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We knew we were in for a mix of the modern and medieval when we spotted a man by the ATM lacing up his girlfriend's green corset. Nearby we saw a girl in a lavender fairy costume and a boy in a tricorn hat.
The Renaissance Festival is all about living the fantasy, and some people who attend like to wear costumes. In fact, the interactive element is such a part of Ren Fest tradition that paying customers are called "playtons," a merger of players and patrons.
I grew up in California, where I went to one of the first renaissance festivals in the nation, in the hills north of San Francisco. I would wear a wreath of dried flowers and my "Little House on the Prairie" calico dress, and it never occurred to me my costume was 400 years out of date. I was just thrilled to be a participant in the spectacle. I sat through snippets of Shakespeare plays and had my picture taken in the stocks.
The original Renaissance Festival was started in southern California in the 1960s by a teacher as a way for her students to experience history. As these fairs popped up all over the country, they lost their focus on historical accuracy and became big business. But they are still fun places to take kids, if you have a strategy to manage the budget and the bawdiness.
The Minnesota Renaissance Festival is now in its 39th season and is one of the largest in the country, according to producer Mid-America Festivals. Last year, it drew nearly 270,000 people over seven weekends. It employs
Before we left home, I got into the spirit and changed clothes. Nothing medieval, just an ankle-length dress. My second-grader is used to seeing me in khaki slacks.
"Whoa!" he said when I came out of the bedroom.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"Uh. ... Nothing. ... I'm just surprised you're going out in that thing."
With that vote of confidence, we set off for the festival.
As soon as we stepped through gates, we were greeted by a cheerful young man in breeches.
"Welcome to the fair! We have a new rule this year," he said in a fast and accented patter. "You must leave with the same number of children as you come with. Last year, we had a bit of a flap, something about the stew. We are not collecting children this year."
My three kids — ages 3, 7 and 9 — gazed at him blankly, unprepared for the banter that's a hallmark of the street performers. Then, some trumpets blared a fanfare, and we looked up the dusty road to see the approach of the morning parade.
The women wore richly colored, long dresses and the men wore
WAND MAKING AND ROPE CLIMBING
The Renaissance Festival has made efforts in recent years to add entertainment and activities specifically for children (see sidebar for recommendations). Our first stop was the children's knighting ceremony, where we sat on wood benches and listened as a herald in a red velvet cape led us in a cheer of "God save the king!"
We were entertained by a magician and singing from the court revelers. Then, about 30 kids lined up for their knighting. The first child was a preschooler named Ole, who grinned wildly in his plastic Viking hat as he kneeled to let the king tap his shoulders with a long sword.
My daughter's favorite activities were the sheep-herding contest and the Children's Realm, where she made a wand and helped her brothers in a treasure hunt that involved putting together clues and finding a dozen or so ceramic gnomes and other creatures hidden around a garden.
The boys liked the games and tests of skill. My 7-year-old watched people try to climb Jacob's ladder, a rope ladder with six wood rungs suspended over a bed of straw. It was anchored to the ground on one end and to the top of a 6-foot tripod at the other. The goal was to toot a horn at the top. It's one of those seemingly simple stunts that tricks you into assuming everyone who fails is incompetent and you could do better.
"I admire thy determination," said the barker to a girl as she clung to the underside of the ladder. "But once turned over, thy turn is over."
My younger son turned over $2 and flipped over three times.
His brother was more cautious. He watched as others tried to toss throwing stars into a wood wall, shoot a bow and arrow and catapult balls into the turret of a model wood castle. He decided to spend his $2 on a maze and slide.
Both boys roped themselves into a harness and bungee cords and had a blast jumping on a huge trampoline.
There were dozens of other options - pony rides ($3), elephant and camel rides ($4), a climbing wall built as a castle tower ($4), giant swings in the shape of sailing ships ($2) and a fencing game ($2) that involved putting on a big mesh face mask and padded tunic and trying to pop a balloon attached to an opponent's helmet.
KNIGHTS AND KNIFE THROWERS
I tried to get my sons to fence, but they preferred to leave the fighting to the professionals. And there is some pretty awesome fighting at the fair.
In the jousting area, we watched men in armor use lances to knock each other off their horses. I would have enjoyed it even more if I could have understood the joust master. The combination of accent and bad amplification made him unintelligible from the back row where I stood, and I noticed the people on one side of me were cheering for "Orin" while those on the other were cheering "Owen."
Next, we opted for some verbal jousting. We headed over to a main stage to catch the Danger Committee, three men who juggle and toss around knives and hilarious verbal barbs. With 11 stages, it's impossible to take in all the acts at the fair, but try to catch this one. They juggle improbable objects, such as a toilet plunger and a garden weasel.
For their final stunt, one man stood in front of a wood backboard and balanced a cucumber lengthwise on his forearm while his colleague threw a knife and sliced the cucumber in half. My sons said these guys were the best part of the fair.
Some of the other acts are not so appropriate for children. They're far too bawdy. The daily schedule available at the front gate marks certain acts as "loose canons." We caught some good music and steered clear of the Tortuga Twins.
But it's impossible to avoid all the risque humor. Most of it is low-key, along the lines of T-shirts for sale that say, "Once a king is always a king, but once a knight is never enough."
The only time I blushed was when we passed the Dunk a Wench booth. The hawker was challenging men to pick up balls and hurl them at a target that would dump a woman into a tub of water. The stream of double entendre made me hustle the kids along.
Another aspect some parents might want to manage is their budget. The entrance fee is steep, and while plenty of entertainment is free, it's easy to drop a lot of money. We spent more than I intended on food ($5.75 for fish and chips. $3 for corn dogs. $5.75 for smoothies). Next time, I'll copy the other families I saw and bring a picnic from home to supplement with a turkey leg or roasted corn.
If I had gone to the Renaissance Festival without antsy young children, I would know more about the artisan booths that sell everything from pottery and blown glass to leatherwork and jewelry. The only booth we stopped in was the Royal Armoury, where my children begged for wood swords and shields. I ended up buying them each an unpainted sword and black leather sword belt.
Next year, they can come in costume.
Maja Beckstrom can be reached at 651-228-5295.
THE SCOOP
What: Renaissance Festival
Where: Three miles south of Shakopee at 145th Street and U.S. 169
Information: 800-966-8215 or renaissancefest.com
Hours: 9 a.m.-7 p.m. today and Oct. 2-4.
Cost: Adult $19.95; child (5-12) $10.95; senior (62-plus) $17.95.
Target audience: Those who never outgrew dress up and accents.
Crowd pleaser: The Danger Committee
Avoid: Tortuga Twins (for the bawdy banter)
BEST FREE ACTIVITIES FOR CHILDREN
BEST STAGE ACTS FOR CHILDREN
