To sum up...

Things are better now. A point of the shagging was made and for the most part it has stopped. I've taken to exhausting myself during the days to make sure that I sleep. Sounds unhealthy? Well, there are only too more days left. Speaking of two days left, I feel compelled to do a bit of a Jerry Springer and sum things up.

Before I came here I had no real idea of what it was going to be like. America gets a lot of coverage, so I knew some things, but like having a vague idea of what softball is, I didn't know all the rules. I'm bringing a dvd of the camp home with me and I'm going to make a point of showing it to all who'll watch it. It's basically a soundbyte documentary of what happened this summer - every kid, cabin, sport and occasion is featured. I remember watching similar videos before coming and all left me feeling intimidated and a bit freaked out - after all it's a completely different culture - but now having lived it for three months I feel as if in some way it's my culture too.

Cut grass smells exactly the same here as it does anywhere else and by that, in a roundabout kind of way, I mean that it's not as weird or strange as it looks or sounds because things are
the ultimately same. Mint ice cream and strawberry ice cream taste different, but they're still ice cream. Once you get past the funny accents and the occasional baffled look before you repeat yourself, the people are all the same. It's why I want to come back next year, basically. I heard a London accent randomly the other day and it just felt weird.

In the next couple of days we'll be closing up shop and moving on to Chica-Chica-go-go (don't ask - these guys'll chant anything). A family have offered to let me stay and they are the most amazing people. Two of their kids were my campers so it's going to be cool to see them again. This second week of post-camp has been better because several of my campers' families have come up. I'm such a sap - I can't believed I missed them that much. Ah well.

All in all it's been a long and tiring summer and I've had an incredible time. It's been an interesting experience trying to carry on doing what I normally do but taking into consideration the spartan nature of living out of a rucksack. I've decided that I could live without most things, but I couldn't live without paper. My next post will likely be from a different computer.

I am seriously looking forward to coming home.

Flipside

I find it increasingly baffling how a summer that has been so amazing can change to the complete opposite almost over night. It has been seven days since the kids left and I find myself now counting down the remaining seven days to the day that I leave this place for Chicago. In principle not much has changed. The kids and American staff have gone, certainly, and a bunch of ex-camper families have come up for what's called Post-Camp. The soured heart of the problem is twofold, firstly I am now forced to occupy my spare and night time with people who's behaviour I find increasingly reprehensible. Secondly, the emphasis at Post-Camp is on working for tips, which can be fairly large so I'm told - the effect this has had on the staff is to turn those prone to brown nosing into overdrive.

With regards to the first point, problems have been simmering all summer. While the campers were here I had the Cabin as a retreat, but now I'm forced to live in the midst of the problem. To begin with things were quite affable, we got on well and there were no problems. Slowly, as these things happen, egos started to emerge and things began to unravel. On the one hand you have people like myself, quiet, unassuming, committed to doing the job and putting the campers first. On the other hand you have the staff who don't see this as a job but a vacation. Not only this, but for the most part they share some awful personal characteristics - they're all obnoxious, loud, vindictive, wholly selfish and completely un-interesting. This wouldn't be a problem if I could escape their poisonous company, but I can't because I'm forced to sleep in the same cabin as them. Oh, and another thing, they don't like sleeping, they like getting pissed every single night because they're boring and have no other way of sustaining their entertainment. Oh and another thing, they insist on invading everyone else's privacy by having sex - loudly, frequently and in the same room as the rest of us - until the early hours of the morning. By which I mean 5 AfriggingM. Not only that though, these aren't the same partners every night, these are different women (and I use that term loosely). Imagine my rage, my abhorrence, my absolute hatred of these people. Then imagine me having to listen to the pithy way in which they brush aside my concerns - "Ah well, anything can happen when twelve lads get together in a room!"

FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK YYYYYYYYYYYYYOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And breathe.

The second point. The brown-nosing. After a long summer of being an authority figure, a mentor, a friend etc. (basically all the psychologically rewarding bits), I'm finding it hard to adjust to the job I came to America to escape - i.e. waitoring (or, picking up other people's shit because they're rich). Luckily, I'm being paid a healthy rate for these extra days and I don't have to "depend" on whatever these people are prepared to give me based on how much I suck up. If you don't like the service I provide, then you can go swivel. I'm not a bad waitor, I'd go as far as to say I'm a pretty good waitor, so the implication that there's something I'm not doing, I find slightly offensive. On top of all this I have far more free time than I had before, and far from making me happier, these periods are dragging the days out, swelling my least favourite of all human conditions: boredom. All this equals an extremely frustrated Jom.

Ultimately I have two choices, suffer in silence or snitch, and seeing as I have to spend most of my time in the company of these people even though they're making my life a misery, I'm not really inclined to do the latter. Suffice it to say the Director will be hearing my views on the subject and it will be affecting whatever contract he decides to draw up for next year. Fortunately there are three others who share my misery so I'm not suffering in silence. Eight weeks of blissful work and satisfaction far outweighs the irritating mire I find myself in, so my intention to return next year still stands. But by God, there are going to be conditions.

Are we tight?

So. Camp is kind of winding up and winding down. The massive all-week competition is rattling along steadily and my duties have been drastically reduced, which has basically left me in a small lurch. The free-time is nice but I find myself getting really stir-crazy - all I want to do is spend more time with the kids but they're always off doing competitiony stuff. I do get to see them at archery, which is cool but a little bit hectic.

So, mixed feelings. It's hard to get excited when you aren't on a team and everyone else is. It is an interesting lesson in American male psychology though. The little kids' moods have been reduced to overjoyed or uber-bummed out. I went on a little sojourn to the other cabins last night and hung out with a bunch of kids I normally only see in the day. They'd started a club called the Moobies - mostly composed of all the arty kids with wacky personalities - based on a conversation we'd had the previous day concerning Man Boobs, M-oobs or Moobies. I hope you find this as funny as we do. Anyway, it hadn't occurred to me that I could actually hang out with these kids in a non-responsible adult kind of way. One of the kids asked me "Are we tight?", as in to say "Are we cool/mates?" etc. He didn't really need to ask. Genuinely one of the most uplifting moments of the summer. It's gutting that this frighteningly obvious conclusion came to me five days before camp ends. Ah well, c'est la vie, there's always next summer.