Our Travels with Rover

Herewith, the beginning of Tour de Rover 2009.

As with any complex undertaking, one expects that not everything will go perfectly. Amidst the joys, there will be a few cloudy days, here and there one will feel a bump in the road, occasionally the happy traveler experiences a hiccup or two along the way....

But before this sucker was two days old, it had developed into a full-fledged, all-out, spatter-on-the-walls, barf-session. (Spoiler alert at the end of this entry.)

We left for Amsterdam in the evening of April 6 on a half-empty aircraft with a screaming two-year-old (not ours, thank you very much).  Our plane landed at 10:30 a.m., and because our three pieces of luggage were among the first six off the plane and because there was no line at customs (does nobody want to visit Amsterdam in the spring?), we were at the storage place and greeting Rover by noon. The few maintenance jobs had been completed, and Rover had even had a bath.  Everything looked great--for the moment.  And by 2 p.m. we were in the campground just south of the city with a few groceries and a full tank of water.

Our first job was to unpack and de-winterize.  Both pieces of our new “laundry” (hand-crank washer and spin dryer) had arrived intact in spite of the Transportation and Safety Administration’s attempt to Save America by unpacking and repacking the spin dryer.  First glitch: By night we noticed our water tank was almost empty and discovered that the drain valve had never been closed after we had drained it for winterizing. In the process of discovering this, Susan inadvertently shut off the entire water supply and we thought that the water pump had quit. It took us a day to figure all of this out, of course, but thanks to our two big water storage bags, we got along without the pump or refilling.

One of David’s first jobs was to recheck all the tires’ pressure. Soon after he had begun, the air compressor quit working (as in “burned out”).  We spent the second day in the city center of Amsterdam, in the wind and rain (so that’s why nobody wants to visit Amsterdam in the spring!).  Needless to say, air compressors are hard to find in the tourist section of Amsterdam. We actually found a couple on the way back to the campground, but David deemed them insufficient.

The following morning brought a bigger problem. We had no 12-volt service to the motorhome: no lights, no refrigerator, no water pump, no water heater. (All these things did work when the engine was running, with the engine battery providing the service--but not when it was off. As of course it usually is in a campground.)

All the simple things we have tried have failed, and we have even talked to the service people at Born Free in Iowa.  Right now we are in line at a large camping repair store in Oostende, Belgium, hoping our problem can be solved in hours rather than days.  Our phrase from last year--“It’s all part of the adventure”--isn’t quite working for us right now. In fact, the next one one of us who uses it gets punched.

(SPOILER: 

ings-thay o-day et-gay etter-bay.)

4/10/09

We drove across more farmland, avoiding the motorways, from Amiens to Rouen. We found an adequate campground with rather shabby facilities a short walk from a frequent tram into the old city center of Rouen. Another huge beautiful cathedral awaited us--this one memorialized in several paintings by Claude Monet under different lighting conditions. It is the middle of the very old city, largely untouched by the wars: lots of narrow pedestrian-only shopping streets. We stayed two nights, visiting the cathedral, an art museum, the square where Joan of Arc was burned at the stake. We got caught in a downpour without our umbrellas and used it as an excuse to eat dinner in a restaurant, and, wonder of wonders, found a portable air compressor that would fit in our outside storage, was big enough to do the job and was affordable, sort of.

We have had quite a time just finding air for the tires. Gas stations are rare in little towns, and even in the cities several we found did not have an air pump. When we left Amiens, we stopped for gas before leaving the city and we were directed to a Citroen garage for air. The first time we had to use an air pump other than our own, we discovered that Europe does not measure air pressure in the psi (pounds per square inch) units that we were used to. That took a whole new calculation that we hoped was correct! But now we have a new compressor and it has psi readings on it also. Success. It was fun getting the big box on to the tram and to the campground. It’s the size of a small suitcase, much larger than what we had before, but much smaller than the tanks everyone else had showed us.

We left Rouen for the short drive to Giverny, home to Claude Monet and his famous gardens and lilypad ponds. 

