Saturday - continued.
Lunch that day was not the most ideal for a vegetarian - American hotdogs. Though I consumed an ample amount of buns and salad, I felt a distinct lack of protein in my meal. Being a delicate soul that requires regular protein or risks days wracked in bed-ridden misery, I felt it wise to eat during free time that afternoon a few crackers with hummus to sustain me through the horrors of the afternoon. Though I had come through the Leader Hunt that morning relatively unscathed, I still had my doubts about the Great Big Hairy Beach Race still to come. I snuck into the kitchen and made myself some crackers along with the requisite cup of peppermint tea, retired to the private Female Leader's cabin, curled up on the big double bed and read while I ate.
The relaxed atmosphere, combined with the peppermint tea, made my eyes feel very heavy. My book fell heedlessly to the floor as I fell into a deep sleep I hadn't known I needed.
I woke up an hour later, yelping, when the siren went to assemble everyone for the Great Big Hairy Beach Race. It was most irritating to have such a beautiful sleep disturbed. Never-the-less, I awoke feeling much more energized. Surely, I thought, I would be able to handle this race. I set off to join my team in great confidence.
Of course, this had to be one of those occasions when positive thinking does not necessarily make for a positive experience.
The first part of the race involved six members of each team eating, in succession, a single dry weetbix each. Naturally, my team not having the greatest fondness for me after my evil-ridden bedtime experience, nominated me as being on of the six weetbix eaters. I sighed mournfully and dramatically, but decided not to complain too much. The key to getting through this unscathed was to play to my strengths. As strenuous activity was not one of them, anything else was to be focused on and done the best I could. I waited for my turn, saying nothing as I allowed my saliva to accumulate.
Eating a dry weetbix is much like eating delicious sawdust. The weetbix quickly absorbs all moisture in your mouth, leaving it dry and making it impossible for you to swallow. I pride myself that I did not take very long to eat my weetbix - our team was second off the mark to charge down the hill, run to the beach, and partake in the next part of the challenge - a search for a lolly buried in the sand. In this, too, I acted with full enthusiasm.
Unfortunately fate did not smile on us that day, for though we were the second team to reach the roped-off lolly area, we were the fourth to find our lolly. It was most disconcerting.
I won't go into too much detail of the events that followed - filling a hole-ridden bucket with cups of seawater, only to have it tipped over my head afterwards; burying a flag in the softest, most temperamental sand imaginable; hangman (which I solved - "Princess" - thus supporting my team with my intellectual prowess); transporting a tire down the beach without touching it; burying said tire without touching it; dragging four of our smallest teammates in a sack across the beach; and running as fast as we could between each activity. The activities stretched all the way across the beach, so there was a great deal of running to be done. I ran at a steady pace I could handle, and arrived only slightly later than my campers who somehow were able to get there faster than me on their short, stubby legs.
Finally nothing remained but to run back to camp. My campers all sped off, leaving me behind to slog my way along. My general unfitness, combined with a certain, hum, female ailment turned each step into a thrust of agony. The best I could manage was a fast walk. I apologised profusely to my campers as they ran back, shouting "Hurry up, Zara!" before running ahead once more. I was so slow that Fellow Leader Elliot and his team were in danger of overtaking us; but I made it at last, and at the very end managed to tie with them for first place. I could feel the glares of my campers stabbing into my back as they knew as well as I did that we would have come third-exclusive had I been able to run faster. I felt completely miserable. I took myself off to have a shower, for the bucket of water tipped over my head had left my hair riddled with sand.
Showers tend to have a mystical affect on me. No matter how miserable or angsty I am, I always emerge feeling better. I took myself off to visit my campers and listened to their good-natured teasing in fair humour, and promised to take up badmington so that next year, I would not be so unfit.
That evening there was to be a special Hollywood-themed banquet night. As a form of amusement during the banquet, we were to build "limosines" beforehand out of bamboo, flax, and wheels hewn from a tree trunk.
Perhaps all the running throught the day had exhausted most of my team, for it seemed that only Fellow Leader Ryan, a couple of campers, and myself were the only people working on our "limosine" (actually more like a three-wheeled go-cart). Junior Leader Sophie and Other Elliott lolled about on the grass giving each other back massages, and the rest of the team followed their example.
Of all the activities we did that camp, that was the one I enjoyed most. I loved being able to use my mind to come up with the most efficient and functional design possible. Juggling possibilities, reviewing options, thinking what if this were to go here, instead of there; finally, I felt like there was something to do that I was good at. Fellow Leader Ryan was also fantastic; together with our two solitary campers we came up with a design featuring an x-frame that was quite sturdy, though the wheels were not quite in alignment and our use of flax left the aesthetics less than satisfactory.
After that we had to run off and get ready for the banquet - it was rollicking good fun, swapping jewellery and makeup, offering compliments to one another, and forcing Fellow Leader Sara into something a bit more styling than shorts and a top. (We half-succeeded. We managed a nicer top, though she retained the shorts.)
It occured to me ten minutes before the banquet began that that evening Izak and I were to do a skit. We'd been planning the skit for the past week or so, yet we had only come up with the ending that morning. I ran off to locate Izak and Elliot, who would be helping us out, and demanded we run through everything - but the hooter went to summon all the campers, and all we had time to do was hastily assemble props. Izak cut out a large piece of paper to use as a dropsheet. We found an innocuous location to store a chair and we issued Elliot with strict instructions as to the method of its deployment. Izak gave me his i-phone. I found a pair of scissors but, as I looked down at the dress I was wearing, belatedly realised I had no pockets to store it in. Seeing no other alternative, I shoved the scissors down the inside of my bra and anticipated an uncomfortable evening spent covering up winces as the sharp points of the scissors poked into my ribs. The ladies in the kitchen shot me several strange looks as I did so. I am convinced that they now thought me totally mad.
Then came the banquet. The hall had been done up with balloons and fairy lights suspended from the ceiling, and a red carpet led up to the front door. Former Fellow Leaders Rosemary and Jono had come up from Hamilton to visit, bringing with them a soundsystem and disco ball. A large patch of floor had been left bare for the evening's entertainment. I took one look at the disco ball and empty space and decided, right then, that there would be dancing afterwards, no matter what.
We feasted on a roast dinner and a delicous chocolate brownie dessert. The evening was OC'd by Head Leaders Tony and Dave, who punctuated events with frequent 'yo mama' jokes which were, by their nature, inevitably lame. I showed off Izak's i-phone to various people, basking in their admiration for its sleek, styley design.
"Can I hold it?" someone asked me.
"No, sorry," I replied. "No offense, but it's my precious, and I don't give it to people unless I really trust them."
"I see," she said, looking disgruntled.
Unfortunately she also spotted the scissors as I surruptitiously tried to shift them from an uncomfortable position.
"There's a pair of scissors stuck underneath your dress!" she cried in alarm. Heads up and down the table swivelled in my direction. I felt it useless to dissemble.
"Why yes," I said. "Yes there is."
A multitute of mouths gaped open.
"Um, why?" someone thought to ask.
I quickly cast my mind around for a decent enough reason.
"Self defence," I said, firmly and confidently.
"What?" everyone chorused.
"Self defence," I repeated, and added, "I carry a pair of scissors around with me everywhere."
"But why?" asked Other Elliott, bewildered.
"Well, it's illegal to carry a knife around, you see," I explained.
"But why carry them around in the first place?" he asked.
"Like I said, self defence." I focused on him and said, quite seriously, "You never know when you might need them."
"Even at a kids camp?" he asked incredulously.
"Even at a kids camp," I reiterated. "There are psycos about wherever you go."
Seeing that everyone was still staring at me with a look of disbelieving surprise, I felt a need to go on. "I usually carry them around in my pocket, but of course this dress doesn't have any. I have a special bra-holder to keep them in for times like this, though I prefer not to wear it because it gets quite uncomfortable." I fiddled with the scissors as I spoke.
"I'll bet," said Other Elliott faintly.
"Yeah, I've been meaning to get it padded for a while now."
"Can we see it?" asked Shelley interestedly.
"Excuse me," I said acidly. "We're in the middle of a banquet. I am not about to strip off in front of everyone just to show you my bra."
Shelley was unable to reply, for at that moment Head Leader Dave stood up and announced that Izak and Zara would be doing a skit. I rose gracefully to my feet and headed towards the front. I was still holding the i-phone. I made to hand it to someone to keep for me, then decided to just keep it in my hand.
Izak was talking to everyone in the hall. "Hey guys, I hope you're having a really great time at camp," he said. A loud chorus of Yes! was recieved in response. "Zara and me have a skit we're going to do for you-"
I cleared my throat noisily and rolled my eyes. Curse Izak and his ungrammatical English. He turned to look at me.
"Zara and I," I corrected him.
"Oh, right," he said, laughing. "Sorry. In case you don't know, my name is Izak and this is Zara. Me and Zara -"
"No, no," I snapped, interrupting him. "Zara and I."
He looked at me incredulously. ""Would you rather you just did this yourself?" he demanded.
"Oh, don't be silly Izak - I am merely of the opinion that if we are to do a skit in front of people, the least you could do is attempt to speak properly with full regard for the rules of proper English grammar," I said, quite reasonably.
"I know what this is," said Izak. "You don't trust me, do you?'
"Of course I trust you!" I said indignantly.
"Oh, yeah?"
"Yeah!" I glanced down at the phone in my hand. "I - I trust you with my i-phone."
