‘The boot's chockers can you take this esky up?' Chris said to me. It was 4AM, way too early in the morning to understand Australian-speak. I used my context clues to determine Chris was asking me to bring his cooler upstairs since the trunk was too full to fit it. We were going 5 hours north to Crescent Head to camp for my friend Nevs’ 25th birthday celebration.

I'd never been camping, a fact that apparently every single Australian has difficulty comprehending. 'Wait, what? You've never been camping ... like in Australia?' 'No, in my life.' 'EVAH?!' 'Ever.' Then the dumbfounded Aussie would walk away, looking back at me like I had grown two heads.

All I knew about camping I learned from watching The Parent Trap. I always felt bad for the prissy girlfriend character in those scenes because I could totally see myself tapping sticks to scare away the animals. Nina told me the boys always buy a jar of honey on the way to Limeburners’ campsite. That had me worried a bear would come storm our tents, just like in the movie. That is until my friend Will pointed out there are no bears in Australia, something that, quite frankly, never crossed my mind.

Some other things also never crossed my mind. Like the whole no microwave, stove, running water, fridge, or showers part. Seems silly I know, but at first I only focused on the sleeping-in-the-tent part. So in my twisted world of camping, I slept in a tent with the threat of non-existent Australian bears, but without the inconveniences of a full kitchen and bathroom. As a control freak, I hated not knowing what I was doing. When Hannah asked if we needed a flashlight (which the three of us Americans were constantly reminded is called a ‘torch’ in Australia), I found her hilarious. How overly-cautious she was being! It’s not like the electricity was going to go… oh. Wait. All of these small revelations would come to me in waves, and I was a bundle of nerves by the time we left.

When we arrived at Limeburner’s I headed to the bathroom to change and immediately became distraught at the lack of a sink. I had interpreted ‘no running water’ to mean ‘you can’t shower’ and ‘buy drinking water ahead of the trip.’ This was enough to worry about even though I don’t particularly enjoy showering and I barely have two glasses of water a day. While grocery shopping ahead of the trip I was in a state of panic. Would I die of thirst? Would I have to leave ocean water out in an attempt to evaporate salt? (At this time I didn’t realize the town was a mere 15 minutes away).

So the lack of sink was my newest concern. Being unable to wash my hands disgust me. And it didn't just affect my hands. I had brought antibacterial soap (two bottles, in case of emergencies), but not enough for all 25 people we were camping with. People peeing and God forbid, pooping, (something I couldn’t bring myself to do while squatting) without washing their hands and then cooking food I would eat??

The whole no-flushing-toilet also confounded me. I spent five full minutes looking around for a flusher, thinking ‘crazy Aussies, putting the flusher somewhere weird.’ Nope. The toilet was just a glorified hole in the ground that smelled so much by the end of the weekend all the girls were popping squats behind cars. The odour proved not everyone had my non-squatting poop problem. Chris explained that every few days a pooper-scooper-like-truck would vacuum everything out and take it away. Gross. This was not exactly the ‘glamping’ experience (camping-lite) my friend Fiona had told me was becoming popular in Oz.

On the upside our tent had a floor! I thought that the bottom of tents were open, like teepees, and I was worried about snakes and spiders slithering in the glass underneath. I even told Nina to lift the tent to put the air mattress underneath and she just laughed at me. I was also stoked to see the mesh door that would help keep out the large python, goana and kangaroos we spotted… as long as we kept it zipped shut. (Right Hannah?)

Before I left, my coworker Lucy’s only advice to me was ‘You just CAN’T be a girl about it.’ And, surprisingly enough once I replayed that in my head, I was fine. It’s like when I was on the Goornong farm and a horse sneezed all over my hand. I shrieked, looked down in horror and Stephen responded by saying ‘You’re on a farm. You’re going to get dirty. Get used to it.’ And my germaphobia shut the eff up for the remainder of the trip.

To my utter astonishment, I found everything about camping amazing. The bonfires, the gorgeous beaches, the fact we were saving a fortune staying in tents rather than a beach house. It was even cheaper when we hid from the ranger in our tents with our VB keeping us company when he came to collect. Nevs’ facepainting us with caveman art for no reason whatsoever. The rave cave tent we ran to when it rained, where we danced to strobe lights created by flickering ‘torches’. The fact it didn’t bother me I didn’t look at a mirror for three days. I didn’t even get desperate enough to pull a Narcissus and stare at the lake for hours. Pat. On. The. Back.

A big treat was playing shoot, shag or marry with everyone and everything including colors/colours (blue, green, yellow) and countries (England, US, Australia). I shot yellow, shagged green and married blue. I’m fearful of revealing what I said for countries. It’s like being asked to tell your high school sweetheart you aren’t going to get married. Your first love is great, don't get me wrong, but it’s not the same as falling hard. And no matter where I am, my heart will always belong to Australia. How could it not? I liked camping. And a country that can make me appreciate nature so deeply … I mean, WHERE is the ring? Just sayin’.