The house he lived in is as it was when he lived there. In his studio was a large picture of him in that very studio; it also showed the same desk and wicker chairs and wall decorations. The house is colorful (a bright yellow dining room and blue and white kitchen) and gorgeous--but the bedroom smelled terribly in spite of the fact that the windows  over the garden were wide open. Even this early in spring the gardens were surprisingly full of color. All in all, utterly charming.

Giverny is a very small town that has accepted its fate as a tourst destination. We were delighted to see that they have provided a large parking area, but when we pulled in we were directed back into the center of the village where there is another parking lot. Rover barely made it in and up the hill, taking out a couple of low hanging branches. We would have been much better off staying in the large lot just off the road. Fortunately we were not there on a very busy day. In fact, most of the people there were Japanese tourists on a bus and many, many five- and six-year-olds with their teachers. 

Then we found our way through one  of the tightest roads yet: long blocks with cars parked on one side and nowhere to go if someone came from the other direction. But no one did, and we made it to a scruffy, out of the way campground with mostly old permanently placed camping trailers, very few of them occupied.  We had been there about an hour when we saw two policemen walk in and talk to the owner, who pointed toward Rover. (“Voila, them--they’re the reckless American drivers for whom you search.”) They came over to our site and asked us if we had seen anyone on the road when we came in. Surveillance cameras had placed us nearby at the time someone had abandoned a stolen car. We were unable to give them any helpful information. but it confirmed for me that we were in a pretty out of the way place.

We have yet to get ourselves into a too tight spot, but we have managed to get ourselves into a “Centre Ville” when we really didn’t want to go there. Sometimes it is simply unavoidable--there is no other way. If I had a Euro for every time David has asked, “How much room do I have on that side?”  I could pay for the campground every night. (He usually has a full 6 or 8 inches to spare!)  Yesterday we easily got into a McDonalds parking lot (free wifi) but had to walk all the way across the large shopping center parking lot to figure out how to get out. One of the exits had a 1.9 meter height limit. We are 3.05. We have that memorized.

After our visit to Giverny, we were so inspired by Monet that we created our own Impressionist work, entitled "Still Life: Lilacs, Cheap Wine, and Microwave-Ready Mousaka in RV."

The weather has been beautiful, and we have overdosed on chateaux. We drove only eleven miles to a campground just ouside Cherveny and stayed two nights, where free wifi connections (the first ever), laundry and two bike rides to two chateaux kept us as busy as we wanted to be.

The first was the large Cherverny estate that had been lived in until about fifteen years ago. The most interesting part was the dog kennel with 75+ nearly identical looking, well trained hunting dogs waiting to be fed. The second, at Troussay, was a small family chateau that has been sold only twice since it was built in the 1400’s and still has someone living in the upstairs apartments. We have decided the smaller places are much more livable. The larger ones show only the grand restored rooms--not the kitchens or the servant quarters where the real work was done.  

Then it was off to Amboise and one final chateau (final for us, but not for the region--there are more than fifty in the Loire River valley).  In addition, though, this town boasts having been the home of Leonardo de Vinci for the last three years of his life. (He was invited by the French king, rather like an aging baseball star who plays out his final years with the Yankees at an inflated salary). He is said to be buried in the tiny Chapelle St-Hubert within the walls of the chateau with the best view of the city and river valley.

His home, up a narrow steep road from the chateau, is a tourist attraction, made even more special by the creation (thanks to IBM) of working models of machinery that he had drawn but never actually fabricated.  It is one fabulous physics and engineering lesson, and the groups of school kids loved it, especially the war tank. We walked through his home: kitchen, studio, even the bedrom where he died in 1519 - 490 years ago. Much of it is still the original. It was very well done. The house is surrounded by large gardens and ponds, and some of the larger “machine” displays were incorporated into the environment there. 

The Chateaux Royal d’Amboise is quite imposing from the river side, but not nearly as ornate as some of the others. Besides the little chapel, it has a unique circular ramp, housed within a turret, wide enough to bring carriages and horses to the upper levels. And one of the huge fireplaces actually had a burning fire in it.  We stayed in a campground on an island in the midde of the River Loire, and at night we walked back into the city for an excellent four-course dinner (that’s at least two, sometimes three, more courses than we’re used to). We both had the duck.