"Oh, really?"
"Yes."
"Go on then, pass it here."
I smiled and tossed it to him. He fumbled trying to catch it, and it fell with a heart-sickening thud to the floor. We stared at it in horror.
"Woah, crap," said Izak.
Hysteria rose in me. "Ah!" I shrieked. "Ah! Argh! ARGH! ARRRGHH! YOU BROKE MY I-PHONE!" I fell to the ground and began to hyperventilate.
Izak crouched down beside me. "Breathe, Zara, breathe, just take deep breaths!" he shouted.
I followed his advice, sucking in air with deep, pain-ridden gasps.
"Okay, take smaller breaths, smaller breaths!" Izak cried. "It's okay, just calm down!"
I began to calm down. "You - broke - my - i-phone," I hissed menacingly.
Izak had the grace to look shamefaced. "I'm really sorry about that," he said. "If it makes you feel better, I trust you, too, with my looks and stuff..."
"Really," I said coldly.
"Yeah, I mean, you've got a real knack for that sort of thing... I would totally let you cut my hair if you wanted."
I whipped the scissors out from my bra. Izak looked apprehensive.
"Er, yes, well, you can't do it now, I mean, we don't have a drop-sheet or anything," he preambled.
Elliot rushed out at that moment carrying the sheet of paper and spread it out on the floor.
"Oh. Yes, well," floundered Izak, all excuses fled. "Best get onto it." He bent as if to sit over, and Elliot placed a chair beneath him.
I grinned evilly and sauntered over. I seized a lock of his hair and began to chop. Gasps and cries of no way! issued from the audience.
I held up some hair and let it fall to the floor.
"Hm," I muttered, studying Izak's hair critically. "Whoops..."
Izak spun around. "What, what, what did you do?" he cried in alarm.
"Nothing, nothing, it's okay, just turn around and I can correct it -"
"YOU DON'T SAY "WHOOPS" WHEN YOU'RE CUTTING SOMEONE'S HAIR!" he bellowed, leaping out of his chair and turning to glare at me.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I snivelled, "I can fix it -"
"Have you ever cut anyone's hair before?" he demaned.
"I - I cut my Barbie's hair once," I said defensively.
"Oh, yes, and how did that turn out?"
"Well, she sported quite an interesting pixie-cut for a while..."
"Right, whatever," snorted Izak. "I reckon we're just going to do this the old-fashioned way with a traditional team-building activity."
"Traditional way?" I asked.
"Yeah, like you stand there, and I stand here -" he moved to stand in front of me - "and I fall, and you catch me. Got it?"
"Yep, you fall, I catch you, totally got it," I said, taking up a stance ready to catch him.
"You sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure, just go!"
"Really?"
"YES!"
Izak toppled forward and face-planted himself upon the floor. A cry of pain escaped him.
"OH MY GOSH, ARE YOU OKAY?" I shrieked, running and crouching next to him.
"Arrrrgh," moaned Izak. "You were supposed to catch me!"
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" I sobbed. "Are you going to be okay?"
"Yes, I'm fine, calm down, I'll be alright," he said, attempting to stand up. He tried putting his weight on his leg. "OW!" he cried, and collapsed in agony.
"Oh my goodness, are you hurt? Are you going to die? Oh please, tell me you're not going to die! Do you need anything? What do you need? Tell me what you need!"
Izak cut over my panicky babble. "I need you to call an ambulance!" he shouted, mouth pinched in pain.
"Okay, okay, I've got it!" I cried. I scrambled to my feet and darted around anxiously. "WHERE'S MY PHONE?" I shrieked.
"It's there on the ground, where I dropped it!" he yelled.
I frantically pushed some buttons. "It won't work, it's broken!"
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" we shouted in joint cries of despair, and froze.
"End scene," said Izak to tumultuous applause.
The "limos" were tried out after this, and our team got the highest marks for steering and stability for it did not wobble or even break as some others had. We were in danger of getting points off for its less than appealing looks, what with the flax flapping about haphazardly, but I quickly came up with an excuse and said that we, Over the Hedge, were trying to channel our team spirit by having it resemble a large bush.
We also had a race to see who could get furtherest down the hill. Again, our team won. Our team shrieked and clapped and cheered, and I, on an emotional high from both the success of our skit and our limo, hugged as many people as I could.
Of course, all good things must come to an end, and the banquet was no exception. As soon as the banquet was declared to be over, I rushed up to the sound-crew and demanded they play music we could dance to. They played some tunes from the 60s and I began to dance, and tried to convince other people to join me. Mostly I got weird looks, particularly from Elliot. I know I must have looked a bit of an idiot, dancing extravagantly all by myslf. Izak gave it a fair go, and a couple of others did to, but it wasn't until they began to play "We Will Rock You" by Queen that people got really into it. I had a whole baccanalia of campers stamping their feet and clapping along to the music. I sang and danced and laughed and people joined me. Then someone had the bright idea of pulling the balloons down from the ceiling, and there followed a massive balloon-popping frenzy.
It was one of the most happy, excitable buzzes I have ever experienced, and I am proud to say that I helped create it. In fact, the only thing better than creating that buzz was destroying it afterwards.
"BED! TWENTY MINUTES! NOW!"
Ah, bliss.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Coopers Beach - Day 4 (part 1)
Day 4 - Saturday
Another day arrived with hideous punctuality. I stumbled off to the leader's meeting dazed, confused, and barefoot - much like everyone else there. I learnt that there would be two activities that day which struck fear into the depths of my soul - the Leader's Hunt and The Great Big Hairy Beach Race. In previous years these activites had revealed the extent of my general unfitness for all to see and scorn. Despite my having lusciously long legs, they seem to lack the ability to move very fast. Or for very long.
I moaned and took myself off to visit my campers, who complained about my over-the-top bedtime ritual. They actually managed to succeed in making me feel guilty. I decided to try and be nice to them for the rest of the day to make up.
My team mysteriously acquired another male leader that day in the form of Ryan. I discovered this when he sat down at our table during breakfast wearing a leader's shirt and started getting to know some of the campers. I shrugged and accepted it.
After breakfast there was yet another singing/dancing session that I managed to work my way through without mishap. I secretly enjoyed myself tremendously. Izak and I were also in charge of doing the memory verse, so we created an elaborate pictorial version of the verse that people had to try and decipher. Their task was not made easier by a platypus-like owl to represent the word "who" and a mustache to represent "man".
And then began the Leader's Hunt. The purpose of this game was to search up and down the rather extensive beach and look for Head Leaders who had disguised themselves with varying degrees of success, say "I like to move it move it" a la Madagascar, and claim a piece of a jigsaw puzzle that had to be assembled at the end.
Some of these head leaders were actually pretty creative. Some donned wigs and read books on the beach. One found an isolated carpark and sat inside his car. Two others pretended to be council workers erecting a wall around the public toilets, though the bright blonde Marilyn Monroe-style wig one of them was wearing tended to give them away. There was a strangely pale Arab sitting upon a grassy knoll, a shellfish gatherer, and, most bizarrely of all, a gorilla in a tree. This last caused some locals whose property was adjacent to the beach some consternation. What was a gorilla doing in a tree? These neighbours must have had minds of sharpest steel for they quickly deduced that this was not a real gorilla but, in fact, a man dressed up as a gorilla. This did not alleviate their worry. As they peered surruptitiously out of the large windows of their beachfront mansions they became convinced that the gorilla was some sort of paedophile luring children in with his amusing choice of outfit. Why else would many different groups of children be induced to say "I like to move it move it" in such excitable fashion? I am uncertain as to what exactly transpired thereafter, but I believe the police were called and the gorilla was forced to explain his occupation of Christian Kids' Camp Leader.
My team actually did not do too badly. Whereas last year my energy was devoted to trying to simply stay alive while my team shouted at me to run faster, this year it seemed like I was the Motivator of the group.
"Hurry up, guys!" I cried as I strode quickly onwards. "Stop dawdling! We're lagging behind!"
As my team wearily chased after me I found myself called upon to explain the meanings of "dawdling" and "lagging".
At last we had collected all but the final piece. We'd already walked up and down the beach twice; what had we missed? Luckily another team was in the same boat, and we decided to ally and trade information.
"Did you get the Arab?" asked Other Elliott loudly, trying to speak over the wild cries of a rambunctuous group of children who were playing nearby.
"Yeah, we got the Arab," replied Luke, the leader of the other team. "Did you get the guy who was hiding in the grass?"
"Yes, we found him," I said, but apparently I was invisible or at the very least inaudible that day because Other Elliot did not seem to hear me.
"The guy in the grass? I don't think we got him," said Other Elliott.
"We did get him," I said again.
"Hey, did we find the guy in the grass?" Other Elliott asked the other members of our team.
I sighed and gave up on the whole conversation. I stared around at our surroundings. We were standing on a grassy bank surrounded by pohutukawa trees, knarled and bent like old men. A whanau of Maori sat at a nearby picnic table surrounded by the remnants of their lunch. The matriarch of the family sat and surveyed her domain while a man, presumably her husband, reclined on a towel on the ground next to her. Presumably, the group of loud children belonged to them. As I watched, Fellow Leader Izak turned up with his group and advanced towards the reclining man, giving us surruptitious glances.
"I like to move it move it," whispered his team. The reclining man reached and pulled out from under his towel a piece of a puzzle and handed it to them.
