Summer camp will be desperately lonely this year.
...Okay, that's an exaggeration. Because that's what I thought last year, yet I made dozens of friends in zero time at all. I'm sure it'll be the same this year...right?
Last summer, I was "forced" to go to summer camp. It was an all-girls camp, no electricity, no flush-able toilets, on an island in cottage country for two weeks.
Best time of my life.
There's something about being sorted into a tent with three random strangers who will be listening to you snore for the next 14 nights that instantly makes you kindred spirits.
There was M, the perky one who'd been to the camp once or twice before; B, the party girl from the city, and E, the stylish redhead from London, England. In about two days, we were all really close.
I think it was only the second or third day when the four of us went on a canoe trip. Meaning paddling for hours to an even more remote island with only a sleeping bag, a toothbrush and a barrel of food, accompanied by a grouchy canoe-tripper who thinks he's the God of Building Things out of Driftwood and our wonderful counsellor, F.
By the end of that experience- tiny tents that refused to work without duct tape, toilets in the middle of pitch-black woods, stargazing, skinny-dipping, overly spiced chili courtesy of Monsieur Tripper, lack of toothpaste, fear of bears, sun-tanning, water-purification, campfires and lizards- we were practically best friends.
Yet, this year, I'm alone once again. E and her fabulously quirky sister K are staying in London, while B, her fantastically fun sister C, and M are "probably not coming".
Which leaves me, in my last year of camp, feeling even lonelier than I did last year.
But no worries, because I'm sure to have a blast all over again.
pancakes & syrup,
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