شائع شدہ: 28.12.2023
This year's long Ascension weekend takes us to the extreme northwest of Germany.
We learn that the destination of our little trip is the Ammerland, where there are countless moors where peat is still mined. This is mainly used to produce potting soil, which is one reason why around 350 tree nurseries in the region make a living by growing rhododendrons. 90% of all bushes of this variety grown in Germany come from the area.
Now it is no longer surprising that we see huge representatives of the genus on every corner and everywhere with large, colorful flowers. You simply can't help but marvel at the range of abundance, color and diversity.
The reason for our trip to this corner of Lower Saxony is - as you will have already guessed - a flea market. Of course not just any flea market, but the one in Elisabethfehn, which is advertised as the longest flea market in Germany. Stands of all kinds are set up over a length of around 10km along a closed residential street along the canal of the same name. We finally want to go there this year!
Due to the still cool night temperatures, we are traveling in the caravan and find a great place to sleep a few kilometers outside of town late in the evening. By bike we can easily cover the route to bargain happiness early in the morning.
The sun is shining from the blue sky, everyone is in a good mood and early in the day the crowds are still limited.
We are well prepared. In the small handcart there is not only space for various treasures, but also soda, sandwiches, picnic blankets and, to celebrate the day, even a little picnic bag for me, which can be easily transported. So we can take a break at any time, because after all, we have to walk ten kilometers.
However, around midday we notice that the strollers
Crowds of people are now so densely packed that it is hardly possible to get through to the stands. We now have about six kilometers under our belt and are heading back, because we have to cover the same route back to the bikes again. The sun has warmed the air, we have time and the lunch snack tastes even better right by the water of the canal.
After about eight hours we arrive back at the château, exhausted, with lame feet but in a good mood and very satisfied. The wheels have to go back into the car and various new achievements too. Zappa rummages for the car keys, which always takes a little longer because the man of the world doesn't just have one pocket. We also started the cool morning with several layers of jackets and sweaters, which we gradually removed
carts have landed. Here, too, there is not just one way to store a key.
Zappa rummages. Zappa is looking. Zappa is digging.
Slowly, helplessness creeps into his eyes.
He's searching. He checks. He searches.
Vain. The car key remains missing.
We sort all the stuff out of the handcart and the backpacks onto the green lawn in front of us and start all over again, calmly and systematically. Every pocket, every corner, every hole, every pouch, every possibility is felt, emptied, searched. Nothing!
It cannot be denied now: the key has to be somewhere
have been lost. Fortunately and above all by chance, this time I didn't leave the caravan key in the Kangoo, but put it in my backpack pocket and didn't lose it. The château can therefore be opened.
I now receive the order to gather up the things scattered everywhere, rest and let the hero go to retrieve the key.
So I stay in the trailer and search the internet for a way home. Getting from nowhere to somewhere is becoming more of a challenge. There is a train connection from Oldenburg to Börßum, no problem. Only, the train station in Oldenburg is about 35km away from us. There is a bus connection from the next town, but only during school hours. We have a bridge day ahead of us. And given the prices, only one of us can ride - but first by bike to Oldenburg.
We would also have to be picked up from the Börßum train station, but that should be the smallest problem.
Considering that all power supplies for cell phones etc. are closed in the Kangoo, I turn off my phone and try to relax!
After seemingly endless, lonely hours in which I can't concentrate on my literature in any way, I see the hero returning on his bicycle in the approaching twilight.
His expression speaks volumes: lack of results, lack of success, lack of courage. No key to be found. He ran the six kilometers a second time and a little further. And then cycled along the path during the flea market dismantling, searched trees, bushes and fences for hanging keys, asked people and punched folders - nothing! It is unbelievable.
But a solution has to be found. We don't want to stay under the wind turbine in Ammerland until the end of days, after all, we still have plans!
Zappa first calls the neighbor and sends her home to look for the second key. Luckily it was quickly tracked down and deposited in a safe secret hiding place.
The hero had already spoken to rescue engineer Thomas on the phone on the way and he ultimately had the brilliant idea: he would collect the goods from the high-security depot the next morning and send them express to the nearest DHL shop, which was just a stone's throw away from us.