"AH!" I said in surprise, for I suddenly percieved the man to be none other than Head Leader Peter in clever disguise. I spun wildly around to my team, who were still arguing about the man in the grass. They still did not hear me, so I emitted such such an agonizing scream of pain-ridden irritation that I'm surprised the locals did not perk up their ears and wonder who was being murdered in such a gruesome fashion.
"AAAARRRRRRRGGHHH!" I shrieked.
"What?" everyone asked me.
"THERE!" I shouted, and pointed at the reclining man and Izak's team who were now legging it as fast as they could back towards the beach.
I was gratified to hear an answering chorus of "AAARRRGH's". Together, the two teams swarmed over the grass towards the reclining man.
"I LIKE TO MOVE IT MOVE IT!!!" we bellowed, and there was some confusion as Head Leader Peter had to sort out which two teams were accosting him. The other team got their piece first and tore off down the beach to Head Leader Terri who had the final piece. We got ours and ran off after them, and the final agonizing seconds of the race came down to who could assemble their puzzle quicker.
We ended up coming fourth. The other team came third. We still cheered loudly and congratulated ourselves at being so brilliant.
Another day arrived with hideous punctuality. I stumbled off to the leader's meeting dazed, confused, and barefoot - much like everyone else there. I learnt that there would be two activities that day which struck fear into the depths of my soul - the Leader's Hunt and The Great Big Hairy Beach Race. In previous years these activites had revealed the extent of my general unfitness for all to see and scorn. Despite my having lusciously long legs, they seem to lack the ability to move very fast. Or for very long.
I moaned and took myself off to visit my campers, who complained about my over-the-top bedtime ritual. They actually managed to succeed in making me feel guilty. I decided to try and be nice to them for the rest of the day to make up.
My team mysteriously acquired another male leader that day in the form of Ryan. I discovered this when he sat down at our table during breakfast wearing a leader's shirt and started getting to know some of the campers. I shrugged and accepted it.
After breakfast there was yet another singing/dancing session that I managed to work my way through without mishap. I secretly enjoyed myself tremendously. Izak and I were also in charge of doing the memory verse, so we created an elaborate pictorial version of the verse that people had to try and decipher. Their task was not made easier by a platypus-like owl to represent the word "who" and a mustache to represent "man".
And then began the Leader's Hunt. The purpose of this game was to search up and down the rather extensive beach and look for Head Leaders who had disguised themselves with varying degrees of success, say "I like to move it move it" a la Madagascar, and claim a piece of a jigsaw puzzle that had to be assembled at the end.
Some of these head leaders were actually pretty creative. Some donned wigs and read books on the beach. One found an isolated carpark and sat inside his car. Two others pretended to be council workers erecting a wall around the public toilets, though the bright blonde Marilyn Monroe-style wig one of them was wearing tended to give them away. There was a strangely pale Arab sitting upon a grassy knoll, a shellfish gatherer, and, most bizarrely of all, a gorilla in a tree. This last caused some locals whose property was adjacent to the beach some consternation. What was a gorilla doing in a tree? These neighbours must have had minds of sharpest steel for they quickly deduced that this was not a real gorilla but, in fact, a man dressed up as a gorilla. This did not alleviate their worry. As they peered surruptitiously out of the large windows of their beachfront mansions they became convinced that the gorilla was some sort of paedophile luring children in with his amusing choice of outfit. Why else would many different groups of children be induced to say "I like to move it move it" in such excitable fashion? I am uncertain as to what exactly transpired thereafter, but I believe the police were called and the gorilla was forced to explain his occupation of Christian Kids' Camp Leader.
My team actually did not do too badly. Whereas last year my energy was devoted to trying to simply stay alive while my team shouted at me to run faster, this year it seemed like I was the Motivator of the group.
"Hurry up, guys!" I cried as I strode quickly onwards. "Stop dawdling! We're lagging behind!"
As my team wearily chased after me I found myself called upon to explain the meanings of "dawdling" and "lagging".
At last we had collected all but the final piece. We'd already walked up and down the beach twice; what had we missed? Luckily another team was in the same boat, and we decided to ally and trade information.
"Did you get the Arab?" asked Other Elliott loudly, trying to speak over the wild cries of a rambunctuous group of children who were playing nearby.
"Yeah, we got the Arab," replied Luke, the leader of the other team. "Did you get the guy who was hiding in the grass?"
"Yes, we found him," I said, but apparently I was invisible or at the very least inaudible that day because Other Elliot did not seem to hear me.
"The guy in the grass? I don't think we got him," said Other Elliott.
"We did get him," I said again.
"Hey, did we find the guy in the grass?" Other Elliott asked the other members of our team.
I sighed and gave up on the whole conversation. I stared around at our surroundings. We were standing on a grassy bank surrounded by pohutukawa trees, knarled and bent like old men. A whanau of Maori sat at a nearby picnic table surrounded by the remnants of their lunch. The matriarch of the family sat and surveyed her domain while a man, presumably her husband, reclined on a towel on the ground next to her. Presumably, the group of loud children belonged to them. As I watched, Fellow Leader Izak turned up with his group and advanced towards the reclining man, giving us surruptitious glances.
"I like to move it move it," whispered his team. The reclining man reached and pulled out from under his towel a piece of a puzzle and handed it to them.
"AH!" I said in surprise, for I suddenly percieved the man to be none other than Head Leader Peter in clever disguise. I spun wildly around to my team, who were still arguing about the man in the grass. They still did not hear me, so I emitted such such an agonizing scream of pain-ridden irritation that I'm surprised the locals did not perk up their ears and wonder who was being murdered in such a gruesome fashion.
"AAAARRRRRRRGGHHH!" I shrieked.
"What?" everyone asked me.
"THERE!" I shouted, and pointed at the reclining man and Izak's team who were now legging it as fast as they could back towards the beach.
I was gratified to hear an answering chorus of "AAARRRGH's". Together, the two teams swarmed over the grass towards the reclining man.
"I LIKE TO MOVE IT MOVE IT!!!" we bellowed, and there was some confusion as Head Leader Peter had to sort out which two teams were accosting him. The other team got their piece first and tore off down the beach to Head Leader Terri who had the final piece. We got ours and ran off after them, and the final agonizing seconds of the race came down to who could assemble their puzzle quicker.
We ended up coming fourth. The other team came third. We still cheered loudly and congratulated ourselves at being so brilliant.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Coopers Beach - Day 3
Day 3 - Friday
Morning came, once again, far too soon. I stumbled blearily out of bed at six in the morning and moaned at the almighty pain in my back. Those beds are killers. I dressed and arrived only slightly late to the 6:30 leaders' meeting, where we discussed the events of the upcoming day, listened to a Bible reading, and attempted to look attentive.
That day we had some truly awesome activities lined up: the annual Tide Fight and an event known, oddly, as "Tabloids" despite its distinct lack of any possible connection to old fashioned gossip magazines.
But first we had a worship session in the morning, and though I sucked a bit less than I'd done the previous night, it was still filled with agonizingly spazmodic actions on my part. I smiled brightly and put the whole affair behind me.
Afterwards, the camp clothed themselves in their swimming togs and proceeded en masse down to the beach for the Tide Fight. The object of this game was for each team to build a spectacular fortress around their flag below the tideline, and the last flag to succumb to the incoming tide was the winner.
I'm generally pretty useless at any sort of physical activity. My muscles have atrophied from long hours doing nothing save read, drink tea and draw intricate planting plans. While everyone else in my team were getting down on hands and knees and weilding shovels with competitive frenzy, I tried my best to help out without collapsing in exhaustion. Mainly this involved compacting down the sand the others raised around the flag while dodging flying shovelfuls of aforementioned sand.
The hour allocated for sandcastle construction passed; we threw down our shovels and with whoops of delight leapt into the sea for a swim. The water was delightfully warm, and we had great fun splashing each other and shrieking when the occasional big wave swept over us.
After an hour or so of this, however, we grew tired of frolicking in the water and meandered back to shore. All of us were by now ravenously hungry, but for some reason no one seemed inclined to order the kids back up to the camp for lunch. It turned out we were waiting for the tide to come in and sweep away our fortresses, but because we'd built them just a little bit too high up it was taking much longer than expected. After muttering furiously with a few of the other leaders, I approached Head Leader Tony and Head Leader Dave and did my best to convince them that we should head back up for lunch.
I succeeded. We all cheered and feasted on American hot dogs. Or, in my case, a vegetarian filled roll.
After lunch came the "Tabloids". Essentially this involved each team spending fifteen minutes each at a variety of activities trying to earn points for their team. Activities included were making our way across the obstacle course, shooting at the rifle range, firing water balloons with a giant slingshot at team leaders (I enjoyed that one!), filling a bucket with water passed from person to person down a line, zooming down the flying fox as fast as possible, and seeing how many people could get down the waterslide and climb up again afterwards without collapsing in exhaustion. I sucked at the obstacle course (my poor wee muscles!!!), did fairly well at the rifle range (I actually managed to hit something - all that time I spent with Izak shooting his neighbour's chimney had served me well), had water ballons flung at me (most of which did not manage to hit me, for which I was quite disappointed), passed cups of water with willing cheerfulness, had a go on the flying fox, and point-blank refused to go down the waterslide. Five years of watching campers being mauled and maimed by this waterslide has caused me to never set buttocks upon it. I claimed it was tradition for me not to go down and cheered everyone else from the sidelines instead.
Our team kicked butt. We came first and second in pretty much everything. I was so proud.
