Light at the end of the tunnel

Once again, our travel time has expired and as always, it went by way too fast. We don't want to go home yet. But the little camper needs to be unloaded and repaired, so we're heading towards home.

Not before we rumble through the Camargue route once again to Beauduc, which is as broken as ever and offers a slalom of potholes in finest fashion. The infamous Gate of Fear is no challenge for the Twingo, but unfortunately the journey is no longer worth it.

No more driving along the beach for kilometers, no relaxed kite camps, no family weekends right by the water. Nature is strictly protected. And apparently, that only works by complete closure.

A few kite surfers have set up on the parking lot in front of the dunes and drag their stuff from their vehicles to the water, their girlfriends carrying the leftovers afterward.

No, this is not sexy, it's not fun.

From the camper, you can't catch a glimpse of the sea, no sunset, no sound of the waves. After a walk on the beach, collecting seashells, and coffee without a sea view, we still head to Plage Piémanson. Here, a similar picture, the long-term and nudist campers from Marseille have disappeared, and motorhomes now claim the view of the distant coastline, which is still at least available here.

Oh, in the past, somehow everything was better...

Now we're on our way north, and many impressions accompany us. Above all, the constantly amazed faces will remain in our memory when we mention that we live in a Twingo.

On our way through the Alps, we encounter a couple from Hesse in their Jeep Defender stuffed to the roof with stuff and a tent on top. The Hessian likes to talk, so he asks us, completely amazed, if we're traveling in the Twingo - he would have bet on 20-year-old students. When we explain to him that we also sleep in the vehicle and not in a tent, he is filled with admiration and we naturally enjoy basking in it.

No, the 20-year-olds drive to their summer location in big, fully equipped vans, as we can observe very well at a shared overnight spot in the Vercors. Of course, climbers' cars have to offer a lot of space, but the young people also watch us in amazement as we climb into our little cave to sleep.

In September, many Swabians seem to be hiking in southern France, also a talkative bunch of people. Especially the ladies are full of compassion at the sight of our car, which is badly damaged from the collision. But when they find out that it is also our motorhome, they are all amazed and show us their appreciation.

A Belgian congratulates us in the middle of the street with 'Felicitation!' and the morning farmer asks with concern if we didn't get too cold at 500m altitude in his vineyard during the night.

This journey is also full of beautiful experiences, new discoveries, and interesting insights.

At the last flea market in Alsace, Zappa convinces me to buy the now traditional lamp from France.

It almost drives me to despair when I arrive at the car with the magnificent piece and don't believe that the giant lamp will fit in the micro-camper. I will return it, even though I negotiated a reasonable price with Madame after tough bargaining. No, this specimen doesn't fit in the Twingo anymore.

But, it fits. Zappa is truly a master at stowing, packing, and accommodating. He is and remains my hero.

Now we have to hurry home, there is not even a finger's width of space left, and the Twingo is already carrying a little too much weight.

Now new challenges await, such as some vehicle repairs...