We are glad to be here in “low” season. The campgrounds are not crowded, and we do not have to stand in line for anything. The one time I did call ahead to make a reservation I was told, “Oh, just come.” We haven’t bothered calling since. Because we have had our fill of chateaux, we headed south on Friday and put 168 miles on Rover, going to Aubusson, a little town noted for its tapestry museum and workshops. (It was an easy trip: no pedestrians clipped by our mirrors going through narrow village streets, only one 'U-turn: we're going the wrong way,' and two complete circuits of traffic circles while we tried to read the road signs). 

We were the only ones in the municipal campground at Aubusson when we arrived but have been joined by two others.  And it has started to rain. And the stream that runs through the campground has a flash flood warning sign. And the Twins have lost two to the Red Sox.

On the other hand, yesterday we paid only $5.94/gallon for gas.

We spent two days in Bordeaux (yes, wine with dinner), where we encountered our first full campground. It is the only campground near the city and it is tiny--only 30 sites, some of them looking fairly permanent. But the owner allowed us to park on the paved path, which was the easiest place for us, and we stayed for two nights. We had more rain as we took the bus and the tram into the city that first afternoon and evening. We were not impressed. Bordeaux looked pretty run down and dirty even after five days of rain. It took us a long time to find a restaurant that looked inviting, and we aren’t terribly fussy. We really didn’t  have the chance to see much more of the city as our second day, May 1,  is THE major Labor Day holiday, when everything is closed except a few restaurants. So we did a little laundry and rode our bikes and caught up with our internet at McDonalds. The only other people working were flower sellers on every other corner. It is apparently tradition to give tiny bouquets of Lily of the Valley to each other on May Day. We must have passed a couple of dozen people selling these on the street corners. And at suppertime the owner’s son came around selling pots of creme brulee just in time for dessert.

Since we were close, we decided to see the ocean again and drove to Arcachon.  We were trapped in a traffic jam for quite some time and worried that the campgrounds might be full on this holiday weekend. But that proved not to be a problem. The campsite is probably less than a quarter mile from the ocean but there is a huge sand dune between the ocean and us. It is the strangest thing--a huge wall of sand almost 400 (!) feet high, two miles long . . . and apparently it is relentlessly moving east.

Dune from the campground side                                            Dune from the ocean side

Steps have been placed on it, but the top forty feet or so are covered with blown sand. We made our way to the top, although it was quite an effort, especially those last forty feet climbing through that wonderfully soft sliding sand. But we did it and the view from the top was a great reward.

Dune steps . . .                                                                   . . . But they end well before the top.

Arcachon is a natural harbor, and we could see across and over sand bars and oyster beds out to the ocean. We didn’t go down to the ocean as it was a long way down and there were no steps to help us back to the top. Going down proved a whole lot easier: step,slide, step, slide. On Sunday (when everything is closed) we rode our bikes to the end of the dune for another view. It really is an odd sight. It keeps catching our eye when we are outside. Several times one of us has simply said to the other,”There is a big wall of sand over there” (we are nothing if not observant). It doesn’t quite fit in with our view of reality.

There were hurricane force winds here in January, and the campground owner is still traumatized by it. A lot of damage was done to trees and cabins here, and he has pictures of it running on his computer in office. We also saw lots of damage to the forest on the way over here from Bordeaux. The land went from being very hilly to being as flat as Kansas. We are in a forest basin.

NEWS FLASH: after six days of rain, the last two days we have spent by the dune have been bright and sunny and breezy!, so we managed to get some laundry done. The little laundry and mini spin dryer we brought with us have worked out well, except we use the campground laundry to really rinse things well. The spin dryer is worth its weight in gold. Then we hang it on a clothesline to dry like everyone else in spite of the rules against it. To use the washer and dryer here for one load would cost €8 (about  $10.80).

