3 – Why are we still in France

Monday, July 21st: We wake up in the morning, the tent is a bit wet, but we intend to find another campsite soon, so a few hours in the rooftop box won’t do it any harm. One horrible instant „Type Latte Macchiato“ later we pack up, put the seats back where they belong and leave. We want to go for breakfast in La Rochelle, but take a roundtrip first because I get distracted when thinking about coffee. Of the famous Asiatique to be exact. I have to try it some day.

La Rochelle is pretty, but it’s still France. We wander around the town center, there is a market in front of a food hall. The kids don’t know whether to throw up from the sight of dead fish or dead mammals, I don’t know whether to laugh or to cry that there are people at about 11 in the morning drinking white wine in the sun and eating oysters while I am still craving coffee. We get some pain de chocolate („por favor“ – oh please, not again!) and I finally get to try pastéis de nata which taste heavenly. We see Bogoseñales and decide to take one look at the sea before finally, finally leaving for Spain.

In the evening there are signs that we are near the border. Road signs that say „Espagne“ for example. We wanted to go to Zaragoza, but it’s impossible to do at least three more hours on the road today. We decide to find a spot near the border, but on the Spanish side. There’s a nice looking place in Hondarribia, it’s only a short ride from where we are now and they have a spot available. We’re relieved because we are both dead tired. This trip is exhausting. France is exhausting. But then something magical happens: We’re crossing a bridge and we’re suddenly in Spain! There is no doubt, Exoplaneta is playing and the road signs have turned into a beautiful yet kind of disturbing mixture of consonants, like a complete opposite of Finnish. This must be it, the famous Euskadi – with its proud people and beautiful landscapes. I heard they are sometimes mistaken to be stubborn here and that you can’t understand anything at all when they are talking. Well, that’s what they say about people from northern Germany as well, especially about those from the seashore. I think we’ll get along just fine.

We arrive at the camping site, we get a spot in the front, next to some Belgians, Netherlands and a nice guy from Spain with a cute dog. K1 and I think there might be a galgo somewhere in the ancestry so we automatically like him. The dog also likes us and gets a bit overexcited with the greetings and scares K2 half to death.

We set up the tent, prepare Grrrmaneta for the night and check out the place. And then I see it and start laughing like a crazy woman. Imagine driving 2000 kilometres and then run into people from Hannover. The couple who owns the car looks a bit „pikiert“ at us (I cannot translate this word, it’s like pissed and amused and a hundred other things at once), but cheer up when I can breathe again and thell them why I was laughing. They are travelling along the north, but will be home before the 31st. I get the feeling otherwise they would have tried to get tickets for the concert, they were very interested in what we were telling them.

The restaurant is still open, we order two beers, lemonade for the kids and some fries, croquetas with fish and rabas. The beer arrives quickly, I think wringing out the tent would have been more tasteful, but it’s at least cold. The croquetas are with ham and the fries not done. We try to make the waiter understand that we would keep the croquetas, but cancel the rabas which he apparently forgot to write down, but in the end we have two variations of croquetas, rabas and the cold fries which are not eatible. At least they didn’t charge us for the second plate of croquetas.

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