Memoir 2nd draft

In the Forest of Canada

Visiting my grandparents who immigrated to Montreal, Canada, I was given chances to explore countless charms that this amazing country had to offer. I remember, in the summer, 2013, my sister and I were sent off to a camp with a card named Young Passenger Traveling Alone (YPTA) against our will. Being terrified by the idea of spending an entire month away from my beloved family and without all the things that sustained my quality life, I remember imploring my parents not to send me there up until the very moment I was cold-heartedly dropped off at the campsite.

I remember I was frightened at the new environment. When finally, I realized there was nothing I could do, I inhaled like I would suck up all the oxygen in the atmosphere and let out a sigh deep enough to reach down to the core of the Earth. Not to be seen nor to be treated like a wimpy little weakling by my younger sister who faced the same fate, I told myself to toughen up, wake up, and be a big girl.

I remember the camp was full of surprises--in the most negative way possible. When first assigned to a cabin, I remember groping around for a light switch for minutes, yet there was no electricity. Never did I imagine living without all those things that I took for granted in civilized and industrialized society I came from. Shock, sorrow, and anger all the negative emotions I could list were building up from deep inside of me. For the first few days at the camp, I asked myself what did I do wrong to be sent to this life-emaciating environment. In the morning, I screamed at the discovery of a mosquito bite as big as my thumb. Before bedtime, I set up a pseudo fence around my cabin to prevent possible intrusion of wild animals, especially snakes. Worst of all, a hot shower which I enjoyed every morning was no more. All those luxuries I considered granted were greatly missed.

The camp programs, which everyone seemed to enjoy, terrified me. Swimming in a lake, I remember freaking out at the discovery of water snake slithering on the surface of the lake. When this panic attack overtook me, I lost control and drowned. When I was scooped up by other Canadian friends, I remember just being made it to the camp’s Hall of Fame as the funniest Asian girl.

Then there came a moment, I said no more. No more being a laughing stock. I decided to act like the toughest girl, a forest-born adventurer. A mind control. Then everything started to look differently. Who said that there is the first time for everything? Though it was somewhat overwhelming at first, I decided to taste every bit. When asked to give hands, I raised my hands up high. I was amazed at myself for rowing a boat and going into an island far away from the campsite. I remember at night, girls gathered around a bonfire and chatted about our ridiculous experiences and even ranked the week’s hottest boy at the camp and laughed out loud.  I remember making the world’s best S’more with the bonfire. Let the cool breeze cleanse our soul. I remember singing together and gave each other shoulder to lean on. To this day, I cherish every bit of the memory I made at the camp. I miss it, miss my Canadian friends with all my heart.

This is part of the mails I have exchanged with friends whom I met at camp.