25 Finishing on
Burning Man

During my trip to South America, I was often remarked on how much I looked like that famous vampire actor, Woody Harrelson. I honestly had no idea who he was. I was still in Mexico City, and a dream came true when I managed to get a ticket for the Burning Man Festival in the Nevada desert, the Black Rock Desert. I wanted to participate in one of the many camps at Burning Man. I posted a message on Facebook jokingly asking if people thought I looked like Woody Harrelson, which generated a lot of responses, including one from Camp El Station.

And so began a journey of preparations unlike any I'd ever seen for a festival. In June, I found the camp, a group of 75 Burning Man goers, and there was a weekly meeting about how to prepare for sandstorms, drought, and even very technical matters like power supply. This way, you got to know everyone a little better, and because I really wanted to take a break from working on the computer, I even offered to come to the festival grounds early to help set up. Living in the desert for almost two weeks, having to bring all your own food and drinks, and not having a car, naturally poses quite a challenge. Luckily, a Dutchman, Ernst-Jan, from the camp, recommended Playapad. They rent out a package with all the camping gear you need, including a genuine American "beach cruiser" bike, as Black Rock City is so vast. It's almost impossible to do it on foot. This organization, Playapad, is located in Reno, inland, the last city three hours from the Black Rock Desert, the site of the Burning Man festival. So, I had to get to Reno and gather all the camping gear and groceries. I said goodbye to Jim and Suzan, the elderly couple I was staying with in Ventura, near Los Angeles, and began my journey to Reno. The whole plan quickly fell apart when, during the Flixbus trip, it quickly became clear that a connection wouldn't be made, meaning most of the people on the bus had to wait 12 hours at the Sacramento bus station. I was really bummed, and there was another problem that worried me even more: How would I get to Burning Man once I'm in Reno with all my belongings (all the boxes of camping gear, my bike, and 70 liters of water)? The Burning Man bus was sold out, and unfortunately, there was no response from my camp who also happened to be traveling that last leg that day.

Suddenly, a redeeming message arrived on Facebook. A certain Masha messaged me that I could ride with her, along with Calamity and another guy. So, when I got the green light, I went to Walmart twice that same day to check off my entire grocery list, stopped by Playapad to pick up camping gear, and went to the Airbnb to fill jerry cans with water. It all just barely fit, but luckily by 5 p.m. I had everything ready and was picked up by a large truck. We drove to their house in Reno with people I didn't know at all, and who weren't from my camp either. The two girls were camp organizers from another camp. We were able to stay overnight at their house in Reno and leave early the next day for Burning Man. Until that moment, I'd been so nervous about everything that had to be arranged, but now that all the gear and even the transportation were taken care of, I could let go of my worries for the first time and enjoy a good old-fashioned cold beer. Because isn't that phenomenal? That people who don't know you at all take you into their homes and even bring you to Burning Man? And moreover, that you can connect so spontaneously with people, even though everyone has a completely different story, and yet you get to experience the journey together.

Burning Man started in Los Angeles in the 1980s, when a group of hippies decided to burn a wooden man on Baker Beach. Since 1990, it has moved to the desert and has grown into the immense city it is today in the middle of the desert. Upon arrival, we are greeted by "the greeters," and traditionally, new burners have to make a sand angel by lying in the sand and moving their arms and legs. I see the city under construction and cars with enormous clouds of sand. Already in line, we see frenzied people dancing on the roofs. A muscular man dancing naked on top of his car with a horn from which he drinks. The people are so incredibly friendly. It takes me a little while to get used to it, because it's apparently quite customary here to hug a complete stranger. "Welcome home!" is what the groups say. While everything seems to be possible, I notice there's one thing people don't really appreciate here: calling Burning Man a festival.

I'm dropped off at our camp. There are only a few tents and RVs left. RVs are large campers, meters long, in which you have pretty much all the amenities you normally have at home. It's so cozy with the small group of people we're already there with. The owner, Kaweh, and also a father, Jessy, with his two children, Eden and Lio. I'm glad I arrived earlier because this way I can already pick up a bit of how the camp works: the electricity, the kitchen, and we even have an art car, a kind of carnival float with lights for when night falls. Now that the group is still small, I'm already getting to know the people, which is very nice when you're coming to Burning Man for the first time. They say it won't really get busy until Sunday, but I'm already amazed by the sheer size. It's all so well organized. Every day there are parties from a construction camp, people are playing basketball, breathing fire, and you bring your cup to be refilled there. We're partying at a bike shop when suddenly the brass band bursts in. Everything is free; there's no such thing as money. You bring what you can, and everything is shared. If only the whole world could treat each other like this.

