Flea Market in Perpignan

Now it's finally time to set off on a big journey, and Zappa already passes his first tough test in the Rhön, where we are greeted by a good snowstorm. The first one this year, but not really welcome. However, the little wagon can be comfortably pulled over the mountains, and after two restful breaks, we spend the night in the French Jura.

The first destination of the journey is Perpignan, as two flea markets are waiting for us here. In the end, they actually have the quality of the Braunschweig shooting range. I buy garlic for the whole trip from a toothless Moroccan and an orange from a younger one. He immediately recognizes me as German and shows off his language skills: 'Gutten Tak, bitte, danke, eins-zwei-drei!' That's all, even though he tells me that his wife is from Cologne and he lives in Flensburg. I ask him why he is now selling oranges in Perpignan. He says it's because the weather is better here and points to the wonderful sun. He's right, the warming rays make the layers of clothing decrease throughout the morning, and the plan to go on an expedition to the snowy Canigou is dropped in favor of the pleasant temperatures. But even here in the far south of France, it's 'winter', and the stands are dismantled promptly for lunchtime. So we continue south, towards the sun.