The hippies of Eugene. Many of the city’s fine inhabitants live in an idealistic bubble with very little knowledge of the real word, leading to ideas and solutions that are impractical. James and I moved to Eugene during the summer of 2006, and immediately visited the most famous Saturday Market.
Rows of flowers:
And people watching that can’t be beat. Three years ago, the Saturday market welcoming committee greeted us with a small parade of faeries–in all shapes, sizes, ages, and stages of dress–banging lanyarded drums, shaking bedazzled tambourines, and blowing on small clay ocarinas all while chanting monotonously, “Sat-ur-day, Sat-ur-day, Sat-ur-day Maaaarket.” At that moment, I was completely ready to turn around and head back East. Obviously, I stayed out there for two years, and luckily, made grounded and realistic friends. Here is a recap of some people frequenting the Saturday market this summer–
This man was at every show that we ever attended, dancing up a storm. Old Man Dancing
At any given moment, you can probably find at least five drum circles in Eugene. This is the weekly market circle.
Not the only faerie of the day. I was tempted to buy my own wings.
Selling pipes and drugs. One of the lovely gentlemen in the background called out to James, “Hey, you with the face… wanna buy some hash?”
To put it lightly, Eugene on Saturday market day is an alternate universe. I leave you with the ultimate in hippie household items–tie dyed toilet paper.