We're nearing the end of the set-up; we've worked hard and, of course, we've also had a party. I walk to our kitchen tent where the children, Eden and Lio, are, and a mother and daughter from China who are making dumplings, when suddenly a huge cloud of dust rises, and we're caught in a massive sandstorm. Everyone rushes to the corners of the tent, trying with all their might to keep it from blowing away, but after a few minutes it becomes clear that the tent isn't that important at all. This sandstorm is so powerful that we don't fear for our kitchen tent, but mainly for our own lives. Eden doesn't have a face mask, so I give him mine and warn the boys to take shelter behind the refrigerators. The wind keeps picking up, and the entire frame starts to break off, and the roof blows in all directions. The Chinese mother and daughter on the other side of our tent are out of sight. Even two meters ahead, you have no idea what's happening because of all the drifting sand. Eden heroically crawls across the floor, retrieves the Chinese women, and the five of us huddle against the refrigerators for a full two hours. It's an insane experience; it's my first Burning Man, but I quickly realize that what we're experiencing here isn't normal, not even at Burning Man. After two hours, it's not over yet, but luckily our camp leader arrives and accompanies us to their RV. We're covered in a few inches of sand. But once again, the feeling of community prevails. There are 16 of us in an RV, with drinks, snacks, and music, and we talk about this bizarre event.

The entire event is struggling to recover from this storm. Many tents are damaged, and even the famous orgy dome, apparently a fixture at Burning Man, has to close its doors this year. Storms also bring a lot of rain, causing all the sand to stick together and turning the grounds into a giant mud pit. Just as huge crowds of people are about to enter Burning Man, the entrance is blocked, and visitors are forced to wait 24 hours before finally being allowed in. It's a huge blow. Attending parties is almost impossible because your shoes get stuck in the mud. There's immense relief when we hear on Burning Man radio that better weather is on the way in the coming days. Finally, the event can truly begin, though those who attended will never forget it. Even a friend of my mother, Conny, from the Netherlands, tells me she heard on the news about a huge storm at Burning Man.

Our camp is filling up, and it's sometimes a bit overwhelming to meet so many people, but of course, everything has to settle in, and everyone needs time to find their place in the camp. Four people from Bordeaux, my age, are coming: Etienne, Antoine, Rada, and Dennis. We hit it off right away, and every evening around 9 p.m., we group up and go on an adventure across the "playa," or beach, the heart of Burning Man, where parties are happening on every street. Some parties are on permanent stages, but sometimes enormous converted trucks drive by with music and lights, which you can stand on and dance on, and often even climb into. Etienne and Antoine, in particular, are real partygoers. We click so well that we know we can rely on each other without exchanging too many words. When it's so good, it can easily get light while you're still at the party. At 7 a.m., as the sun rises, the crowd deep in the beach only increases as people just waking up arrive. It's so unique because everyone is in the same boat, having been there for a week with barely any Wi-Fi, that you truly feel connected. No one has to go to work or get an important message. Everyone is completely focused on the party, and that's quite special today, with all the electronics.

It's not all fun and games, though; there are also tasks to be done at camp. As "El Station," we offer passersby a refreshment station. We have a replica gas station where people get a refreshing spray of water vapor with an air shower and water with electrolytes. Potstickers, a kind of dumpling, are also served from the art car, for which people line up all the way down the street. In the mornings, you sleep in, usually chat with a group, and then get ready for the day. A walk to the restroom, because peeing on the beach is a no-go. Fill up your water, remove sand from your tent, and organize your camelback bag. Sunscreen, water, light.

After a few wonderful days, I decide to go on an adventure myself. I dance salsa one evening, which is a fantastic hobby. You can find this amazing dance anywhere in the world. And the next day, I pluck up courage and, with a full bag of beers and water, I'm ready to explore Black Rock City on foot. I visit an Ice Hotel and a bar with only spicy drinks. Where, if you feel the need, you can also confess something to someone in a small confessional booth. For me, it symbolizes what Burning Man stands for. There are people here in America who don't tell their bosses they went to Burning Man because of the festival's negative image—that it's all about sex and drugs. But the attention paid to emotion and the gift of giving makes this place so much more than that. Now that I'm walking across the beach and admiring the beautiful artwork that people have worked on for months, I'm heading towards the Burning Man temple. I'd already heard that there's a different atmosphere here in the temple. Here, it's not a party, but people are allowed to grieve, and there's space for reflection and the sorrow of loss. Hundreds of us sit in a circle on bleachers with incense in the center. Not a word is spoken, yet you feel connected to everyone. It affects me too, because yes, the past three years have been quite challenging, and it's wonderful to reflect on that for a moment. It's time to move on. Just as I'm leaving the temple, I see a crowd at the very back of the beach. By chance, I stumble upon a huge open-air orchestra about to begin. I chat with a woman around 50. The orchestra plays songs like Nothing Else Matters and Bohemian Rhapsody as the sun gradually sets. It's yet another highlight of a week in which you feel like you're living on cloud nine.

