Shameless Summer reminiscences. There may be a quite a few of these as and when I remember them. They seemed a bit pointless to mention at the time but these particular songs have stayed with me (partly because the British music scene gets punctured by American Pop two months later). Effectively these songs have followed me home and I can't help but like them, largely due to their associations with the "socials" that the camp held with other camps. Seeing, what were effectively school discos from an outsider's perspective is weird and cool. Cool insofar as they're instantly nostalgic because they're EXACTLY the same abroad as they are at home. Kids are brilliant.
So, here are the shameless songs:
1) See you again, by Miley Cyrus, (the girls really liked this one).
2) I kissed a girl, by Katy Perry (the boys in particular went a bit bonkers for this one because of the "kissing girls and liking it factor", apart from the youngest ones who didn't get it and the younger ones from Texas in particular who didn't like the homosexual overtones - we tickled that out of them though - seriously, Camp is shamelessly and knowingly "camp" - they haven't actually heard of the phrase "camp" in its cultural Boy George kind of way - there's an irony there somewhere).
3) Pocketful of Sunshine, by Natasha Beddingfield (like I say, stupidly camp. Loved every second).
4) Disturbia, Rihanna.
Showing posts with label Camp 08. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Camp 08. Show all posts
Sunday, 28 September 2008
Tuesday, 19 August 2008
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.
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.
Saturday, 2 August 2008
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.
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.
Tuesday, 29 July 2008
The One One
Some people might call this place a sausage-fest. It's an all-male camp after all. You may be wondering why the majority of the people here abscond from any major female company for eight weeks (well, half of them are pre-pubescent and couldn't give a monkeys). Today I witnessed a camp tradition, the picking of the teams for the last eight days of camp. Twelve team coaches adopt the names of twelve American Colleges (universities for the condused/foreign) and Draft the entire camp. For those unfamiliar with Drafting it's worth looking up. Most major American sports teams don't "buy" their players, they get awarded their position in a draft by what position they end up in at the end of the season. So, the Celtics just won the Basketball jobbie a month ago - they got to pick, from the pool of players on the transfer list first.
In our case the position in the draft is awarded randomly. In the first pick they basically pick the twelve best athletes in camp. The team who get the first pick effectively pick the Best Athlete in Camp. Okay. Let me put this in perspective. Everyone at camp is an athlete. Most of the kids don't arrive until second four because they're off playing varsity baseball or whatever. For the second four there are hundreds of City X's richest young athletes. The award of being a first round pick is an incredible one. Bear in mind this isn't an "OMG I'm so much better than you " thing - maybe it's hard to explain that there isn't anything elitist or braggy about being a first round pick, it's more like a recognition of dedication. The other thing is, in preparation for the draft the camp undergoes a mass scouting binge. For the last two weeks everyone has been extensively researching everyone else. I don't jest. In fact, to everyone else around here it's deadly serious. My point is, everyone knows who the One One is going to be before he's picked, either that or they have an extremely good idea. There are no real surprises, ergo there are no tears.
Okay, back to my original point. Everyone I have ever met (back home), bar a small minority of very settled and comfortable individuals, who has had any kind of sporty inclinations has been an arsehole. I'm not saying tempers don't fray or that this place is some kind of sports paradise... but it's pretty good. And the great thing is I don't have to do any sports! It's basically the atmosphere and the company - devoid of cynicism this place actually works as a competitive and supportive community. The only kids who cry about losing here are in my cabin and they soon grow out of it.
In our case the position in the draft is awarded randomly. In the first pick they basically pick the twelve best athletes in camp. The team who get the first pick effectively pick the Best Athlete in Camp. Okay. Let me put this in perspective. Everyone at camp is an athlete. Most of the kids don't arrive until second four because they're off playing varsity baseball or whatever. For the second four there are hundreds of City X's richest young athletes. The award of being a first round pick is an incredible one. Bear in mind this isn't an "OMG I'm so much better than you " thing - maybe it's hard to explain that there isn't anything elitist or braggy about being a first round pick, it's more like a recognition of dedication. The other thing is, in preparation for the draft the camp undergoes a mass scouting binge. For the last two weeks everyone has been extensively researching everyone else. I don't jest. In fact, to everyone else around here it's deadly serious. My point is, everyone knows who the One One is going to be before he's picked, either that or they have an extremely good idea. There are no real surprises, ergo there are no tears.
Okay, back to my original point. Everyone I have ever met (back home), bar a small minority of very settled and comfortable individuals, who has had any kind of sporty inclinations has been an arsehole. I'm not saying tempers don't fray or that this place is some kind of sports paradise... but it's pretty good. And the great thing is I don't have to do any sports! It's basically the atmosphere and the company - devoid of cynicism this place actually works as a competitive and supportive community. The only kids who cry about losing here are in my cabin and they soon grow out of it.
Sunday, 20 July 2008
Head Space
Yesterday we went to Walmart. Wow, not only does it sell everything (guns included), it also sells everything at ridiculously cheap prices. I'm not talking Tesco is two pence cheaper on bananas than Asda cheap, I'm talking a flat screen HD TV is thousands of dollars cheaper than anywhere else. Walmart isn't just beating the competition, it's undercutting the competition to the extent that there is no competition. Walmart has won. They even have leaflets dotted around the store aimed at people who don't have that much money - for example, you've got a five year old who goes through clothes at a rate of knots, "Do the math!" the headline screams - then it lists everything you need to buy for that child and how much you're saving. These aren't just empty boasts with pennies to save, they are literally offering a stupidly cheaper alternative.
Scarily, Walmart was in a large industrial estate on the outskirts of a larger town, much like the ones you see anywhere in the UK, but, whether by karma or intention, opposite Walmart on the highway was a trailer park, full of Walmart's target demographic. A brisk drive down the highway and everything that Walmart didn't sell (or did, they do, after all sell "everything") was sold here. We even passed a hospital which had more in common with a superstore than a place of medical emergency and rest. Sweeping out before it was an enormous car park and it occurred to me that everything here is for sale. Health care is a commodity. I even saw drive-thru ATMs. You might be forgiven for thinking that it was at this point that I lost my mind, sloppy grey-matter dribbling out of my ears like microwaved porridge. Fortunately, my sanity stayed intact. Just.