David successfully replaced the thermostat on the water heater, so our hot water now actually deserves the name. We do use the campground showers--our nightly outing--to save on water and waste tank space, because not all campgrounds have a waste dump that we can use. The showers are usually hot, and we have almost always found them to be very clean and well kept. But we usually do have to keep pushing a button every twenty seconds or so to keep the water flowing. Recycling and saving water are very big themes everywhere we go.

Tonight we’re having burgers on croissants because the French apparently don’t believe in making hamburger buns, in spite of the obvious popularity of McDonalds.

Toulouse is called the “pink city” because many of its old city center buildings are made of brick that has a distinct pinky coral color. Thanks also to the wrought iron decorative railings and the tile roofs on many of the buildings, it is a beautiful city. We toured its old cathedral and a museum housed in an equally old monastery (the building was more interesting than much of the sculpture, art and artifacts inside). The sky was trying hard to rain, but it wasn’t so bad that we couldn’t stop at an outdoor restaurant and have crepes for lunch (under a big awning.) Afterwards, there was an unusual collectors toy and book market in the city square, where people were lined up to get in. We didn’t see anything special in any of it.  On the other side of the large ornate government building on the square is the Wilson Place, a lovely little garden park in the middle of a traffic circle. We are still trying to figure out who “President Thomas Wilson” was--that was the name on every plaque in the area.

After two nights in Toulouse we drove to Albi, a town we’d never heard of--we were relying on the guide book’s high recommendation. We found a campground close to the city center and--we could hardly believe it--right next to not one but two grocery stores, despite its quiet, green park-like setting. It was about a half hour walk to the center of Albi, which turned out to be a great delight: large clean open plazas with fountains and lots of people.  And the sunshine probably helped, too.

Of the places we’d known nothing about before seeing them, the cathedral at Albi has been the most impressive so far. The Lonely Planet guide does a great job of introducing it: in the south of medieval France, a group called the Cathars believed some heretical things (the Albigensian heresies); one of these--their big mistake--was a rejection of worldly Rome; the Pope took offense and preached a Crusade against them; so between 1208 and 1321 thousands of them were killed by the armies of princes from northern France, who were happy to expand their influence southward with the Church’s blessing; and in the newly conquered territories the invaders erected huge new churches “to impress and subdue.” 

One of these was the Cathedral Ste-Cecile at Albi, and its exterior certainly does make a threatening statement.

                                    Lonely Planet: “Its sheer mass rises over town like some Tolkienesque dark lord’s tower.”

But that effect is only half the story: when you step inside, the contrast with the sinister exterior is amazing. In the early 1500s a whole troupe of Italian Renaissance artists had descended on the place, not leaving until they had painted the entire interior, one chapel after another . . . and, of course, the ceiling, too.

And if that’s not enough, Ste. Cecilia herself looks like a Pre-Raphaelite maiden:

Walking back to the city square in Albi, we stopped at a sports bar to watch the end of the first stage of the Giro d'Italia, the three-week bike race around Italy. We were told, with some heat, that no bar in town would tune in to such a thing on a day when Toulouse was playing an important Rugby League match (not soccer, mind you: rugby).

On Sunday we drove to Carcassonne and spent the afternoon doing laundry and hoping it wouldn’t rain. The drive had been a little scary because of very strong winds, but this time the red roads on the maps turned out to be very good ones, which helped somewhat.

The campground in Carcassonne is a short walk from the walled medieval city.  At night the walls are illuminated, and we can see them from Rover. It looks like a fairy tale setting. In the morning we made an easy walk along a pretty little creek to the city. The old fortress which was originally the city is completely surrounded by walls and turreted towers, with access through only three gates. One of them even has a drawbridge. But when we finally got to the front gate, the first thing we saw was a car coming out the drawbridge entrance!

A new city has grown up around the old walled one, which has become totally a tourist trap--but a very lovely one. Its beginnings date back to the 12th century.  Much was added to the fortifications in the 16th and 17th centuries, and major restoration work was done in the mid 1800’s while retaining the 17th century style.  We toured the castle and walked every street. Every second building is a cafe or restaurant, and the ones between them are souvenir shops. But it was all still quite charming, even in the wind, which has remained strong. 

