Well I'm back from my camping adventures (obviously, or I wouldn't be able to write this). Safe and sound and basically unchanged. Except for the fact that I've decided that camping isn't necessarily for me. Necessarily.
Ever see an ad for American Eagle (or similar) where a group of fashionable kids go out camping in their nice vintage wash jeans, embroidered tank tops, and cute sandals? Yeah, well, that's not what my camping trip looked like at all.
Really, it was more pseudo-camping than anything. I'm not quite sure what I expected. I knew we were going to a state park (Ohiopyle) and that I wasn't about to be completely roughing it "Survivor" style but I assumed there'd be more, well, more to it. We had a site, firepits, parking spaces, picinic benches, and tons of people all around. It wasn't like I was in great danger of pretty much anything.
Overall, the experience was ok. Not great, not horrible, just ok. I didn't freak out about the dirt, I didn't scream about bugs and found the ground to be sort of comfortable to sleep on. The worst part was probably the cold I aquired the day I left. Who gets sick in summer? I wasn't sick all last year and now? The camping probably didn't help it so now I'm sort of miserable. Not enough to get out of work though- darn.
This might come as a shock. Sitting down, right? Comfy? Ok, here it is: I am going camping. Yes, thatís right, me. The girly one. Miss ďOh-Donít-Put-My-Louis-Vuitton-Purse-On-The-Floor-It-Might-Get-DirtyĒ. (God, I sound shallow) Iím actually venturing outside to spend some time communing with nature.
Ok, Iím not a complete priss. I donít freak out if I get a smudge of dirt on me and wonít go running and screaming at the sight of an insect (save spiders). I only get mildly upset when I break a nail. I enjoy being outside and spend a good amount of time taking advantage of the nice weather (party due to my job as a summer camp counselor). Yet Iím still pretty high maintenance. Iím not sure I really do camping. I like hotels. I like a nice shower. I like having someone else cook my food. Heck, I like a solid roof over my head period. All that, however, will be abandoned in favor of this little ďnature adventureĒ.
Iím not sure how exactly I became signed up for this. Weeks ago, after one of the many marshmallow roastings at Twin Lakes, my friends were talking about how fun it would be to go camping. Real camping. Woods, tent, no bathroom, cook your own food, and all. And really, it does sound fun. In theory. Now though, Iím a little apprehensive.
Truly, I want to go. I canít wait to get out from my norm and spend a weekend with a big group of my friends, trying to assemble a tent. Iím not regretting my decision at all. What I am rethinking, however, is the amount of stuff I canít bring with me. Iíve never packed for camping- only hotel or relative stays. Iíve compiled a list of what I should probably leave home:
1. All hair care products, seeing as it wonít matter what I look like anyway.
2. Eyeliner. Enough said.
3. My entire face care regime, including cleanser, toner, lotion, and mask. Thatíd be a bit much.
4. Flip flops.
5. My usual four pounds of gold jewelry. I donít plan on losing a stone in the middle of the forest.
6. My purse. Iíd probably attack the squirrel that would try and get my new Coach.
Other than that, Iím ready to go. We leave on Friday so Iíll be preparing (mentally) until then. I can make a wicked símore so Iím set.