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| Camping: Setting our open-air kitchen |
One fine morning, in the month of June, seven families of us went to Doll Mount Campground, and pitched our tents. Kids took instantly to the place. They ran around exploring the abundance of sticks and stones and a variety of bugs, and also discovered creaking swings and rusted slides at a play area.
For the first evening, each one of us had carried a dish for the meal. We spread a lavish potluck dinner at our site on a picnic table beneath the pine trees overlooking a lake. While our attack on food was ongoing, the sky went dark and a couple of lamps, and decorative light strings fixed by our top-notch handymen illuminated the place. After the gastronomical satiation, topped by gulab-jamuns, we cleared the picnic table and decided to play men-versus-women antakshari. We have world-class, enthusiastic players in our group.
Barely had we got into the mood, when a sheriff came and interrupted us, saying, “It’s quiet time…you may keep singing, but avoid beating that box,” stressing the words exactly at the right places. Thereafter, we continued our gana without bajana for a while, and only when both the teams began singing obscure songs, which sounded quite original and freshly minted against the rules of the game, did we notice that our kids have been sleeping on our laps and realized how tired we were and declared it a draw.
The next morning at the break of the day, I was the first one to wake up at the calls of the ducks, because I knew that it was possible to sight a unicorn early in the morning amid such beautiful surroundings. I was fortunate enough to capture one with my eyes, but until this day, nobody believes me. Next time, I would better go out of the tent with a camera.
Trips to the bathrooms located at approximately half a mile were extremely enjoyable communal activities. We walked to-and-fro in groups, carrying our towels, clothes, and other toiletries, saying, hi, hello, and wishing good morning to each other. But heed my advice, never ever bad-mouth anyone while taking a shower in those side by side partitioned bathrooms. I had a tough time convincing Z that X and I were not talking about her. Z said she overheard us while she was in one of the adjoining toilets.
The men in our crowd missed their 500+ emails a day and stock market updates, because the area didn’t have cell phone coverage, while the women missed commenting “cute, nice pic, luking gr8” at each other’s Facebook pictures. Sometimes, I wonder why no one writes, “looking grotesque, hideous, or stop posting out-of-focus pictures.” Nonetheless, during our stay, we posed for hundreds of pictures to post on FB on our return to hear from our friends from far and near, “Looks like you guys had a great time.”
Barely had we got into the mood, when a sheriff came and interrupted us, saying, “It’s quiet time…you may keep singing, but avoid beating that box,” stressing the words exactly at the right places. Thereafter, we continued our gana without bajana for a while, and only when both the teams began singing obscure songs, which sounded quite original and freshly minted against the rules of the game, did we notice that our kids have been sleeping on our laps and realized how tired we were and declared it a draw.
The next morning at the break of the day, I was the first one to wake up at the calls of the ducks, because I knew that it was possible to sight a unicorn early in the morning amid such beautiful surroundings. I was fortunate enough to capture one with my eyes, but until this day, nobody believes me. Next time, I would better go out of the tent with a camera.
Trips to the bathrooms located at approximately half a mile were extremely enjoyable communal activities. We walked to-and-fro in groups, carrying our towels, clothes, and other toiletries, saying, hi, hello, and wishing good morning to each other. But heed my advice, never ever bad-mouth anyone while taking a shower in those side by side partitioned bathrooms. I had a tough time convincing Z that X and I were not talking about her. Z said she overheard us while she was in one of the adjoining toilets.
The men in our crowd missed their 500+ emails a day and stock market updates, because the area didn’t have cell phone coverage, while the women missed commenting “cute, nice pic, luking gr8” at each other’s Facebook pictures. Sometimes, I wonder why no one writes, “looking grotesque, hideous, or stop posting out-of-focus pictures.” Nonetheless, during our stay, we posed for hundreds of pictures to post on FB on our return to hear from our friends from far and near, “Looks like you guys had a great time.”
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