It’s interesting that although we have been in many incredible places of worship, and quite a few simple ones, too, we have been unable to go to a church service. Like good ecumenical Lutherans, we’d not even insist that it be a Protestant service, but no dice. In fact, we didn’t even see a Protestant church until we’d arrived in Toulouse, but even that one didn’t list a worship schedule. In fact, only the big cathedrals have had a schedule that is regular: the small ones we’ve been near haven’t had services while we are around.

This campground in Carcassonne has free unlimited internet access so we were finally able to update this blog. Every McDonalds in France seems to have free WiFi, and we rely on them for our everyday email, baseball scores and news, but half the time the connection in the restaurant won’t let us publish our blog. And since we do not carry the computer with us all the time, we sometimes have a hard time finding a place that will let us upload.

In this campground we met a man from Denmark who spent six months riding his motorcycle around 28 US states.  He got there by riding it across Russia, Siberia, and Mongolia before shipping it from Korea to British Columbia. Then he rode up to Alaska before coming back down to the rest of the US. Right now he is walking through France with a tent on his back. And people think we are adventurous! 

When we left for Arenzano, Italy, we had no idea what a spectacular ride was awaiting us. To understand this you need to know that  the French Riviera, while it has beautiful beaches that go on for miles and miles, is flat and backed by foothills.  In Italy, however, the mountains come right down to the sea. When we disappeared into our first tunnel on the motorway we were not prepared for what we saw upon our exit. It was one of those “Wow” moments. We exited the tunnel onto a very high bridge over a valley between two mountains. On our right we could see a city or town along the sea and on our left we could see small villages scattered on the mountainsides. We went through 65(!) tunnels that ended in bridges over valleys, each one offering a variety of incredible views of towns and the sea by the time we reached Arenzano. I have to say this was the most beautiful ride I have ever taken. I took many pictures--all of which have a piece of guard rail (for which we were very grateful) in them. But after a while I just gave up and enjoyed the views.

(Note from David: for the driver’s rather different perspective on all this, see the introduction to the pictures for this entry.)

We drove straight to the campground in Arenzano and got the last spot big enough for Rover, and even then our (or her) back end hung into the next site. This is a very old, well worn place with mostly permanent trailers that are here all year long. It is between a busy road and a railroad line--right on the beach. And the motorway is about 200 yards across the street and 200 feet above us. We have what they say is 3 amp service, but we tripped one circuit breaker just trying to run the refrigerator so we put that on LP gas and are using the electricity just for lights and the water pump. Fortunately we do not need the air conditioning. It has been  a bright sunny 80 during the day and cools off nicely at night. And the bike race goes right past the campground. 

Arenzano is a newer town. The main walking plaza on the beach is named after John F Kennedy, the finish for the race is at the Place Etati Uniti (US), and many of the buildings look relatively new. On Tuesday we walked into town (an easy 20 minute walk along the sea--and through one tunnel--to watch the preparations for the race and discovered there were practically none. There were only signs that said that all the toilets in bars and restaurants would be available to the public on Wednesday, the race day (always good information to have). On Wednesday we walked into town again to find it transformed by the Giro set up team. There were banners, barricades and roads closed everywhere, accompanied by every available policeman and woman and lots of other official looking people. We walked all over and discovered that no one had claimed the prime spot at the finish line. We hadn’t intended to do this, but we decided we’d just be sitting somewhere else for five hours, so we claimed our spot. There was No One closer to the Stage 11 finish line than we were! 

