May I say, now all the wiser, what a ri-facken-diculous notion that was.

The Coachella Valley Music and Arts Festival celebrated its 11th consecutive year this past weekend, drawing over 75,000 attendees from pretty much everywhere imaginable. For me, it’s always had a kind of mysterious aura – a perception only exacerbated by our pathetic attempt to get in last year. If you read the post we published re: Coachella 2010, you may remember how we walked up and down the avenues surrounding the polo fields without seeing anything our veteran friends had raved about; a dull rumble of bass was all we could make out.

But this year, ooohhh this year. We saw it all. I’ll never forget the feeling that swept over me the moment we stepped on the soft green grass that first day at the polo fields. Music wedged itself into my ears from every possible angle. Masses of people milled about, going from stage to tent to food stand to hydration station. The heat was beyond intense and seemed only to increase – EXTREME sensory overload had commenced, and it would continue for three straight days!

Jumping right into the action, we learned a few things real fast.

• Article one – there is no such thing as personal space. You may think you’ve got a nice little spot carved out for yourself while you’re waiting for the next band to come on, but that nice little spot will soon be filled by another body, whether they can actually fit there or not. More than likely, that body will be shirtless and sweaty.
• Article two – replenish your water supply whenever possible. The “hydration stations” that allow you to refill water bottles are few, I think there were only 3, so if you happen to be cruising by one take the time to jostle through the line and top off your Nalgene. (Yes, you can bring those in, as long as they’re empty to begin with.)
• Article three – the crowd was by far the largest on Sunday, which meant that the security check-in was way more thorough. They stripped us of our granola bars and pistachios, something that didn’t happen on either of the previous two days, but luckily we were still able to make it in with some strategically concealed goodies.
• Article four – you will be real, real, real sore at the end of each day. Some of my festmates chose to bite the fashion bullet and sport running shoes – a choice I’m pretty sure they appreciated, as you’re literally standing up 80% of the day.
• Article five – you are in Neverland, a delightful and carefree world where the entire population has come to let loose and p-a-r-t-y. Join in as soon as humanly possible.

We made it to see a great deal of bands on Friday, my highlights being Ozomatli  - a Mexican band which ended their performance after coming down into the crowd and playing a few songs – the Black Keys (my all-time faves) and, surprisingly, the Swedish Popstress Robyn who didn’t stop shaking her ass at any point during her set. Props, Robyn.

Saturday’s highlights – another surprise for me –  included Yelle, Empire of the Sun and Scissor Sisters, the latter two being ragingly flamboyant acts with some serious dance music. In the wee hours of Saturday/Sunday we decided to explore the campgrounds and, after disturbing a number of people by walking through their campsites, we stumbled upon a pretty sweet roller skating party (a rink had been built) and the Coachella Art Studios where campers were provided means for getting crafty.

Empire of the Sun on the Outdoor Stage - Saturday Night

On Sunday, the cherry was put on top of my Coachella experience when I got to see The Strokes bang out a phenomenal set on the main stage, for which we were quite near the front. Two words: Julian Casablancas. Fah-quing epic.

Riding back to the RV on Sunday night, I couldn’t help but realize that the whole experience was such a hilariously stark contrast to the pseudo-Coachella weekend we pulled last year; schmoozing at parties, lounging by the pool at a beautiful home, riding around in a limousine and spotting celebs without ever once stepping foot inside the polo fields. The only glamour in this year’s go-round came in the form of the Bonne Bell glitter we doused ourselves in each day.

The experience as a whole was so unbelievably exhausting – body, mind, soul, and more body were beyond wiped out. I’m still feeling super tired even now, after having been home for three days. I hope that’s a sign that I sure as hell got my $300 worth.

After getting back on Monday, everyone asked, “So would you go again? Are you gonna go back next year?” I had to hesitate each time I answered these questions, partly because my brain function was not up to snuff, and partly because I honestly didn’t know if I would. It was seriously hard work – the walking, the getting to and from the fields, the scheduling of the day, the dancing all around etc.