Everything is for sale. Someone mentioned tipping in a comment, but this is, again, a culture where everything is paid for, even service and courtesy, and this isn't in a grudging kind of way, it's just par for the course. They want to give you their money, there is not point in being chivalrous and refusing because they don't seem to get why you'd refuse. The preverbial you has offered a service, that service is then repayed in gratitude and a twenty dollar bill. It's just business, it's just the way the world works. In the UK people begrudge having to give up their cash. If you tip someone out of desire, more than courtesy, you are going out of your way to acknowledge extraordinary service, above and beyond that which is just expected. Money makes things work. Work makes money. It's simple... what other system works better...???
Cough. Sorry - drifted off into a world of capitalist bliss. And I'm back in the room! Okay. Head Space. I don't really talk about these things out loud, which is why I blog them instead. What I was originally going to write about was how, without regular and personal access to a PC, ideas are slopping around in my head blending into one another. I bought a notebook the other day with dividers built into it - now I can keep notes and keep things seperate! Isn't it amazing how paper is still the best way of keeping track of things? For thousands of years humankind has been writing things down and the concept is still going strong. Wonderful. I love paper.
Scarily, Walmart was in a large industrial estate on the outskirts of a larger town, much like the ones you see anywhere in the UK, but, whether by karma or intention, opposite Walmart on the highway was a trailer park, full of Walmart's target demographic. A brisk drive down the highway and everything that Walmart didn't sell (or did, they do, after all sell "everything") was sold here. We even passed a hospital which had more in common with a superstore than a place of medical emergency and rest. Sweeping out before it was an enormous car park and it occurred to me that everything here is for sale. Health care is a commodity. I even saw drive-thru ATMs. You might be forgiven for thinking that it was at this point that I lost my mind, sloppy grey-matter dribbling out of my ears like microwaved porridge. Fortunately, my sanity stayed intact. Just.
Everything is for sale. Someone mentioned tipping in a comment, but this is, again, a culture where everything is paid for, even service and courtesy, and this isn't in a grudging kind of way, it's just par for the course. They want to give you their money, there is not point in being chivalrous and refusing because they don't seem to get why you'd refuse. The preverbial you has offered a service, that service is then repayed in gratitude and a twenty dollar bill. It's just business, it's just the way the world works. In the UK people begrudge having to give up their cash. If you tip someone out of desire, more than courtesy, you are going out of your way to acknowledge extraordinary service, above and beyond that which is just expected. Money makes things work. Work makes money. It's simple... what other system works better...???
Cough. Sorry - drifted off into a world of capitalist bliss. And I'm back in the room! Okay. Head Space. I don't really talk about these things out loud, which is why I blog them instead. What I was originally going to write about was how, without regular and personal access to a PC, ideas are slopping around in my head blending into one another. I bought a notebook the other day with dividers built into it - now I can keep notes and keep things seperate! Isn't it amazing how paper is still the best way of keeping track of things? For thousands of years humankind has been writing things down and the concept is still going strong. Wonderful. I love paper.
Thursday, 17 July 2008
Amlen y teclyn sy'n glanhau'r gotsan
So. New kids, halfway through the great American experience and everything's all quiet. They say no news is good news, but it's also boring to Blog about. The truth is I could blog every little detail and in twenty years time I could look back and think "Shit! I remember that!", but that isn't quite the point. The blog medium seems to me to be about the here and now, the immediate, and then have people respond. It's a soundboard for the little details that are interesting. So, it's not really that interesting that my excitement levels are peaking for The Dark Knight next monday and the trip to the next largest town for comfy seats and a big screen. Some may say my priorities are misplaced.
How about this then smart-guy - one of my campers ate beef today for the first time since he was five. The other day he was upset at dinner because, in his words, "there wasn't any food for him". I tried convincing him that eating beef wasn't the end of the world but he was having none of it. This evening, with only hamburgers to eat he happily gave it a try and actually liked it. I was very proud. All of my new kids are amazing. Visiting weekend came and went like a breath of fresh air, plus I made eighty dollars in tips! It's nice to actually meet the people who normally look after these kids. The parents were a grateful bunch and not just in a financial sense. One actually gave me a business card. I was stunned. Some of the kids had such a good time first four that their parents agreed to let them stay for second four. It was incredible seeing the kid's excitement and the parents' appreciation.
How about this then smart-guy - one of my campers ate beef today for the first time since he was five. The other day he was upset at dinner because, in his words, "there wasn't any food for him". I tried convincing him that eating beef wasn't the end of the world but he was having none of it. This evening, with only hamburgers to eat he happily gave it a try and actually liked it. I was very proud. All of my new kids are amazing. Visiting weekend came and went like a breath of fresh air, plus I made eighty dollars in tips! It's nice to actually meet the people who normally look after these kids. The parents were a grateful bunch and not just in a financial sense. One actually gave me a business card. I was stunned. Some of the kids had such a good time first four that their parents agreed to let them stay for second four. It was incredible seeing the kid's excitement and the parents' appreciation.
Sunday, 6 July 2008
Fourth of July
So, I got to experience The American Holiday the other day. For the past week there have been fireworks going off all around the lake. The day itself dawned bright and early, just like most other days. I keep expecting it to rain but it never does. I can't quite understand how there can't be overcast days... it just doesn't make sense! How can a place be sunny pretty much constantly? One of the Aussies was funny - on the one day that it did rain he was actually shocked, he couldn't understand how much water could fall from the air. I told him he had no idea and never to visit the UK, the shock may be too much for him.
Anyway, July Fourth/Fourth of July. It started off pretty badly actually. The Director's been breathing down my neck to get the totem-pole finished when there's around six weeks left to get it done. The implication that I was doing nothing got to me a little bit. Not only that but the kids were being little snots when it came to morning clean-up, so I wasn't in the best of moods. But when lunch time rolled around the kitchen staff set up tables on the lawn and served foot-long hotdogs with luminous green relish, a pasta salad and cookies decorated in red, white and blue. The sheer American-ness of the whole thing cheered me up, it was wonderful. So, we ate outside in the sunshine, the kids played and I took some pictures.
Later that evening they had a social with a local girls' camp. A bunch of DJs came with an enormous PA system, decks, a stage - the whole kit and caboodle. One of them was a big fat white guy who held his headphones at a jaunty angle, another was a skinny black guy who had a baseball cap at a jaunty angle and the third was another white guy who thought he was Justin Timberlake. They put on a good show, but my oh my did my cynical British self laugh at them. What a bunch of wallies. In the end the international staff hogged the dance floor. Despite the fact that four-hundred horny teens were about to combust with excitement, they just couldn't keep up with our moves. Ha ha ha, says I.
