EURO CAMPING

After a fourteen hour flight from San Francisco,  we spent the night in Malmo, Sweden.  Bright and early the next morning I hop the bus from our hotel of the night before and, following the directions from our Airbnb host, I find the campervan waiting by a small roadside park.  After a brief orientation, I zoom off and pick up Deborah and our baggage at the hotel.  After a stop at a grocery store for food and Ikea to outfit the camper with some decent utensils we hit the road at the crack of 4......PM.  After a five hour drive we wheel into  a campground. The campground reception is a quaint red building nestled into a tall forest of deciduous trees.  We check in and drive down a deeply shaded lane to find the campground proper.   After the scenic introduction, the campground is a bit of a letdown as the sites are barely more than parking spaces, but this is the reality of what I call Euro Camping.

Bleery eyed and still a bit jet lagged,  I tumble out of the camper. Hazy morning sun blinds my tired eyes.  Stiff from the long plane ride and a five hour drive I gingerly walk up a graveled lane. One hundred yards away a red building beckons.   Insipid Euro-pop, piped through tinny speakers, provides background music for my morning routinge.    I find a private stall and sit down.  I focus on the insulation in the ceiling above as diffused light casts a soft glow on my tiny domain that I survey from my throne.  I complete the task at hand and totter out  in the morning light to gaze down across a small sea of densely packed campervans, travel trailers and tents.  Beyond lies the cold gray North Sea.  In the distance I can barely see the giant cranes of Aarhus harbor looking like monstrous robots out of a Star Wars movie.  The early morning chatter of my fellow   campers drifts up to my ears.  The campground  host  glides past in the ubiquitous electric golf cart of campground hosts the world over.  I lurch back down the graveled road to our little campervan appraising its battered body and thinking of breakfast.

 I peer in to see the sleep tousled head of my intrepid travel companion.  Still sleeping, she is cozy under a down duvet.  

I quietly slide the door  closed and look out.

 The sea is brightening under the morning sun and I think of breakfast.