As more and more time elapses between last weekend and the present, however, the more I want to answer these inquiries with a big fat Y-E-S. It was such a unique experience – a true Disneyland for adult music fans. Where else could you go to see 12+ hours of live music from a such a variety of genres for three days in a row?

It sure as hell isn’t Stagecoach – this I know.

Keep it festive,
Lauren

The Coachella Valley Arts & Music Festival began in 1999, three months after the last disaster-ridden Woodstock (remember fires and riots? yeah, shitty).  Rewind to about six year earlier in 1993, Pearl Jam performed at the Empire Polo Club fields in front of 25,000 fans and proved that the venue was suitable in many ways for a large scale music festival. It had easy accessibility from populous areas like LA, OC, San Diego, Vegas & Phoenix, the surrounding area was sparsely populated and the high volume of accommodation all contributed to making Indio the perfect spot for the next big music festival.

The first Coachella’s bill included acts like Beck, The Chemical Brothers, Tool, Morrissey, Rage Against the Machine and Jurassic 5 and had a crowd of 25,000 people. The next Coachella was held in 2001 and since then, has continued to grow and gain recognition as one of the worlds most notable music festivals. Over the years, legendary modern day acts like Madonna, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Beastie Boys, Radiohead, Daft Punk and Coldplay have graced the stage.

This year, the lineup is looking incredibly solid and due to the displeasure of many fans last year, Coachella lowered the number of tickets being sold so the coined term of ‘clusterfuckella’ shall hopefully be no more. Wanting the camping experience yet needing a bed and real toilet led the group of five ladies we are heading out with to rent an RV as our mode of accommodation. None of us have ever driven one of those beasts, so it will be interesting to say the least.

I personally am most excited to see Robyn, I’ve been a fan since the girl belted out Show Me Love in the 90′s, but her current electropop is stellar. Also on my must-see list: quirky-voiced Cee lo Green, ever cool Ms. Lauryn Hill, the sexiest band out there right now, Kings of Leon, the fun and timely Marina & the Diamonds, hard rocking Sleigh Bells, electro-heavy Crystal Castles, Afrojack, flamboyant and fun Scissor Sisters, Australian favorite Empire of the Sun, English band of the moment Mumford & Sons, and of course, Ratatat, classic 80′s band Duran Duran, and the cockiest mofo on the planet, Kanye West.

We’ve stocked up on food, booze, water, glitter, feathers, flowers and hipster clothing to make sure we are not only looking but totally acting the part of music festival attendee. Though I know these three days may lead to sunburns, aching feet, extreme thirst, exhaustion, etc., there is no way that this weekend will be anything but exciting as all hell and one of the most memorable weekends of our lives. Chances are that we’ll end up at some insane parties, get ourselves into interesting situations, and undoubtedly have wonderful stories to bring back and share.

Peace, love and MUSIC! Party on, garth!

Fest on,

   Shayna

After hearing murmers that the Return of the Swallows Fest is actually a western-wear extravaganza, Lauren and I did our best to suit up appropriately. We also heard that in true fest form, booze runs through the blood of most of-age attendees, so we obviously arrived at the train station armed with mimosa fixins. We weren’t alone in either effort; the train was teeming with flannel, leather and alcoholic beverages. Why we had not been to this festival (or even really heard about it, for that matter) before is beyond me.

A short ride later, we arrived at the doorstep of the festival. For those of you that have never been, the downtown area of San Juan Capistrano is charming, quaint and truly has an air of history. The main reason for this is of course, Mission San Juan Capistrano, the “Jewel of the California missions”. It was here that the swallows started nestling into the exposed eaves and the whole freaking reason we were there in the first place. We arrived shortly after the parade had started and though there were plenty of people lining the streets, it seemed the only animals in sight were tailed and four-legged.