We can now fall asleep with peace of mind.
We are woken up by the noise of tractors and use the early morning hour to cycle to Elisabethfehn and find out the exact address of the small corner shop with a parcel shop. Then we tackle the flea market mile again, two pairs of eyes see more. But even today there is no key ring to be found. Even calling the local police doesn't help.
So we drive back to the caravan. My back is now so affected by the sporty, uncomfortable saddle of the fast bike that I can't sit on it for another meter.
So we sit down in the shade of the caravan on soft cushions in the grass, because the camping chairs have remained in the Kangoo and let the day pass us by. Cell phone use is strictly forbidden, the batteries are running low, charging can only be done in the car and what if something goes wrong?
So Zappa looks holes in the air, an art he has perfected.
I count the revolutions of the wind turbines. Gets boring quickly.
Then the crows in the field. It doesn't work, they keep flying around. It's like counting fish in an aquarium.
But then I have the solution: count the tractors! It's unbelievable how many of them are on this country road.
At least every third vehicle is a tractor! And in all sizes, colors and shapes. There's Fendt, John Deere, New Holland, Deutz, Claas, Lanz and I think I saw a Hanomag too. All of them are huge. A clear difference to Hesse, for example, where you often see little old men sitting on equally small old tractors.
Here in the far northwest, the drivers are very young and have big, powerful diesel guzzlers under their belts. I estimate the youngest to be 12 years old at most. Apparently the offspring are tied to agriculture at an early age. Or the variety of other amusements leaves something to be desired.
In any case, I'm amazed. We can now explain how Otto's joke came about. There are tractors everywhere!
So this day passes us by and on Saturday morning we cycle to Elisabethfehn again. Rescue Thomas assures us that the package should be delivered to Aunt Emma by 9:00 a.m. in the morning. So we're looking forward to being able to buy another croissant from her for breakfast.
But when we arrive at the Lüttje store at 9:20 a.m., Aunt Emma doesn't have a delivery for us: "No, there's nothing there, maybe this afternoon?"
I'm trying not to panic. If nothing happens this afternoon, we won't get out of here until Monday at the earliest. And I can't imagine that I'll be able to keep my good mood while counting tractors for two more days.
Zappa calls the rescue engineer again, who has already seen in the shipment tracking that the goods have not yet arrived. Meanwhile, I watch red, blue and green giant tractors thundering past us. Gigantic manure bombers increase the traffic volume on this road.
While the boys are still on the phone, I discover a new color on the busy slope. I see yellow! Hurray - I see a yellow vehicle and it's neither a tractor nor a manure truck, it's the postman! And the wonderful yellow car stops in front of the Lüttje store. A man dressed wonderfully in yellow gets out and brings a wonderfully small package to Aunt Emma that cost an incredible amount of money. But it wasn't nearly as expensive as the train ride to Börßum.
Ms. Lüttje even brings us the valuable item outside on the curb because the heroes are still on the phone and I can tell her about our little adventure at the same time. But the young man still has to show his ID; after all, there has to be order!
We cycle back to our mobile home. The really great feeling of happiness doesn't come yet. The second car key no longer works 100% and the final onward journey is not yet secured.
Luckily the clicker still contains a battery and so the car can be unlocked via the central locking and the first phone can be connected to the charger. Now the key has to go into the lock. This is once again a very tricky situation: does he go in or doesn't he go in? Scramble, wobble, clatter, click, sweat - now! The key is in the lock! Jeez!
Now there is only one tiny problem left to solve: we have to refuel. Full of optimism, we postponed the empty diesel supply until the return journey. The second key no longer unlocks the fuel tank lock, and it is now in the ignition lock and will never, ever, ever be pulled out again. Because who knows if he'll ever fit in again?
But of course Zappa has a solution: he uses a screwdriver to crack the tank lock and the lid is off in no time, no ifs or buts. Now we can go home.
And the key? Maybe we'll be lucky and a drunken Father's Day celebrant will find it in his pocket weeks later and take it to the lost property office...