My legs are exhausted from strolling across the beach, but when we return, our "Hell's Dinner" art car happens to be about to leave. Our entire camp jumps on board, this time experiencing the site from above. People wear costumes, but they also decorate themselves and their bikes with colorful lights. That makes the view from the top of the art car magnificent. Everywhere you look, it's a veritable feast of colors.

The unforgettable days seem endless, until I suddenly see someone leaving the grounds with their suitcase. Suddenly, I realize we're not living here permanently. How will I get back to Reno? How will I continue my journey? On Saturday, the large wooden man in the center of the grounds is burned, and there's a huge celebration, and on Sunday, the temple is set ablaze, naturally in deathly silence. Because I hitchhiked to Burning Man, I start asking around if anyone happens to have a spot available to take me. The uncertainty that I might have to leave today, or maybe even in two days, is causing me considerable anxiety. Someone from our camp offers me a ride, and we leave Sunday morning, the day after the man's burning. One last time, the entire city gathers for a huge celebration. All the art cars, around 200, form a circle around the man. And then, as it gets dark, the fireworks start and the man is set on fire. The show is indescribably beautiful. How is something like that possible in the middle of the desert? No direction or anyone to announce it; the whole show and the fire start automatically.

The next morning at 7:00 a.m., the guy I'm supposed to be riding with knocks on my tent and says, "Woody," which was my Burning Man name, "we have to go!" I start packing, and half an hour later he says, "Sorry, man, you need at least another hour to pack, I have to go, see you later!" I'm standing there alone with all my stuff already outside my tent, and yet something inside me tells me everything will be alright, because here at Burning Man, they don't leave anyone behind. I walk around our camp and run into a Swiss guy named Remi, who is at Burning Man with his girlfriend and her sister. He says he might have a spot. They are such friendly, sympathetic people and even though they leave before the burning of the temple, I don't hesitate for a second and am really looking forward to making the trip back to Reno with the four of them.

We helped break down our camp and said goodbye to the group. The Swiss were incredibly inspiring people. We talked for hours about our experiences at camp and Burning Man as a whole. They also told us about their lives as doctors in Switzerland, their adventures in New York, where it was sometimes difficult to settle down, and a few interesting stories, like that penicillin was accidentally discovered by an absent-minded professor or that yellow eyes can indicate liver problems. They were also very interested in my story. I told them about the three years I'd spent in Latin America, the stark contrast between the beautiful places I'd visited and the challenges of feeling at home. In the traffic jam, as we left the desert, we even saw the temple burning in the distance. Everyone was shooting at the roofs of their cars, while a group of burners immediately pulled out their instruments. Because for burners, there's always a reason to celebrate. We parked the car on the side of the road and slept there, before driving on to Reno the next day. In Reno, we said goodbye. After saying goodbye, I was alone again, but I'd enjoyed it so much that I didn't feel alone at all, but rather deeply grateful.

I took the Flixbus to San Francisco. Stopping at your peak, as they say, and that's exactly what I'm going to do with the expat experience. I've given you a glimpse into my life for three years. I really enjoyed it, even though it was quite a bit of work, and I was already spending too much time on the computer to do it on the side. But it also gave me a lot of energy. It was fun to write down all the events of a few months in a nutshell. I also enjoyed staying in touch with so many people this way. But now I realize a new phase is starting, and I think it's a good time to stop writing the blogs.

I spent the last four days before leaving America in San Francisco. In this beautiful city, I was able to wrap up the wonderful years I'd had. It's striking how well-organized everything is, and once again, I saw the most magnificent buildings. Ambulances and fire trucks in vintage style. And of course, a visit to the Golden Gate Bridge was a must. I had such a great hostel called Green Turtles, where I talked to so many people that there was hardly time to think about the new era to come. For three years, I've been hoping to finally meet those digital nomads from my own programming field. And in this hostel, almost everyone works with technology—or, yes, "tech" is the trendy term. San Francisco is the technology capital of the world, with headquarters for Google, Apple, and Meta. I talk to PhD students about drones, software engineers, and AI students. Someone who works for Google tells me how he's picked up by a van to go to work. I explain my project to him, and he understands exactly what I'm saying. It's so wonderful to have that familiarity, to speak the same language. And then it's time to say goodbye. The days have flown by. I've enjoyed America so much. I hope I can return someday. It's been so inspiring. I can only be happy with this wonderful journey I've been able to make, the countries I've seen and the different cultures I've experienced, the animals that live there, the landscapes, and the wonderful encounters with all kinds of people. It's anything but a regular life, but that's also what I love. Escaping the clutches of the cartels and sometimes dealing with loneliness. But all the experiences, even the challenges, have made this a fantastic whole. I want to thank you all so much for reading my adventures. Finally, I'd like to thank my brother Nick for helping me set up this website, and my dear mother Caroline for her wonderful support and for revising the blogs. I hope I'll see you again sometime and we can talk about it in person.