Bonnie and Clyde

Time has once again flown by far too quickly, and the journey home is still long.
Finally, I don't want to hide from you the fact that I have identified the unscrupulous, marauding Park4Night duo!

No, it's not the Hessian couple in their Pössl campervan who brazenly parked their car incredibly close to us in the huge parking lot in Schweighouse-sur-Moder, less than half a meter away, even though the entire lot was absolutely empty. But before I could start complaining, because I had terrible images of Bonnie and Clyde in my mind, the hero put a thick club under the bed for defense.

The two suspects suspiciously overslept and missed the Sunday mega flea market, despite the incessant, annoying slamming of car doors by bargain hunters arriving in the early morning hours.

We know from last year that this is clearly and unequivocally a mega flea market. Disguised as a cheerful autumn festival with music and street performances on every corner, the completely closed-off city center is filled with miles of kitsch and bric-a-brac, junk, clutter, and knick-knacks.

New are the bag checks at the entrance; perhaps you've already heard of the notorious camping bandits.

During the presentation of my harmless bags, I overheard the amused conversation of the security officers about the competing brocante in neighboring Reichshoffen, which advertises a fabulous 3000 stall spaces on the internet.

For a brief moment we were also tempted to prefer this flea market, but then we came to the realization that it must be a typo with an extra zero.
I'm hearing similar things from the inspectors now, who are thoroughly amused by the incredible number, because the village doesn't even have that many houses - hahaha!
And next year, a banner will be mounted on the town sign in Schweighouse, announcing in large letters that there REALLY are 3000 stalls here.

Against all common sense, I let myself be seduced into buying four charming retro chairs in a Parisian shabby-chic apple green. And when we have to go past security for the fourth time to pick them up, the guys grin and wave us through without even glancing into my backpack.
Now we would have softened them up and could carry out the planned robbery of the sausage stand - which of course we won't do, WE are not the scoundrels!

As the highlight of the day, the regional brass band in red traditional costumes will form up to our traditional bargain-hunting closing merguez to entertain the crowd with lively rhythms.
A nice idea, but the festival organizers did not consider that the unoccupied and completely empty children's carousel directly opposite would spin and spin and spin to lively and very loud melodies.

For a moment, while enjoying our delicious bratwurst, we fully expect the music on the carousel to be turned off for the brass band's performance. Because with that blaring, not even trumpet legend Louis Armstrong could hit a note.

I lose the bet: Michael Jackson continues to blare at full volume from the carousel's loudspeakers, the festival host bobs his hips to the beat at the microphone, announces the band with a proudly puffed-out chest, and the orchestra bravely blows its horns!

An incredibly shrill mix of discordant sounds resounds across the square; the orchestra fervently blows against the King of Pop and refuses to let his grand entrance be taken away.
Even when we think the emcee is about to ask the carousel operator to finally turn off his bass during the second piece, we're mistaken. The music mix continues unabated, and once we've finished our merguez sausages, we make our deafening retreat, full of admiration for the valiant brass band musicians.

However, I haven't forgotten the Pössl-Hessen and am keeping a close eye on them!
They innocently buy a colorful umbrella at the first stall they come to, under a bright sun – you never know.

Thus equipped, they continued their journey without even casting a covetous glance at us or our possessions.
Now I realize that the place isn't even listed in the great app.
But the two of them already looked suspicious in their casual old hippie clothes!

But now comes the kicker: Beware of two dashing young people traveling in a zippy Rapido motorhome.
They cleverly disguise themselves with seemingly harmless, cute little dogs and a mini-stroller that could never possibly hold a baby.

I watched closely as the two of them placed their canned beer inside and then pushed their loot to the sensationally secret hiding place.
If you're missing your e-bikes, just get in touch.
I know the coordinates!