In general though life dribbles by as ever. The days still go by fairly quickly, today is Sunday and despite the hair-loss over super-cabin-cleanup it'll go by pretty quickly too. Last night was awesome, Cabin Nine came in and helped out the little guys with clean-up. I know they were going for Honour Cabin again and were sucking up a bit, but they were really nice about it. Yesterday was a bit trying in another way. One of our campers got caught going through our stuff. We weren't surprised, to be honest, but we knew that our reaction to this incident had to be more serious than normal so we took the offender to the office to see the Director. He's a strange kid. His maturity is about a year off his age - he's eight but he acts like a seven year-old at times. His default reaction is to cry whenever he doesn't get his way. My default reaction is to be stern. It's one of those strange situations where he isn't ready for camp yet, but what he needs is to stay here and get all his bad home habits replaced. The tragic thing is he can be really nice, generous, thoughtful etc. but his default reaction is to lash out. I may as well mention the letters situation while I'm on the subject. In the end I managed to write positive stuff about all of the kids I was writing for. I sat them down, asked them what they were enjoying and concentrated on those. The truth is there isn't a single nasty kid in the cabin, as such. I think a few of them have the potential to become nasty, but on the whole they're just young and a little spoiled.
Looking forward to the week ahead - well, this is the last week of First Four - which basically means I'm pretty much halfway through the American adventure. A lot of the kids in my cabin will be going home next weekend, many of their parents will be coming up to either collect them or stay for the weekend. The following week the ones that have left will be replaced and then the fun starts all over again. I think we're losing a hundred kids but gaining a hundred and fifty for second four. About five or six from my cabin will be staying, which is nice.
Anyway, July Fourth/Fourth of July. It started off pretty badly actually. The Director's been breathing down my neck to get the totem-pole finished when there's around six weeks left to get it done. The implication that I was doing nothing got to me a little bit. Not only that but the kids were being little snots when it came to morning clean-up, so I wasn't in the best of moods. But when lunch time rolled around the kitchen staff set up tables on the lawn and served foot-long hotdogs with luminous green relish, a pasta salad and cookies decorated in red, white and blue. The sheer American-ness of the whole thing cheered me up, it was wonderful. So, we ate outside in the sunshine, the kids played and I took some pictures.
Later that evening they had a social with a local girls' camp. A bunch of DJs came with an enormous PA system, decks, a stage - the whole kit and caboodle. One of them was a big fat white guy who held his headphones at a jaunty angle, another was a skinny black guy who had a baseball cap at a jaunty angle and the third was another white guy who thought he was Justin Timberlake. They put on a good show, but my oh my did my cynical British self laugh at them. What a bunch of wallies. In the end the international staff hogged the dance floor. Despite the fact that four-hundred horny teens were about to combust with excitement, they just couldn't keep up with our moves. Ha ha ha, says I.
In general though life dribbles by as ever. The days still go by fairly quickly, today is Sunday and despite the hair-loss over super-cabin-cleanup it'll go by pretty quickly too. Last night was awesome, Cabin Nine came in and helped out the little guys with clean-up. I know they were going for Honour Cabin again and were sucking up a bit, but they were really nice about it. Yesterday was a bit trying in another way. One of our campers got caught going through our stuff. We weren't surprised, to be honest, but we knew that our reaction to this incident had to be more serious than normal so we took the offender to the office to see the Director. He's a strange kid. His maturity is about a year off his age - he's eight but he acts like a seven year-old at times. His default reaction is to cry whenever he doesn't get his way. My default reaction is to be stern. It's one of those strange situations where he isn't ready for camp yet, but what he needs is to stay here and get all his bad home habits replaced. The tragic thing is he can be really nice, generous, thoughtful etc. but his default reaction is to lash out. I may as well mention the letters situation while I'm on the subject. In the end I managed to write positive stuff about all of the kids I was writing for. I sat them down, asked them what they were enjoying and concentrated on those. The truth is there isn't a single nasty kid in the cabin, as such. I think a few of them have the potential to become nasty, but on the whole they're just young and a little spoiled.
Looking forward to the week ahead - well, this is the last week of First Four - which basically means I'm pretty much halfway through the American adventure. A lot of the kids in my cabin will be going home next weekend, many of their parents will be coming up to either collect them or stay for the weekend. The following week the ones that have left will be replaced and then the fun starts all over again. I think we're losing a hundred kids but gaining a hundred and fifty for second four. About five or six from my cabin will be staying, which is nice.
Sunday, 29 June 2008
Yay-rah-rah
Okay, so the camp Olympics have been going on this week, which meant I was responsible for officiating the archery and track meet events and it got met thinking about competition. I like to think of myself as not very competitive, but secretly I can go a bit mad at times and get really wound up. I don't like getting wound up about competitions because I think it's, personally, unhealthy, ergo I don't get excited about competitions, be they in game form or otherwise. I can only play about half an hours worth of four-player Goldeneye before I go a little bit mad. But that may just be because of the DK and paintball cheats. So, it was interesting watching three hundred men and boys go nuts over a re-enactment of the Olympics. I am faithfully told that Collegiate Week (the then day uber-competition at the end of the Summer) is far more competitive.
From the archery range I didn't hear much of what was happening elsewhere. After all, I had ten eager eight to ten year olds waiting to face-off in a gruelling battle to see who was the least shit at hitting the target. Five arrows each, two kids, starting with the youngest. You won't be surprised to learn that this was the real test of my patience. In fairness the kids didn't get that wound up, they were a bit competitive, they were also good little sportsmen so there were no fall-outs. On the obstacle course however, where I was officiating the horse-shoe tossing competition things were a bit different. I have never seen people get more wound up about getting a horse-shoe around a pole. The significance of it just went straight over my head.
This weekend is the weekend of writing letters home to the parents. We mimicked the NBA draft in order to pick our particular children to write about. The unfortunate thing is that the more you get to know a fairly diverse group of kids the more their personalities come out and flavour the way you see them. Luckily, most of the kids are great but a handful are a trifle difficult to like at times. I hate actually putting that in writing, but it's true and it's something that I see as a professional challenge. My name came out of the draft first so I got to pick my "favourite" camper. The others had made it fairly clear who they wanted but I felt, at the time, that I was capable of writing something nice, constructive and positive about all of the kids. Now I have writer's block.
