Last year I started dating an alpha-male who decided the best test of my mettle (and thereby our compatibility) was a 12-day getaway – beside the sea. Before you congratulate me on finding myself a charming Kalahari Prince, let’s get something clear: we camped. Rough and ready, back-to-basics bush style on the beach sans running water or other blessed modern-day amenities (like toilets). On a mountain of mussel shells; way up the West Coast. Lovely – but hardcore. Even for a former tomboy and intrepid alpha-female like me.
While the rest of the civilized world relaxed into a festive stupor, I took a crash course in camping. Here’s what I learned:
- People in 4×4’s belong to secret societies – honourary membership to the Land Rover Get-a-long Gang can be gained simply by being a passenger. I was forced to smile wildly and wave insanely at perfect strangers just because they drove a matching car.
- Painting your nails in a 4×4 (even if it is a Land Rover and you are a member of The Get-a-long Gang) is a no-no. Attempting to remain ladylike on the road is likely to result in feet that look like roadkill.
- If you persist with the pedicure, opt for a shade more neutral than Flaming Fireside Red unless you want to look like a walking car crash.
- Six-hour car trips with young children makes Nightmare On Elm Street look like A Midsummer Night’s Dream – you’ll never be happier to stop and eat at a Wimpy. Just don’t let them dip into the sugar…
- Do not accept free gifts from petrol stations. Karoke is awful enough when alcohol is involved – try being sober and trapped in a slow-moving vehicle with sugar-high kids belting out Waka Waka (This Time For Africa). I’d like to thank you, Engen. No, really…
- Always pack your own iPod and charge fully before setting foot in a car somebody else is driving.
- Regardless of what anyone says, urinating in the bush is not romantic – especially at night when you’re stumbling around half asleep trying to find somewhere sanitary to ‘go’. Avoiding waking family members and getting your (im)perfectly pedicured feet lacerated on shells is more difficult than you imagine.
- ‘Holding on for grim death’, hoping the urge will eventually pass so you can stay in bed and maintain a semblance of sleep will result in a worse fate: a bladder infection.
- Do not pack double-ply toilet paper as no amount of soft tissue will soften the blow when you inadvertently squat on an aloe (it’s also not exactly bio-degradable and likely to get you ridiculed for being a sissie). Pack Citro Soda in case of emergency (the aforementioned ill fate) or read your Getaway thoroughly.
- The sun rises at least two cruel hours earlier when you sleep in a tent. Three – if your partner snores. A natural phenomena, apparently.
- Bathing in the sea is only romantic on day one, thereafter it simply becomes cold, salty and pretty unpleasant. Likewise, cold showers are never fun, even with hot weather.
- Showering with an audience, even if it’s family (but especially when they aren’t yours) is fabulously uncomfortable, and guaranteed to make you feel royally ‘stuck up’.
- You can have too many braais.
- Don’t bother packing eau de toilette, perfume or even deodorant for that matter. After day four everyone smells a little like You’re The Fire. The campfire, that is.
- Buy solid, practical, thick-soled slops. Fancy, finicky or vaguely fashionable flip-flops will get f*cked up (excuse the profanity but you should see my shoes). Your car-wreck feet will then get sliced into strands of sushi unless you swallow your pride and borrow his. In which case, you’ll look like a clown trying to waterski – on land.
- Sand can (and invariably – will) get in everywhere and take almost forever to get rid of – and that’s just in your sleeping bag. Get dumped once by a wild wes kus wave and you’ll be fishing granules from your ear for the rest of the week.
- There is such a thing as a salad craving – and you don’t have to be pregnant or a model to miss fresh leaves. Trust me, after day eleven of a high-protein, mostly meat diet, even the strongest of men start salivating at the thought of a lightly tossed Greek salad.
- Brush up on your spelling – you never know when a smart 11-year old will attempt to beat you at Scrabble first thing in the morning, before you’ve even had coffee. Packing a mini-dictionary is considered cheating or child abuse – I forgot which.
- Stock up on ‘local-is -lekker’ artisan beer; but opt for Darling Slow Brew, not The Bone Crusher because this will, as the name suggests, effectively crush both skull and sobriety if drunk at lunchtime. On an empty stomach. In the sun.
- Get good seats – don’t skimp on cheap camping chairs and be sure to spend a little more when buying a mattress. Mother Earth is HARD.
- The waterbed-like novelty value of a blow-up mattress will wear off – surprisingly quickly.
- Braaing marshmallows on the campfire is still fun when you’re an adult. Remember to buy enough so you aren’t forced to steal from the children. And buy wetwipes… you’ll need them afterward.
- Only ever wear your own wetsuit, it’s like underwear. But then, maybe us girls are ‘precious’ like that.
- Freshly caught crayfish on the braai is about as good as it gets and only gets better if you have Nando’s Perinaise to dip the legs in. The crayfish’s, not yours… ew!
- Watching your alpha-male tow a beta-boy from Bloemfontein who buried his timid city Touareg in sand (trying to impress his perfectly manicured stukkie on their honeymoon) is – strangely enough – rather sexy.
- You can survive without constant updates from Twitter, Facebook, LinkedIn or WordPress. You will live without your iPhone.
- Use sunscreen. Liberally. Especially when you sneak away to celebrate Christmas with a cold G&T and a skinny dip…
- Try not react when your alpha-male’s oldest son calls you “dad’s little stukkie” – even if you are offended, make sure you don’t show it or it’ll stick. Forever.
Bottom Line? Camping is great, bonding with mother nature rocks and nothing beats getting away from it all. The secret is to leave before you lose your mind.
What lessons have you learned camping?
