The Camp Kitchen Rules

One of my favorite things about backpacking through New Zealand and Australia has been the caravan parks.  Weird, huh?  They’re not fancy or luxurious.  Instead, they’re down-to-earth and make me feel more in tune with whatever town we happen to be visiting.  Somehow, when I’m tenting it, I feel like more of a participant in the world around me.  But what I love most about the caravan parks is the community kitchen.  You know how everyone always seems to gravitate to the kitchen at a party?  Well, the same is true at a caravan park.  The kitchen is its heart and soul, hosting a constant flurry of activity, with campers and backpackers bustling about, making one meal or another.  People laugh and converse in a dizzying array of languages, sharing stories and giving advice.  It’s like being part of a big, boisterous family, and provides this amazing sense of community. 

Mealtime in the kitchen is also a voyeuristic wonderland, allowing me to observe small snippets of so many different lives.  As I cook and eat with all of these strangers, I can’t help but wonder what each person’s story is, what journey brought them to this place?  But the most fun part has to be spying on everyone’s meal choices.  I can’t help it.  I’m slightly obsessed.  I have to check out everyone’s food, as it’s such a unique opportunity to see what people from around the world eat.  (And I’m not talking about learning about a particular ethnic cuisine, either.  This is a chance to see what real people on a budget actually cook and eat.)  Sometimes, I’m pretty impressed, as some dishes can look and smell quite tempting.  Other times, I can’t help but wrinkle up my nose, confused as to why anyone would want to eat that.   And, every once in a while, like the time a group of young backpackers dined on nothing but potatoes, I just have to laugh.

So, even though backpacking has been an economical way for us travel, it’s also been incredibly interesting and insightful.  I may occasionally yearn for a private bathroom and crisp, clean sheets, but I still wouldn’t trade these experiences in for anything.  Because, let’s face it, I wouldn’t get half as much entertainment sitting around a fancy-schmancy hotel.