It's not even as if this is a big, serious thing - all I have to do is write a little bit about myself, a little about the kids and how they're getting on etcetera, etcetera. But it's proving difficult. The biggest problem really isn't finding positive things to say, it's more that two weeks isn't really enough time to appraise anything, let alone a person. Besides, I'm meant to have a vague idea of what sports they're good at - between archery, waterfront and arts and crafts I don't really know. The biggest, biggest problem I have is that I don't like the idea of a placatory letter - where the parents read it, worried that they're child is not having a good time, anxious about this, that and the other and I just tell them they're having a gay 'ol time and everything's fine and dandy. I'd rather something constructive, positive but honest. That isn't my job though, I realise that, I'm not here to tell them that their kid is spoiled, selfish and doesn't care that other kids have noticed. I'm here to reassure the parents that their kids are having a good time and everything is fine, which is fairly true. However, I've decided I'm not going to lie; in some cases this limits my list of positive adjectives somewhat.
Now, I'm going to tell a short story about how a dispute over showering led to the flood-gates opening. One of the kids in the cabin is a bit of an outcast and not from lack of effort. He's boisterous, a bit rough at times and has a tough attitude - but he is a nice kid when you get past the bravado. Also, he doesn't like showering and I get the impression daily cleanliness isn't a priority back home. There's an unofficial policy here that there are home rules and Camp rules. Regardless of whether you shower at home, daily or otherwise, you shower at Camp. Lots of kids come from spoiled backgrounds, others come from broken, braking or unsteady homes. Camp needs to be a different place, a second home where different rules apply. Anyway, this kid came back late from movie night and everyone else had showered. When we told him that he had to shower, when it hadn't really been an issue since the first couple of days, he started crying. At first I thought he was being a tired little brat, then he started talking about how he was being left out and suddenly a dispute over cleanliness had become something else. It's weird how these kids bottle up their anxieties. Their day to day behaviour is pretty consistent, play, eat and act on every impulse they have until all energy is spent. I hadn't realised that this was a fairly effective way of hiding the things that worry them. I'll let you know how that story ends if and when it does.
From the archery range I didn't hear much of what was happening elsewhere. After all, I had ten eager eight to ten year olds waiting to face-off in a gruelling battle to see who was the least shit at hitting the target. Five arrows each, two kids, starting with the youngest. You won't be surprised to learn that this was the real test of my patience. In fairness the kids didn't get that wound up, they were a bit competitive, they were also good little sportsmen so there were no fall-outs. On the obstacle course however, where I was officiating the horse-shoe tossing competition things were a bit different. I have never seen people get more wound up about getting a horse-shoe around a pole. The significance of it just went straight over my head.
This weekend is the weekend of writing letters home to the parents. We mimicked the NBA draft in order to pick our particular children to write about. The unfortunate thing is that the more you get to know a fairly diverse group of kids the more their personalities come out and flavour the way you see them. Luckily, most of the kids are great but a handful are a trifle difficult to like at times. I hate actually putting that in writing, but it's true and it's something that I see as a professional challenge. My name came out of the draft first so I got to pick my "favourite" camper. The others had made it fairly clear who they wanted but I felt, at the time, that I was capable of writing something nice, constructive and positive about all of the kids. Now I have writer's block.
It's not even as if this is a big, serious thing - all I have to do is write a little bit about myself, a little about the kids and how they're getting on etcetera, etcetera. But it's proving difficult. The biggest problem really isn't finding positive things to say, it's more that two weeks isn't really enough time to appraise anything, let alone a person. Besides, I'm meant to have a vague idea of what sports they're good at - between archery, waterfront and arts and crafts I don't really know. The biggest, biggest problem I have is that I don't like the idea of a placatory letter - where the parents read it, worried that they're child is not having a good time, anxious about this, that and the other and I just tell them they're having a gay 'ol time and everything's fine and dandy. I'd rather something constructive, positive but honest. That isn't my job though, I realise that, I'm not here to tell them that their kid is spoiled, selfish and doesn't care that other kids have noticed. I'm here to reassure the parents that their kids are having a good time and everything is fine, which is fairly true. However, I've decided I'm not going to lie; in some cases this limits my list of positive adjectives somewhat.
Now, I'm going to tell a short story about how a dispute over showering led to the flood-gates opening. One of the kids in the cabin is a bit of an outcast and not from lack of effort. He's boisterous, a bit rough at times and has a tough attitude - but he is a nice kid when you get past the bravado. Also, he doesn't like showering and I get the impression daily cleanliness isn't a priority back home. There's an unofficial policy here that there are home rules and Camp rules. Regardless of whether you shower at home, daily or otherwise, you shower at Camp. Lots of kids come from spoiled backgrounds, others come from broken, braking or unsteady homes. Camp needs to be a different place, a second home where different rules apply. Anyway, this kid came back late from movie night and everyone else had showered. When we told him that he had to shower, when it hadn't really been an issue since the first couple of days, he started crying. At first I thought he was being a tired little brat, then he started talking about how he was being left out and suddenly a dispute over cleanliness had become something else. It's weird how these kids bottle up their anxieties. Their day to day behaviour is pretty consistent, play, eat and act on every impulse they have until all energy is spent. I hadn't realised that this was a fairly effective way of hiding the things that worry them. I'll let you know how that story ends if and when it does.
Sunday, 22 June 2008
Nature Break
Whenever a Bald Eagle flies over, the Campers, cynically or whimsically (you take your pick), all yell "Nature Break!". It's becoming an every day occurrence to see a bloody enormous bird fly over like the lord of the manner. You should see the mess these things make too - they put seagulls to shame. Then again, they are three times as large.
Week One of kids is over. It's Sunday and we're having what's known as a Sleep-in - it basically means that the campers get to sleep until 10, if they want to. Obviously, I'm not having a sleep-in. The rest of the counselors are all students though and would happily sleep until two in the afternoon. All of my campers are awake, bless them. It's been a good week overall. As it turns out my artistic skills aren't really that necessary, all I do is supervise the kids while they paint and pootle around in the arts and crafts room - either that or I supervise them doing archery. We have the Father & Son crowd here this weekend - basically it means younger boys and their "Pas" are staying the weekend, mostly so the Pas can relive their childhoods. The generations of men and boys at this place is staggering. There's a plaque in my cabin from the Director's first year as a Counselor back in 1959. It looks like it was painted yesterday.