On the train ride down, I asked Lauren if she thought we’d see a swallow. She promptly balked, and in so many words, said yes, you dope, they instinctively flock to San Juan Cap. Sadly, though, the contrary reports I had heard were correct. There were kids dressed up as swallows, cardboard swallows on sticks, plastic swallows nests, swallows carved onto beer taps, swallows screen printed onto shirts – even a bar named after these suckers and NOT ONE bothered to show up at the party. Jerks.

Though we were sadly not graced with the presence of the illusive jerk-bird, we saw quite the myriad of animals in the day. The parade, being the largest non-motorized parade in the U.S. (yet another claim to fame OC! Take that, housewives!), had to be schlepped around by all sorts of different ‘vehicles’- so basically, horses were stuck with the dirty work. There were little-baby-mini horses, horses with majestic manes of fancy, side-stepping/prancing horses and of of course, the beer-loving Clydesdale. The parade was, for the most part, a wonderful opportunity to show off the many talented folks residing in south county- they’ve got baton twirlers, rancheros, mariachi bands, cheerleaders, period dressers, you name it.

After tiring of the parade, we headed over to the Mercado, which was touted as “the place to be after the parade”. The mercado was what we’d like to call the festi-fixture, a conglomeration of booths selling you something, whether it be BBQ tri-tip, beer, corn on the cob, giant bratwurst, Kettle corn, or handicrafts (A.K.A. crap). This area was alright- what it lacked in shade and seating, it made up for with food options and drunk people. The beer garden section was chock full of loud, western-wear clad drunkies, all of which seemed completely unaware that they were celebrating a birds arduous voyage.

While at the mercado, we sucked down a couple Capistrano Brewing Co. drafts (Amber for Lauren, Honey for me), Lauren got a tri-tip sandwich, and I played with a search-and-rescue bloodhound. It was a good time being around all that festiveness, but it was a little bit of a been-there, done-that feeling. The Swallows Inn, the dive bar kitty corner to the beer garden, seemed to be the real place to be- the line to get in was monstrous, the patio was jammed, and the music poured outta that place like wine. Had we the energy of our 22-year old selves, we would have made a beeline to the liquor store, picked up a few 40′s and posted up in that line, but being the 25-year old sloths that we are, we decided to go on a taco hunt and call it a day.

Overall, the Return of the Swallows Festival was a great gathering. The parade was full of fun things to watch with historical tidbits, and the stunning backdrop of the mission alone was worth the trip. Orange County isn’t exactly a culturally rich destination, so it’s nice to have events like this to help remind us that even the “charmed” residents of Orange County had more humble beginnings. Even if the swallows never come back to the mission, there’s still a party to be held in there honor. So to that, we raise our glass and give a big yeeeeeeeehaw!

Fest on,

Shayna

The members of one particular species  seem to have totally aced it with their migration habits. Not only do their destinations rank among those with the best climates in the world (Southern California and Northern Argentina), but they also receive widespread recognition, captivating people worldwide by making their yearly trip. I’m talkin’ about the Swallows of San Juan Capistrano. Now, many of you may be confusedly thinking, “I thought it was the salmon of Capistrano?” Should that be the case, go right ahead and continue taking your information from educational films like Dumb & Dumber. I wish you the best of luck in life.

So here’s the real story: since the Mission San Juan Capistrano was established in 1776 vast swarms of swallows have descended upon the area, arriving at nearly the exact same time every year – March 19, also the Feast Day of St. Joseph. The magnitude of the flock was incredible – you couldn’t go anywhere in the friggin’ town without seeing clusters of muddy nests patched into  corners and awnings and eaves.

Legend has it that one innkeeper got pissed about the birds (obvs! Image how much bird shit would accumulate on your property) and destroyed any nest in his path. The swallows wised up shifted their congregation to the safety of the Mission SJC, where the Padres left them in peace to chirp and poop and reproduce. Since then, these flyers have continued to return to San Juan Capistrano, and their arrival is celebrated during la Fiesta de las Golondrinas every March in the SoCal town they made famous.

