I hate summer... at the campsite

Of all the life experiences that should have been fun and turned out to be hell, this one takes the cake. It only took me one camping trip to realize that this must be the place where, according to Woody Allen, the creator of Perspex would be laid to rest. I hope the National Camping Association, if such a thing exists, doesn't take offense, but please don't try to compensate my trauma with a voucher.

I was sixteen when I set foot in the first, and the last, beach. Four friends and I drove to a beach in Granada with the idea of doing something different and sleeping all four in the same tent. I promise you I was excited, even though I came away scalded.

“The first thing that put me off was seeing that the entire area was practically occupied by hippies.”

The first thing that put me off was seeing that the entire complex was practically occupied by hippies. Of all the urban tribes, hippies are the ones I find most repulsive: dreadlocks, clothes that contain every color in the world in any order, including red and pink; words in Sanskrit, Hindi, and languages they don't speak; books by Bucay, Coelho, and the Bhagavad Hita; greetings with namaste, ukuleles, the occasional darbuka, a joint in one ear, henna tattoos, and the "come here, I'll enlighten you with four sentences and we'll change the world" attitude; Chambao or Bob Marley in the background, homemade hummus, and many jars of things that aren't sold in pharmacies but that, they claim, will cure all your ills. And sandals. If they don't go barefoot, they wear leather sandals, and I hate them. Because I don't like them, I don't even like short socks. That's why in the summer I look like Colonel Tapioca, with my shorts and high-heeled shoes, or the protagonist of Moonrise Kingdom. They should ban flip-flops and say namaste in Spain. And also wear a short T-shirt over a long one like Macaco. We'd be better off.

As soon as we parked, we were led by a woman with hair full of things and a dress with elephants on it to the perimeter where we had permission to camp: four square meters of hard, gravel-covered earth, a kilometer from any beach, surrounded by similar plots where entire families seemed to be having a great time. "Don't leave trash behind when you leave. Do it for the planet," the flower power woman told us. My face reddened with embarrassment, and I didn't know where to look. "At least he didn't say namaste," I consoled myself.

My excitement was so noticeable at first that, despite having a tendency to hyperventilate, I volunteered to inflate the mattress on which the four of us would sleep. Afterward, we set up the tent and went to eat on the beach, and we sang and danced and laughed. Until bedtime came, and everyone slept except me.

Mosquitoes, the glow from the campsite's lanterns, the snores of several friends, a mere centimeter's breathing space between their sweaty bodies; a deflating mattress that felt like water, on which, if you shifted, your companions would move in a deep sleep, crushing you and spreading tremendous heat… Two hours with my eyes wide open. I remember that night I left the tent and looked around. Everyone was sleeping peacefully. No one had any sleep problems. I hated them so much.

I spread an army blanket my father gave me on the ground, rougher than sandpaper, and lay down outside the tent. My almost naked body reacted to the blanket's nap, and I scratched myself with all four hands. I improvised a pillow with a tangled T-shirt and, without earplugs, eye mask, or Lorazepam, my unconditional pack, I closed my eyes and sought sleep. It seemed like sleep was beginning to come when I heard footsteps crossing the dirt path that connected the neighboring lots, and a voice saying good morning. A while later, another person did the same. And another, and another... All the early risers had decided to say good morning to me. I tried to turn the greetings into white noise, until one, I promise, said namaste.

I gave up and decided I'd sleep the next day! I got up and went to the showers: shared, of course, since nudism is almost mandatory in those parts. There was an older man there who looked like he'd been soaping himself for an hour. I deduced he wanted to see my cock. These situations tend to happen. Cruising is older than camping. And I thought: let the man watch and enjoy himself, otherwise he'll use all the hot water! I'm a very charitable person. When I left, I asked for the restrooms. A man took me to them and explained that they weren't regular restrooms, but "dry restrooms," which are more organic and natural than Western ones. "This is how we take care of the planet!" he said. Another planet-pushing pain. I went to the bathroom at a bar.

I remember that night I had to show the constellations to my friends, who were still happily sleeping. I went to the cafeteria to prepare the celestial guide. I was one of the first to arrive. And a slap of spices hit me right in the face. I asked about the food, and a girl told me it was Indian. I asked if it was an Indian restaurant, and she replied no, but that it was food that had been blessed before Krishna. Then I asked her if, by any chance, Krishna hadn't blessed a crescent moon at La Bella Easo that morning. She didn't get the irony and told me she didn't know. I changed the subject and told her I suffered from insomnia and that she should make me a strong cup of coffee, when she assured me she had the solution to my poor sleep. She said this with such conviction that I was overjoyed. She gave me a bottle and said: take seven drops at night. They're Bach flowers. Finally, a common language! Drops sponsored by Johann Sebastian Bach! At night, I'll listen to the suites and drink the whole boat, I thought.

And at night, after battling a day full of tiredness in which we went to visit a charity market that was going to send the money raised to some sponsored cats in Bhutan—whose name only existed—we returned to the infernal plot and I showed my friends the constellations.

—Do you know what can be seen from any of those constellations?

-That?

—The planet, brothers… The planet.

And I fell asleep.