You'll be happy to know my work on the totem-pole is progressing nicely. One of the carpenters is helping me make it. Have I mentioned the totem-pole? It's basically a plaque for the big competition at the end of the summer. I'm documenting the whole thing, so there'll be explanatory pictures eventually. The weather has actually turned up too! We've finally had a string of uninterrupted sunny days and last night the stars were all out. It's nice to be able to see the same stars as back home. It's weird really, the sky looks exactly the same - I may only have gone two miles down the road, maybe this is just a surreal dream. You know those summers you had when you were a kid when the sun didn't stop shining and everything was brilliant, it's a bit like watching that happen to other people, and by proxy re-experiencing it yourself.
So, here are some top tips for dealing with eight year-olds:
1) Throw your normal framework of patience out of the window and start again. They don't play by your rules, so make up some new ones.
2) Don't believe them when they say they're okay when they clearly aren't. Keep asking until the tears come then make them feel better and move on. Don't make a big deal out of anything remotely negative.
3) Just because they have straightforward needs (eat, sleep, play, potty etc.) doesn't mean they are straightforward. The naughtiest and rowdiest ones in my cabin are the first ones to go to sleep and actually want to be in bed and get a good night's sleep. For some bizarre reason the quiet ones want to stay up late playing Pokemon.
I'm getting a lot of reading done. The amount of Unassigned periods I'm getting during the day guarantees that I'm reading at least sixty pages a day, which is pretty cool. I do have a lot of books with me (and of course I've bought more - who could resist buying books?). I'm required for one hour a day's "work" per day (arts and crafts or archery) the rest of the time the other counselors supervise the sports and activities - occasionally I help out on the waterfront, but it's rare. Obviously, I have to supervise fifteen kids when they aren't playing sports, but it's a nice, steady rate of work. By ten in the evening I can relax and do more reading. This is definitely the easiest and most rewarding job I've ever done. It's a bit like being paid for your presence and the skills you come with are a bonus. No complaints here.
Week One of kids is over. It's Sunday and we're having what's known as a Sleep-in - it basically means that the campers get to sleep until 10, if they want to. Obviously, I'm not having a sleep-in. The rest of the counselors are all students though and would happily sleep until two in the afternoon. All of my campers are awake, bless them. It's been a good week overall. As it turns out my artistic skills aren't really that necessary, all I do is supervise the kids while they paint and pootle around in the arts and crafts room - either that or I supervise them doing archery. We have the Father & Son crowd here this weekend - basically it means younger boys and their "Pas" are staying the weekend, mostly so the Pas can relive their childhoods. The generations of men and boys at this place is staggering. There's a plaque in my cabin from the Director's first year as a Counselor back in 1959. It looks like it was painted yesterday.
You'll be happy to know my work on the totem-pole is progressing nicely. One of the carpenters is helping me make it. Have I mentioned the totem-pole? It's basically a plaque for the big competition at the end of the summer. I'm documenting the whole thing, so there'll be explanatory pictures eventually. The weather has actually turned up too! We've finally had a string of uninterrupted sunny days and last night the stars were all out. It's nice to be able to see the same stars as back home. It's weird really, the sky looks exactly the same - I may only have gone two miles down the road, maybe this is just a surreal dream. You know those summers you had when you were a kid when the sun didn't stop shining and everything was brilliant, it's a bit like watching that happen to other people, and by proxy re-experiencing it yourself.
So, here are some top tips for dealing with eight year-olds:
1) Throw your normal framework of patience out of the window and start again. They don't play by your rules, so make up some new ones.
2) Don't believe them when they say they're okay when they clearly aren't. Keep asking until the tears come then make them feel better and move on. Don't make a big deal out of anything remotely negative.
3) Just because they have straightforward needs (eat, sleep, play, potty etc.) doesn't mean they are straightforward. The naughtiest and rowdiest ones in my cabin are the first ones to go to sleep and actually want to be in bed and get a good night's sleep. For some bizarre reason the quiet ones want to stay up late playing Pokemon.
I'm getting a lot of reading done. The amount of Unassigned periods I'm getting during the day guarantees that I'm reading at least sixty pages a day, which is pretty cool. I do have a lot of books with me (and of course I've bought more - who could resist buying books?). I'm required for one hour a day's "work" per day (arts and crafts or archery) the rest of the time the other counselors supervise the sports and activities - occasionally I help out on the waterfront, but it's rare. Obviously, I have to supervise fifteen kids when they aren't playing sports, but it's a nice, steady rate of work. By ten in the evening I can relax and do more reading. This is definitely the easiest and most rewarding job I've ever done. It's a bit like being paid for your presence and the skills you come with are a bonus. No complaints here.
Sunday, 15 June 2008
House Elves
It's the day before the big arrival. Tomorrow, the kids finally get here. It's been a fortnight now and the work has been pretty laid back, well, it's been up and down - a bit like the weather, boiling one second and freezing cold the next. We spent this morning depositing the kids' enormous duffel bags in the Cabins. You wouldn't believe how much these kids bring. And the stupid thing is they don't even bring it, the UPS man drives it all up in a truck and we give ourselves hernias dragging it all across the quad. We are house elves.
The other day my Arts and Crafts partner arrived. Since then we've been getting some stuff ready and things are finally looking ship-shape and ready to go. All the pressure I was talking about before is gone - turns out a lot has been lifting off my shoulders, however, I did make the mistake of putting down on a questionnaire that I kind-of wanted to help out with archery. Guess who got lumped with the responsibility of running the archery? Luckily, there are only four targets and they're ten yards away from the firing line. Not exactly a chore. The timetable looks pretty sweet too, because I can't coach/officiate the sports I don't have to do a huge amount during the day - it's not like I've got six arts and crafts/archery lessons a day. I do have to make the Collegiate Week winners/players bill-board. I've got an elaborate plan to build a totem pole around one of the columns in the Mess Hall. Well, it is the eightieth anniversary of the place.
The American staff also turned up this week and we've moved into our cabins. I was apprehensive about meeting them at first, but it turns out they're great. They're all younger than me by about two or three years and they have a very silly energy about them. They think my accent is the best thing ever and constantly spout pearls of wisdom like "You're a bloody wanker!" and "Bo-llocks!". If you've ever wondered what American youth culture is like in comparison with British youth culture? Different. Very different. There's a whole fake-ID underground scene that makes British fake IDs look like a joke. I keep trying to tell them the difference between England, Wales, Scotland and Northern Ireland, but they just don't get it. America isn't just a country, it's an entire microcosm. The rest of the world seems very, very far away, but it's not a problem because in America you can do anything - it's a self-supporting, economic behemoth. It's like a big, safe pillow.