This weekend, Best of Fest is relaunching with a visit to this uniquely Orange County festival, hungry for culture (also dank Mexican food) and ready to celebrate a gigante flock of small birds. Last Saturday, March 19, kicked off the Swallows Festival, and all day visitors were afforded opportunities to check out historic aspects of life in old California. (Remember, my friends, we used to be Mexico territory.) There were Mariachis galore, along with ceremonious bell-ringing, traditional dancing, lectures and a spotlight on Native American culture, and visitors were encouraged to check out the gorgeous architecture of the Mission.

The festival continues this weekend and, being the huuuge bitches that we are, Shayna and I have chosen to attend on Saturday as there will be a larger selection of food involved. First, however, we’ll post up to watch the 53rd annual Swallows Parade, which is apparently the largest non-motorized parade in the west. I expect to see a lot of cowboy boots, lasso tricks, horse shit and – my personal fave – más mariachis. Yes, señor with the giant stand-up bass, I will shell out $5 for a song, so come and find me. Afterwards we’ll head to the Mercado where 100+ booths of food, crafts and swallow-ey goodness will be showcased for our shopping pleasure.

This will be my first visit to the Swallows Festival in San Juan Capistrano, and I have to say, being a lifelong resident of Orange County, I’m pretty excited to participate in an event so unique to the area. Plus, we’ll be riding the train down from Fullerton, which provides an excellent opportunity for mimosas. Check back early next week, when Shayna will recount our weekend escapades at the fest. Salud, y vivan las golondrinas!

Keep it festive,
Lauren

Leading into the fest, we were pretty amped. It had an impossibly beautiful roster of brews and a serious amount of them. To be exact, we’re talking 388 beers from 156 breweries from 22 countries (via Zuvaruvi). If you were going to give a go at sampling all 388 brewhahas, you would have to sample 1.6 beers per minute. Given that the pours generally equal 3 oz. at a beer fest, that would equate to 1164 ounces of foamy goodness in your belly. Clearly, we anticipated a shit show.

Additionally exciting was that it was held at the Del Mar Fair in San Diego. First there’s the fact that fairs always provide for the best people watching around. Then, take into consideration that we could not only get real sauced at the fest, but then could test our stomach strength on rides or feed the drunk munchies with the bevy of outrageous fair food available. Sound like a good day or WHAT!?

The weather was sunny and nice and although parking was a bit of an issue, we got to the fest with time to visit some livestock and take in the scene in the stadium. The SD Int’l Beer Fest shared its venue with another very interesting and amusing event: roller derby. I had never seen roller derby before, and let me tell you- wow. BIG, scary girls with short spandex shorts, tattoos and giant attitudes ready to slam each other into the ground as they skate around a track. Let’s just say it wasn’t exactly a relaxing atmosphere.

When the doors opened for the event promptly at 4pm, we immediately began on our quest to get sudsy and try all the beers. It looked easier than previously assumed as the set up was unlike any of the other beer fests I’ve ever been to- it was much smaller and compact. There were rows of tables set up with tubs filled with ice and bottles of beer. Banners above displayed the names of the breweries represented and if they had won a prize, a cute little ribbon. Volunteers manned the tubs and were pouring measly ONE ounce pours. ONE OUNCES!? How were we gonna get buzzed?! It was not quite what we had expected.

The other local beer fests I’ve been to have always had a few things I find ESSENTIAL to a beer fest that the SD Int’l Beer Fest did not. Bummer #1: beer was not on tap. Though there were a few draft brews available at SDIBF, the majority were being poured out of bottles. All lovers and friends of beer know that there is generally a distinct difference in taste between bottled beer and draft beer, and most would argue that draft is always better.

Bummer #2: beer was being served up by volunteers, not reps of the brewery. This was a giant shame for a few reasons. I always love to hear a story behind a particular brew or about the brewery itself; it provides a connection and gives you something to remember it by. Also, it gives the brewery the chance to promote themselves and other products they may have. The volunteers knew nothing about the beers besides what was on the label. For this reason, I honestly cannot tell you much about the beers I tasted other than that there was an organic Acai berry beer that we all loved.

