The maybe not-so-horrors of camping

Camping is not my favourite thing in the world. This weekend I camped from Friday to Monday because I went to a very fun Pentecost conference here in the Netherlands which I attend every year. I don’t think it’s even that I hate it so much as that I’m just not good at. I can’t set up a tent. I have the hips of a eighty year old so every morning is agony after sleeping on a, this year faulty, air mattress. I tend to spill things and make a mess. And finally, I never bring enough clothes and supplies. I always forget a hair brush or my shampoo or I pack three t-shirts but no matching jeans. It’s a bit of a mess. Still, I return each year because I do in fact enjoy some parts of it.

When I was younger we used to have a caravan where we spent all our summers and most weekends in the spring. I think maybe that’s where things went wrong because when my sisters and brother slept in a tent I lay in my own room in the caravan with running water, television and when needed; heating. It wasn’t actually a challenge to camp back then, even if it was for over six weeks.

As I said, I do like some of it. Most of it actually. I like limping through the cold morning to brush your teeth or go to the toilet. I like how nobody cares a single bit about the way anyone looks because it is inevitable that one day 2 or 3 everybody just looks like a washed out potato. And most importantly, I love how social it is. You go through all the hardship together. Last year when it was about 12 degrees and raining the entire weekend and at night time the temperatures dropped to about zero I felt that more than ever and I think it’s a great way of getting to know people so much better than you would normally.

If I get the chance I still opt for apartments or hotel rooms but honestly, very secretly, camping is growing on me and I can’t wait for next year.