I arrived in Lyon on the 10th March, ready to meet a totally wonderful counsellor (whom I had first met the previous Autumn) before our session began. A time to chill and enjoy adult company before getting into full camp mode (although, really, I'm pretty much always in camp mode).
I suppose a thing to mention here - when the two of us are together - apparently we both lose any kind of directional skills. Or essentially, any common sense whatsoever. It took us fifty minutes to locate our hotel in what should have been a five minute walk. But, well... these things happen.
It was an interesting night we had in Lyon. That's for sure.
I then met with my director (and friend) where we spent a couple of days in Lyon just chilling, painting with oils on a giant canvas, and generally having a wholesome time (there was even a short time video-making for the company website involved) all before travelling to my first site, Damian.
A place I only knew too well.
I can't describe how amazing those first two weeks at Damian were. We had a team who were creative, enthusiastic and incredibly efficient. It was a joy to work with such a beautiful group of people. I'm very glad I got the chance to be with them. Alas, then I got the news that I'd be moving camps.
So off I went to my new site, Bauduen. It was stunning. Surrounded by the most gorgeous scenery, including a lake I never grew tired of.
Not the most ideal sites for children perhaps, however, it made up for it in beauty.
I think it helped that there was a camp cat, who never failed to hold our attention. That, and the availability of ice-cream and pizza as and when we wished. I had my order "sans fromage" nailed by the time I left.
It was a good time, with a lot of good people, and the occasional glass of boxed-wine helped too.
Looking back over what happens at camp, I realise that when trying to explain what you actually do as a counsellor, you really just had to be there. Which is definitely the case for the chimney goblin and all that entailed in the goblin saga. There was heartbreak, a goblin baby, and even a wedding involving one of the campers.
So.
It was odd to say the least. But I loved every minute of it. I remember distinctly one moment during my "goblin labour", thinking to myself "Okay, right now you're getting paid to act out a goblin giving birth to an over 6ft tall baby". And you know what? That was actually a very happy thought. I totally believe there's too few jobs going where acting out a goblin giving birth pays dividend.
Eventually, the time came to leave camp. But the fun was not over quite yet.
First things, first. A train strike to deal with. And Lyon to travel to.
I was happily kicking back in the taxi, excited to be meeting some previous fellow counsellors, and definitely ready to unwind from the entire camp experience.
My taxi driver turns to me and asks, in his broken English, "For what time your train?"
I tell him. He looks at his phone. He looks at me, shaking his head. "Non".
Right. Turns out the pesky strike had called off both trains I needed that day. Cool. Awesome. Sweet. Just a small English girl stuck with all her luggage in rural France with very basic French language skills.
No worries.
I call my friend at camp, who swoops to the rescue with her french knowledge (thank you again if you're reading this, you angel). Things are discussed. I am sat there wondering what the hell is happening. Deciphering only "beautiful brother" in this conversation.
So we end up driving to the taxi driver's (beautiful...?) brother's home. But not before we stop at the taxi driver's own home, where I meet his "big dog" (who was in fact the size of a rabbit). At this point I stopped trying to figure out what would happen next. Apparently all semantics had just taken a sky-dive into weird terrority.
I was just praying I could get a train from somewhere at some point.
Eventually. Yes. I did. Although it involved many hours of sitting in Marseilles train station, looking forlorn and lost.
Anyway, I arrive at Lyon, where I was met by my previous counsellor buddies. We drove to their place in Mâcon.
It was certainly an experience going out in the city of Mâcon. I hadn't quite known what to expect, in all honesty. But it involved a death metal gig, vodka shots with the drummer of the band, and a random old guy who communicated with us only through strange noises.
We ended up staying overnight at a friend of our friends, who had a beautiful flat nearer the bar. Although the vodka shots had proved a little too much for me...
Overall, a good night. And there were croissants and pain au chocolat in the morning.
It was a delightfully french week in Mâcon, we visited a wine festival, went on a tour of a beautiful chateau, climbed the Rock of Solutré, hung out in the city, and ended up meeting new friends. These new friends were kind enough to buy us drinks and take us to dinner, where we sampled snails and ate whitebait. It was a very fun evening. And a fitting end to our week in the city.
Saturday came round, and we were ready to be reunited with our fellow counsellors for one last hoorah in Lyon. Although there were also new friends, who had somehow joined our ever expanding group. Counsellor bonding was at its finest. We colonised the bar with our English speaking ways. But, it was a wonderful evening, involving kebabs, attempting to get camp songs played in bars, multiple mojitos and even some precarious pole dancing.
The night (or rather, morning) came to a conclusion. Some tears were definitely shed as most of us made our way onto new ventures. But truly the connections that formed were incredible, if only fleeting.
And I know that I'll be seeing a lot of you again.Without a doubt.
I couldn't have had a better experience. I owe it to the gorgeous people I met along the way.
Peachy/Goblin out (albeit till the next time).