There was an older Italian man who thought it was great that an American couple cared enough to wait near him. He called David “Armstrong” because David was wearing his “Lance” t-shirt. “Hey, Armstrong, (Italian) blah blah blah.”  This was translated by another young couple: ”Do you like Italians?” Now how are you going to answer that in Italy! And ”Hey, Armstrong, (Italian) blah blah blah” (“Do you like bike racing?”)  “Si, I like bike racing,” so he shook David’s hand. It was great fun. It was fairly easy to claim our four square feet for the first three hours, reading the paper and eating our lunch. But it got a little crowded and pushy later. We waited in the hot sun and occasional blessed shade from the finish line banner for five hours. The race is preceded by a sponsor’s parade where the sponsors throw worthless junk like hats, balloons and keychains to the crowd. At the finish line there is a real effort to get everyone wearing a sponsor’s hat or holding something for the tv cameras. Twice someone put a hat over my Twins hat, but I just passed it back to the eager crown behind us. In a “gruppo compacto” sprinter’s finish like this one, the actual race goes by in about 5 seconds. Then there were a few stragglers, after which the workers start to pick it all up and move it on to the next stage site. It is quite an operation and quite an unusual way to spend a day.  And it attracts thousands.

We had considered moving further into Italy to go to the Cinque Terra until we learned that that was the site of the next day’s race. We definitely didn’t want to drive into that mayhem along with everyone else. But because it was going to be a time trial, we decided to stay put for one more day and watch it on tv in the campground restaurant. We are getting pretty good at lounging around on the coast (and spending a minimal amount of money).

This is the 65th anniversary of D-Day. Many of the French cities we’ve visited have had a street called “(Day) (Month) 1944” or “1945,” subtitled “Day of Liberation of (that city).” These streets and squares, as well as the omnipresent War Memorials on village greens and in churches, are a constant reminder of the place that warfare holds in this country's official memory.

We have been heading vaguely north and east in the general direction of Switzerland and Germany. We spent two nights in Beaune in a campground right outside the old city walls. It was such a tight site that we had to pull into a neighbor’s pitch to back into ours. Most of the sites themselves were plenty big, but all were surrounded by high hedges, and it was a real effort to get Rover situated. For some reason three-quarters of the people there were from The Netherlands and almost all of them have trailers. One of the Dutch couples we’d talked with had told us there is  very high tax on motorhomes, so most of them pull little camping trailers.

In Beaune we visited a hospital museum with a ward and kitchens as they were 300 years ago. The donors had spared no expense, and it is a beautiful building. 

We also went on a wine tasting tour (15 different wines!) in the catacombs of an ancient church (dust, cobwebs, shelves of aging wine) that is now used as a winery sales room. This is the Cote D’Or region of France--Grand Cru country--which as far as we can tell means “really expensive bottles of wine.” The next day we drove past one chateau after another, each one home to a different vineyard, on our way to Dijon.

We love to find campgrounds that give us easy access to the big cities. The one is Dijon was easy to get to and right by a river walk and park. The bus that stopped out front every ten minutes brought us into the city center in just a few minutes. It couldn’t have been easier. Dijon is yet another lovely old city with its own Notre Dame church, this one with a facade containing three rows of leering gargoyles. A free minibus circles the main squares and attractions so it was very easy to navigate. We ate lunch at one of the many outdoor cafes. Lunches are cheaper than dinners, but they can still be huge. We often choose to eat lunch instead of dinner at a restaurant when we are in a city all day: for one thing, it gives us a place to sit down; for another, we are often too tired at the end of the day to go out to dinner. It doesn’t help that most restaurants don’t open to serve dinner until after 7 PM.

Our next stop was Salins les Bains, known for its hot baths and salt mines. Unfortunately we had to settle for the cold pool at the campground because it is necessary to make an appointment at the baths weeks in advance. Many are used as medical treatments paid by the national health system. So we took long walks through the town, including a steep climb up to the little church above the village. There were also forts on top of two very high rocky hills on both sides of the town, but the only way to get to them is by walking paths, so we avoided both. It was hard enough just to get up to the church.

