Food for the Wolves: Journal Excerpt

This is an excerpt from my journal. The reason being that the internet situation here is spotty and slightly awkward, as the computer is in the family living room. That makes this awkward/annoying internet circumstance number 387. But, let's get to something new, shall we?

Monday, 28 June 2010:

Day 1 of being Camp Counselor Phoebe, or Teamer, as the German kiddies know me, started off at 7:15 am Sunday. Staring at my calculator watch as it beeped the time, I slowly got of my sleeping bag in Michendorf and magically ended up in Oyten hours later. It only took 5 trains and 6 hours to arrive at the train station where we were met by the camp director's sister, Angela. From there Angela took us in her tiny red car to the horse barn 30 minutes away. In the car we were given a box of strawberries and briefed about our first job. We didn't know much other than it was already after 3:00 pm and the camp opened at 4:00 pm.

In Angela's little auto we pull up to a dusty desert infested with flies and stinking of horses. In front of some stables sit three rather masculine German women, glaring. Not even a wave hello or a nod, as they sit staring at us through their tiny John Lennon sunglasses.

All I can think is, "What am I doing here?"

Mind you, I'm writing this journal entry from a tent, where a huge spider nearly sabotaged my sleeping bag. Yes, I'm in a tent. No, I don't want to elaborate.

At this point it's been 24 hours and I should be able to say, "It's gotten better."
It hasn't.

It's been over 90 degrees. There is absolutely no shady place outside. Nowhere. The "classroom" we were given "inside" is really outside and there are more flies there than at the zoo. The woman who owns the barn and teaches the horse lessons cares much more for horses than people, especially pathetic English-speaking camp counselors. And no matter how hard I try, I still can't talk myself out of having horse allergies.

Also, still in a tent.

No shade. No classroom. No nearby pool, park, or anything. Animals mate outside of my tent at night and the one other counselor here with me is from Chester, England and I can barely catch a word she says sometimes.

We arrived here after over 6 hours of traveling, were given a suitcase of supplies and pushed off a cliff.

We're holding on. It's a challenge: Teach English. Pretend you don't speak German while the kids tease and make fun of you in front of your face, thinking you have no idea. Try to keep the kids from dying of either heat exhaustion or boredom.

So far, we've been successful. Only one camper is homesick, and that is another entry entirely. There isn't anymore room in this blog for caustic negativity, unfortunately. But let's just say the camp rules were: NO CELL PHONES AT OVERNIGHT CAMP. 6:00 today I walk in her room and she is in the middle of what became one of many long conversations with her mother on her cell phone, all whilst weeping.

Curve ball number 43879489132.

I can't help but smile, though. What a relationship I have with Germany! I can't think of any other place in the world I've had such terrible, frightening, miserable situations. It only makes me a little more interesting- or insane.