Bummer #3: live entertainment was lacking. Though the derby girls did amuse momentarily, I would have preferred the beer fest staple of a live band, or even for the sake of drunken dancing/singing, some music over the loudspeaker or something.

Not a bummer AT ALL:  I was joined by some of my best friends and was doing what I love- festing, drinking beer, and eating. After we drank our stomachs to popping point, we decided to settle them with a good helping of crap food. Jesse and I stuck to the fried category and sampled chicken tenders, colossal onion rings, chili cheese fries and dessert of a fried snickers. The other gals went for the giant turkey leg and fried oreos. Also in the mix for the evening was chocolate covered bacon from the Heart Attack Cafe pictured above. For those of you saying ew right now, shut it, cuz it was DELISH.

so lucky to have such awesome friends

My, that is a hefty leg you have.

The San Diego International Beer Festival was a bittersweet occasion for the Best of Fest duo as this is our last festival together for awhile. I’m pleased to announce to you all that Lauren and her boyfriend, Chip, have moved to Eugene, Oregon to work at a winery. Though I’m sad for myself to be losing my partner in consumption, I’m very excited for Lauren– this is an opportunity she’s always dreamed of and it will be quite the adventure.  I can’t yet say what the future will bring, but we’re going to try to continue festing ’til we can’t fest no more.

AND YOU SHOULD TOO, DAMN IT.

Fest on,

Shayna

So Bonnaroo 2010 is done and gone, having completed it’s ninth run last weekend on the same sprawling farmland property in Manchester, Tennessee. The draw of this music and arts fest is huge, and it’s central location makes it accessible for a shitload of people.

Here in California, Coachella is our big famous music festival. It gets a lot of attendance, but you have to take into consideration – California is somewhat isolated in the way that one huge long side of the state is bordered by an ocean. Bonnaroo, however, takes place in landlocked Tennessee, it’s location beckons attendees from all across the south, midwest and east coast. The Empire Polo Fields, where Coachella takes place, is 90 acres – Bonnaroo’s venue is 700 acres. Coachella 90, Bonnaroo 700. 90, 700. Now that I have emasculated Coachella, let’s move on.

At its outset, Bonnaroo primarily focused on jam bands, a-la Dave Matthews, the John Butler Trio, Jack Johnson and the like. Now, however, music of all styles is showcased on each the festival’s many stages – a smart thing to do when your event spans four entire days. I have to be honest with you – upon viewing this year’s lineup of musical and comedy acts I peed my pants with excitement. It was only a little bit, but I guess any amount of pee in the pants is too much pee in the pants for a 24 year old female.

Anyways, back to the lineup. Bonnaroo 2010 featured performances from Stevie effing Wonder, Tenacious D, Damien Marley & Nas, Thievery Corporation, Phoenix and, my favorite band of all time, The Black Keys. Of course, there were about 200 other bands and comedians that did their thang on the stage, and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t thoroughly pissed off to learn my boyfriend’s college graduation was to take place that same weekend. C’est  la vie…I’ll just have to hope that I can have another opportunity to see the Keys and Stevie Wonder in the same weekend at the same venue for one ticket fee some other time in my life. Fuck.

Though music is the top attraction of Bonnaroo, this unique festival also has a huge commitment to sustainability and the green movement. The environmental facet of B-r00 is manifest in a number of different ways – take, for example the Bonnaroo Victory Garden, where you can take classes on gardening basics, composting, and other ways to reduce your carbon footprint. The festival organizers also encourage food vendors to locally-source the ingredients for their tasty treats, incorporate sources of renewable energy to power the fest, and even facilitate a well-water system to reduce bottled-water waste. Groovy, man.

If you are a regular reader of Best of Fest, you may have seen our shameless efforts to win tickets to Bonnaroo when we posted about the festival back in April. Awesomely enough, that post caught the eye of one of the organizers of the Crunch Den, a Wheat Thins-sponsored tent that gives fest-goers a place to sit down, chill out, chow down on some ‘Thins and watch some pop-up performances up-close and personal.

