Here we go!

#1 - Five weeks in Andalusia. Plus six days and five nights, almost 3,000 kilometers there and six days and five nights back to our little house in Stolpe an der Oder. With our small motorhome. In Aguadulce, a small town between Almeria and Roquetas de Mar, we have booked a small apartment - on the twelfth floor (yes, there is an elevator) and with a free view of my sea.

That's the plan. Although this plan has its own story. It was - I'm not exaggerating! - decided ten times and overturned almost as often. To be precise, nine times. Berry was almost always the reason, the grand seigneur in our pack of dogs, which is completed by the Spanish street boy Pipo and Princess Emma. Berry, a 13-year-old good-hearted dachshund mix, was seriously ill in the autumn. We were on the verge of canceling the trip several times, but then he got better again before his condition worsened. Everything was over by mid-December, Andalusia was no longer an obstacle, until three days before our departure it was discovered during the final visit to the vet that Berry has a malignant tumor on his left front paw - in the same place as almost three years ago. That was it with sun, beach and sea.

But ... Miracles still happen! Yes, they exist! We had to contact the veterinarian immediately, who had operated on Berry three years ago, a specialist in Wandlitz near Berlin, who could give away each of his appointments five times. We were allowed to come immediately. He wanted to see for himself. It looked bad. Really bad. So bad that he had to deal with it right away because this type of tumor is highly aggressive. Anesthesia. One hour surgery. Berry's left claw had to go, there was no other way. Huge bandage. That was Thursday. During the final conversation, I casually mentioned that we would actually have driven to Andalusia with the motorhome on Sunday. Suddenly, the doctor pricked up his ears! Six days of rest and then to the warm, dry Mediterranean climate - ideal for the healing process. We should definitely go. I saw the horror in the eyes of the young surgeon, he must have felt that I was about to hug him. He quickly took a step or two back - luckily for both of us.

So we set off on Sunday morning. Now we are in Feucht near Nuremberg on a beautiful parking space. The first 550 kilometers are done. For me, the tour would have almost ended here, because I almost didn't survive the first trip with Berry in the stroller. But I can tell you about that next time.