It was with great aspirations that I began this blog way back in May, sitting down at the computer in Australia. I imagined filling blank web pages with my witty reportage on my Summer Camp experience in Decatur, Michigan, The United States of America (said with a nasally twang). Well, it appears I may have overestimated my blogging abilities since it is now September and this is the only subsequent entry… Apparently being a camp counselor is kind of time consuming – who knew? Now that I have escaped the Camp Bubble I finally have time to fill you in on my insane summer as a camp “bitch” - even though counselor is the technical term.
For a start I worked in the stables. Now the camp director did inform me that this would be a busy job when she hired me. Whatever, I thought, I just want to go to America, she was probably just trying to scare me right? Wrong. Twenty horses. Sorry, twenty crap, easily sickened, temperamental, stubborn horses with a will to poo all day long (and yes I did have to pick up all the foecal matter, every day, fun times). Then there was the barn staff. Talk about multiculturalism! Sandra from America (complete with cowboy boots), Kim ‘the incomprehensible’ from Scotland, Ellie from England (say it with a posh accent and you’ve got her figured out), Yehudit (I still can’t pronounce that properly) from Israel, freshly released from the Israeli army and ME, the Australian red head, constantly slathered in sunscreen. Oh and just a side note: everyone in the horseworld believes that not only are they are right, but that you are most definitely wrong! So combine five cultures, add a dash of know it all, an alarm beeping at seven am every morning, a cup of bratty, rude, but still-cute kids, twenty shitty horses, an insane spitting lama we had to feed and a healthy sprinkle of poo. What do you get? Insanity!
There's so much weirdness about camp, I have to dot point:
●Americans have no cultural knowledge outside their own country!
I was asked these questions on a regular basis:
“Is it winter there now? Wow. Does that mean you don’t get a summer?”
“Why don’t you get snow at Christmas?”
“Do you speak Australian?”
- and my personal favourite -
“Where is Australia?”
To this I replied, in the Southern Hemisphere. The child still looked blank. So I tried, next to New Zealand. Same expression. Um, below Indonesia…
“Oh yeah, I know Indonesia!”
Seriously? Seriously? Ah,
● Twelve-year-olds’ taste in music!
I have never been subjected to more Hannah Montana or the Jonas Brothers before in my life. Also there was some hideous song that went along the lines of “Somebody call 911, burning on the dance floor, wooahh” which my campers had an impressive ability to scream at me. I was asked if this was the music I listed to in Australia to which I replied, no, because I am not a twelve-year-old!
● Getting changed under a towel.
I can now say that I can change in to and out of any outfit (including riding jodhpurs!) under a towel with no issues whatsoever. For ten weeks I jiggled and wiggled under the towel, in front of the oddly curious kids, always surprised at the end that I was in fact dressed and had not exposed myself in any way!
●Braiding.
I made the foolish mistake of informing my fifteen kids in my cabin that I knew how to French Braid. Stupid. All my girls stood in a line to my bed, hair brushes in hand, eagerly awaiting their turn. I could barely move my fingers the next morning.
●Lice.
Nice follow on from braiding. Yes my camp had lice and everytime they mentioned the L-word all I wanted to do was scratch my head. Even the counselors had to endure Nurse Debbie (think Nurse Ratchet from One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest…) trawling through our hair.
●Insane Infirmary Staff.
I had the misfortune to be sick at camp. I actually ended up with pneumonia, which was just delightful. However, what was more unpleasant was dealing with the nurses! Aforementioned Nurse Debbie is a force to be reckoned with and her and her minions firmly believe that all illnesses, cuts, abrasions and infections can be cured with a bottle of water. I arrived with a fever, a cough, blocked sinuses and a sore ear. Hmmm, you might be dehydrated...can you pee into a cup for me? What am I seven years old? I firmly told them I didn’t believe it was dehydration that was making me attempt to cough up my lung, but no, I was forced to pee into a cup, have it tested and what do you know? I wasn’t dehydrated! Shock horror! I actually needed to see a doctor, bad luck water bottle, I’m sure you’ll be asked to cure the next sick camper of counselor!
More on camp life coming soon, including the Meal Time Screaming, Bug Bites and Camp Feet.
