Camp Diaries, vol.IV

The Home Stretch. Camp is just a little like a marathon, and the teachers are some of the hardest runners. I, of course, am the man in the car that´s driving on the side, filming everything. There are a lot of things I can say about the past two weeks, but words fail too often. In lieu of writing more and more, I´ve decided to make a small collection of the more vivid sights and sounds of the past two weeks.

Dusty red clay of the explanade being kicked up by the kids as they thunder to breakfast, lunch, or dinner.

Thundering dance music at 8:00am. This apparently takes the place of the daily bugle and flag raising.

Booming voices of the monitors as they YELL through the microphone. Speak louder.

Teacher Emily´s story-time in the cabin next to mine. The Frog and the Princess is riveting stuff.

The Boys´ ridiculous British English at all moments of the day.

A daily dose of Desperate Housewives. Tonight is the season finale, and the group is way too excited about it.

Healthy Breakfast Dining: chocolate milk, cake, cookies.

Smelly children, including the young 8-year-old who kept wetting herself at the beginning of camp.

The stars, bright enough to be seen from all places. The full moon, casting the entire camp in a silver light.

I might miss it this time.

Camp Diaries, vol.III

Today was the end of the first two-week period for Camp. I woke up early and eased groggy teachers from their restful hangovers by a rousing rendition of RISE AND SHINE AND GIVE GOD THE GLORY GLORY. Unfortunately, there was very little rising, no shining, and hardly any giving of the glory glory. I waved goodbye and hugged children I hadn´t spoken to in two weeks, distanced myself from the little girl with head lice and yelled at the Worst Child In The World one last time before he made his way onto the bus. I also helped little Diego with his suitcase, joking that he could probably fit inside it while seriously sizing the measurements up in my head. I finally decided that indeed, he could curl up and go to sleep in his own bag. If he wanted to.

It´s a funny thing, being so far away from everything in the world. I´m on top of a mountain, unplugged from the internet and a reliable phone system. I´m so far away from loved ones, from news, from pizza and Thai food. I say it´s a funny thing just because I kinda like camp, and I kinda like the idea of nothing but me and the mountains. And the thronging mass of 140 children who despise English.

But still, despite the obvious moments of sheer volume that the children produce, there are simple times when I´m a little taken back by the world. Living in the city makes you forget that the world can be quiet, a chirping, pine-scented thing. You forget that there are moments when you can stop, listen to the old creaks of the surrounding forest and be held by the lightest breeze. You forget that it´s all there, that we leave it behind sometimes in our blogs and text messages and expensive food, but it still comes around and warms, cools, and consoles. I guess those are the times when I´m the happiest here, the times that I like to hold onto the most.

Camp Diaries, vol.II

A few days into my stay at Camp, I realized that my workload was getting less and less as my teachers found their way around with greater ease. There was still the odd hiccup, like when Ana sat down in the middle of her rowdy class and refused to teach anymore or when Lawrence and Emily came down with dysentary. For a few days I was reluctantly forced into action and substituted a class or two. To relieve stress caused by irritable bowels and equally irritable children, the teachers periodically escape into town to enjoy some of the region´s local culinary treats. The food is amazing, but admittedly, fried dog food would beat another meal of Vienna Sausages and salted Lettuce. Eeeeeew.

So this means that things are going well. I´m going through the TV shows on my computer a little faster than I would like, so I formed an emergency Desperate Housewives Fanclub with the teachers. We get together at the end of the teaching day and watch an episode or two. What is up with Zack? Will Mrs. Van der Kamp and her husband get a divorce? Worrying about the lives of the women on Wisteria Lane is my new job and favorite way to disconnect from crabby teachers and hassling camp counselors. I have to admit, though, it is a little disconcerting to turn off the computer and be faced with 140 screaming children outside your window. Ah, camp.

Camp Diaries, vol.I

Aggravating blisters sustained from last night´s jaunt to the village, I steadily made my way down the mountain to the tunes of iPedro alone. I was on a mission, and it was to visit the cybercafé. Now that I´m here, I realize it´s a lonely little affair, two computers and some candy. The lady next to me tried to start up several conversations, all with the general theme of CRAZINESS, but I politely rebuffed her advances.

Camp has been very interesting this year. As the reigning English coordinator, I´ve had to wield my power fairly for all. Do I send this child to the dungeon? Throw this teacher in the moat? Already I notice myself getting to a point of irritation with some of the teachers. Why do you always have to be late? Smoking a cigarette? Why do you smell so much? Granted, they have had a hard few first days. As they marvelled at the politeness and work ethic of the newly-arrived children to the camp, ill omens bloomed in my mind. Some of these children were born for havoc and mayhem, and we are powerless against them. Thankfully, I´m a scary boy and can be a bit imposing for children. Should I be proud that I made three of them cry last year?

Well, I am.

Names I´m Called By The Children At Camp

Team
Deem
Bean
Ping