Wanting to attend a Renaissance festival probably takes a certain type of person. And while I don’t actually have a “bucket list,” I’ll admit that if I had one, a Renaissance festival would be on it.
After a busy holiday weekend with lots of photo booth rentals, a wedding that we photographed, and a track meet for three of the kids, I was happy to have Monday free.
I knew there was a Renaissance festival going on near us over the weekend and I thought this was the perfect opportunity to finally go to one.
The conversation between Chris and I went something like this:
Me to Chris: “Do you have any interest in going to a Renaissance festival?”
Chris: “No.”
Me: “I want to go. I know the kids would love it.”
Chris: “You asked if I had any interest.”
Me: “Let’s try this again. I think we should go to the Renaissance festival.”
Chris: [he may have rolled his eyes here, I don’t remember] “Fine.”
We walked into the temporary village of tents and were instantly greeted with a ragtag group of fighters who battled it out in a field in the hot sun, all for the cheers of the spectators. Since it was hot and sticky for us watching from the shade, I’m sure they were uncomfortable in their full Renaissance costumes.
We continued on and people “in character” would happily chat with us, like the villainous man who offered to removed teeth from my six-year-old’s mouth to help the tooth fairy. We watched as a man drank alcohol and breathed out fire, pirates that tried to outwit each other and duals by horseback and on foot. There were people weaving on looms, cooking in kettles and carving wood. The whole area had a jovial, friendly vibe and they seemed genuinely excited to share what they were doing.
There were many ways that they engaged the whole family. Kids were invited to participate in the shows, like when my eight-year-old was invited to throw a log pole. All the kids had a chance to practice archery, but I stopped short at allowing my son to throw axes at a tree stump. That seemed a little too much for me- I could just see him dropping the sharp blade on his foot. *Shudder*
Walking around with a huge turkey drumstick seemed like a necessity, judging by how many people we saw doing it, so of course, we joined in. And, for better or worse, I agreed to buying the boys wooden weapons. I really thought the swords were cooler, but they both opted for axes. (Surprisingly, they haven’t hit each other–yet.)
The kids are ready to go back to the festival next year. It was “steam punk” enough that my 16-year-old loved the shops and wants to buy the clothes, and the boys loved all the fighting and “horseplay.” My eight-year-old wants to make going a new tradition.
As we drove away, I asked Chris what he thought. “It was exactly like I thought it was going to be,” he said, maybe with a little condescension. [He didn’t roll his eyes here, but it sounded like it. I’m choosing to ignore it.]
I smiled. “I know, me too. It was exactly like I thought it was going to be. We should come back next year.”