IHOP

Twice now, over the course of this particularly lovely summer, I've managed to get up to New Hampshire and visit a friend who runs a YMCA family camp on an island in the middle of Lake Winnipesaukee.  Most of you are well aware of my obsession with summer camp and these visits have helped to soothe that ever-present, unrelenting urge I feel each year, the one that hits like clock-work annually, right around the third week of June, the one that has every fiber of my body itching to get back to camp, to spend the summer working as a counselor or a program director or a village chief (aah, camp terminology!) or anything else that falls under the umbrella of camp life - and is a world removed from my normal 9 to 5 computer-facing gig.  Of course, I have yet to figure out a way to take a summer off, work back at camp and then be allowed to return to my job as a working young professional.  Mark my words though, you'll know the minute I do.  And in the meantime, I'll continue to stalk any of my friends who maintain camp connections.   

One of the many things I love about summer camps are the number of international's you meet working there.  I've got friends around the globe thanks to summers spent together, and I've always affectionately called this group the International House of Pancakes.  I used to look forward to our summers working together when we could spend hours visiting together talking travel, and hearing about their impressions of the United States.  One of my Australian friends, who I worked with years ago, told me that before coming to the US he thought all Americans would act like guests on Jerry Springer.  Another Australian told me he thought it was funny that Americans always say "there you go."  During his first few weeks on the job, he was constantly wondering, "Where?  Where am I going?"

Last weekend, while up at the camp, I was talking to a woman from England and I was reminded again of the international community that resides at camps across the country.  This friend might know more about the US than I do myself, and is only eight states away from hitting her goal of seeing all 50.  She rattled off all of the ones she'd visited, saying a state only gets crossed off the list if she's spent at least 24 hours there.  Which, in turn, got me wondering about where I stood with my own personal goal of seeing all 50 states, as I certainly haven't been very good about keeping track.  My goal doesn't feel nearly as pressing as my new found British friend's did...because the states, well, they're just, here.  (The irony, right?  I miss London terribly and would fly back in a heartbeat.  She can just hop the train and be there in an hour from her hometown...but doesn't go nearly as often as you might expect.)

Motivated by this whole discussion, I printed out a list of the 50 states to record my own tally.  I've got 21 left to cross of the list:

Alabama, Alaska, Arkansas, Hawaii, Idaho, Iowa, Kentucky, Michigan, Minnesota, Montana, Nebraska, New Mexico, North Dakota, Oklahoma, Oregon, South Dakota, Tennessee, Washington, West Virginia, Wisconsin, and Wyoming.

Clearly the North West side of this country needs some of my attention.  And let's not forget about all of those other foreign countries that continue to creep on to my every growing travel list.

Good thing I'm making friends around the globe - for that means couches to crash on in all lands.