A description of what my co-counselors describe as "Bumblefuck USA" (that's small-town America to the rest of us). You're driving into town in a really big car. Imagine the biggest car you've ever seen. This one is bigger. I haven't seen a Ford car I recognise yet. I don't even want to describe the KA to them, they may think I'm joking - "Bro, why do you drive shoes?". On both sides of the road are big Stores, bars and Chapels - the speed limit in town is thirty five mph, but on the Highway it goes up to fifty-five, the nutters. Everyone drives slowly, you don't need to drive fast, apparently enormous distances take care of themselves when you're driving like a slug. The town is divided neatly into square blocks, like Milton Keynes but infinitely nicer. The street lamps are old-fashioned ones and the pavements are nice and high - pearly white too, no chewing gum and no litter. On every other lamp is an American flag.
The design of the buildings is old-fashioned, but nothing is older than about fifty years. It's like they want it to look aged and cultured but don't want the hassle of having to maintain old buildings. Having said that the Camp's buildings have been around since the twenties and they're still in top form. The cinema on the main drag through the town has one of those over-hanging porches covered in lights and inside it smells like popcorn. Every now and then a group of bikers drive past on Harleys. I have never felt more safe in the middle of nowhere. AND I haven't seen any guns.
In other news I went out on the lake today, it's huuuuge! Some of the waterfront guys were practicing water-skiing - it was very cool. All the houses along the waterfront are enormous - most are three storeys with at least twenty-odd rooms, maybe more. Every now and then a bald eagle glides by. Bonkers.
So, tomorrow the kids are coming. We got an email from one of the mothers about one of the kids sleep walking, it's dawning on me now that we are actually going to be looking after a group of young kids for the next eight weeks. Looking after, as in their parents aren't going to be there to pick up the pieces if it all gets too much. I feel homesick for them. Anyway, the email was painfully sweet and fairly long, you could tell she was putting a lot of faith and hope in us. It's a strange honour to be trusted so much by someone you haven't met before.
In more other news: I've taken the weekend off from the gym. A bugle calls every morning at ten to eight, I shit you not. I'm trying to stock up on sleep before the kids arrive - I didn't understand the meaning of the word "lie-in" until I was in my teens, so imagine what a bunch of seven/eight year olds are going to be like at six in the morning. At least they go to bed early. I may not get the chance to blog again for a while - I'm constantly in competition with the other staff for the computer.
The other day my Arts and Crafts partner arrived. Since then we've been getting some stuff ready and things are finally looking ship-shape and ready to go. All the pressure I was talking about before is gone - turns out a lot has been lifting off my shoulders, however, I did make the mistake of putting down on a questionnaire that I kind-of wanted to help out with archery. Guess who got lumped with the responsibility of running the archery? Luckily, there are only four targets and they're ten yards away from the firing line. Not exactly a chore. The timetable looks pretty sweet too, because I can't coach/officiate the sports I don't have to do a huge amount during the day - it's not like I've got six arts and crafts/archery lessons a day. I do have to make the Collegiate Week winners/players bill-board. I've got an elaborate plan to build a totem pole around one of the columns in the Mess Hall. Well, it is the eightieth anniversary of the place.
The American staff also turned up this week and we've moved into our cabins. I was apprehensive about meeting them at first, but it turns out they're great. They're all younger than me by about two or three years and they have a very silly energy about them. They think my accent is the best thing ever and constantly spout pearls of wisdom like "You're a bloody wanker!" and "Bo-llocks!". If you've ever wondered what American youth culture is like in comparison with British youth culture? Different. Very different. There's a whole fake-ID underground scene that makes British fake IDs look like a joke. I keep trying to tell them the difference between England, Wales, Scotland and Northern Ireland, but they just don't get it. America isn't just a country, it's an entire microcosm. The rest of the world seems very, very far away, but it's not a problem because in America you can do anything - it's a self-supporting, economic behemoth. It's like a big, safe pillow.
A description of what my co-counselors describe as "Bumblefuck USA" (that's small-town America to the rest of us). You're driving into town in a really big car. Imagine the biggest car you've ever seen. This one is bigger. I haven't seen a Ford car I recognise yet. I don't even want to describe the KA to them, they may think I'm joking - "Bro, why do you drive shoes?". On both sides of the road are big Stores, bars and Chapels - the speed limit in town is thirty five mph, but on the Highway it goes up to fifty-five, the nutters. Everyone drives slowly, you don't need to drive fast, apparently enormous distances take care of themselves when you're driving like a slug. The town is divided neatly into square blocks, like Milton Keynes but infinitely nicer. The street lamps are old-fashioned ones and the pavements are nice and high - pearly white too, no chewing gum and no litter. On every other lamp is an American flag.
The design of the buildings is old-fashioned, but nothing is older than about fifty years. It's like they want it to look aged and cultured but don't want the hassle of having to maintain old buildings. Having said that the Camp's buildings have been around since the twenties and they're still in top form. The cinema on the main drag through the town has one of those over-hanging porches covered in lights and inside it smells like popcorn. Every now and then a group of bikers drive past on Harleys. I have never felt more safe in the middle of nowhere. AND I haven't seen any guns.
In other news I went out on the lake today, it's huuuuge! Some of the waterfront guys were practicing water-skiing - it was very cool. All the houses along the waterfront are enormous - most are three storeys with at least twenty-odd rooms, maybe more. Every now and then a bald eagle glides by. Bonkers.
So, tomorrow the kids are coming. We got an email from one of the mothers about one of the kids sleep walking, it's dawning on me now that we are actually going to be looking after a group of young kids for the next eight weeks. Looking after, as in their parents aren't going to be there to pick up the pieces if it all gets too much. I feel homesick for them. Anyway, the email was painfully sweet and fairly long, you could tell she was putting a lot of faith and hope in us. It's a strange honour to be trusted so much by someone you haven't met before.
In more other news: I've taken the weekend off from the gym. A bugle calls every morning at ten to eight, I shit you not. I'm trying to stock up on sleep before the kids arrive - I didn't understand the meaning of the word "lie-in" until I was in my teens, so imagine what a bunch of seven/eight year olds are going to be like at six in the morning. At least they go to bed early. I may not get the chance to blog again for a while - I'm constantly in competition with the other staff for the computer.