That afternoon the leaders also led their teams in a small Bible study. We did this every day for the rest of camp. Most of my girls were extremely over-excited and shrieked and shouted with laughter all the way through, disturbing other nearby groups. We also tended to go off on some very strange tangents. It was when I caught myself giving a detailed description of the Greek myth of the Elysian Fields and how it compared to the philosophies of Plato that I realised things had gotten out of hand. Still, I tried my best, and managed to put an innovative spin on our study by leaving them with the idea that if you obey your leaders and be nice to each other God will be pleased. Now go and clean toilets without complaint. Ah, the Bible - another weapon in the arsenal of a kid's camp leader.
I used the reverse of this argument with some success later on. If you don't stop poking me with that stick, God will get angry and smite you. I felt a bit bad at misrepresenting God in that way - but it worked. The threat of a god who smites stick-pokers must not be underestimated.
Then followed the general camp routine. Dinner. Duties. Free time. I spent that evening learning some new songs and dance moves with Sara and Shannon. I had high hopes for the following morning. Perhaps I wouldn't suck as much. We were so carried away that we didn't realise that the kids' bedtime had arrived until someone looked at the clock and said, "Hey, it's after ten!"
"Aaaargh!" I shrieked, and ran as fast as I could out of the chapel. I raced across the carpark and tore into the kitchen. "Are the kids getting ready for bed yet?" I demanded of the kitchen staff.
"Ah, yeah, they headed off to get ready about ten minutes ago," said one lady who looked slightly wary of the fevered light that was no doubt shining from my eyes.
"Noooooooo," I wailed, for I knew that ten minutes was long enough for the kids to get mostly ready. "I can't believe I'm missing it! This is my favourite part of camp! I get to be mean to children!" Quite certain now that the kitchen staff thought me totally mad, I ran full-tilt out of the kitchen and into the dorms. I surveyed my campers. They were in the last stages of getting ready for bed, but they were doing it in such a lackluster fashion that it brought tears of rage to my eyes.
"YOU HAVE FIVE MINUTES UNTIL THE LIGHTS GO OUT!" I bellowed, and watched in satisfaction as the kids began to scramble in fear. I was extra mean to make up for my previous absense. When the lights went out I took a zero-tolerance approach to talking, telling them to shush with such vehmance I'm surprised they did not quake with fear. Those braver souls who defied me even then with their whispered conversations suddenly found themselves sleeping away from their friends. I was mean. I was relentless. I have never enjoyed myself so much as I did then.
"Zara, you're so mean," said my Junior Junior Leader, Shelley, the next morning. "You're so nice and fun during the day and then you're all horrible at night. It's like you're a completely different person."
"Yes," I said in satisfaction. "You are absolutely correct."
Morning came, once again, far too soon. I stumbled blearily out of bed at six in the morning and moaned at the almighty pain in my back. Those beds are killers. I dressed and arrived only slightly late to the 6:30 leaders' meeting, where we discussed the events of the upcoming day, listened to a Bible reading, and attempted to look attentive.
That day we had some truly awesome activities lined up: the annual Tide Fight and an event known, oddly, as "Tabloids" despite its distinct lack of any possible connection to old fashioned gossip magazines.
But first we had a worship session in the morning, and though I sucked a bit less than I'd done the previous night, it was still filled with agonizingly spazmodic actions on my part. I smiled brightly and put the whole affair behind me.
Afterwards, the camp clothed themselves in their swimming togs and proceeded en masse down to the beach for the Tide Fight. The object of this game was for each team to build a spectacular fortress around their flag below the tideline, and the last flag to succumb to the incoming tide was the winner.
I'm generally pretty useless at any sort of physical activity. My muscles have atrophied from long hours doing nothing save read, drink tea and draw intricate planting plans. While everyone else in my team were getting down on hands and knees and weilding shovels with competitive frenzy, I tried my best to help out without collapsing in exhaustion. Mainly this involved compacting down the sand the others raised around the flag while dodging flying shovelfuls of aforementioned sand.
The hour allocated for sandcastle construction passed; we threw down our shovels and with whoops of delight leapt into the sea for a swim. The water was delightfully warm, and we had great fun splashing each other and shrieking when the occasional big wave swept over us.
After an hour or so of this, however, we grew tired of frolicking in the water and meandered back to shore. All of us were by now ravenously hungry, but for some reason no one seemed inclined to order the kids back up to the camp for lunch. It turned out we were waiting for the tide to come in and sweep away our fortresses, but because we'd built them just a little bit too high up it was taking much longer than expected. After muttering furiously with a few of the other leaders, I approached Head Leader Tony and Head Leader Dave and did my best to convince them that we should head back up for lunch.
I succeeded. We all cheered and feasted on American hot dogs. Or, in my case, a vegetarian filled roll.
After lunch came the "Tabloids". Essentially this involved each team spending fifteen minutes each at a variety of activities trying to earn points for their team. Activities included were making our way across the obstacle course, shooting at the rifle range, firing water balloons with a giant slingshot at team leaders (I enjoyed that one!), filling a bucket with water passed from person to person down a line, zooming down the flying fox as fast as possible, and seeing how many people could get down the waterslide and climb up again afterwards without collapsing in exhaustion. I sucked at the obstacle course (my poor wee muscles!!!), did fairly well at the rifle range (I actually managed to hit something - all that time I spent with Izak shooting his neighbour's chimney had served me well), had water ballons flung at me (most of which did not manage to hit me, for which I was quite disappointed), passed cups of water with willing cheerfulness, had a go on the flying fox, and point-blank refused to go down the waterslide. Five years of watching campers being mauled and maimed by this waterslide has caused me to never set buttocks upon it. I claimed it was tradition for me not to go down and cheered everyone else from the sidelines instead.
Our team kicked butt. We came first and second in pretty much everything. I was so proud.
That afternoon the leaders also led their teams in a small Bible study. We did this every day for the rest of camp. Most of my girls were extremely over-excited and shrieked and shouted with laughter all the way through, disturbing other nearby groups. We also tended to go off on some very strange tangents. It was when I caught myself giving a detailed description of the Greek myth of the Elysian Fields and how it compared to the philosophies of Plato that I realised things had gotten out of hand. Still, I tried my best, and managed to put an innovative spin on our study by leaving them with the idea that if you obey your leaders and be nice to each other God will be pleased. Now go and clean toilets without complaint. Ah, the Bible - another weapon in the arsenal of a kid's camp leader.
I used the reverse of this argument with some success later on. If you don't stop poking me with that stick, God will get angry and smite you. I felt a bit bad at misrepresenting God in that way - but it worked. The threat of a god who smites stick-pokers must not be underestimated.
Then followed the general camp routine. Dinner. Duties. Free time. I spent that evening learning some new songs and dance moves with Sara and Shannon. I had high hopes for the following morning. Perhaps I wouldn't suck as much. We were so carried away that we didn't realise that the kids' bedtime had arrived until someone looked at the clock and said, "Hey, it's after ten!"
"Aaaargh!" I shrieked, and ran as fast as I could out of the chapel. I raced across the carpark and tore into the kitchen. "Are the kids getting ready for bed yet?" I demanded of the kitchen staff.
"Ah, yeah, they headed off to get ready about ten minutes ago," said one lady who looked slightly wary of the fevered light that was no doubt shining from my eyes.
"Noooooooo," I wailed, for I knew that ten minutes was long enough for the kids to get mostly ready. "I can't believe I'm missing it! This is my favourite part of camp! I get to be mean to children!" Quite certain now that the kitchen staff thought me totally mad, I ran full-tilt out of the kitchen and into the dorms. I surveyed my campers. They were in the last stages of getting ready for bed, but they were doing it in such a lackluster fashion that it brought tears of rage to my eyes.
"YOU HAVE FIVE MINUTES UNTIL THE LIGHTS GO OUT!" I bellowed, and watched in satisfaction as the kids began to scramble in fear. I was extra mean to make up for my previous absense. When the lights went out I took a zero-tolerance approach to talking, telling them to shush with such vehmance I'm surprised they did not quake with fear. Those braver souls who defied me even then with their whispered conversations suddenly found themselves sleeping away from their friends. I was mean. I was relentless. I have never enjoyed myself so much as I did then.
"Zara, you're so mean," said my Junior Junior Leader, Shelley, the next morning. "You're so nice and fun during the day and then you're all horrible at night. It's like you're a completely different person."
"Yes," I said in satisfaction. "You are absolutely correct."
Monday, January 17, 2011
Coopers Beach - Day 2
Day 2 - Thursday
The night following the leaders meeting was spent sleeping in the dorms. Or should I say, Emilee and Mikayla attempted to sleep while every other female in the dorm embarked on a long-winded chat session. I was in a cubicle with Sara and her friend Shannon. Shannon was to be the third member in our trio of music leaders. I found out that Sara and Shannon had some experience dancing and singing at camps and what-not. I felt a growing unease.
We eventually fell asleep, and despite the soothing sound of the waves from the nearby searoviding a nice atmosphere for relaxation, I decided after being startled awake for the umpteenth time by a minor noise to invest in some earplugs. I require total silence to sleep.
p
Day arrived much to soon. I decided to skip the morning prayer meeting and attempt to get some extra sleep.
Later, after a delicious breakfast and clothing myself in one of the hideous blue camp leader shirts we were obliged to wear, I ambled out to the front of the hall to await my campers. It's a strange fact that my campers always seem to be the last to arrive. Other campers turned up and their leaders happily led them away to show them to their dorms, but where were my campers? I began to feel strangely morose. And bored.