Sadly, we didn’t get to experience any of the Crunch Den action due to the fact that we didn’t get to experience any Bonnaroo action (don’t remind me), but our new pal sent us over some vids that give a great feel of what we missed out on. Some of the bands that cameo’d in the Crunch Den include The Moondoggies, Frontier Ruckus, Big Sam’s Funky Nation, Langhorne Slim, Frank Turner, Everest, Red Cortez, and Comedian Baron Vaughn. Check out the video here:

It seems that we at Best of Fest have an affinity for missing out on the biggest music festivals of the year…THIS year, at least. You bet your boots we’ll be doing whatever we can to show up next year. Until then, peace, love and Bonnaroo.

Keep it festive,
Lauren

Image via downtownfullerton.com

Northern Orange County: home to Disneyland, Medieval Times, Knott’s Berry Farm, the first Yogurt Land and little ol’ me. I’ve lived in Fullerton practically my whole life, aside from the times I moved thirty minutes away for college and thousands of miles away abroad. Fullerton has been a fantastic place to grow up; it has character, a good amount of diversity, and some pretty awesome history. Some of my most fond memories of growing up here begin when my parents decided to send my brother and I to Catholic school when I was going in junior high. When they initially told us that we were jumping ship from public to private school, pubescent me was pretty unhappy, but the move for us was the best decision they could have ever made for us.

St. Juliana’s brought a lot of new and exciting things to my life- uniforms, hot lunch from KFC & McDonalds, and of course, new friends. Arguably the most exciting  addition to my new life as a Catholic school girl life was the St. Juliana Fall Festival. The Fall Festival was one of our school’s main modes of fund raising and included your typical carnival fun and fare. There were rides manned by toothless gypsy carnies, a dunk tank, silly string wars, a cake walk, and all the unhealthy food you can imagine. At the time, there were few things I looked forward to more in the school year.

Welcome to SummerFest!

Fast-forward ten years and my, how things change. I went to the Fall Festival this year as my brother and sister currently attend St. Juliana’s, and let me tell you, I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Far too many kids, far too little booze, and the nachos, though good, were not enough to suffice. So clearly, I’d be a fool to brave another church fest at this point in my life right?

Well, St. Angela Merici, a Catholic church/school just up the street in Brea, held their 23rd annual SummerFest this past weekend and I did just that.  Here’s why: Pat Benatar and Neil Girardo, The Pointer Sisters, and Eddie Money. Believe it or not, all of those righteous legends performed at SummerFest this year. If you’re wondering how in the hell St. Angela’s racked up acts that would normally not step near a church fest, I’ll let you in on some inside info. A parishoner of St. Angela’s happens to be a powerful figure in the entertainment industry (a manager, I believe) so every year for as long as I can remember, they’ve had performances by the likes of The Cherry Poppin’ Daddies, The Romantics, Sugar Ray, Dublin and many more.

Lured by free admission, close proximity to my house, the promise of nachos, and “I’m So Excited” ringing in my head, I decided to brave the crowds (SummerFest draws about 25,000 people every year) with three pre-pubescent children. Parking was quite the event- the streets around St. Angela’s were jam packed, but thankfully it was free. Stepping into the fest, I realized this thing was like the St. J’s fest on crack. Everything was bigger- and dare I say it- better. The stage was a real stage with professional lighting, big projection screens and hundreds of seats for a surely large audience. The ride section was ours on steroids; sure they had the Zipper and a giant slide, but they also had a roller coaster, some insane twirly ride, and even one that simulated hand-gliding! Woah.

Connor, Carolyn & Natalie on the $6 roller coaster

Within an hour, we had spent $60 on rides for the three kids- each of those frikin’ rides included a 10-20 minute wait in line and a 3-6 ticket price tag. Just FYI, one ticket=$1. So ya, the roller coaster that they went on for less than a minute- 6 FLIPPING TICKETS. Do you know what I can buy with $6? A beer. A beer that lasts much longer than a minute and provides wayyyy more enjoyment. While the kids burned through their tickets, I sat back and observed the droves of teenagers wearing ill-fitting clothing, acting too cool for school, and flirting with their crush of the week. It was almost too much to bear, so I relocated and waited for the kids while enjoying a beer and watching the U2 tribute band rocking the stage.