We have had very little trouble getting in to interesting sights on this trip, but the next day made up for it. We had driven a short distance through rolling farmland and forests to Besancon, where the manager of the campground let us in but said he wouldn’t be back to check us in until 3 PM. Since it was 11 in the morning, we decided to site Rover and find our own way into town because there was supposed to be a bus. Sure enough, the bus stop was nearby, but the bus came only once an hour. So we started to walk towards town, hoping to find another choice. We walked almost entirely uphill for a couple of miles before we saw another bus stop; finally we made it into town . . . just in time for everything to be closed during the crazy two-hour lunch break everyone takes. We decided to head for the major tourist attraction in the city--the Citadel--which, of course, is high on a hill overlooking the city. It was quite a climb, first along city streets and then up steps and paths. When we finally paid our €s for admission to the citadel and went through the gates, we discovered that we still had another quarter mile to climb inside the walls. It is a huge place and a great view from the top, which we would have enjoyed more if we hadn’t been so hot, tired, sweaty and thirsty. So the first thing we did was to have lunch; then we visited three little museums distributed randomly among the buildings in the citadel, as well as a very powerful French Resistance and Deportation museum. Then, of course, we got to walk all the way back down to the city again. Back on level ground, we figured out that the bus that serviced the campground didn’t come all the way into the city: instead we had to take another bus--standing room only--to a transfer point. Sometimes we think we spend a good part of each day trying to figure out how to get into and out of places either with Rover or on buses and trams. All in all, it was an uphill day in more ways than one: we enjoyed our last visit to Besancon more--that had been in 2004, when we watched Lance Armstrong win the time trial in the Tour de France.   

We have spent some time making a couple of repairs. One of the sofas had come loose from the floor, so we needed some hardware to fix it. That took a trip to the French equivalent of Menards--there are a number of options, called Brico Depot, Mr Brico, or Brico Mart--this one leading to yet another parking lot adventure. And Susan spent  a pleasant (insert some “pardon my French” here) afternoon temporarily fixing a broken window shade cord (many Born Free owners will understand the reference). And today it has been rainy, followed by wind, sun and more rain. Rover’s right side got really wet, so after the rain finished we went out and wiped her down and tried to wash the rest as well. Campgrounds never seem to allow campers to wash their vehicles, so it is really hard to keep Rover looking clean. We cannot complain about the rain: it is the first we have had in three weeks. What we could complain about--but won't--is the fact that changes in the exchange rate mean we have been losing 10 cents on every € in the  last couple of weeks; what’s more, gas has become hard to find for less than € 1.30/liter ($5/gallon). 

Sometimes in this life we receive gifts that we don’t expect and can probably never repay. One such was the wonderful gift of hospitality we were given this past weekend. We had been been corresponding with a couple living in Germany who found our blog and are interested in doing what we are doing, but the other way around: in the US and possibly in a Born Free. They had invited us to stop by if we were ever in the neighborhood and offered irresistible extras: free unlimited use of their American-sized washer and dryer and the internet. Once we had decided to visit we also asked if they knew of a mechanic who could handle something Rover’s size. Skip, a retired US Air Force pilot, responded to the challenge and not only found a master mechanic but also purchased the oil filter and the brake fluid we might need.

So on Saturday Skip and his wife Marianne welcomed us into their home with genuine hospitality, took us to church on Sunday, fed us good German food, wine and beer, and talked travel, motorhomes, and lots of other things for hours. On Monday Rover had her oil changed and brakes checked and, because of a very heavy rain, even got a little bit of a bath. She cleared the mechanic’s garage door with a good 4 inches to spare. 

While she was being serviced, Skip gave us a quick tour of the countryside on single lane back roads and hills we would never have attempted with Rover. One village had a 25% grade on part of the street through the town. (When we say “quick” tour, think AF pilot, narrow winding roads, and nimble car.) By the time we left on Tuesday after one more cup of good strong German coffee we were old friends. We have been invited back whenever we come through again and we hope to be able to return the favor in Minnesota some day. We are blessed.

We drove back into France to camp by the River Moselle in Metz, another city with a municipal campground just a few blocks from everything. Metz’s cathedral may have a higher ratio of glass-to-stone than anything else we’ve seen, and the windows, including some by modern artists like Marc Chagall, are spectacular.

