Travel Writing: La Rive

I also struggled with travel writing, as I've never really done it before. But this is mine:

Waking up early didn't seem to be such a chore on the 8th of August, the day I was leaving for the South of France. I was so exited when we; my friend Charlie, her mum, dad, and I, departed from my driveway. They shared stories with me of when they went to the same camping resort a year ago. I couldn't wait.

The steaming hot chocolate warmed my hands as I sat waiting in the terminal at the Euro Tunnel. Boarding the shuttle took a while and once we were on it, the duration of the journey was spent playing the game 'Four Pics, One Song'. I hadn't even realised that we were moving, the shuttle traveled so smoothly. It was only when I saw the world whizzing by outside the window that I knew we were on our way.

Once we were on the road again, the rest of that day, and most of the one after, were spent watching film after film in attempt to pass time quicker whilst in the car. I felt like the caravan we were pulling behind us was carrying Time on its back, and that we were literally dragging it along.

Upon arriving at La Rive, the said camping resort, I couldn't wait to spend the next two weeks there. Whilst we were shown to our pitch, I could hear the sound of a bell ringing. The same bell, I later found out, that warned people in the water park that the giant bucket would soon be tipping water over them if they didn't get out of the way. I would fall a victim to that bucket many times during my stay.

The first thing Charlie and I did was change into our bikinis and some shorts, and begin to explore. The resort was full of little 'streets' of pitches and mobile homes. Each one was decorated with serval hanging baskets of flowers, which were of the brightest colours. The pinks, blues, purples, and yellows seemed to glow in the light of the midday sun, which pleasantly heated my skin as we ventured through the site.