Going on a family vacation when you're in your mid to late twenties sounds like a great idea. You've been out of the house long enough to feel like an adult, and yet don't make enough money to pay for your own grown up vacation. You think that the family adventures will be fun and nostalgic; you can build new memories and start to appreciate your parents as individuals.
In reality, you will struggle to hold back the urge to strangle your father every time he goes the wrong way but still insists that he is the only one who can drive, your mother after the five millionth time she mishears you at a normal audible level and then asks why you are yelling when you raise your voice, and your sibling when they absolutely refuse to acknowledge that the chances are extremely slim that in the small portion of your time that you spend enjoying the views while hiking rather than from inside of the car (roughly 5%), you will be attacked and mauled by bears.
Of course, I can't say that it's all bad, because tonight my father actually let me take the check for dessert, which is probably the first time in my entire life that he has let me pay for anything. He never even let me pay for things when I was a kid; none of this teaching the value of money stuff. He'd let me save up, and then buy whatever item it was I wanted with his own cash. I guess this is generous, but might contribute to the fact that I am somewhat poor at spreading out my purchases; generally whenever I shop it spurs more shopping, not less.
Anyway, it's still been a great time, beautiful weather, wonderful views and pungent musk oxen. But if I don't post again for a while, it's probably because the bears got me.