Camp, minus all the whining
Jun. 3rd, 2009 09:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
patupaiareheCamp was fun, even leaving out the myriad of emotions it stirred up. I’ll try and stick only to the non-sticky emotional bits, so let’s see how this goes.
I was in a different building to everyone else, with Jacquie the Aussie and Felicia the kiwi, and some boys in the other two rooms on our floor (Northern Europe and South America, if you’re interested). Cool, but a bit of a pain in the arse to climb four flights of stairs all the time.
It was great to ritrovare everyone again, and like I’ve mentioned before, there was that real sense of trust and companionship that infused the camp. Some of the exercises we did were a bit rompepalle, but some of the other ones, like the one on the last night, or the letter I wrote to myself that’ll be sent on to me in NZ, were genuinely helpful and interesting. Although it wasn’t til the meditation the evening after I’d written the letter to myself that I realised I’d written piovuto instead of pianto because my brain was clearly on the blink at that point. But still, hopefully it’ll inspire a bit of laughter when I read it, because Jesus H Christ on a popsicle stick, the rest of the letter was pretty bleak. But I didn’t write about guys once.
We played some pretty intense games, too. Soccer twice, and I had a really good time getting in people’s way. I’m not a granché come offence, but get me tackling people and I think I’m pretty good. I’m also now covered in bruises, which I suppose is the inevitable reaction of making people trip over you.
Some other good games were definitely manifestazione, where we all twined together and clung to each other and the volunteers tried to pull us apart. When someone was removed, they would become a poliziotto as well and join in with the separating. By good positioning and being pretty bloody stubborn, I was one of the last people to get pulled out both times. The last time, it was just me and Jacquie clinging to each other for dear life, lifted off the floor and being tugged apart by a good fifty people. Andrea definitely gets a Pervert gold star for that, because you don’t even want to know where he had his hands.
And the other hilarious game was passing a piece of paper round the circle – with your mouth. You have to keep sucking at the paper to keep it on your lips, and then stop as the next person starts. But if you stop too fast, you kinda end up kissing them. This game was explained to us all, then we were given ten seconds to move where we wanted to in the circle. As you can probably imagine, I went, “Andrea, get here,” but he was like, “Nah, come to me,” so I did. Talk about a cocktease, being that close to a person – especially the one time he dropped the paper – but not being able to touch him. Guh.
The food at the camp was unsurprisingly crap. I came back home a full kilo lighter because I’d played so much soccer, and also because I’d eaten nothing but coffee for breakfast and salad for lunch and dinner every day. And that coffee was really fucking bad.
I didn’t wear shoes for the entire camp which was pretty fun, except that I had a blister on the underside of my foot (don’t ask me, I have NO IDEA how that happened) and I think all the pressure on that foot and I dunno, germs or something, made it get infected. So it got sorer and sorer until I went and washed my feet and tore open the blister – that was a real task: do you know how THICK the skin on my feet is? – and all this pus came bubbling out. But once I’d got the pus out and washed it good, I stuck a plaster on it til it wasn’t feeling all weepy and then went about barefoot once more. Good times.
Ok, so the last bit was probably too much information. Sorry.
Oh yeah, and cocktease isn’t exactly the correct phrase – it certainly makes no physical sense – but you get what I mean.
I was in a different building to everyone else, with Jacquie the Aussie and Felicia the kiwi, and some boys in the other two rooms on our floor (Northern Europe and South America, if you’re interested). Cool, but a bit of a pain in the arse to climb four flights of stairs all the time.
It was great to ritrovare everyone again, and like I’ve mentioned before, there was that real sense of trust and companionship that infused the camp. Some of the exercises we did were a bit rompepalle, but some of the other ones, like the one on the last night, or the letter I wrote to myself that’ll be sent on to me in NZ, were genuinely helpful and interesting. Although it wasn’t til the meditation the evening after I’d written the letter to myself that I realised I’d written piovuto instead of pianto because my brain was clearly on the blink at that point. But still, hopefully it’ll inspire a bit of laughter when I read it, because Jesus H Christ on a popsicle stick, the rest of the letter was pretty bleak. But I didn’t write about guys once.
We played some pretty intense games, too. Soccer twice, and I had a really good time getting in people’s way. I’m not a granché come offence, but get me tackling people and I think I’m pretty good. I’m also now covered in bruises, which I suppose is the inevitable reaction of making people trip over you.
Some other good games were definitely manifestazione, where we all twined together and clung to each other and the volunteers tried to pull us apart. When someone was removed, they would become a poliziotto as well and join in with the separating. By good positioning and being pretty bloody stubborn, I was one of the last people to get pulled out both times. The last time, it was just me and Jacquie clinging to each other for dear life, lifted off the floor and being tugged apart by a good fifty people. Andrea definitely gets a Pervert gold star for that, because you don’t even want to know where he had his hands.
And the other hilarious game was passing a piece of paper round the circle – with your mouth. You have to keep sucking at the paper to keep it on your lips, and then stop as the next person starts. But if you stop too fast, you kinda end up kissing them. This game was explained to us all, then we were given ten seconds to move where we wanted to in the circle. As you can probably imagine, I went, “Andrea, get here,” but he was like, “Nah, come to me,” so I did. Talk about a cocktease, being that close to a person – especially the one time he dropped the paper – but not being able to touch him. Guh.
The food at the camp was unsurprisingly crap. I came back home a full kilo lighter because I’d played so much soccer, and also because I’d eaten nothing but coffee for breakfast and salad for lunch and dinner every day. And that coffee was really fucking bad.
I didn’t wear shoes for the entire camp which was pretty fun, except that I had a blister on the underside of my foot (don’t ask me, I have NO IDEA how that happened) and I think all the pressure on that foot and I dunno, germs or something, made it get infected. So it got sorer and sorer until I went and washed my feet and tore open the blister – that was a real task: do you know how THICK the skin on my feet is? – and all this pus came bubbling out. But once I’d got the pus out and washed it good, I stuck a plaster on it til it wasn’t feeling all weepy and then went about barefoot once more. Good times.
Ok, so the last bit was probably too much information. Sorry.
Oh yeah, and cocktease isn’t exactly the correct phrase – it certainly makes no physical sense – but you get what I mean.
