19.10.2020-and yet he flies

19.10.2020

Dear friends,

today the last real lazy day for some time is coming to an end.

This morning started quietly and thanks to our infinite productivity, it took us more than two hours to get the caravan off the site. After that, everything went smoothly, Dad drove, I sang, and occasionally he let his beautiful voice resonate with the song of the Ice Queen. Really worth listening to.

After asking himself/me for probably the hundredth time how many parking tickets would come home, we stopped at a small store. Having food in its most original form with the recurring question: Do you have to weigh the loose fruit now or do they do it at the cash register? Surprisingly, today the everyday tiny shower also stayed away, so I could look out of the window the whole time and be a little sad that the sun was not shining on my feet.

To our delight, the road turned into a highway, and so we were able to see a truck overtaking us and zooming away at an incredible speed. In Marina di Pisticci, we wanted to make our stop for today, nothing special, just a beautiful beach and sea, but at our first parking lot, there was a huge no-parking sign, and in such regular intervals that one couldn't even claim that we overlooked it or that it dissolved by itself. Besides, it immediately became unbearably hot in our motorhome, and the many flies and stray cats did not make the place appear quite so homely, although the cats were clearly the smaller problem, as we had ten flies in the car after five seconds of opening the door, and they are damn annoying, especially because you can't get them out again. So we broke off our short beach tour and set off for the next public parking lot, and behold, it's nicer here.

The beach is just as beautiful, but there are fewer flies here and more wasps, but at least they don't play tricks on you and bother you. The most impressive thing here is the fact that every third shell has a hole, sometimes tiny, other times taking up the entire tip, but they are always perfectly polished, as if someone had come to the beach and drilled all the shells with an incredibly fine drill, really strange.

Since Dad's last attempt to fly his kite failed miserably, he had to try again today, and actually, after the first impressively brutal crash landings, the blue kite flew for a while until it landed on the ground in a large arc with a loud hiss and bang. But since the wind eventually flattened out so much that any hope was in vain, Dad went for an extensive walk on the beach, and I immersed myself in my book. But as if we both had the same thought at the same time, we tried again a short time later.

And yet he flies, albeit only briefly, with almost no wind and constantly stumbling backward to keep the rope taut.

See you soon and be annoyed sometimes, but only occasionally.