I’m waiting in line for communal coffee. Today I’ve scored a French press, so my task is to pour water, and offer coffee to the three people behind me, and head out slowly.

I don’t feel like waiting in line at the French bakery next door. There are about a hundred people waiting for the next batch of pastries to finish baking. They taste great, but it’s not worth the wait today. At least to me.

I’m walking out of the café when I see an old friend I spent a beautiful night with two days ago. She scolds me for not being “home” yesterday before we hug warmly. She invites me to a falafel party they’re organizing…

…and that’s the last time we ever see each other.

Wednesday Night

It’s Wednesday evening, ten-ish, and I’m leaving my camp for my traditional spot where I usually get my nights started, and sometimes finished. My nights at Burning Man usually start at a camp called PlayAlchemist.

It’s a music camp shaped like a giant pyramid with projections mapped onto every night. So not just an amazing sonic show, but visual art too. Despite its reputation of one of the most commercial camps in the desert, their programming and visuals are so good it’s simply worth going.

I’m enjoying a really nice set - I don’t even know who’s playing, and in the moment I don’t even really care. I’m into the music, with a lukewarm drink in hand, and I feel pleasantly “warmed up.”

Suddenly someone taps me - more on the side than on the shoulder. A petite girl is standing next to me and asks if I know who’s playing. I'm responding some thing like "I don’t, I’m enjoying it, I have no idea, and it doesn’t really matter to me". She nods and lingers next to me for a bit.

Curiosity gets the best out of me, I step outside, and next to the pyramid entrance I find a board with the lineup. It’s DJ Sabo - not exactly an unknown person in the industry. I’m about to head back inside when I run into her again heading for the bikerack.

I decide to gift her the info, as gifting is a big part of Burning Man. But who’s playing isn’t so important to her anymore. She asks if I know where Opulent is. I do, and I point the way: rides straight across to the other side of the city, you can't miss it.

After a few seconds I ask if it's ok to join her. She smiles and says she’d be happy if I did. We set out into a pretty strong headwind across the open Playa to the other side of the city. It took thirty to forty minutes and it sure was a good workout.

We swap stories as we ride. She’s a corporate marketer from Israel who got time-off last-minute.

The Journey for Art

Just before midnight we arrive at Opulent Chill, a smaller version of the Opulent Temple camp. It's a famous spot, this year lightly boycotting thanks to rule changes for music camps. They’ve built a reduced version with no big decor, just under a simple tent. The music quality is still there, though.

The area around Opulent is a music hotspot. Several well-known sound camps are nearby. It’s after midnight, so it's swarmed with people, little room to park bikes. After a short while we realize we’re not feeling the music much. We lock bikes and wander off to watch art.

The first thing we hit is a giant inflatable elephant. Burning Man art often feels like from another dimension: sometimes bizarre, sometimes gorgeous and perfectly executed. Best approach to me is to take it in, let it affect you, and move on.

Next up is Head Maze - a huge head with stairs leading inside. You can climb it; we don’t have the courage.

We look around for where to go next and see the lights of The Folly in the distance. We can’t resist - it’s a strong calling :) The Folly is a small wooden fishing village packed with details. You can enter, climb up and down, spend endless time there. There are performances too, but most people come for the installation itself.

We bump into her friends. She introduces me and everyone immediately switches to English even though I’m the only one not speaking their language. Burning Man is very much about respect.

We explore the installation thoroughly; time passes in a weird way and we don’t track it. Just as we try to head out, a whiteout hits - a sandstorm that turns everything into white fog. At night it doesn’t need to be that strong to trick your orientation. We see only a few lights; it’s hard to pick a direction.

There's one thing you’re absolutely not supposed to do in these conditions: walk. If is exactly what we are doing. One of Burning Man’s satirical mottos is “Safety Third.” We walk and stumble around blind until we eventually reach the Trash Fence at the point where the fence sides meet - one of the farthest spots from the city.

Honey

We laugh at first, because we’d intended to walk toward the city and now we’re clearly at the city’s edge. For the record, if you cross that fence, the police will pick you up - not a fun experience.

