Until two years ago, I had had exactly one camping experience in my life. It was in high school, when I was 15. We were given the opportunity to sign up for certain destinations, one of which was a surprise destination titled ‘Your Choice’. I can’t recall why exactly why it was called that – as far as I know the students did not really have a say in it. But a big part of the reason why I chose that one was that in previous years they went to pretty cool places. The alternatives were alright, but not too exciting. I believe Friesland was one of them. Which could be fun, but not so much if you know that Your Choice could bring you to, for example, Spain. (And not when you’re 15.)
Anyway, I’m sure you can imagine our joy and happiness when we got the news that Your Choice was going to the South of France and would do a stop in Barcelona somewhere in the middle of the one-week trip. My enthusiasm was slightly set back when I realized that we would be going camping. Sleeping in a tent. And everything. I guess I didn’t worry about it all too much, though. Only when we got there did I really realize that sleeping with three people in a small tent would be a bit uncomfortable.