Tuesday, 10 June 2008
Stuff you don't normally do
The thing about doing things you don't normally do is that they surprise you when you actually like them. Take getting up at quarter past six. In a place that has no curtains, where afternoon naps are not only encouraged but necessary, quarter past six in the morning doesn't seem that bad. Why am I getting up that early? I hear you cry. To go to the gym. That's why. Yet another thing I don't normally do but am actually liking. The next question you might be asking is why again... Well, when you're surrounded by people who do things you don't normally do there are two fairly clear options, you either do or don't do. "Don't do" is a dangerous option when you're six thousand odd miles away from home and living in a different time zone. Don't get me wrong, I'm with some excellent people, they just don't sit around and talk about nerdy stuff/art/anything else I like. So, I'm picking "do", or applying to the "just say yes" school of social politics. So. What else am I doing that I don't normally do? How about football and touch rugby. Impressed? I can tell you are.
In other news I've been put in a cabin with the youngest age group - the seven/eight year olds. The Camp Director spent a week getting to know us before settling on where he thought our interest/skills/energy levels lay. His reasoning was that he thought my temperament, slightly more diverse range of skills and lack of skills in the sports department would stand me in good stead. I don't have a problem with this. Although I am fully expecting to get far less sleep than I normally do.
It's the Camp Director's sixty-eighth birthday today and he looks it, but he has the energy of someone half his age. He has one of those American personalities which seems very intense and personal but at the same time a little stand-offish. This entire experience so far has been an exercise in stuff I don't normally do, the bizarre thing is it's a bit like an "exercise" in that I'm extending myself a bit more every day. I'm so glad that I've had a week to get used to the place. I feel like I've been here for months, I don't know if time has dragged for everybody else but it really has for me. On a slight tangent I'm still getting eaten alive by bugs. As it turns out, not only am I getting bitten by mozzies but spiders too! Isn't that nice? I bloody hate spiders. Oh, and the ants here are double the size of normal ants. They're called Bull-ants, proving beyond all doubt that everything is bigger in America.
In other news I've been put in a cabin with the youngest age group - the seven/eight year olds. The Camp Director spent a week getting to know us before settling on where he thought our interest/skills/energy levels lay. His reasoning was that he thought my temperament, slightly more diverse range of skills and lack of skills in the sports department would stand me in good stead. I don't have a problem with this. Although I am fully expecting to get far less sleep than I normally do.
It's the Camp Director's sixty-eighth birthday today and he looks it, but he has the energy of someone half his age. He has one of those American personalities which seems very intense and personal but at the same time a little stand-offish. This entire experience so far has been an exercise in stuff I don't normally do, the bizarre thing is it's a bit like an "exercise" in that I'm extending myself a bit more every day. I'm so glad that I've had a week to get used to the place. I feel like I've been here for months, I don't know if time has dragged for everybody else but it really has for me. On a slight tangent I'm still getting eaten alive by bugs. As it turns out, not only am I getting bitten by mozzies but spiders too! Isn't that nice? I bloody hate spiders. Oh, and the ants here are double the size of normal ants. They're called Bull-ants, proving beyond all doubt that everything is bigger in America.
Monday, 9 June 2008
A Day
6:15am - wake up for a trip to the gym (less of a gym, more of a garage full of gym equipment).
7:00am - jump in the shower and then breakfast. Breakfast consists of pancakes and syrup, the crispiest bacon and a platter of fruit. Or cereal. They have that too.
8:00am - work starts - for the last week it's mainly been raking sand, putting up sports equipment, cleaning and general odd jobs.
11:30am - lunch. Club sandwiches (which basically means make you're own), or some sort of stodgy meal. After that, more work.
4:30pm - dinner. Even more stodgy food. Although the beefburgers are amazing.
5:00pm onwards = time off. Usually one of four things happens - 1) time off in the Counselors lodge, 2) a camp fire, 3) a trip to the cinema, or 4) the Pub. More often than not it's a trip to the pub where they sell cheap, awful beer for pennies. Although they do have Newcastle Brown Ale there, which is a bit of a novelty.
All in all I'm getting about four hours of sleep a night, but when the kids arrive I imagine it'll be more. Today is, I believe, the first of two days off I get this summer. During camp I'll have three nights off a week, but it's not really the same. Today includes a trip to Wal-Mart, which I'm told is bigger than space itself, or at the very least the Tesco Extras we have at home.
Oh, and for the record, nobody's allowed to mention Doctor Who.
7:00am - jump in the shower and then breakfast. Breakfast consists of pancakes and syrup, the crispiest bacon and a platter of fruit. Or cereal. They have that too.
8:00am - work starts - for the last week it's mainly been raking sand, putting up sports equipment, cleaning and general odd jobs.
11:30am - lunch. Club sandwiches (which basically means make you're own), or some sort of stodgy meal. After that, more work.
4:30pm - dinner. Even more stodgy food. Although the beefburgers are amazing.
5:00pm onwards = time off. Usually one of four things happens - 1) time off in the Counselors lodge, 2) a camp fire, 3) a trip to the cinema, or 4) the Pub. More often than not it's a trip to the pub where they sell cheap, awful beer for pennies. Although they do have Newcastle Brown Ale there, which is a bit of a novelty.
All in all I'm getting about four hours of sleep a night, but when the kids arrive I imagine it'll be more. Today is, I believe, the first of two days off I get this summer. During camp I'll have three nights off a week, but it's not really the same. Today includes a trip to Wal-Mart, which I'm told is bigger than space itself, or at the very least the Tesco Extras we have at home.
Oh, and for the record, nobody's allowed to mention Doctor Who.
Saturday, 7 June 2008
Bug Bites
I am a mosquito farm. I'm thinking about ad-hoc constructing a mosquito trap. Imagine a UV lamp hanging over a balloon filled with blood laced with a deadly poison, then imagine me sitting to one side with a cocktail and a panama hat laughing my arse off.
While we're in the business of imagining, I invite you to imagine the camp. On the western side of the camp is a big freshwater lake and on every other side are trees. Lots of them. Pine and birch for the most part. At the southern end of the camp in a very tall tree is a family of bald eagles. I've been trying to catch one diving into the water with my phone but no such luck yet. The buildings are all twenties style timber cabins, painted white with green roofs. The place does have quite a bit in common with the Adams Family Values vision of the American Summer Camp, only there's a little less overt 'camp'ness about the place.
