The less than comfortable, perfect Summer trip.

It was less than comfortable. Sitting in the back seat of a two-door hatchback, with little room to get a fresh intake of air let alone stretch out a leg to get some much needed relief on the gluteus muscles. Every possible orifice of the wee vehicle had been crammed with a pillow or the framework of a tent, while the four of us awkwardly molded into convex shapes around our belongings.

Our motives for choosing this campsite can’t be romanticized. We had done some brief Google research and the campsite cost around $2 a night per person, music to the forever financially struggling students ear. We would soon find out that a railway right on the borders of our tent site was to blame for this alluring price.

The humor of watching a group of girls put up a tent is second to none. My three best friends had me in hysterics as they battled with tent poles. In the meantime I helped my boyfriend put up our tent. Finally it was up, but it appeared we had now taken over the comedy show. We had a problem on our hands; Nick had foolishly packed a beach tent. One which provides a little shelter from the harsh UV rays while you tan at the beach but one that does little to shelter you during the night from the cold and condensation.

We then made our way down to the beach, a long golden stretch of land that steeply dropped to temperamental waves. The warnings from parents had been endless about a possible Tsunami at this exact beach that day. But we swam anyway, we were teenagers after all. The water became very deep, very fast and my petite stature struggled in the waves, but boy did we laugh. The adrenalin and rebellion acted like a current, keeping us afloat. What Tsunami?

It became late and we grew hungry, so the preservative enhanced meal we decided to opt for was a cup of noodles with a spicy Asian flavor that really lacked the spices central to its namesake. Regardless, the notoriously sensitive palate of Tom was made a fool of by the sachet of so-called ‘spices,’ whimpering “its so hot!”

Our spirits soon grew sleepy. Nick and I lay down in our shell of a tent, wrapping ourselves in the duvet in the most heat insulating way possible to prepare for the cold. Every three hours we would be reminded that we were situated two metres away from the railway line, its frightening sound and earthquake like vibrations would wake me with a scared gasp, but Nick would pull me in even closer. It was less than comfortable, but I wouldn’t have had it any other way.