We find a pop-up tea house here. It wasn’t there yesterday; the next night it won’t be here, either. It exists only here and only now. The twist: the baristas blend a unique tea for each person based on their dreams, experiences, or stories.

My new friend and I tell them how we met and how we’ve spent the last hours together, and we get one huge shared cup - about a liter. It’s a herbal tea with honey. The honey symbolizes a wish that we become “honey” to each other. We look at each other and smile.

We don’t know what time it is. Desert nights' temperature drop toward freezing usually... and her coat is on her bike. I give her mine like a gentleman and let myself feel cold till morning. At least we have warm tea. And a few drinks, as it’s no secret that besides water, everyone carries their favorite alcohol out here in deep Playa. I’ve had enough that I don’t feel the cold.

We spend quite some time there. We talk using those decks of very personal question cards. Strangers stop by, listen for a while, chat, and move on. A few people rotate through (I only remember a weird Spaniard with tiny rubber hands stuck on his fingers which are cringe), and at some point we decide to head back.

Visibility is good now. Desert storms show up, last few minutes or few hours, and then everything clears again. On our way back we see completely different installations compared to what we saw coming out. As soon as we reach the inflatable elephant, we know we’re on the right track.

Bubbles and Coffee

The city is calming down; people are drifting off to sleep.

It's Dawn suddenly.

We find our bikes easily: they’re the only two left, lonely, chained to a post. We’re not sleepy yet, so we take a little walk and head to Bubbles and Bass, opening at 6 a.m. Gentle house music, perfect for sunrise, and “champagne” is served. In reality it’s the classic cheap bubbly they keep refilling the moment you finish. A very pleasant afterparty.

She wants to dance so she doesn’t fall asleep. I’m just sitting now, tired, but enjoying the bubbles and the sunrise. Everything is wonderfully fine. Someone tops me up now and then.

We aim for the French Café opening at 8 a.m. We get in line, which is a good indication they’ll open soon. The café works like this: you either get a grinder or a French press. Some people grind and pour the grounds into presses, others pour water and pass them along. That way everyone who needs good coffee that morning is served efficiently. They make the best coffee here.

Next doors is a French bakery, and its line is already forming. The first batch of croissants is due at 8:30. We divide and conquer: I handle coffee, she handles pastry. We wait our turns and finally have our coveted breakfast.

We hug and say goodbyes. I invite her to our hockey tournament - yes, I’m in a camp that brings hockey to the desert and we're serious about it. A huge chunk of the city shows up, it’s a very traditional Thursday afternoon activity.

Since it’s my first year in the camp, I’m the a designated water carrier. That means taking a big water tank on a bike trailer to the camp where water is dispensed, getting it filled, and bringing it back. It’s about two kilometers; the round trip takes twenty minutes -ish. As I later learn, those are exact twenty minutes when she stops by our camp to see me.

And I’m not there.

Disappoint, Rinse & Repeat

It’s Saturday morning and I’m once again in line at the French Café. The French Café is a theme camp in the French Quarter of Black Rock City - the city where Burning Man takes place. I was here yesterday too, because yes, their coffee really is the best. There are about a hundred people queued at the bakery, and I’m happy to skip pastries today.

I step out of the café and I see her. I’m happy. Running into someone (especially someone dear to you, who you want to see again) in an 80,000-person city is a real stroke of luck.

After a refreshing sleep, at the right time, I hop on my bike and head for the coordinates she invited me to earlier in the morning… but I don’t remember them. I’ve been in the desert for few days, my brain is off, and I don’t know where she lives. I have a feeling it’s on F Street which is, like, 10 kilometers long. Everything is alive, there are masses of people, it’s hot, and my chances are slim. It’s a needle-in-a-haystack search.

I tell myself: never mind, fortune favors the ones that come prepared.

It’s Sunday morning, I’m rested, I’ve got a notebook and pencil, and I head to the French Quarter with hopes and dreams for great coffee§.

The French Café no longer exists anymore. The camp has packed up and left, and I will never see my wonderful new friend again…