Though not a fan of U2, I gotta say these guys were pretty good. I sat there and managed to enjoy for a bit, but by 8pm, the kids were done with their tickets and The Pointer Sisters were no where in sight so for fear I would spend more money on stupid tickets, drink myself into a stupor, or yell at some moronic teenager, I decided to bring the troops home and skip out on my chance to recreate Hugh Grant’s epic dance from Love Actually to “Jump (For My Love)”.  That could be done at home.

At another time in my life, St. Angela’s SummerFest may have given me great thrill, and who knows, maybe in 10+ years when I have kids of my own, it will be a great time for the family. Now, though, I think I’ll stick to what I do best at 24 years old- drinking, eating, and having a good time with kids my own age, and I suggest you do the same.

Fest on,

Shayna

Portland, located in the northwest corner of Oregon, boasts the rose as the floral icon of the city. It was dubbed “The City of Roses” in 1888 and has never failed to live up to its name thanks to this yearly festival, put on by the nonprofit Portland Rose Festival Foundation.

The first rosefest was held in 1907, two years after the idea was introduced in a mayoral address at the 1905 centennial celebration of the Lewis & Clark expedition. One hundred and three years later the Portland Rose Festival fests on – and with all the perks of modern-day society; i.e. beer.

For you Best of Fest readers that follow the craft beer scene, you know Portland is a HUGE beer city – it recently overtook Munich, Germany as the brewing capital of the world. Though sadly predictable, the part of the Rose Festival that entices me most is the 5 day Barbeque & Brew celebration – obvs.  It’s held at the downtown Waterfront Park and is described on the fest website as being “filled with finger lickin’ treats, cool frothy brews, cooking demonstrations and daily BBQ specials.”

2010 will be the debut year of this master plot to fatten and liquor up the hordes of people that will surely be flooding the park’s entrance to munch on brisket, hot links, pulled pork, ribs and BEER. Somebody get me a facken wet nap. The culmination of BBQ week lands on on Sunday June 6th with the finals of the Pacific Northwest Barbeque Championship, where the winner will swoop up the not too shabby $7,500 purse.

The Rose Festival picks back up after a two day break post-bbq contest on June 9th, with the Lloyd Center/Portland Rose Society 122nd Annual Spring Rose Show. Since 1888, residents from across the Pacific Northwest bring their best blooms to Portland’s festival to be judged in the show. Four-thousand entries dazzle the eyes and noses of 6,000+ attendees as they mill about the giant facility that houses the largest and longest running rose show in the nation. Caution: those with an allergy to pollen should think about poppin’ a few Claritin before entering the show facility.

June 12, the second to the last day of the festival, marks the arrival of the main event – the Key Bank Grand Floral Parade. Volunteers from up and down the west coast gather in droves to help decorate the delicate, sweetly scented floats that star in the procession. Like the Rose Parade I know so well, the Grand Floral Parade features marching bands, beauty queens, dance troupes, local organizations and special guests processing down the main drag in alternation with the traveling displays of expert floristry. (Is that even a word?)

Since it’s difficult to get a grip on the sheer volume of flowers used to build each float, interested parties can come back the day after the parade to take a closer look at the structures while they sit on display to the public. Just imagine what it’s be like to get up close and personal with this fierce flowered tigre.

Though the large majority of us probably wouldn’t make the trip to P-town just to attend this rose-tastic festival, it is definitely something to check out should you happen to be visiting between May 28 and June 13. There are tons more events throughout the 2 1/2 week festival and, should you have a sudden rose-induced allergy attack, don’t forget that you are in the freakin’ brewing capital of the world. Just saying.

Keep it festive,

Lauren