Semana 5 - Infância

Back in time where clouds for me were simply a bunch of H2O molecules in suspension in the atmosphere and summers were endless periods of pure enjoyment under the sun and salty water, there were we, excited and expectant, arriving to what was going to be the last week of summer holiday. 

The usual smell of resin and the dryness of the air filled us with the energy we would promptly spend in the countless dives down at the dam. After many hours, which easily seemed more as a couple of minutes, still wet and vibrant, we would look at the place and visualize already the chaotic hustle of thirty little beings which would fill the week to come.

And the day arrives. The orange dust clouds and the bumpy noise of the tires was the starting shot; what was empty clay pavement some hours before was now full of camping backpacks and clumsy sleeping bags. The mild twittering of birds was replaced by an orchestra of excited voices.

Running around like headless chickens everyone was trying to get familiarised with every inch of cottage, courtyard and person.

Once the unofficial introductions were made all got together for the welcoming briefing where the groups were communicated, rules informed and first set of schedules known. From this moment on, everyone knew what to do and a waterfall of ‘country-like’ tasks was then performed until dusk.

The next seven days revolved around a systematic routine garnished by daily unique activities. Awakening would be at dawn and quickly every sleepy child would be starting the first task of the morning, either preparing breakfast for the camp, setting up the table or just enjoying the free time while hungrily waiting for the morning meal. 

In a flash everyone would be down at the water doing the kayak, windsurf or sailing. Each group was overflowed with excitement. 

…The finite banks of the dam were limitless, the time was elastic…

During the lunch break, everyone was telling the morning adventures to the other groups, with the feeling they haven’t seen each other for centuries. Laughs and stories were shared while voraciously eating. 

The afternoons’ empty times would be spent at table football tournaments, theatre/singing rehearsing or playing cards and other games. But soon, the hot temperature upstairs contrasted vividly with the wind speed increase down at the dam, it was time to face it.

The afternoon water activities had generally way more unforeseen events due to the weather conditions, maybe a boat capsized or a windsurf board needed to be rescued in some further margin. Either way, events like these would not seem that funny in the afternoon but suddenly were the most amusing thing during dinner time, and definitely a must-repeat experience, preferably very soon. 

At night, with the sound of crickets, we would be fishing crayfish with our flashlights and determination, or just sitting at the rocks and learning about the stars while storytelling. 

The days passed by as quickly as our willingness for them to slow down. We knew it was the last day because we were presenting something in the show after dinner. Everyone got together in an improvised amphitheatre where the audience assisted the talents. First there is a song, secondly, someone playing the guitar, followed by a comedy show with some inside jokes from the adventures experienced during the week, everything counted. 

The night fades away endlessly giving place to the last morning. A déjà vu of cars, dust and indistinctive clatter marks the farewell. While the dispersion brings mixed emotions one of them is certain: the intention to be back.