Growing up I had plenty of chances to camp, and when I say “camp” I mean for real: small tent, heavy backpack, dehydrated foods, rain cover and minimal underwear changes!
When my brother and I were young, my father would have us spend the summer roughing it on his small army raft: We would leave Fiesole, Italy, with a car loaded with luggage and our power raft on a trailer bed. My father would drive us to whatever place he and my mother had picked for our summer vacation, and the fun would begin. We always had a home-base minimal rental apartment to store luggage, keep some groceries, and eventually rest here and there, but the real vacation was exploring the coast with the raft. My father would seek the most-isolated beaches; we would spend the day fishing and eventually land the raft at shore, make a campfire and cook our prey. We would sleep under the stars and wake up to the sound of the shore — it was the ultimate adventure for me and my brother.