Previously, I gave readers the lay of the land at my favourite all-inclusive resort. But I didn’t speak of the activities on offer. Younger kids had access to crafts, colouring, and toys or games. The tweens and teens also had card games. Ping pong was another favourite. Others spent time carving their initials into the picnic tables or into the large maple trees by the cabins.
An activity unique to our resort was rifle practice. There is a professional grade rifle range on the property, where all of us—boys and girls, ages eight to fifteen—took turns loading and shooting a 22-calibre rifle at paper targets fifty feet away. The discipline expected and exhibited by the children at the range is extraordinary. We were actually quieter and better behaved here than during church service on Sunday mornings. Although, I heard a story about a tween who somehow took a shot while the shooting instructor was out in front putting up fresh paper targets! Apparently, the war veteran (Mr. Rajamets) hit the ground so fast that everyone was amazed at the reflexes of a seventy-five year-old. Hats off to the resort management that they did not get the authorities—the Ministry of All-Inclusive Resorts for Children, the OPP, the RCMP, CSIS, etc., involved. Perhaps the follow up was some more intensive rifle safety training for the ten-year-old girl?
There were several highlights of our summer evenings. The bed time snack was the best dessert of the day, because it was always baked by the kitchen staff. My favourite were the frosted chocolate brownies with walnuts and my sister loved the banana muffins. The cinnamon apple squares and frosted carrot cake were amazing, too. No hesitation to give them a five-star rating on those treats. They were also an excellent way to buy off any inspector who drops in for an unexpected visit.
Like all the best resorts, ours had a sauna. This sauna is the superior type, as it’s heated by wood and can be cooked to super hot temperatures. The best part of the experience is jumping into the pond, just when you feel your insides are about to steam. Unfortunately, I can only give the sauna a three-star rating because of the faulty electrical wiring. You see, whenever you went to use the shower taps, you got a heck of an electrical shock. Of course, your hands are soaking wet at the time. I would actually ask my friend to handle the tap for me. Or one of the smarter boys would use a washcloth to turn the tap. But there was only ever one smart boy in the whole bunch.
Other evening events include the campfire. Some years we were fortunate if we had directors or participants who played guitar. It’s funny that they performed songs in Estonian, which only many years later I learned had been copied from contemporary pop songs. (“Kartula Fields,” AKA “Cotton Fields Back Home”; “Cover of the Eesti Leht” AKA “Cover of the Rolling Stone”; “Kord Elas Cowboy” AKA “Red River Valley”; amongst others).
All the kids had to plan and act out a skit for the campfire. Some classics are “Where are the important papers?,” “Push the red button,” and “Is it time yet?” For the younger kids, these were hilarious knee-slappers, but probably a bit tiresome for the teens.
I would give anything to see a video of this instructor working with a group of ten to twelve-year-old boys, trying to get them to move like John Travolta. The music and rhythm was so infectious that we did try our best to make her happy.
The resort often had guest recreational directors drop in to provide instruction in their area of expertise. 1977 comes to mind, because a young lady had learned the dance moves from Saturday Night Fever, which of course was all the rage that summer. I would give anything to see a video of this instructor working with a group of ten to twelve-year-old boys, trying to get them to move like John Travolta. The music and rhythm was so infectious that we did try our best to make her happy.
The Estonian folk dancing was more appealing to the girls. Typically, one of the counsellors played accordion for accompaniment. The dancing is quite energetic and, like all of our activities, instruction took place outside under the hot sun. Therefore, it was quite strenuous and if I were asked to dance now, I would demand air conditioning first. (However, this will not happen, as I’m afraid nobody would ask me to dance, just like fifty years ago.)
I have mixed feelings about another activity. I’m referring to the mandatory participation in the peculiar “Night Games.” This entailed being woken up just after midnight to go run around in teams in the forest for an hour! Of course, we were never warned in advance. The purpose of the game was some type of competition to capture the flag or win the scavenger hunt by completing a multitude of tasks faster than the other teams. When I was in my younger years, as long as I didn’t get separated from my team and lost in the woods, I called it a success. I honestly did not care if we were able to make a campfire with one match and a bunch of soggy leaves, wet birch bark, and rotting twigs. I just wanted to get back into my dry, warm sleeping bag. I guess this is where the resort gave me a rating and I did not get five stars.
