s just it – a place to visit. I can’t handle much more than that.
Same with Burning Man. It was a great place to visit, but I certainly couldn’t call it home. I imagine there are people who must be forced to leave at the end of the week, those who live for this one week of the year where they can do whatever they desire, free from judgment and the constraints of society. For me, it was a much needed break from reality. I could have handled the full week, but three days was plenty.
What did I do there, you may be asking? Well, the beauty of Burning Man is the fact that you don’t have to do anything. Sure, there are those who give the festival its reputation, who are high on something at all moments and wearing, well, nothing. Yet, save for the nightly indulgence in wine (I did go with a winemaker after all! In a 1970 red VW bus!), I was substance-free for the duration and truly feel I embraced the experience.
After a few days of quietly observing – and participating – on foot, on bike (everyone seemed to be cycling on the playa) and on a “mutant vehicle” (any vehicle driven on the playa must be registered in advance of the week with the DMV, department of mutant vehicles), I was thoroughly covered in dust. Goggles and facemasks saved me from the white-outs, brought on by the wind carrying the dust through the air, but I was still desperately in need of a shower when I returned to Napa – at 5am on Monday morning, a mere few hours before my flight to New York.
Yet, despite three days without a proper shower, and enough dust to give me a preview of what I’ll look like when my hair goes gray, I never felt dirty on the playa. Rather, I found it cleansing, cathartic even. I left for New York feeling rejuvenated, reenergized and excited to see family and friends.
I could have easily stood to have another week in New York. I feel as though I didn’t get to see nearly everyone I wanted to, do everything I had hoped to do. Fresh off the calming energy of the playa, I instantly fell back into the fast pace of the big apple, and found myself stressing over fitting everything in within a finite period of time.
Before I knew it, the week was over and I wasn’t quite sure where the time went. I spent evenings with my family celebrating Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, eating lots of food. Then, I went on a foodie bike tour of Manhattan and Brooklyn with my dear friend Amy and her brother, Oliver, who was visiting from the UK – and ate more food. Then we all had dinner at the apartment of my friends Dan and Rhiannon, where we opened a 1997 Syrah from the now defunct Sonoma Valley label, Selby, and, of course, ate even more food. My jeans are fitting a little more snuggly now.
Ironically, I’m now on the way back to Napa, home of good wine and food, with the intentions of detoxing. Which means I’ll have more time to share stories from my crazy time at Burning Man this past week.
So, am I coming from or going home now? Perhaps one of the reasons I don’t miss living in New York is that I know that it will always be a home to me on some level. I felt a pang of loss this morning saying goodbye to my parents and willingly flinging myself back to the west coast, where I, really, still don’t have a comfort level. It was bittersweet to come home; it was so wonderful to see people I love, but hard to admit that it’s not where I belong. At least not right now.
Though Napa doesn’t quite feel like home (yet, or will it ever?), it is where I’m meant to be. And, while on the surface it might seem like I’m living a fantasy – that I have the dream job, the dream house, the dream life – I’m doing it all on my own, which can be lonely at times. As much as I crave the excitement of a new place, the novelty of living “the good life,” I long for the comfort of structure and routine.
My parents have kept my apartment in New York, so it really was like going home this week when I stayed there, as if I stepped back in time. I had one foot in my past New York life and one foot in my current Napa existence, a truly surreal experience. But, maybe a crucial one for letting go. In a way, I came to say goodbye.
At one point, New York was a unsettling place for me, but now I can look back on it fondly. And, as I continue to work towards making Napa feel more like home, it’s comforting to know that New York will still welcome me with open arms whenever I crave its embrace.
And, that in less than 365 days, Burning Man will again do the same – should I choose to return.
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