kellita the señorita the ibby dibby dow: I only drool when I'm napping

Sometimes if you talk about something long enough, you get tired of talking about it and just do it. So it was.

Nerek and I have been talking about going camping for AGES. Since your grandfather walked to school barefoot in the snow actually. That's a long time. After a failed rock climbing/camping/roadtrip weekend, we finally decided to go the do-it-yourself route, and took a pretty unplanned trip back to Tigre to make the magic happen, Nerek, Emily, Tommy, and I. The weather is finally summer-like. And by summer-like, I mean it's spring and already somewhat feels like 100 degree August in NYC. I fear for the real summer to arrive.

Once in Tigre, we scoured the tourist booths to find the best camping situation. After a group consensus to go with El Ciervo Rojo. We split into teams sending Derek, Tommy and Emily to the grocery store for food provisions and beer, leaving Nells and I to handle entrance fee and ferry payment. We got all our shit together just in time to hop on the 2pm ferry to shuttle us to the island for the afternoon/night.

The campsite is right on the delta, on a little island surrounded by water channels. We had to take all the food and drinks we needed as there is nowhere to buy anything on the island. Except the campsite has a full bar and all the signs specifically ask that you don't bring in your own booze so they can charge you 40 pesos for a 10 peso liter of Quilmes.

We took the 25 minute water taxi across the brown water, taking in the sights and thankful for the breeze. Upon arrival, the owner, Diego (not to be confused with my roommate) showed us around. We immediately set up camp in an open grassy area, and I was giddy as I put together my child-size 2-man/child tent. (Thank you to the Boozehounds for providing said tent many years ago at my going away party when I moved from Indy to NYC). We were delighted to find that we were the only campers, and had the entire complex to ourselves.

Since Emily and Tommy didn't have a tent, they rented what we now believe is the world's oldest tent from an outdoor supply store in BA. It took a hot minute, but Emily and I finally succeeded at getting the heavy musty thing up, without it falling over. I feel thankful for the advances in today's outdoor gear design. While we labored with the antiques, Derek and Tommy made us sandwiches and we all headed delta-side, where Derek informed us that he only drools when he naps, to catch some rays, take some siestas, and talk about all the horrible things I had read in the newspaper that week. (Note to self - stop reading the news).

We took a quick canoe ride through what Nelle and I pretended was Capeside (you know, where the magical Dawson's Creek took place). The only sounds to be heard were Derek complaining about how uncomfortable his seat was, me singing "I don't wanna wait for our lives to be over" on repeat, and Nelle giggling uncontrollably as we role-played that whole Joey saga of Dawson v. Pacey. As the sun set, we coated ourselves in bugspray and hit the volleyball court for a quick game in the sand where I promised not to get over-competitive. But that shit is hard in the dark, so it didn't last long.

D. Clark worked his magic at the parilla, and we enjoyed a scrumptious asado dinner by the light of the stars on the banks of the delta before climbing into our tents and roughing it. God I love camping. We awoke the next day to the heat of the sun, did some sun bathing, and headed back to the mainland where we soaked up more sun, then lugged all our gears back to BA, refreshed to be back in the city.