my summer at wicca camp.

i'm sitting here, my body telling me it's almost 4 in the afternoon, i've only slept a few hours, and i spent some time at wicca camp last week. okay... maybe not REALLY, but i could have. i think.

i just returned from my jet-set European lifestyle. i've been to Slovakia, Austria, England, and Norway this past week and before you begin thinking, "wow, Lyndee must be quite well off. isn't she a missionary?" don't. i've felt a bit guilty for travelling (am i really spending my money wisely?), but come on. we flew ryan air, which happens to have the warmest airports in the world, charges you for checking in luggage, and allows stampedes as people run like the bulls in Pamplona to find their unmarked seat on the plane. we also stayed in the "Happy Hostel" ("the happy hostel for happy people," i'm told). so, no reason to feel guilty... i think. what my mom and i did: walked (a lot), sat at cafes (even more so than the former), saw a Mozart concert, went to art museums, saw famous sights, shopped, and my favorite - went to see "The Producers" in London. That was the best. but back to my time at wicca camp...

we travelled from Skien to Vienna with absolutely no problems. it was actually a bit boring because of that. we never got lost, i never left anything anywhere i shouldn't, quite an easy journey. we arrived at the airport in London after our days in Vienna, called the little bed and breakfast where we were staying and they sent over a van to pick us up. we waited outside with the rest of the passengers and as the van pulled up, everyone hopped on. i tried to show my paper reservation to the driver, but he didn't seem to need it. he did ask me for my room number and i thought he was crazy - we hadn't checked in yet. but, we hopped in the van and as i looked around, i thought it was strange that my mom and i were among the oldest people there and as i heard the driver on his walkie, i thought it even more strange that he said there were 7 people in the van. there were 9 of us. so we drove... and we drove... and we kept driving into the English countryside. i didn't recognize any of the scenery from my time before. finally, after 25 minutes we arrived and everyone jumped out of the van. i looked around and saw log cabins and the air smelled like it usually does at summer camp. i hated summer camp. "Welcome to Gateway!" the driver announced. huh?! what happened to The Bushel and Sack? what the heck is Gateway? my honest first thought was "what if we're at wicca camp?" (you know, like megan on "Felicity") to this day i have no idea what "Gateway" really is, but as we were back at the airport the next day, waiting for our shuttle again and someone asked us "Are you going to Gateway?" we could confidently say, "No, we were there last night. We are waiting for our own shuttle."

but, i'm in the States now. i'm quite tired of travelling. i have had my tickets for over a year and as i checked in at Oslo, i found out i had to fly standby and as i checked in at Chicago, i found out my travel agent booked me on a flight home for the day after and i had to pay for a date change. so annoying. but i'm back, feeling like i usually do after coming back. i've heard of many countries having camps for displaced people. maybe i'll check one out.