My campers did eventually arrive, of course, and I took them off to the dorm with a plethora of crazy excitement. I have discovered over the years that first impressions really do work. If you introduce yourself to your campers as being this fun, happy person, they'll go on thinking that, no matter how grumpy you become later. So I skipped along, cheerfully hoisted their luggage onto my shoulders, and smiled and babbled all sorts of excitable nonsense. I got many strange looks, but as this was the effect I had carefully strived for, I did not mind.
Shortly after, Head Leader Peter arrived and reminded me that I hadn't paid my camp fees.
"Not to worry!" I said cheerfully. "I'll just head on up to the shops and get some money out." I went to my cabin and found my purse. As I set off down the gravel driveway, I wandered whether there was any way I could possibly get out of doing the music leading. If Sara and Shannon had lots of experience I wouldn't just end up looking like an idiot next to them, I'd be hindering them, too. I've never danced in front of a crowd before in my life, unless you count my brief stint in my high school musical of High School Musical where I played the part of insane drama teacher Ms Darbus, and then I did not dance so much as flail my arms about spectacularly. Perhaps if I just told them I was too busy, or felt that they could do it on their own, then maybe -
PAIN.
"AAAARRRGH!" I shrieked, clapping my hands over my face. Something incredibly hard had slammed into my left eye. I stared blearily around. I had walked into the wing mirror of a bus. I touched my nose. Was it broken? There was pain, but no moving cartilage as described in various novels. Just bruised, then. I felt under my eye. Was it bleeding? My fingers came away smeared with redness. Ouch, I thought. Still, it wasn't too bad. I shook my fringe over my eye and continued on my way. I kept my head down so that strangers wouldn't think I had an abusive boyfriend or something. I got my money, went back to camp, paid, seized Izak and forced him to look at me.
"Is my eye bleeding?" I asked him.
He peered at me. "Woah! What the heck did you do?" he asked, sounding both amused and horrified.
"I walked into a bus. Does it look alright?" I demanded, now slightly panicked.
"You walked into a bus," he said, as though to clarify.
"Yes. Well?"
"There's... like... a dent," he said.
"A dent," I repeated.
"It's not bleeding or anything, though," he added hastily, perhaps seeing my rising panic. "There's just a line..."
I began to run towards the nearest mirror.
"AAAAARGH!" I shrieked once I reached the bathroom, though it actually didn't look too bad. I tended my eye with loving care, wincing as I rinsed off the dried blood. I donned a hat with an amazingly "larpe" (large) brim and tilted it to sit over my eye as an elaborate disguise. I breathed deeply. At last I felt strong enough to venture outside.
I met Head Leader Sandi coming towards me as I walked. "Wow! What happened to your eye?" she exclaimed.
"Grrrrr," I muttered to myself.
...
The rest of the morning was given over to free time. This meant that the kids were free to do whatever activities around the camp they chose - waterslide, flying fox, kayaks, rifle range, basketball etc. etc. - while the leaders were obliged to run the activities. I was at the flying fox making sure the kid's harnesses were correctly fastened. I gave Mikayla and Emilee a crash-course in harness-fastenning and they helped too. After a while some of the kids convinced me that I should hav a go on the flying fox myself. I must say it did seem very tempting - zooming down the steepest hill I've ever encountered and along over the creek before crashing into some strategically placed tires at the opposite end. The kids' faces were contorted with glee as they lugged the flying fox back up the hill. What the heck, I thought. It sounds like fun. In all my five years of camps I'd only ever ended up going on the flying fox a handful of times.
I strapped myself into the harness, stepped up onto the platform arranged myself on the seat, surveyed the landscape before me, and had an abrupt change of mind.
"Ah," I said. The hill suddenly seemed that much steeper.
"Go!" shouted the kids when they saw my hesitation, and Fellow Leader Sam gave me a shove before I had time to protest.
"AAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGH!!!!!!!!!!!" I screamed. I felt I'd been doing that a lot lately. My stomach flew up into my mouth as I whizzed through the air. The creek was coming towards me. I was sure I was going to crash into a large flax bush directly in my path, but no, I cleared it with ease, and now I was over the creek and my toes must surely be brushing the water, and then the flying fox was tilting upwards as I came towards the end and the tires were looming before me -
CRASH.
The fox hit the tires, my head was thrown back and one of my earrings flew off and landed in the creek. I was too dazed to care. I was unharnessed and after trudging back up the hill towing the fox behind me, the kids gave me grief for screaming so loudly as I went down.
"You screamed!" they giggled.
"And if I did?" I retorted, summoning the dregs of my dignity. "It is so much more satisfying to scream. I can only imagine the profound dullness you must experience as you traverse the skies without even an exclamation on your lips."
After explaining to the kids what the words "profound", "dullness", "traverse", and "exclamation" meant I spent my time trying to convince them to scream as they went down. I cannot say I succeedeed greatly. One boy grunted, "Argh," in an attempt to appease me, but the rest either ignored me or blatantly broke their promises to scream as they went down in absolute silence.
"Bah," I said in disgust.
...
Finally it was lunch time, and already I felt as though I had been forcibly held down and pummeled into a pulp. I was at long last able to take full stock of my team. Other Elliott was my male leader counterpart, with a girl named Sophie being my female Junior Leader. I had not spent five minutes with them before I realised that the two were greatly enamoured with each other. Indeed, for the duration of the camp they spent most of their time gazing soulfully into each others' eyes and inventing excuses to rub sunblock on one another. As for my little campers, they were as follows: Shelley, daughter of one of the Head Leaders; Elle, another relative; and Jodici, Sharkarma, and Tallulah, all of whom appeared to be related in various confusing ways. There were three boys, as well: Mackenzie, brother of two of my Former Fellow Leaders; a tiny boy named Nathaniel; and one other whose name escapes me at this moment. Collectively, we were called Over the Hedge, after the animated movie (this was a Hollywood themed camp, after all). We nodded solemnly in all the correct places during the traditional beginning-of-camp safety speech and were at last able to begin our meal. People were generally pretty astonished when they discovered I was vegetarian, and was compelled to explain just why I was vegetarian while ignoring the disdainful glances from Izak at the neighbouring table, who had seen me eat a double-pounder from McDonalds on more than one occasion.
Somewhat unluckily, my team was on clearing tables that day, and I spent most of my time rounding up unwilling campers and forcing them to wipe down benches and stack up chairs. Other Elliott kept mysteriously vanishing.
The afternoon was spent playing team-building games - tug of war, walking across a field with planks attached to our feet, and tying balloons to our ankles and attempting to pop other people's balloons.
Our team came second in the first plank-walking race, won the second leaders-only race (go me! and Other Elliot and Sophie, of course) and managed to come in third in the tug of war.
Our team had six rounds of the tug of war in a row. Six rounds. And two other additional rounds. This was on average an extra five rounds than what any other team had to go through. I was almost dead by the end. Add to this that the sun was blazing hot and I was wearing the ugly blue leaders shirt over my own top and you will not be surprised when I say that I felt like fainting. I had to drink water and sit in the shade to recouperate.
Then it was afternoon tea, and tuck shop, and more free time, and finally dinner time; and then came the Dreaded Event: chapel time. It was supposed to begin at eight-thirty, but because of my duties I was unable to get to the chapel to practice until shortly after eight. Sara and Shannon were already there going over some of the dance moves. Essentially, I was given a crash-course in all the moves to three songs, going over each of the songs once before the kids turned up. I was not panicking over my lack of ability; I was resigned to the fact that I would look like a total idiot, and my only hope was to dance as enthusiastically and as crazy as possible and try my best to copy Sara out of the corner of my eye.
The kids arrived. The music began. We danced.
Afterwards, Elliot complimented me on how I really seemed to enjoy what I was doing.
"I like how your foot was tapping," he said. "You could tell you were really getting into it."
"Well, I'm glad that my plan worked and that my enthusiasm compensated for other more important things, like skill and actual knowledge of what I was doing," I replied. Truth to tell, had enjoyed it. I decided I'd keep at it.
"You weren't that bad," said Elliot heroically.
"Hah," I said. "Thanks for the compliment, however untrue it was."
Of course, being me, I couldn't help but stride up to people and demand, "What did you think of my dancing?" and smile in self-satisfaction when they were obliged to say it was actually pretty good.
And then, oh, then, came the highlight of my day.
People might find it strange to think that forcing the campers to go to bed is my favourite part of camp. Most other leaders consider it to be the worst possible part due to the fact that the campers are really snarky and just will not go to sleep. But I love it. I stride up and down the corridor bellowing "THE LIGHTS ARE GOING OUT AT TEN O'CLOCK WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT!" and watch with amusment the panicked looks of the campers when they realise they have only ten minutes to get ready for bed. I count down the minutes on my cellphone and shout it at the steadily ever-more irritated campers. In the meantime I visit various cubicles and chat to some of the campers, or sing, or spontaneouly start doing dance moves, and inwardly crow in triumph if a camper should say, "You're really weird, do you know that?" Some of the campers happened to be talking about High School Musical, and I bragged about how we did that for my high-school play and showed off my stylie Ms Darbus dance moves to rapturous applause.
At last - "THE LIGHTS ARE GOING OUT IN FIVE! FOUR! THREE! TWO! ONE!" I shouted, and flicked off the lights. I ignored the entreating pleas of tardy campers who insisted that they needed the lights to be on.
