Tag 55: Woodstock for the Poor

08/23/2016

Yesterday I got the taste! Not of the toupee-wearing hotel mogul's blood and not of any other - but the metaphorical liking for surfing has once again seized me. Captivated by the overwhelmingly positive experiences and events of the previous day, I enforce my will and we go back to the sixties. Much resistance is not given to me by Gudi, on the contrary, she has also come to love the place.

At the nearby campground, a veritable mecca for lovers of freedom (or free campers), we are the stars. Although there are countless rundown and also decorated, mobile accommodations in this parking lot, none are as worn out as ours. And none are adorned with flowers and the sign "Hippie Camper". On the morning of our departure, a toothless camper, who obviously still lives in the previous century, shouts to me, "Flower Power - put your hands forward!" I celebrate this, as I see it as confirmation that the alternatives have chosen us as their leaders.

On the beach, unfortunately, we find a completely different picture than yesterday. This time, there are not only a few, but no surfers in the water. This is due to the terrible conditions and icy temperatures - or because they have fled from me. Nonetheless, I commit the natural sporting NoGo and throw myself alone into the waves.

Gradually, other wave enthusiasts also realize that they can deliver excellent performances even in bad conditions, and so I am not among my kind for very long. Frozen to the bone, but with a heart glowing with joy and passion, I visit Gudi in the campervan again after three hours. She fulfills my promise to show me the running route she explored yesterday, which interests me as much in the current situation as a stone in the sand. Love motivates and so I find myself behind Gudi on the running path a short time later. The sporty lady has actually discovered a beautiful path and lures me with the claim to have observed whales and dolphins yesterday at the lighthouse.

Expecting them, I urge Gudi so much that poor thing is still panting like a polar bear in the summer minutes after reaching the plateau. Unfortunately, we don't see any marine creatures. Nevertheless, I am quite impressed by the athletic achievements of my partner, which were definitely worse before.

Twenty-five chocolate noon cookies later, I throw myself on the board again and realize that I am empty. In the muscles, less in the stomach. Unfortunately, not much is possible anymore, which is why we end the day from a sporting point of view quite early.

Instead, we park our car on a paid campground for once, because we want to attend a party in the city and therefore want to live very centrally. The bait of being able to enjoy free food and drinks with free admission did not have to be thrown very far for the operators of a hostel for us. Our livers, which are already more than underutilized, longed to end their breaks, which is why we plunged headlong into the party hustle and bustle. This almost leads to me falling off my chair while dancing. Everything else is self-explanatory, we look a little deeper into the beer glass for once, which leads us to realize why all of this is actually free. Perhaps this is the right tactic to avoid obvious lures like this, as we are so fed up with the end of free drinks that we have to go home - without spending a penny. Tired and slightly dizzy, we let ourselves be lulled to sleep by the sound of raindrops on our tin roof. The fumes of alcohol in the sealed car add the finishing touch.

Gudi's glorious laws:

Never dance on the table while drunk!

All nonsense, I'm much more coordinated and attentive after a few beers than I am sober. Gudi doesn't quite understand this, but more or less resigns to my explanation of pretending clumsiness in the normal state. I also don't fall off the table that evening, and even hopping on the chair, gravity spares me - barely.