Inside there are plaques and photos on every wall, from the twenties to present. The place oozes tradition and history. One of my jobs for the summer is to make a plaque for the games weeks/competitions. I've already decided what I want to do. More on that at a later date.
(The morning trumpet has just sounded. I'm trying to bite my fist lest I make a cynical remark).
As it turns out I've bitten off a bit more than I can chew. Unofficially I'm programme director for the arts and crafts section and there's only one other person doing it with me. Eeek.
While we're in the business of imagining, I invite you to imagine the camp. On the western side of the camp is a big freshwater lake and on every other side are trees. Lots of them. Pine and birch for the most part. At the southern end of the camp in a very tall tree is a family of bald eagles. I've been trying to catch one diving into the water with my phone but no such luck yet. The buildings are all twenties style timber cabins, painted white with green roofs. The place does have quite a bit in common with the Adams Family Values vision of the American Summer Camp, only there's a little less overt 'camp'ness about the place.
Inside there are plaques and photos on every wall, from the twenties to present. The place oozes tradition and history. One of my jobs for the summer is to make a plaque for the games weeks/competitions. I've already decided what I want to do. More on that at a later date.
(The morning trumpet has just sounded. I'm trying to bite my fist lest I make a cynical remark).
As it turns out I've bitten off a bit more than I can chew. Unofficially I'm programme director for the arts and crafts section and there's only one other person doing it with me. Eeek.
Wednesday, 4 June 2008
Surreal
Okay. So literally speaking there isn't much to report, however I feel it's necessary to report how little there is to report, if you see what I mean. The season hasn't really started yet and even though I'm sticking to my guns with the shorts it hasn't actually warmed up yet.
The camp itself is beautiful. On one side is a pretty big lake, part of, I'm told, the biggest chain of lakes in the world. The sense of scale in America is mind-boggling. Everything seems to be in wide-screen, the landscape, the roads, the cars, the food and the people. Despite The enormous distances between "stuff" everyone still drives really slow. The pace of life here is leisurely, but that may just be in the countryside. The cities, of which I have seen two (New York and Minneapolis), are bizarre too. Why on earth do they have to be so tall? Minneapolis juts out of the ground like a cluster of shiny nails in an enormous sea of green from the air. Why build up when there is so much land to build out? Having said that, it is nice that there is so much greenery to see.
Despite what I was expecting of the Americans and America in general, it feels like I haven't actually gone that far. Every effort has been made to help us settle in. Oddly, I don't feel as if I'm in a different country, it kind of feels like I've stepped into a television programme - making the experience of watching American TV infinitely more weird.
Soundbytes: This week is a weird one, there's barely anybody here and we're just doing the heavy duty clearing up before all the kids arrive. On the weekend we have a bah mitzvah(?), so that should be interesting. Also, the food is stodgy, sweet and abundant. More on that later.
The camp itself is beautiful. On one side is a pretty big lake, part of, I'm told, the biggest chain of lakes in the world. The sense of scale in America is mind-boggling. Everything seems to be in wide-screen, the landscape, the roads, the cars, the food and the people. Despite The enormous distances between "stuff" everyone still drives really slow. The pace of life here is leisurely, but that may just be in the countryside. The cities, of which I have seen two (New York and Minneapolis), are bizarre too. Why on earth do they have to be so tall? Minneapolis juts out of the ground like a cluster of shiny nails in an enormous sea of green from the air. Why build up when there is so much land to build out? Having said that, it is nice that there is so much greenery to see.
Despite what I was expecting of the Americans and America in general, it feels like I haven't actually gone that far. Every effort has been made to help us settle in. Oddly, I don't feel as if I'm in a different country, it kind of feels like I've stepped into a television programme - making the experience of watching American TV infinitely more weird.
Soundbytes: This week is a weird one, there's barely anybody here and we're just doing the heavy duty clearing up before all the kids arrive. On the weekend we have a bah mitzvah(?), so that should be interesting. Also, the food is stodgy, sweet and abundant. More on that later.
Sunday, 1 June 2008
Time Travel
So. I haven't slept properly in days. Bizarrely, I feel pretty good. Although last night was one of the worst experiences of my life. Having arrived from across the pond to a drizzly and dark New York I was informed at 11 o'clock local time (two/three in the morning brain time) that I had to get up at half two local time to catch a plane at six. Suffice it to say I'm a bit surprised I made it one piece.
The Saturday on the plane was actually a bit euphoric, I watched three films on the trot. Specifically, No Country For Old Men, a superb thriller; the second was Ratatouille, also superb and the third was America Unchained by a certain Dave Gorman, which was excellent, but wasn't so much a comedy as it was an extremely Dave Gorman experiment. Hit and miss. However it did give me an interesting insight into America.
First overall impressions? Big. Very big. The sense of scale in this place is ridiculous. The cities are packed so tight you can barely breath and the rural bits are so rural they make Wales look ridiculous in comparison, proving if anything that rural is a state of mind.
So. It's now one o'clock in the pm local time and at some point I'm going to crash and burn. I've already got the jitters. At some point I'll flesh out some ideas I had on the plane, including a fairly funny gag about "off-setting your carbon footprint". It's a bit like Karma, I'm told. Plus, in Economy Class on the plane they treat you like a King. I had a five course meal! (admittedly a spartan five course meal, but still).
The Saturday on the plane was actually a bit euphoric, I watched three films on the trot. Specifically, No Country For Old Men, a superb thriller; the second was Ratatouille, also superb and the third was America Unchained by a certain Dave Gorman, which was excellent, but wasn't so much a comedy as it was an extremely Dave Gorman experiment. Hit and miss. However it did give me an interesting insight into America.
First overall impressions? Big. Very big. The sense of scale in this place is ridiculous. The cities are packed so tight you can barely breath and the rural bits are so rural they make Wales look ridiculous in comparison, proving if anything that rural is a state of mind.
So. It's now one o'clock in the pm local time and at some point I'm going to crash and burn. I've already got the jitters. At some point I'll flesh out some ideas I had on the plane, including a fairly funny gag about "off-setting your carbon footprint". It's a bit like Karma, I'm told. Plus, in Economy Class on the plane they treat you like a King. I had a five course meal! (admittedly a spartan five course meal, but still).
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