Five to six. Instead of standing patiently in front of my building waiting for my ride, I am kneeling next to a bag that doesn’t want to close because its content is three times the size it should be. Yesterday, I had scrupulously gone through my wardrobe and chosen appropriate clothes and shoes for all possible weather. My idea of traveling light and fashionably had turned into me dragging three non-matching bags and a dog bed from my apartment building. Traveling somehow never comes easy to me.
It is hard for me to fall asleep. I find myself twisting and turning until I slowly drift off into a light slumber. My thoughts weave through dream-like visions and when I wake up, I feel exhausted. Frustration rages through my veins. Why can’t I control my nerves any better? I feel like a child the night before a birthday! When I look out the window it’s still dark. I turn around and see the digital numbers on my alarm. Four o’clock. I will be picked up at 6. One more hour of sleep, at least. I turn again and make a vain attempt to doze off, but I know it’s pointless. My brain is awake, my body is restless and it’s better to get up and eat an early breakfast.
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Chapter 5
Minneapolis, Minnesota
October 27th 2014
The Ride
“So… this is Naran,” he says with an amused tone in his voice.
The Didelians know my name. And my address. But how? I’m too shy to ask.
“We are very happy to have you with us, Naran. Please take a seat in the car and let me take care of your luggage.”
“Oh… thank you,” I answer and push the last things into my bulging bag. I hide my blushing cheeks by staring toward the ground. The Didelian man picks up the dog bed and three bags at once and lifts them into the large white jeep.
Once we’re on our way, the man introduces himself as Swenron. I only nod. I don’t know what to say, nor do I ask him anything. Now that sadness and timidness are distinguished, Swenron seems to understand that I need some time to warm up. In silence, I stare out of the window into the streets of Minneapolis while my mind is revolving in nervous circles.
We turn on to I-35W North. The Didelian performance Arena is set up in the Flambeau River State Forest in Wisconsin, which is a 3.5-hour drive.
The man turns on the radio.
Nobody knows where the Didelians are originally from. They have traveled the world with their spectacle for decades. It started in Florida in 1970, when a gigantic stone Arena appeared out of nowhere in a grass field during a full moon night. Curious passers-by were invited to see a spectacle so magical, that stories about it instantly spread all over the world. Ever since, the Arena and the camp stay for three successive full moon nights in the same location, after which the Didelians travel on, in a long caravan of rolling wooden houses, to a new destination. Nobody understands how the Arena can vanish so quickly and appear again the following show night. It is a mystery how the gigantic stone Arena is set up and taken down. It comes and goes, just as the Didelians.
Upon leaving, Luna almost pulls me face down the concrete stairs of the apartment building and I quickly grab the banister. In the process, I let go of two bags that roll down over a highly surprised dog that now hurries down even faster. One bag opens in the staircase. Underwear and socks fly in all directions. Horrified, I look down.
While I’m kneeling at the bottom of the stairs to retrieve my items, I hear a car approaching in the distance. I glare at Luna whom I hold responsible for this mess. When the car arrives at my house, it pulls over and a man steps out.
“Hi,” a happy and warm voice greets me while I am still immersed in my messy exodus.
“Hi…” I look up and try to smile politely. Apologetically, I glance at my clothes that are spread all over the pavement. To make things worse, Luna is running around with a bra and jumps happily up to the stranger. He has long, braided, red hair, which falls all the way to his waist. His skin is pale, and he is covered with freckles. With these features I expect him to have light blue eyes but when I look more closely, they are dark brown. His clothing is unmistakably Didelian; it is colorful, decorated with beads and made of rough leather, suede, and wool. It doesn’t look anything like the clothes I’m used to. The soft shoes he wears have fur linings. His winter jacket has a large hood with bright yellow colors that give this man a joyful and lively glow in the early morning. The man smiles broadly, pets Luna and crouches down to give me a hug.
“Borrowed,” he says while looking at the car.
