{English Camp: Afternoon Games}

I sat before my black tea on Wednesday morning, delighted. Our server had arranged our meals on wooden trays, knowing exactly what we had wanted. Language may have been a slight barrier over the course of our stay, but solid communication still took place. She showed us that she understood us and valued us. Once again, I felt the beauty of being understood, of understanding.

Confident in our ability to exchange ideas, I thought it would now be appropriate to introduce the next phase of tea perfection. I had already located the packets of raw sugar on Tuesday. One thing remained. "Do you have cream?" Her brow furrowed. I clarified, "Milk? For my tea?" Ah! Yes! She smiled and poured the daintiest little pitcher of milk for me. It looked quite charming alongside that wooden tray. I'm sure I was very loud and American when I pointed it out to the other girls, "Isn't this the darlingest creamer you ever saw?" They agreed it was and proceeded to partake of my unused portion.

In today's post I'll highlight the Afternoon Games, which were organized by our team and directed by Bethie. She did an excellent job describing the games each day. In preparation for camp, she and Jamie had taught the week's worth of games to the rest of the crew during orientation. This proved to be a very valuable sneak peek, as most of the games were new.

Bethie had the challenge of not only explaining new games to the campers, but in describing them, once again, with succinct, easy-to-translate phrases. Her translator, Iza, also did an excellent job of interpreting and communicating a variety of foreign ideas to the eager middle school students.

Monday's game was Rabbit Sticks, and it proved to be the favorite camp game. It had to be adapted somewhat in order to accommodate the layout of the church grounds, but once again, Bethie met the challenge, modified the rules, and made it work exceptionally well. (So well that we played it on multiple days.)

On Tuesday we introduced Haluta, a crazy variation of kickball. This ended up requiring multiple creative explanations, as the concept of baseball (on which the game is loosely based) was also new to the students. We were able to use a nearby field, and the kids pretty quickly picked up on the fun of the game, if not the precise rules of the game. I don't have pictures to document Haluta, as I was valiantly attempting to run the bases myself. Please accept instead this darling picture of Bethie and Nastja -- our amazing camp director -- with two of our campers.

Wednesday's temperature soared to the mid 90s, so it was a perfect day for the water war. (The day prior, Jamie and a few team members had sequestered themselves on the side yard of the church, where they filled hundreds and hundreds of water balloons.) We began water day with a (somewhat) organized, points-based game, and then unleashed the remaining water balloons for an all-out campers vs. leaders war. This, of course, was a big hit.

P.C. Urh Kolar

P.C. Urh Kolar

P.C. Urh Kolar

P.C. Urh Kolar

P.C. Urh Kolar

P.C. Urh Kolar

Thursday's activity strayed from the athletic, but it was just as fun. We headed to the nearby mall for a photo scavenger hunt.

"Team Pyramid"

"Find something foreign"

"Recreate a movie scene." 

Finally, on Friday, the kids (and leaders!) participated in a series of silly relay-type games. I'll let the pictures speak for themselves.

 

And now, back to Wednesday. Following the water war, the kids made tie-dyed shirts as part of their theme day. We then transitioned to a nice, calm, well-chosen mid-week activity: an afternoon showing of Ferdinand. The church windows were blacked out with large garbage sacks, movie theater snacks were provided, and we all enjoyed a cool, relaxing close to the otherwise very hot and very active day. 

That evening, our Glenwood team headed to the mall in preparation for the next day's scavenger hunt. We split up, some of us to work on the hunt details, some to shop for souvenirs . . . and some to hunt down ice cream, the most important mission of all.

When we arrived back at the hostel that night, the common room was full, and folk-type music filled the air. I was intrigued. "I think there's dancing or something!" I eagerly announced to the team upstairs. It seemed only appropriate to go back downstairs, order a drink, and linger. Just in case there was dancing. One can never be too prepared.

So, a few of us sat on the patio with our orange Schweppes (a favorite among the students) and carefully observed. Not only was this dancing, this was organized dancing. The ladies all wore the same shoes, the couples all followed the same serious, measured steps. It soon dawned on us that this must have been a class. Accordingly (yet regretfully), we decided it would be best not to join them. After all, not only had we not even been invited to this class, but we'd been participating in our own camp dance all week; our feet were beginning to show decided signs of wear. But, once again, that's another story for another day.