A Camping Story – Part One

Where: Letchworth Park, NY

When: July 11-18th

I won’t lie to you – I dreaded going camping. But last week, I actually enjoyed it. I’ll tell you why.

I never went camping until I met my husband. The first time I ever went was a few years ago, with his family. And I really didn’t enjoy it. As most of my vacations required a passport. I was so used to packing my passport for vacations! To putting my liquids in 3 oz. bottles! To enjoy my oversized luxury bathroom as I sit in a whirlpool hot tub after a tiring day of site-seeing and shopping. To eat at fancy restaurants and try new foods.

I sound like a snob, I know. But it gets better, really.

So I never understood why someone would want to squat in a mound of dirt surrounded by mosquitoes and guard their food supply from ravenous raccoons and cook their own food each day and share dirty public bathrooms. That doesn’t sound appealing to anyone, right?

That’s because that was my mindset going into it. I didn’t let myself see anything GOOD from camping. I just pictured what I wanted to picture. I grew up in a family that was very different from my husband’s family. We didn’t have….’fun’. I don’t know how else to describe it. We didn’t play games, sports, etc. We’re Chinese, we eat for fun! And what’s a vacation without a banquet or two?

Also, since most of my relatives are located in New York City, most of them consider me as a ‘hick’ or ‘hillbilly’ because I grew up in Rochester, NY. To give you an idea of Rochester, it’s basically the same size as San Diego. I think. And growing up always yearning to be more like a city-dweller, like all of my relatives, I shied away from all things that ‘hicks’ or ‘hillbillies’ do. Like camping. Nature. Looking at trees. Hearing crickets rather than screaming police sirens as I lay in bed. I was really tired of trying to fit in.

This story gets better, really. I know I sound like a jerk already.

I accept that they think I’m a hick, hillbilly, uncultured, or a failure because I never ‘made it’ in the big city. The part of me who strives to be like them is gone. I am who I am. I appreciate more things now than I have before.

At least I can say I went camping. And liked it. How many people can say they enjoyed things from one end of the spectrum to another?

During the past year after some traumatic experiences, my perspective in life totally changed. It always happens that way, doesn’t it? Instead of looking at everything in a negative light, I started seeing all the good. And I developed a stronger ability to empathize with others. Like, why in hell would people want to squat in a pile of dirt surrounded by mosquitoes and guard their food supply from ravenous raccoons?

Because that’s not the only thing we did at camp. Looking at all the positives – playing games, doing sports (endorphins make people happy!!!), bonding, all that mushy stuff. 

Camping (aka spending every waking moment with each other) helped me understand where my husband gets his personality from. It’s from his crazy hyper family. They like to do happy things and be happy together. They want their kids to be happy. Marinate in that concept for a little bit. The family who kayaks (or plays kickball) together stays together. I’m lucky to have great in-laws who just want everyone to be happy. Coming from a completely different culture, my husband and his family balance me out and fill in the gaps that were missing in my life. They were supportive and understanding when I went through traumatic experiences, when my own family and friends weren’t. If I didn’t have that, I don’t know what could’ve happened. So my conclusion is, yes I’d love to squat in a pile of dirt if everyone around me is happy.

This doesn’t mean I’m giving up 5 Star oversized luxury bathrooms with whirlpool hot tubs. Balance, remember?

A camping story (serves 16-20 people)

Ingredients:

• 16-20 loud, rambunctious people
• A kickball
• A klepto raccoon
• meat and lots of salads with mayo
• beer
• bikes
• lighter fluid
• flip-flops
• my camera

Directions:

1) Mix together. Marinate for a week.

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I’m doing this post in installments. Because I took too many pictures.

Day 1 – Saturday

This was our home for the week. I asked Chris to make an awning out of a tarp to keep our shoes dry. My BIL’s tent was more like the Hilton though, since he and his fiancée actually had sheets on an air mattress. Chris and I’s tent was more like the Holiday Inn, just the bare essentials.

My parents-in-law’s camper. They were still setting up as I took this picture. This is way better than the Holiday Inn or Hilton, as they had a DVD player, heater, actual bedding, MICROWAVE AND REFRIGERATOR.

My favorite was watching my FIL decorating the camper with lights.

This is the ‘bar’, decorated with blue lights of course.

This cocky little SOB stole a bag of marshmallows right off the picnic table! See how his tongue is hanging out, taunting us? His beady little eyes are saying ‘I got your marshmallows, na-na na-na Naaaa-na! So what are ya gonna do about it, eh? I stole your marshmallows, and you guys are big sissies because you don’t have the balls to come after me!’ Well, that was my interpretation.

On the third day, I saw an empty chocolate wrapper in the same spot. On the fifth day, 15 chocolate bars were stolen from inside the cooler, with footprints all over the other food. After that, we hid the graham crackers. Probably not the first raccoon trying to make S’mores…

Next post coming soon – more pictures, less words.