"Oh, but please, I just need to find my toothbrush -" whined one camper.
"No. You should have done that earlier. Be quiet and get into bed." And, because I didn't want to be too mean, added, "sleep well, my precious."
I spent the next twenty minutes patrolling the corridor growling at people to shut up and go to sleep. Normally, in previous years, there would be Fellow Leader Nicole to help me. She'd been at this camp since time immemorial, but now she'd moved on to bigger and better things. This year, I patrolled alone. It was slightly odd to realise that I was now well and truly a Senior Leader. Every other female leader was here for the first time. I felt old when I realised that most of the other leaders were my age when I first started coming to this camp a good five or six years ago. But I was also quite pleased at the added responsibility. I now have Authority.
At last the campers drifted off to sleep. I was actually amazed at how quickly they succumbed to my will and stopped talking and went to sleep. Normally it takes forever for them to drop off. These campers were the most fantastic I'd ever seen. After a mere twenty minutes of saying shush to various whisper-prone individuals, I judged the room quiet enough for me to get ready for bed myself. I slipped into my sleeping bag, put in my earplugs, and spent an uncomfortable night in a hot, narrow bed.
The night following the leaders meeting was spent sleeping in the dorms. Or should I say, Emilee and Mikayla attempted to sleep while every other female in the dorm embarked on a long-winded chat session. I was in a cubicle with Sara and her friend Shannon. Shannon was to be the third member in our trio of music leaders. I found out that Sara and Shannon had some experience dancing and singing at camps and what-not. I felt a growing unease.
We eventually fell asleep, and despite the soothing sound of the waves from the nearby searoviding a nice atmosphere for relaxation, I decided after being startled awake for the umpteenth time by a minor noise to invest in some earplugs. I require total silence to sleep.
p
Day arrived much to soon. I decided to skip the morning prayer meeting and attempt to get some extra sleep.
Later, after a delicious breakfast and clothing myself in one of the hideous blue camp leader shirts we were obliged to wear, I ambled out to the front of the hall to await my campers. It's a strange fact that my campers always seem to be the last to arrive. Other campers turned up and their leaders happily led them away to show them to their dorms, but where were my campers? I began to feel strangely morose. And bored.
My campers did eventually arrive, of course, and I took them off to the dorm with a plethora of crazy excitement. I have discovered over the years that first impressions really do work. If you introduce yourself to your campers as being this fun, happy person, they'll go on thinking that, no matter how grumpy you become later. So I skipped along, cheerfully hoisted their luggage onto my shoulders, and smiled and babbled all sorts of excitable nonsense. I got many strange looks, but as this was the effect I had carefully strived for, I did not mind.
Shortly after, Head Leader Peter arrived and reminded me that I hadn't paid my camp fees.
"Not to worry!" I said cheerfully. "I'll just head on up to the shops and get some money out." I went to my cabin and found my purse. As I set off down the gravel driveway, I wandered whether there was any way I could possibly get out of doing the music leading. If Sara and Shannon had lots of experience I wouldn't just end up looking like an idiot next to them, I'd be hindering them, too. I've never danced in front of a crowd before in my life, unless you count my brief stint in my high school musical of High School Musical where I played the part of insane drama teacher Ms Darbus, and then I did not dance so much as flail my arms about spectacularly. Perhaps if I just told them I was too busy, or felt that they could do it on their own, then maybe -
PAIN.
"AAAARRRGH!" I shrieked, clapping my hands over my face. Something incredibly hard had slammed into my left eye. I stared blearily around. I had walked into the wing mirror of a bus. I touched my nose. Was it broken? There was pain, but no moving cartilage as described in various novels. Just bruised, then. I felt under my eye. Was it bleeding? My fingers came away smeared with redness. Ouch, I thought. Still, it wasn't too bad. I shook my fringe over my eye and continued on my way. I kept my head down so that strangers wouldn't think I had an abusive boyfriend or something. I got my money, went back to camp, paid, seized Izak and forced him to look at me.
"Is my eye bleeding?" I asked him.
He peered at me. "Woah! What the heck did you do?" he asked, sounding both amused and horrified.
"I walked into a bus. Does it look alright?" I demanded, now slightly panicked.
"You walked into a bus," he said, as though to clarify.
"Yes. Well?"
"There's... like... a dent," he said.
"A dent," I repeated.
"It's not bleeding or anything, though," he added hastily, perhaps seeing my rising panic. "There's just a line..."
I began to run towards the nearest mirror.
"AAAAARGH!" I shrieked once I reached the bathroom, though it actually didn't look too bad. I tended my eye with loving care, wincing as I rinsed off the dried blood. I donned a hat with an amazingly "larpe" (large) brim and tilted it to sit over my eye as an elaborate disguise. I breathed deeply. At last I felt strong enough to venture outside.
I met Head Leader Sandi coming towards me as I walked. "Wow! What happened to your eye?" she exclaimed.
"Grrrrr," I muttered to myself.
...
The rest of the morning was given over to free time. This meant that the kids were free to do whatever activities around the camp they chose - waterslide, flying fox, kayaks, rifle range, basketball etc. etc. - while the leaders were obliged to run the activities. I was at the flying fox making sure the kid's harnesses were correctly fastened. I gave Mikayla and Emilee a crash-course in harness-fastenning and they helped too. After a while some of the kids convinced me that I should hav a go on the flying fox myself. I must say it did seem very tempting - zooming down the steepest hill I've ever encountered and along over the creek before crashing into some strategically placed tires at the opposite end. The kids' faces were contorted with glee as they lugged the flying fox back up the hill. What the heck, I thought. It sounds like fun. In all my five years of camps I'd only ever ended up going on the flying fox a handful of times.
I strapped myself into the harness, stepped up onto the platform arranged myself on the seat, surveyed the landscape before me, and had an abrupt change of mind.
"Ah," I said. The hill suddenly seemed that much steeper.
"Go!" shouted the kids when they saw my hesitation, and Fellow Leader Sam gave me a shove before I had time to protest.
"AAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGH!!!!!!!!!!!" I screamed. I felt I'd been doing that a lot lately. My stomach flew up into my mouth as I whizzed through the air. The creek was coming towards me. I was sure I was going to crash into a large flax bush directly in my path, but no, I cleared it with ease, and now I was over the creek and my toes must surely be brushing the water, and then the flying fox was tilting upwards as I came towards the end and the tires were looming before me -
CRASH.
The fox hit the tires, my head was thrown back and one of my earrings flew off and landed in the creek. I was too dazed to care. I was unharnessed and after trudging back up the hill towing the fox behind me, the kids gave me grief for screaming so loudly as I went down.
"You screamed!" they giggled.
"And if I did?" I retorted, summoning the dregs of my dignity. "It is so much more satisfying to scream. I can only imagine the profound dullness you must experience as you traverse the skies without even an exclamation on your lips."
After explaining to the kids what the words "profound", "dullness", "traverse", and "exclamation" meant I spent my time trying to convince them to scream as they went down. I cannot say I succeedeed greatly. One boy grunted, "Argh," in an attempt to appease me, but the rest either ignored me or blatantly broke their promises to scream as they went down in absolute silence.
"Bah," I said in disgust.
...
Finally it was lunch time, and already I felt as though I had been forcibly held down and pummeled into a pulp. I was at long last able to take full stock of my team. Other Elliott was my male leader counterpart, with a girl named Sophie being my female Junior Leader. I had not spent five minutes with them before I realised that the two were greatly enamoured with each other. Indeed, for the duration of the camp they spent most of their time gazing soulfully into each others' eyes and inventing excuses to rub sunblock on one another. As for my little campers, they were as follows: Shelley, daughter of one of the Head Leaders; Elle, another relative; and Jodici, Sharkarma, and Tallulah, all of whom appeared to be related in various confusing ways. There were three boys, as well: Mackenzie, brother of two of my Former Fellow Leaders; a tiny boy named Nathaniel; and one other whose name escapes me at this moment. Collectively, we were called Over the Hedge, after the animated movie (this was a Hollywood themed camp, after all). We nodded solemnly in all the correct places during the traditional beginning-of-camp safety speech and were at last able to begin our meal. People were generally pretty astonished when they discovered I was vegetarian, and was compelled to explain just why I was vegetarian while ignoring the disdainful glances from Izak at the neighbouring table, who had seen me eat a double-pounder from McDonalds on more than one occasion.
Somewhat unluckily, my team was on clearing tables that day, and I spent most of my time rounding up unwilling campers and forcing them to wipe down benches and stack up chairs. Other Elliott kept mysteriously vanishing.
The afternoon was spent playing team-building games - tug of war, walking across a field with planks attached to our feet, and tying balloons to our ankles and attempting to pop other people's balloons.
Our team came second in the first plank-walking race, won the second leaders-only race (go me! and Other Elliot and Sophie, of course) and managed to come in third in the tug of war.
Our team had six rounds of the tug of war in a row. Six rounds. And two other additional rounds. This was on average an extra five rounds than what any other team had to go through. I was almost dead by the end. Add to this that the sun was blazing hot and I was wearing the ugly blue leaders shirt over my own top and you will not be surprised when I say that I felt like fainting. I had to drink water and sit in the shade to recouperate.
