My Awful Summer Vacation

Dude, Nanya, you make our family vacations sound downright AMAZING. Thanks!—Sparkitors

I've been living in the hot, dry, loo-struck northern plains of India for the last 16 years, but somehow, the excruciating heat of the summer months always manages to take me by surprise. I tell myself that crowding into a car with my family will be worth it just for the air-conditioning. It never, ever is. Long story short: Indian summers suck.

But my family bravely refuses to acknowledge this fact, and we have a long-standing summer tradition of going to the nearest hillstation and spending two weeks "taking in the scenery." As it happens, there is only ONE accessible hillstation in our area, so every year my ENTIRE family (grandparents, aunt, uncle, cousin, parents, etc.) packs its bags and heads to paradise—NOT.

Even though I'm fully aware of the horror that awaits me, I inevitably spend the hellish car ride dreaming of afternoon siestas by the resort pool, evening walks with my iPod, and nights spent writing under the moonlight (on people's Facebook walls). After 12 hours of bumpy, half-completed roads, we reach the resort, our hair sticking to our faces and our hope long gone. We trudge to our cottage and go to sleep sticky and sweaty, too tired to bother with showers or food. The next morning I wake up to noises of cooking; by 7am, the air is filled with the not-so-sweet, headache-inducing scent of Indian spices. My vacation has officially started—and it's pretty much ruined already. Since there is only one bathroom in the cottage, there are roughly 10 people in the line for the toilet by eight in the morning. By 11:30, my access to the washroom has been denied nine times.

The one thing about vacations that's usually really cool? FOOD. But not for my family. We get cereal, which I eat sulkily as I'm lectured about my ungratefulness. At 6 PM every night I go to the lawn overlooking the valley and sit with a book, hoping to at least get some relaxing reading in—but without fail, I'm ordered to play badminton with my cousin. It's dark by the time we're finished, and I'm too exhausted to do anything but go to sleep—only to wake up the next morning and do it all again. Don't be surprised if I end up hating the idea of vacations forever.

How do your bad vacations compare to Nanya's? Spare no dirty details!

Related post: Extremely Cheap Summer Vacations