Here in Munich, it is 8 a.m. Friday, and I’m hoping today goes better than yesterday. I’m sitting in the little internet room alongside the reception desk of Munich’s big, semi-urban campground. Hundreds and hundreds of camping vehicles are here, separated by class: cars with tents, vans and small motorhomes (that’s us), pull-trailers and large motorhomes.
Outside, it’s maybe 65 degrees, drizzly, grey sky. It reminds me of June gloom along the California coast.
An amazing assortment of people are walking past my window, from their camping units to the bus stop outside the gate where they can grab a bus to the underground to take them to the heart of the city. (We are about 2 blocks from the city’s zoo, on the edge of downtown.)
The people walking by are mostly casually dressed, carrying backpacks for a day of adventure in the city. But a surprising number of people men are in coats and ties, with nametags and carrying briefcases, as if they are going to work or to a convention. I suppose it is possible that in Europe, to save money, men go to conventions and rather than stay at a hotel — say, the Bellagio or Venetian or Mandalay Bay — they travel by motor home. I doubt these finely-dressed men crawled out of a sleeping bag in a tent, though.
So this is the morning after yesterday’s series of small disasters that just took the spirit out of us by last night, when I posted the long story about all that went wrong. I’ll recap:
* The side door cannot be locked from inside because when we do, the key cylinder thingy twists on the outside and a key won’t go in, and it freezes until you manhandle it loose.
* The wastewater tank valve is broken, so when we use sink water, it immediately spills onto the ground, rather than collecting in a tank for proper disposal at a dump station. (This is not the toilet, which has its own tank and is working fine.)
* We finally figured out why our hot water wasn’t working: the plumbing was reversed on the sink, and “cold” was really hot and “hot” was cold. For the gallons of water we wasted waiting for the hot water to pour out, we were draining our tank. And last night, when we finally realized that we should have turned the spigot to “cold” to get hot water, we got maybe 30 seconds of hot water before we drained our 100-liter holding tank. So this morning, we have no water.
* Putting more water in the tank should not be a problem, except that we have to disconnect our electricity line and drive into the heart of the campground where the “water house” is, to hook up our hose. And that gets us to the other problem from yesterday: the cap for the inlet pipe is frozen to the inlet pipe, and so when we turn the cap, we are turning the entire pipe. That means the only way to put water into the tank is to access the water tank from inside (beneath a seat cushion) and drag a hose inside Mobi. That’s a pain in the rump.
All of this follows our most costly incident, which also occurred yesterday: Making a turn too tightly, and rubbing the side of the Mobi against a gate pipe, gouging the right side of the Mobi for about five feet, and tearing off a piece of plastic molding around the back right tire. I’m distressed now that the dealership will argue that they should keep our entire security deposit to cover the repair. This puts me in a bad mood.
These events all occurred yesterday. Not a good day. But we can focus on the good times, too: the great dinner Daughter cooked last night — steaks with mushroom sauce, fresh French-cut green beans, risotto. Walking the streets of small German towns and watching children play in school yards. Meeting the cousins of my health coach, the Traub family that owns two bakeries in the Black Forest region of Germany. And meeting Mia and Adelin, the Belgian couple who helped us with our water problems yesterday morning, and Ute and Ernst, from Hanover, who helped us figure out the hot-water problem last night.
Funny how people can make international connections, and become instant friends. We exchanged e-mail addresses and who knows if we will run into each other again. But now we can say we have friends in Europe, people who will help us out when they see our distress.
As I sit here, more people are streaming out to catch the morning buses. Here comes a family — mom, dad, two young kids, all dressed very nicely, he in a suit. And another couple holding a basket between them. I can’t tell if it is a picnic basket or a small basinet. I wonder where they’re going. And what’s it like waking up in a campground and putting on a coat-and-tie?
Me, I haven’t worn a tie now for a week. And I’ve only shaved once. Now, that is camping.