Camping

America the beautiful is full of oxymorons.  Urban Camping being my new favorite.  We went camping.  We swam in a lake.  We dug on a beach.  We hiked to the water.  We saw a bear.  It was tripping.  American Urban Camping Is Tripping.  (Does Tripping still mean wicked cool or is this and outdated antiquated phrase I should drop as it is tripping me up?)

The lake was cement bottomed.  The sand brimmed with botox like promise on the edge of the cement lake.  The bear was a man dressed up.  The wilds were teaming with electricity, plumbing and people.  We could hear a sound system playing a movie one night.  It boomed.  If we did not want to hike we could rent a little cart to whiz around in.  Frankly it rocked.  Not one camping image could be evoked from this time.  However if you call it Urban Camping at a Theme Park and have low expectations to see any wildlife fun can be had by all!  My children thought they arrived in heaven.  So did I, my sister-in-law did all the cooking, ALL of it! 

A hundred stories could be told but my life is NOT a lazy river flowing quietly past and I have to leave you with a few pictures of the oxymoron called, Urbane Camping.

Behind the quiet game of cards you can see not one..

but THREE neighboring structures.  Urban.

Inside, a kitchen, a fridge, a microwave (that is getting better than my kitchen in India)

a four burner stove (again better than India), a bathroom, and beds.  BEDS!

Urbane.