Another adventure was the long march to the nearby town. The purpose of this was two-fold. 1. Get lots of steps in, as the hike was close to 9 km. 2. Once there, get to the nearest convenience store to buy as much candy, chips, and pop as you could afford. I know this sounds like it’s at cross purposes, but I quite enjoyed it, even though it could be very hot and grueling. On rare occasions, if we had a lenient counsellor, we were able to hitchhike back to our resort. I believe this was against policy, so we were all sworn to secrecy.
Oddly enough, I still find myself performing this same activity. OK, the convenience store and Tim Hortons I go to is less than 1 km away, but at least I do walk there!
I know the teen years can feel conflicting, but for me, there were many happy moments. One of the sweetest moments were Saturday night dances, outside under the stars, with all our favourite music. And of course, the last dance of the night would be a slow dance; the longer, the better. The last song was often one of: “Dust in the Wind,” “Kashmir,” “Hotel California,” or “Stairway to Heaven.” Since YouTube is already flooded with several billion inane comments about classic rock vs. contemporary music, I don’t have anything to add on this particular matter.
Another special event was Sadie Hawkins day. The premise of this is that the boys would run and hide in the woods. Each girl was then to go find a boy, and if she tagged him, they were to be married for the day. The wedding ceremony was performed by the nearby river. The unhappy (or perhaps happy) couple had to feed each other ceremonial food, a concoction of incompatible foods and flavours such as cold oatmeal mixed with mustard and ketchup. Even the beverage was grotesque, like milk mixed with tang and lemonade. Then the performing “minister” would rub the oatmeal in the participants’ hair to seal the unholy event. The wedding ceremony was only the start however. The boy was also considered to be “owned” by the girl for the day (echoing a matriarchal model of Estonian marriages?). This meant he had to offer his help for the day, such as serving her meal and beverage at lunch and performing other small favours.
The girls were not as impressed by our raid and we often had to help them put everything back, especially if we had carried their beds far away from the cabins.
Other memorable activities include the cabin raids. Sometimes, when the boys or girls had hiked to town for the morning, the other group would raid their cabin. This meant stringing toilet paper all over, moving their suitcases outside, messing up their beds, and just making a big nuisance of themselves. Boys tended to be more forgiving of the raids and we were quite tickled to read the little messages scrawled in red lipstick on our bathroom mirror. The girls were not as impressed by our raids and we often had to help them put everything back, especially if we had carried their beds far away from the cabins.
Many of my teen year memories involve the music we listened to in our cabin. Each summer we were introduced to new albums. I remember the first time I heard of Max Webster and Van Halen, when their first albums came out and were not widely known.
It seemed like we went from listening to classic rock, such as Bachman-Turner Overdrive, Led Zeppelin, and the Rolling Stones to Punk and New Wave within two summers.
Suddenly, those artists were sell-outs and instead, we became enthralled with Elvis Costello, The Stranglers, The Sex Pistols, The Clash, Simple Minds, The Jam, and David Bowie. Also, a lot of time was spent listening to hilarious comedy albums: Bill Cosby, George Carlin, Monty Python, and Cheech and Chong.
I have been to many other all-inclusive resorts in my middle-aged years… but no matter what adventure excursion I sign up for, they don’t quite measure up to this odd summer place I attended so many years ago.
As with all resort attendees, I’m sure there are many memorable shenanigans I’ve left out. I would be happy to recount more events from our teen years, but in order to avoid incrimination of self and others, I will only say that those activities by a few of the oldest teens should be considered fairly predictable for the age group and not cause for too much alarm.
There were times, especially in my younger years, when I was so unhappy at that resort that I cried and begged my mother not to send me away. And there were a few gap summers, when miraculously my wish was granted. As you can tell, I now have fond memories and a strong sense of nostalgia for this place. I have been to many other all-inclusive resorts in my middle-aged years. I have found all of them to be wonderful experiences, worthy of a five-star rating, but no matter what adventure excursion I sign up for, they don’t quite measure up to this odd summer place I attended so many years ago. Now I understand that it’s not the place; it’s the memories that live there.
