My first and last time camping

by Csenge Gabeli (United Kingdom (Great Britain))

Making a local connection Hungary

I went camping with a large group of friends during the summer of 2016. At a camping site next to Lake Balaton, Hungary, we were living in the nostalgia of our childhoods. Lake Balaton has a special place in our urban hearts. Far enough from the problems of the capital but close enough that it becomes a party scene during the summer months. It was the first and last time I went camping. I was frozen to death at nights, scorched by the sun during the day, and flooded by the worst storm of the summer. This probably wouldn’t have been enough not to camp ever again if it wasn’t combined with one more factor that turned the whole experience into one of my biggest nightmares. I shared a small tent with my best friend. We were the last ones to arrive as we spent the previous night in a house party on the other side of the lake. After a day of sunbathing, swimming, and playing volleyball we decided to go into the city, Siófok, for a night out. As we run to the bus stop, the rain started to drizzle but we just laughed, who cares? Well, we should have. We enjoyed the chaotic city for a few hours. Just a bit after 11 pm my best friend and I decided to take the bus home as we heard the storm coming and the news said we should stay inside - which, I had to realize later, does not refer to tents. We missed the last bus because my friend had to use a toilet. What were our remaining options? Stay in the city? We were tired. Train? The last one had already left. Taxi? We didn’t have enough money. Walk? It only takes 1 hour, we can walk that far. We could hear the storm coming. We were anxious, cold, tired, tipsy becoming hungover, and sad for our misfortune. A police car passed us, I tried to wave them off and ask for help, hoping for a ride. They didn’t even slow down. A few more minutes passed when we started to suspect someone was following us. We were right. He came close begging us to watch him masturbate. We didn’t respond just started walking more quickly. The storm arrived and it started raining. I wanted to cry but was too shocked and scared to do anything. It became really cold as the storm strengthened. My friend asked him to stop. He continued to follow us. We could hear him behind us, walking. And masturbating. He approached us at least 2 more times when I finally snapped and shouted at him to fuck off. Then I was shaking in fear. What if he has a weapon? Will he shoot us? Will he stab us? My friend gave me her coat as I was freezing. I needed to pee but wasn’t able to stop, too scared of what he would do if I became partially naked. We reached a street without any lights. Looking over my shoulder I saw that he wasn’t there anymore. The worst part was over. We started running as we reached the fences of the camping site. We took the 1-hour long walk under 40 minutes. As we arrived back at our tent we realized it was flooded because of the heavy rain. I finally started crying. We were wet, traumatized, and ‘getting home’ didn’t feel like home at all. We changed into warm clothes and tried to fall asleep holding hands in the flooded tent. I was panicking for years during summer night storms. It still reminds me of that night, but it’s more like a little reminder going off in the back of my head rather than going into full out panic mode. I visited the city again last summer after 4 years of purposefully not going there. It was nice. I realized after sharing this experience with others that it is not special at all. Something similar happened to most of the women I know at least once in their lives. Sexual harassment happens so many times that we are not even surprised anymore when we hear stories like this.