Travel Enthusiasm and TÜV Stickers

We carefree and joyfully enjoy the hot summer camping trips in the robbers' cave. No parking worries, no panic outbreaks from me during critical turning maneuvers in tight spaces, always fresh air on heated feet.

But now autumn is approaching, bringing with it unexpected, incredible, endless six weeks of travel time.

No, that's not three months, but hey, we're not complaining about high standards.

I've now become a bit spoiled regarding longer camping trips in cooler seasons. Just think, it gets darker earlier each day, it could rain, storm, freeze, or snow. 

I vividly remember three weeks of September vacation in Tuscany, where the weather just wouldn’t cooperate, and we had to warm ourselves with the little blue camping stove under the protective cover of the gray tarp.

And least to be forgotten: Maxol Monte Carlo 3000, the beloved oven in the caravan.

Château Mistral finally needs the long-overdue TÜV!

With several days of sweating labor, the antiquated British gas system in the caravan is meticulously restored using various small parts, fittings, and compression rings for pipe reinforcement, alongside countless liters of bubble-foaming soapy water for the leak test.

With infinite patience and saliva, the hero removes the electric wiring from the caravan frame so that it can be split for welding work. 

Then it’s time to grit the teeth once more: did the masterful gaze accurately determine the measurements for the ten millimeter thick steel plate? 

Phew! Yes indeed, the lasered part fits perfectly, the screws glide into the holes.

Finally, the friendly neighbor retrieves the device from the shed, puts on his glasses, and together with the hero, bravely faces the first autumn storm of the year, skillfully welding frames and steel plates together. One might think it has always been this way and nothing else.

The weather-tested men perform a masterpiece, and in no time at all, the little wagon passes the meticulously conducted technical inspection, and the gas test is no problem either. Two brand new shiny TÜV stickers now adorn the rear end of Château Mistral.

Hooray! Now the wild ride can begin.

The first stop is Herrlisheim. 

Of course, our journey starts appropriately with a wonderful flea market in the beautiful Alsace. 

For a restful night, we choose the spacious parking lot of the local supermarket, which is a good starting point for strolling to the flea market stands the next morning. 

But things don't always go as planned.

The little town welcomes us on Saturday night with a color spectacle of bright lights, wildly blinking illumination, and glaring spotlight beams. A tangle of laughing, dancing, cheering, and many drinking, mostly young people flows through the streets. From huge sound systems, various bass beats thump at full volume. From rubber boot techno to French hip hop to German pop music, all genres of dreadful party music are represented.

On the parking lot of the small local supplier, a glaringly blinking looping swing spins amidst the shrill screams of the immensely amused.

The fair is in the town, the traditional annual 'Messti'!

Okaaaaaay. Looks like overnighting here won’t be possible today.

We find a spot by the water tower just outside of Herrlisheim. The acoustic backdrop of the cheerful 'Messti' reaches us here too, but it becomes a bit more subdued around 11:00 PM. The fair's departure traffic thunders past our bedroom half the night. 

A bit hungover and with bleary eyes, I can only spot naked Barbies here. Zappa finds a little bag with all sorts of accessories for the dolls. However, Madame complains to me that the fancy clothes and especially the stylish shoes that I particularly desire can only be acquired by purchasing the corresponding doll.

Her misfortune! I'd have gladly paid at least a million.

No matter. I'll just buy a pair of Converse Chuck Tailer II in beautiful bright Volt Green at another stall for two euros for my delicate feet.

The bright shocking green also impresses the Nordic-walking seniors, whose envious glances follow me on my walk Monday morning in the park in Lörrach. 

Now we sit by the Doubs River in the French Jura, waiting for green frogs, watching blue kingfishers, and marveling at huge carp that splash out of the water like little whales. 

And we think about the onward journey. 

Will we make it to Andalisien? 

We will keep you updated.