Of markets, churches and thick branches

Day 29: Today is Sunday. We go to the church of Santa Eulalia. There will be a very special service there today. The Choro Sta sings. Cecilia South American songs. Icke was really looking forward to it. That's why she went to the church two hours in advance, in whose parking lot we parked our motorhome that night. Because the place was filling up more and more every minute. “I'll see what's going on and come pick you up in time,” said my darling and disappeared.

I waited an hour, an hour and a half and started to get anxious. Surely nothing has happened? I set off. People came towards me with plastic bags, bread, sausage and baskets. From the church? I had a strange feeling and it got stronger with every meter I got closer to my goal. In fact: there was a market set up in front of the church with regional specialties and handicrafts. I didn't go to church looking for Icke...

Shortly before the service - I had to go to the car twice because of all the plastic bags - I made it into the church, where Icke had saved a place for me. It was an extraordinary mass: the church was packed. Anyone who came late couldn't even find a place to stand. The choir was great, the songs were lively and full of power. Everywhere you looked you could see smiling faces. The mood was not sentimental but sacred, not forced but lively, almost spirited. After almost every song there was spontaneous applause - including from the priest. And after the service, people stayed in the church, friends and families stood together and chatted and laughed. What an experience. Icke was so touched that tears flowed from time to time. “I will never forget this service,” she said on the way back to the RV.

After coffee and cake we set off the 80 kilometers to San Pedro del Pinatar, which is by the sea. But that is not the reason for our arrival. There are large salt lakes here where flamingos can regularly be seen, and Icke has invited a few of them for a photo shoot tomorrow. We park on a side street between a few short, small trees on the side of the road. I wanted to drive pretty close to the sidewalk, so Icke got out to guide me. Suddenly she screamed: “Stop!” I hit the brakes – a second too late. I touched a large, thick branch with my awning. I couldn't go forward or back anymore. No matter which direction I drove, the branch threatened to crush my awning.

What to do? The tree couldn't be moved, just as my RV couldn't be pushed away from the branch. I tried everything! I had to attack the branch. In the end I wobbled around on a folding folding chair - I had nothing else to stand on - with a bread knife in my hand - I don't have a saw with me (yes, Ricci, I know...) - and cut and cut and cut to create a little space for the Maneuver to win. I wouldn't have been able to get the thick branch off with a chainsaw. When I collapsed from my stool after 30 minutes of exhaustion, I was greeted by applause from a dozen Spaniards who had enthusiastically followed my fight. Maybe there were only two of them - such a great effort can sometimes impair your perception...