Well I should probably start with some original stuff on here. So this is the story of my first proper travel experience, when I was a wide eyed 18 year old and I took up a job working on maintainance at a Summer camp.
Now before I start, due to contractual legality and regulations, I am not obliged to mention the name of the camp, so in this case I will call it Camp Partridge (in keeping with the Alan Partridge inspired title) and all I can say is it is in small town Vermont and I have throughly enjoyed my time there every year. (Please don't sue!)
It all started with a meeting in university, we were given all the spiel about it being the best summer of your life and you will do this that and the other. I didn't believe it. However, I have relatives in Pittsburgh and I have always had a love affair with America since I was 6 years old. I saw this as an opportunity to make some cash and get cheap travel for a holiday in the summer, I didn't like working with kids, so I took a job on maintenance.
I went to a job fair and took a job with one camp, but at the time I was in a band with ideas above their station (possibly like all bands full of 18 year olds) and I wanted to see if we have a chance of playing Middlesbrough Music Live (like we ever had a chance!) so the camps dates and mine didn't match. They were sacked off. Another camp tried the same. They were sacked off. After an angry phone call to CCUSA in which I threatened to leave the project.Which was weird for me, until then I was very much a complient sheep, but on this I stood my ground and was stubborn. I finally got a call from Camp Partridge, the bloke on the phone sounded like a good lad and I signed up for them, joining the day after Music Live (which, of course we didn't play).
I got there, after my first time flying on my own, which was not quite as scary as I thought. I couldn't find the person I was supposed to meet at Burlington Airport. Once I finally found them, I was on my way into the great unknown.
The camp was in such an amazing setting, in fact Vermont is a very amazing place in genral, the rolling hills and greenery astounds you and often catches you off-guard with its beauty.
I started work, to cut a long story short and not to give too much away, I hated it. I was terrible at it, I even broke some of the machinery. I honestly thought I was in for a summer of misery.
There were highlights, a night watching basketball that helped me make friends, and Boston.
Now I have been to Boston for the day on every year I have been, and I love it. A proper working city. No frills or razzle dazzle. Just works and plays hard. I find that fresh and almost homely, Middlesbrough is much in the same frame. I can relate to its love of sport, anyone who knows me will tell you I am a sports obsessive. I will pretty much watch anything. So a city that loves its sport, especially its local ones, is great in my book. It also loves a drink, famous of course, for being the home of sitcom, Cheers. At this time I wasn't old enough to have a drink in the USA (something that annoyed me, but I worked around it).
I was finally thrown a bone, I was asked my interests, one of them being golf. This was an area in which the camp were short of counselors, so as part of my working hours I could teach a golf class. I jumped at the chance, anything to get out of doing that boring maintenance work. I actually found I enjoyed working with the kids and it is something I have gone on to do in future years.
Then my time became more fun and interesting. There were trips to Montpelier, generally one of the oddest places on the planet. The capital city of Vermont is no bigger than your local small town. Also it is full of the strangest people, including a bloke who rides his bike round and round the same block, shouting abuse at passers by. Local people seem to act as if this was normal.
Burlington is probably my favourite place in Vermont. A quiet, mainly university town that can boast probably the widest cross-section of society ever. From hick to hippy and everyone in between. The leisurely Church Street with its bars and street performers is a great place to spend a day to enjoy a drink and people watch.
The tranquil Warren Falls, that is until some nut case jumps off 50ft rocks into the lake below. If there is something Vermonters know how to do is take it to the edge. It is also home to a fantastic Independance Day parade, complete with full jazz band playing on the balcony of the local shop. A surreal but thoroughly enjoyable experience.
Montreal, what a city! Unfortunately up to know the only place I have ever been in Canada, but what a city! We had around 25 of us go up and go for a night out, the night was fantastic, definately made better by the wonderful company from all over the world. After a hearty night out, there was only one thing that was called for, bungee jumping! Frankly the best thing I have ever been bullied into. I was terrified throughout the entire experience (the best way to describe is its like when the Millenium Falcon goes into light speed on Star Wars, and the stars peel round the side of the ship. Only with your own body). Afterwards I felt a sense of jubilation that I have never felt before.
After all that and many a drunken or funny night in between my time was complete. After camp, I went to Pittsburgh, but that will get its own post because that has its own agenda in my head.
The thing I took most and what I find I always take from these experiences is the people. People from all over the globe who are thrown together into a big mixing pot and told to look after kids, some of them can barely look after themselves, but it works. It seems in a camp situation, you get to know people in 3 months as much as you would get to know them in 2 years in the real world. That day after day interaction is something that brings you all closer together, and I am proud to say I made friends for life from that time. Even on a personal level, I wouldn't have the travel experiences or the friends, or even at a superficial level this Travel Tavern blog, if it wasn't for that leap into the unknown.
So 2008, the year that wasn't scripted, the year I didn't write a journal, that was dragged kicking and screaming out of the memory banks. However it was the year that started it all and a year I wouldn't change for the anything. I am glad I was so stubborn.
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