Then it was afternoon tea, and tuck shop, and more free time, and finally dinner time; and then came the Dreaded Event: chapel time. It was supposed to begin at eight-thirty, but because of my duties I was unable to get to the chapel to practice until shortly after eight. Sara and Shannon were already there going over some of the dance moves. Essentially, I was given a crash-course in all the moves to three songs, going over each of the songs once before the kids turned up. I was not panicking over my lack of ability; I was resigned to the fact that I would look like a total idiot, and my only hope was to dance as enthusiastically and as crazy as possible and try my best to copy Sara out of the corner of my eye.
The kids arrived. The music began. We danced.
Afterwards, Elliot complimented me on how I really seemed to enjoy what I was doing.
"I like how your foot was tapping," he said. "You could tell you were really getting into it."
"Well, I'm glad that my plan worked and that my enthusiasm compensated for other more important things, like skill and actual knowledge of what I was doing," I replied. Truth to tell, had enjoyed it. I decided I'd keep at it.
"You weren't that bad," said Elliot heroically.
"Hah," I said. "Thanks for the compliment, however untrue it was."
Of course, being me, I couldn't help but stride up to people and demand, "What did you think of my dancing?" and smile in self-satisfaction when they were obliged to say it was actually pretty good.
And then, oh, then, came the highlight of my day.
People might find it strange to think that forcing the campers to go to bed is my favourite part of camp. Most other leaders consider it to be the worst possible part due to the fact that the campers are really snarky and just will not go to sleep. But I love it. I stride up and down the corridor bellowing "THE LIGHTS ARE GOING OUT AT TEN O'CLOCK WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT!" and watch with amusment the panicked looks of the campers when they realise they have only ten minutes to get ready for bed. I count down the minutes on my cellphone and shout it at the steadily ever-more irritated campers. In the meantime I visit various cubicles and chat to some of the campers, or sing, or spontaneouly start doing dance moves, and inwardly crow in triumph if a camper should say, "You're really weird, do you know that?" Some of the campers happened to be talking about High School Musical, and I bragged about how we did that for my high-school play and showed off my stylie Ms Darbus dance moves to rapturous applause.
At last - "THE LIGHTS ARE GOING OUT IN FIVE! FOUR! THREE! TWO! ONE!" I shouted, and flicked off the lights. I ignored the entreating pleas of tardy campers who insisted that they needed the lights to be on.
"Oh, but please, I just need to find my toothbrush -" whined one camper.
"No. You should have done that earlier. Be quiet and get into bed." And, because I didn't want to be too mean, added, "sleep well, my precious."
I spent the next twenty minutes patrolling the corridor growling at people to shut up and go to sleep. Normally, in previous years, there would be Fellow Leader Nicole to help me. She'd been at this camp since time immemorial, but now she'd moved on to bigger and better things. This year, I patrolled alone. It was slightly odd to realise that I was now well and truly a Senior Leader. Every other female leader was here for the first time. I felt old when I realised that most of the other leaders were my age when I first started coming to this camp a good five or six years ago. But I was also quite pleased at the added responsibility. I now have Authority.
At last the campers drifted off to sleep. I was actually amazed at how quickly they succumbed to my will and stopped talking and went to sleep. Normally it takes forever for them to drop off. These campers were the most fantastic I'd ever seen. After a mere twenty minutes of saying shush to various whisper-prone individuals, I judged the room quiet enough for me to get ready for bed myself. I slipped into my sleeping bag, put in my earplugs, and spent an uncomfortable night in a hot, narrow bed.
Coopers Beach - Day 1
Ahhhhhh. Peace. And mundanity. Home at last.
For those who are unaware or just not sure what Coopers Beach is, I would refer you to wikipedia, but unfortunately Coopers Beach is so unimportant in the greater scheme of things that it does not merit a wiki. Suffice it to say that it is a beach on the east coast in the far, far north of New Zealand, which summons up an image of white sand, extreme heat, friendly tanned locals, and painfully pink tourists. There is also a Brethran Youth Camp up there, and every year a group of enthusiastic people from Auckland, Hamilton, and other parts of the country arrive en masse to teach kids about Jesus and instil in them great exhaustion from strenuous activity.
Because I am a verbose writer who considers writing anything shorter than the length of a novella to be a type of failing, I shall split my description of this event into days in order for those who find reading anything longer than the length of a novella don't take one look at my extraordinarily long post and run away screaming.
Day 1 - Wednesday
The day began with the requisite last-minute pack. I have not yet mastered the art of acting promptly. Procrastination, however, is a skill deeply rooted in me, and consequently I made it out the door after thirty minutes of intense panicing. I arrived at the church with time to spare, loaded my gear into the church's shiny new van, rolled out some astroturf (long story), had a prayer session, and we were off! In the car were, in order of seating from front to back and left to right, Sharon (a leader), Peter (the leader of leaders), Chris (fellow leader), Mikaiah and George (both campers), Elliot, myself, Izak, Mikayla, and Emilee (all leaders).
The ten of us set off shouting excitedly, "Whoopie!"
Four hours later, a hot, bad-tempered van of people arrived at Coopers Beach.
We cheered up a bit as we drew close to the camp. There is a big hill that faces the main road, and on this hill had been placed large white letters which read "HOLLYWOOD NORTH" in keeping with our theme for the camp.
We poured out of the car groaning with relief, stretching and unkinking muscles, and after a lot of boring unpacking and flaffing around which I won't go into, because hey, it's boring, a group of us who came up in the van decided to chillax at the top of the camp's infamously steep hill. We felt revived after our trip, and we laughed and joked and told stories of previous camps. Like...
"Did you hear about the time Izak rolled down the hill inside a bunch of tires?"
As we talked we watched another group of leaders sitting on the obstacle course at the base of the hill.
"I do not like this distinct separation of leader groups," I said. "We should promote a spirit of leader unity. Let us go down the hill and mingle."
A chorus of groans followed this suggestion, for if we were to walk down the hill then we would have to eventually walk back up it - and trust me, this is something one did not do lightly.
"If we go down there they'll probably just move away from us, anyway," said Izak.
"You are so pessimistic. This shall not happen. Let us go," I said, and with sheer force of personality induced everyone to follow.
We flowed down the hill and claimed a spot on the obstacle course not far from the other group. We continued our talk-fest. The other group glanced uneasily at us, got up and made a brave attempt at a touch rugby game not far from us, before walking back up the hill and claiming our previous spot.
"I told you so," said Izak smugly.
"Shut up. We didn't try hard enough. We should follow them back up the hill," I said.
"NO!" said everyone firmly, and I gave it up as a lost cause.
"Hey, Elliott!" someone called, and Elliot whipped around. The other group were laughing and joking among themselves and weren't even pretending to look at us.
"Huh," Elliot said. "I guess there's another Elliot."
"That's going to get confusing," said Emilee.
"I know ay, once there was about three Chrises in my class, and I never knew which Chris people were talking to," said Chris.
"I've never had that problem," I bragged. "I've never even met another Zara. It's great having a unique name."
Shortly after we were summoned up to the hall for a leaders meeting. We trudged back up the hill and filed into the hall. Nothing of great import happened at the meeting, save this: there was a lack of musicians and music leaders for the worship sessions. I seized the opportunity and decided to volunteer. Leading these sessions has always been a Secret Leader Ambition of mine, a dream I'd never thought to see realised due to my profound lack of singing and dancing ability. But surely, with everyone else sucking at least as bad as I did, I'd be able to do this and make up with enthusiasim what I lacked in skill. Two other leaders I'd never met before volunteered as well. I was pleased. I would not suck alone.
After the meeting I decided to renew my attempts at sociability and introduced myself to my fellow singer/dancers.
"Hi! I'm Zara," I said to one of them, a tall blonde girl.
"Great to meet you!" she replied. "I'm Sara."
"Oh, crap," I said.
...
to be continued...
For those who are unaware or just not sure what Coopers Beach is, I would refer you to wikipedia, but unfortunately Coopers Beach is so unimportant in the greater scheme of things that it does not merit a wiki. Suffice it to say that it is a beach on the east coast in the far, far north of New Zealand, which summons up an image of white sand, extreme heat, friendly tanned locals, and painfully pink tourists. There is also a Brethran Youth Camp up there, and every year a group of enthusiastic people from Auckland, Hamilton, and other parts of the country arrive en masse to teach kids about Jesus and instil in them great exhaustion from strenuous activity.
Because I am a verbose writer who considers writing anything shorter than the length of a novella to be a type of failing, I shall split my description of this event into days in order for those who find reading anything longer than the length of a novella don't take one look at my extraordinarily long post and run away screaming.
Day 1 - Wednesday
The day began with the requisite last-minute pack. I have not yet mastered the art of acting promptly. Procrastination, however, is a skill deeply rooted in me, and consequently I made it out the door after thirty minutes of intense panicing. I arrived at the church with time to spare, loaded my gear into the church's shiny new van, rolled out some astroturf (long story), had a prayer session, and we were off! In the car were, in order of seating from front to back and left to right, Sharon (a leader), Peter (the leader of leaders), Chris (fellow leader), Mikaiah and George (both campers), Elliot, myself, Izak, Mikayla, and Emilee (all leaders).
The ten of us set off shouting excitedly, "Whoopie!"
Four hours later, a hot, bad-tempered van of people arrived at Coopers Beach.
We cheered up a bit as we drew close to the camp. There is a big hill that faces the main road, and on this hill had been placed large white letters which read "HOLLYWOOD NORTH" in keeping with our theme for the camp.
