Bis zum Rande der Ohnmacht

Day 18: Today I didn't crawl out of bed. I jumped. There was a knocking. Sometime between midnight and I don't know. Our dogs were jumping in pentagon, barking and baring their teeth. Or was it Icke? When I carefully opened the door of our motorhome, I saw that it was already light outside. An old woman was standing there, begging: "Please, can you help us?" I quickly changed my sleep shirt for my tank top and jumped onto the street. "Our car won't start," said the Dutch woman in a mixture of German and English, pointing to a wine red Fiat 500, where an older man was torturing the starter. Since I don't have jumper cables, there was only one option: pushing! And so we pushed. And pushed. And pushed. While after half an hour - maybe it was an hour? - I felt like merging with the asphalt beneath me, the Dutch woman marched happily beside me, with her hands on the car, and told me about her half life. I didn't say a word, I even lacked the strength to nod.

When the man finally got out and asked his wife if it was exhausting, I slid down against the back of the car. On the brink of unconsciousness, I registered with half-closed eyes how a young woman with her stroller stopped and offered her help. The Dutch woman gratefully accepted and the two exchanged roles. The Dutch woman pushed the stroller - at least she was pushing now! - and the Spanish woman stood next to me and said, "Vamos!" Translated: Let's go! It's not that easy, Mylady, I thought and got up to take a closer look at my new helper. What I saw there changed a lot, if not everything: A tanned Spanish woman with long black hair in a tight beige silk suit, smiling at me like the morning sun in May.

I have been pondering for the past few hours where in my body the energy was hiding that was now flooding through my muscles. I felt like my power station must feel when I connect it to a high-voltage source after a deep discharge. I jumped up with that Superman smile where the corners of the mouth merge with the corners of the eyes and tried to imagine that I was 30 years younger. I didn't want to believe that even imagination requires a certain amount of energy - now I know it does. We didn't even make it ten meters. The last thing I noticed about the Spanish woman was the tired smile, the raised eyebrows, and the shrug with which she explained to the Dutch woman that she would probably have to call a workshop.

I don't remember how I made it back to our pitch. Icke later told me that the Dutch people had brought me back with their car. They talked about an acquaintance who had unexpectedly come by and given them a jump start. I could have used that too. So this day didn't turn out so well for me ...

P.S.: By noon, I was recovered enough to accompany Icke to the weekly market in Guardamar. Luckily! There we met Edith and Patje from Belgium, whom I will tell you about tomorrow.