“Nice,” I say timidly. I take Luna and push her impatiently into the backseat while I jump in the front. The man’s movements are smooth and elegant. When he sits down in the driver seat, he looks at me and I stare at my hands. His disarming smile and friendly eyes make me feel less nervous but still I can’t believe what’s happening. I get to spend three months with the most mysterious and desired group of people on this earth… Part of me questions whether I am a victim of a well-organized prank, or if they are going to lock me up for trespassing. When the man scrutinizes my face, his expression suddenly changes.
“You’re disappointed,” he says with a voice that shifts into a sad minor chord. “You expected something fancy, something typically Didelian. A flying car of some sort perhaps.”
I look at the man, puzzled.
“You’re sad,” he adds.
“Oh, no. I’m not sad, or disappointed. This is my shy face.”
“Ah!” he sounds relieved. “You’re shy, not sad. Good.”
I laugh.
“Didelians are not often shy,” he explains. “Sad, yes.”
“I see,” I nod while he starts the car. This is going to be an interesting ride.
Swenron drives fast; we pass endless green meadows, lengthy forests, and numerous lakes to which Minnesota owes its name ‘Land of Ten Thousand Lakes’. I’m quite happy to leave the city behind. Even though there are beautiful parks and beaches in Minneapolis, the state capital, its downtown is always flooded with traffic, honking horns, and fumes. I look at Swenron from the corner of my eye.
The Didelians are generally taller than the average person, have thicker hair and fair skin of which is said resembles silk. When paying attention to their looks, they could easily be mistaken for Nordics.
Their behavior is as mystical as their looks. Didelians are thought to have ‘supernatural’ qualities. They are known to defy gravity and have even been seen flying. They also communicate differently than we do. Rumors say Didelians talk directly through the mind instead of using spoken words. It is said that they can go for days without using their voice. But their shows are what distinguishes them the most. Their shows are outright mesmerizing. Many claim their shows are an optical illusion, while others say they are magicians with special powers. Didelians never speak about their origin, nor have they ever answered any questions. Scientists haven’t been able to do DNA research to find their genetic roots. What we do know, is based upon our own assumptions.
Almost two months ago, on the 10th of August, the Didelians arrived at the Flambeau River State Forest in Wisconsin, right on the state border of Minnesota, where they will stay at least until the full moon of November the 10th. The Didelians are extremely private. From the moment it is set up in a new location, the camp is closed off from visitors.
But today I am joining them, and I will stay with them when they depart to their next location. I do not know where we will go. Nobody does. Never before in history have the Didelians invited someone to travel with them. It’s an unusual punishment for my trespassing. Maybe they’ll have me clean stables and carriages without any breaks. But it is better than jail, I suppose.
Swenron breaks the silence when he decides to share a personal story. I’m guessing it’s an attempt to ease into conversation.
“Once,” he says, “I had the hiccups for a year.” He smiles and scrutinizes my face to see how I respond. I hesitantly smile back.
“I couldn’t stop, no matter how hard I tried,” he continues. “Not even Gaoul tea helped. You don’t know what Gaoul tea is, of course, but you’ll find out soon. It’s delicious. My hiccups were so bad that I couldn’t even hold my cup straight. I went to everyone I could find for advice, including Deeri, whom you’ll meet. She said it was a test; I had to learn to live with imbalance in my life. Well… it wasn’t a figure of speech. I was as imbalanced as I could be.”
The strange story makes me giggle and Swenron continues.
“You see, Naran, dear old Deeri finds purpose in everything.”
“It must have been difficult for you,” I say softly.
“It was hardest on my wife. The hiccups continued at night too. After a few months, I discovered a pattern. The time between hiccups was as following: short, short, long, very long, short, long. Once I cracked the code, I learned how to move with the hiccups so that my liquids wouldn’t spill anymore.” Swenron laughs. “I started swaying with my hiccups. People thought I was dancing. They started to call me ‘Swaying Swenron’. The hiccups passed years ago but they still call me by that name. And so can you.”
I laugh. This man is quite strange. While Swaying Swenron concludes his story we take a right turn onto a dirt road and I recognize the location. In the distance I see a dark forest and behind it, a large building towers into the sky. I get goose bumps looking at it. It is the Arena.