We poured out of the car groaning with relief, stretching and unkinking muscles, and after a lot of boring unpacking and flaffing around which I won't go into, because hey, it's boring, a group of us who came up in the van decided to chillax at the top of the camp's infamously steep hill. We felt revived after our trip, and we laughed and joked and told stories of previous camps. Like...
"Did you hear about the time Izak rolled down the hill inside a bunch of tires?"
As we talked we watched another group of leaders sitting on the obstacle course at the base of the hill.
"I do not like this distinct separation of leader groups," I said. "We should promote a spirit of leader unity. Let us go down the hill and mingle."
A chorus of groans followed this suggestion, for if we were to walk down the hill then we would have to eventually walk back up it - and trust me, this is something one did not do lightly.
"If we go down there they'll probably just move away from us, anyway," said Izak.
"You are so pessimistic. This shall not happen. Let us go," I said, and with sheer force of personality induced everyone to follow.
We flowed down the hill and claimed a spot on the obstacle course not far from the other group. We continued our talk-fest. The other group glanced uneasily at us, got up and made a brave attempt at a touch rugby game not far from us, before walking back up the hill and claiming our previous spot.
"I told you so," said Izak smugly.
"Shut up. We didn't try hard enough. We should follow them back up the hill," I said.
"NO!" said everyone firmly, and I gave it up as a lost cause.
"Hey, Elliott!" someone called, and Elliot whipped around. The other group were laughing and joking among themselves and weren't even pretending to look at us.
"Huh," Elliot said. "I guess there's another Elliot."
"That's going to get confusing," said Emilee.
"I know ay, once there was about three Chrises in my class, and I never knew which Chris people were talking to," said Chris.
"I've never had that problem," I bragged. "I've never even met another Zara. It's great having a unique name."
Shortly after we were summoned up to the hall for a leaders meeting. We trudged back up the hill and filed into the hall. Nothing of great import happened at the meeting, save this: there was a lack of musicians and music leaders for the worship sessions. I seized the opportunity and decided to volunteer. Leading these sessions has always been a Secret Leader Ambition of mine, a dream I'd never thought to see realised due to my profound lack of singing and dancing ability. But surely, with everyone else sucking at least as bad as I did, I'd be able to do this and make up with enthusiasim what I lacked in skill. Two other leaders I'd never met before volunteered as well. I was pleased. I would not suck alone.
After the meeting I decided to renew my attempts at sociability and introduced myself to my fellow singer/dancers.
"Hi! I'm Zara," I said to one of them, a tall blonde girl.
"Great to meet you!" she replied. "I'm Sara."
"Oh, crap," I said.
...
to be continued...
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Resolutions and what-not
"This is a brilliant time of year for self-improvement," I said.
I bridled at the implied criticism. "What?" I demanded. "Are you saying that I'm not good enough the way I already am?"
"No, of course not," I said soothingly. "But of course, there are some things you could do better."
"Like?" I said heatedly.
"Well, you could attempt to be tidier. You're a very messy person, you must admit."
"I'll admit no such thing!"
"How is it you describe the route you take to reach your bed at night? 'An intricate series of gymnastics', is it not?"
"I merely say that for the lols," I said with dignity. "I make a point of amusing people with my witty choice of words. It's called 'humour'. You might care to develop it sometime."
I ignored this jab. "There is also the habit you have of spending the majority of the day reading or sitting in front of the computer instead of doing other, more constructive things."
"Reading is a positive experience. And the computer is a necessary part of my coursework. I need it for things like CAD and photoshop."
"Neither of those programs you own, interestingly."
"Look, what is it you're trying to accomplish? Making me feel inferior? I must tell you, you are succeeding admirably."
"I want you to do well in life."
"Bahaha," I snorted elegantly.
"In addition to being tidier and spending less time in front of the computer, you might consider your fitness level," I continued.
"My what?"
"Exactly. What happened to your good intention to learn yoga and take up jogging?"
"Jogging is boring. And I can't even touch my toes, let alone begin to do yoga. The only thing I got out of yoga were colourful bruises from falling over constantly."
"And you need to get a job."
The little anger-control switch in my brain flicked off. "SHUT UP!" I roared. "DO YOU THINK I DON'T KNOW THAT?"
"And you keep saying you're going to write a book one day - when are you actually going to start?"
"I'm still figuring out the plot!"
"And don't forget you still need to learn how to drive."
"BE SILENT!"
"My point is - you're never going to accomplish any of your goals in life if you don't change your ways."
I felt defeated. "I know that."
"You're never going to pass your course."
"Stop it."
"You're never going to get a decent job."
"Go away."
"You're never going to be able to have your perfect garden and your perfect life. None of the things you really, truly want that will make your life worth living. Doomed instead to despair and misery, like everyone else."
"Because I'm a messy person and can't run very fast and can't drive and I'm taking my time trying to make my story work out properly and I don't have a job and instead spend my days reading and sitting in front of the computer trying to compensate for my immense boredom? Is that why?"
"Well - "
"Do you think I like being like that? Do you think I get a kick out of never being able to find anyting in my complete pigsty of a room? That I enjoy having no money, enjoy that I panic every day about whether I'll be able to afford food that week? That I don't feel the complete worthlessness of my life spent doing nothing? Is it no wonder that my dreams for a better future are the only things that enable me to actually get out of bed each day? God knows it's only hope and my imagination that keeps me functioning through the mundane horror of my life. It's not like I have anything else to live for."
"Your life could be much worse," I pointed out softly.
"I know that. I cold be living in a hole or with an interesting flesh-eating disease. My life could be absolutely horrendous. I'm happy - just not content."
"Then change."
"I try," I muttered.
"Then try harder. No one is ever going to just hand you everything you want on a gilded platter."
So. I'm going to try harder. Here is my list of resolutions:
1. Attempt to fold underwear.
2. Instead of sitting in front of my computer, convince my computer to sit in front of me. That could work.
3. Become muscular contortionist.
4. Get job making gilded platters.
5. Learn how to sit behind steering wheel without quaking in fear.
6. Speak severely to characters in story about their apparant lack of interest about being in aforementioned story.
I bridled at the implied criticism. "What?" I demanded. "Are you saying that I'm not good enough the way I already am?"
"No, of course not," I said soothingly. "But of course, there are some things you could do better."
"Like?" I said heatedly.
"Well, you could attempt to be tidier. You're a very messy person, you must admit."
"I'll admit no such thing!"
"How is it you describe the route you take to reach your bed at night? 'An intricate series of gymnastics', is it not?"
"I merely say that for the lols," I said with dignity. "I make a point of amusing people with my witty choice of words. It's called 'humour'. You might care to develop it sometime."
I ignored this jab. "There is also the habit you have of spending the majority of the day reading or sitting in front of the computer instead of doing other, more constructive things."
"Reading is a positive experience. And the computer is a necessary part of my coursework. I need it for things like CAD and photoshop."
"Neither of those programs you own, interestingly."
"Look, what is it you're trying to accomplish? Making me feel inferior? I must tell you, you are succeeding admirably."
"I want you to do well in life."
"Bahaha," I snorted elegantly.
"In addition to being tidier and spending less time in front of the computer, you might consider your fitness level," I continued.
"My what?"
"Exactly. What happened to your good intention to learn yoga and take up jogging?"
"Jogging is boring. And I can't even touch my toes, let alone begin to do yoga. The only thing I got out of yoga were colourful bruises from falling over constantly."
"And you need to get a job."
The little anger-control switch in my brain flicked off. "SHUT UP!" I roared. "DO YOU THINK I DON'T KNOW THAT?"
"And you keep saying you're going to write a book one day - when are you actually going to start?"
"I'm still figuring out the plot!"
"And don't forget you still need to learn how to drive."
"BE SILENT!"
"My point is - you're never going to accomplish any of your goals in life if you don't change your ways."
I felt defeated. "I know that."
"You're never going to pass your course."
"Stop it."
"You're never going to get a decent job."
"Go away."
"You're never going to be able to have your perfect garden and your perfect life. None of the things you really, truly want that will make your life worth living. Doomed instead to despair and misery, like everyone else."
"Because I'm a messy person and can't run very fast and can't drive and I'm taking my time trying to make my story work out properly and I don't have a job and instead spend my days reading and sitting in front of the computer trying to compensate for my immense boredom? Is that why?"
"Well - "
"Do you think I like being like that? Do you think I get a kick out of never being able to find anyting in my complete pigsty of a room? That I enjoy having no money, enjoy that I panic every day about whether I'll be able to afford food that week? That I don't feel the complete worthlessness of my life spent doing nothing? Is it no wonder that my dreams for a better future are the only things that enable me to actually get out of bed each day? God knows it's only hope and my imagination that keeps me functioning through the mundane horror of my life. It's not like I have anything else to live for."
"Your life could be much worse," I pointed out softly.
"I know that. I cold be living in a hole or with an interesting flesh-eating disease. My life could be absolutely horrendous. I'm happy - just not content."
"Then change."
"I try," I muttered.
"Then try harder. No one is ever going to just hand you everything you want on a gilded platter."
So. I'm going to try harder. Here is my list of resolutions:
1. Attempt to fold underwear.
2. Instead of sitting in front of my computer, convince my computer to sit in front of me. That could work.
3. Become muscular contortionist.
4. Get job making gilded platters.
5. Learn how to sit behind steering wheel without quaking in fear.
6. Speak severely to characters in story about their apparant lack of interest about being in aforementioned story.
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