Like I said, nudity has been mystifyingly difficult for many of these alleged "burners" to handle maturely. Nudity is a very common occurence at Burning Man, and burning events in general, for very good reason.

Let's consider the main event. Daytime temperatures soar up to about 100 degrees. When you arrive, fully clothed, despite what you may have heard to the contrary, you do sweat. This is unpleasant enough in the real world, where a nice, strong shower and a fresh change of clothes is as close at hand as one's apartment. On the Playa, though, showering is iffy at best, and if you build up a good, thick layer of sweat, there is an excellent chance that you will be stuck inside of it for the entire festival That, for most of us, is a really unpleasant sensation. A sensation that one wouldn't be able to get away from, for a week.






Taking off one's clothes greatly reduces the problem. Heat isn't trapped next to one's body. Better still, the small amount of sweat one's body produces is amazingly effective at cooling one, because of the dry desert air. (After a foot bath, I noticed that my feet went from dripping wet to dry, in 90 seconds). A 100 degree day feels like a 75 degree day. This, one can deal with.

Dealing and doing it early, in this case, is a big deal, because showers aren't always available and what is available isn't all that great. A "sun shower" is a black bag you fill with water, with a small, thin hose attached. You hang it, turn the nozzle, and a thin stream of water comes out. There's a real limit to just how much cleaning one can do with this, since, for obvious reasons, the water pressure is going to be very low.






Some will suggest the alternative solution of running behind the water trucks that are sent out in an attempt to keep the "roads" from getting dustier than they might otherwise be. The idea is, you catch up to the truck, which is doing about 5 miles per hour, get wet, stop, apply Dr. Bronner's liquid soap (which washes off very easily), catch up to the truck again, and rinse off. Or, so goes the theory.

Problems? The rangers probably wouldn't be too happy if you did that, because soap residue is "MOOP" ("matter out of place"), and God only knows how one would get it up. Remember, the Playa must be returned to its original condition when the festival is over. This is a moot point, however, because one soon learns that physically, the whole business is impractical.

One runs behind the truck, sans soap (and sans clothing), to wash off that initial sweat. Sure enough, it feels good, at least until after you get out of the water and start shivering. (Dry desert air and quick evaporation, remember? 100 degrees now feels like 40 degrees). Sure enough, the water comes out under a nice amount of pressure, more than enough to scrub the dirt and sweat away. The catch? Look at your feet.

Playa dust is basically powdered dry wall, so when it mixes with water, it forms a thick, heavy, slippery clay-like paste that literally has to be scraped off. Congratulations! You now have your first pair of "playa boots". We're not talking about a light dusting, either. These will be several inches thick, hard to walk on, and as heavy as hell (*). Picture trying to catch up to that truck after it has travelled for a distance, with weights on your feet. (It would take you a while to apply that soap, wouldn't it?) All of a sudden, this doesn't sound too practical, does it?

Cleanliness is a good thing to conserve.




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