At the end of August last summer I drove out to Michigan to drive my boyfriend home after camp ended. It was my first time visiting Michigan after hearing all about his love and appreciation for his home state, and don’t tell him but he definitely was right.
We spent one of the first days we were there kayaking for an afternoon to an island out in the middle of a lake in Jackson. Kayaking is one of my favorite water sports so I was happy; I got to swim and sunbath and see some beautiful lake houses and some obnoxiously large lake houses (waterfront real estate is a pipe dream of mine).
We also visited Ann Arbor and I casually developed a crush. We ate some great food and went to an arcade and walked around the campus and perused down alleys to look at some really awesome graffiti. At the end of one alley was a photographer taking pictures of a ballerina in her traditional garb and we watched for a while.
I am in love with beaches, so we visited Lake Michigan in St. Joseph. The waves and the wind completely wiped me out; after an hour of swimming I was satisfyingly exhausted and had developed a rash along my waistline from the wind whipping the sand around. We got barbecue food for lunch at a really cute restaurant I promptly forgot the name of after I spent about twenty minutes trying to unknot my hair.