We find it interesting that when things like windows and altars need to be replaced in these 800-year-old buildings, the new ones don’t try to look “period.” Metz is also home to a new art center, Centre Pompidou-Metz: it’s in the same spirit as the one in Paris, but even more outrageous. However, we were disappointed to discover that its opening is years behind schedule. Because of the campground’s great location, we hope to return to Metz when the art center has opened: perhaps it will be ready in 2010, although clearly it has quite a ways to go. 

Metz’s campground did have two shortcomings, however: to get water flowing in the shower you have to keep pushing a button, and we were unable to take on any fresh water because none of the fittings would work with our hose. This is the first time this has happened in our nearly five months of touring in Europe.  So today we purchased four different hose adaptors to ensure that won’t happen again.  

We looked at the map and wanted to head downstream to Nancy, but there is no urban campground there, so instead we decided to stay another night in Metz and took a train to Nancy for the day. We had to wait longer for the train than it took to get there (about 35 minutes). Then we walked all over and took a mini train tour when we got tired of walking. Nancy’s claim to fame is its huge central square surrounded by seven very similar ornate stone 18th-century public buildings with six black and golden gates and one Arc de Triumph leading into (or out of) the square.

It is named after Stanislas, the beneficent leader who is responsible for nearly everything of value in the city, from hospitals, university, parks and old folks homes to schools and libraries. It is a beautiful, totally over the top space. Then we took the train back to Metz and a bus to the market near the campground.

Our next bit of sightseeing will take on a different form because we are now in Verdun (where our water hose fit without any attachments). This is the location of one of the longest and deadliest battles in WWI. The four-hour tour we are taking tomorrow will be in French, so we picked up some reading material. We have homework to do tonight. We don’t expect it will be pleasant.

On our way back to Amsterdam we stopped for two nights in Ghent, Belgium. The campground is part of a huge sporting complex, with playing fields, a stadium, and parks, and would have been easy to get to if the signs had been less ambiguous. But instead we took a little side trip through the busy city streets. When we arrived, we found that the park was in the middle of a two-day soccer tournament. We were warned it could be noisy well into the night and it was, even through we were in a separate site for motorhomes.

Ghent was a very nice surprise. The bus picked us up right at the campground and we got off on the bridge from which, according to all the guide books, you have the best view of the old city (they were right). The bridge overlooked a busy riverside where a crowd was listening to a string quartet playing from a small boat. Later we joined them and listened to selections played on a grand piano, also on a small boat. Both the summer sales and the beautiful weather had brought out lots of people. There is quite a bit to see in Ghent and we decided to save some of it for another trip, as we can easily pass through this way again. 

We wanted to visit Brussels but had read that it is not motorhome friendly--there is no campground nearby with easy access to the city and no dedicated motorhome parking--so we investigated taking a train. They run every half hour and cost only $25 for two day-return tickets. So on Sunday morning we got up early and took the bus to the train station, waited about 10 minutes and took the train to Brussels, about a 30-minute trip. The old part of Brussels is totally charming and just as bustling as so many of the other cities we’ve visited. We ate in the old city square, walked all over and took a bus tour that got us out into the European Union section and away from the city center. We shopped in a few lace and chocolate shops and then hopped on another train and returned to Ghent. The whole thing was much easier than moving Rover; best of all, the soccer players had gone home by then so we had a quiet night.

We hadn’t been happy with our batteries’ behavior, and David had located a battery dealer who sold our brand of sealed gel batteries, so on our way to Amsterdam we took a little detour to the city of Waalwijk in the Netherlands to talk to him. Our batteries have a history: they were brand new in 2007 when we lost our first motorhome in a flood. We salvaged them, and when we purchased the current Rover, we had them tested and recharged. They were still fully charged when we picked up Rover from five months of storage in April, but discovered that although they recharge adequately, they also lose their charge very quickly. As a result, we have been limiting ourselves to places where we could plug in almost every night. Sure enough, the initial tests of the dealer in Waalwijk were not favorable, so we decided to leave the battries with him for more complete attempts at regeneration. If these work, we will pick up the batteries next year; if they need to be replaced, we will purchase new ones from the dealer then.

So we drove off to Amsterdam without batteries, thinking we would be okay there because we could plug in. (The more electrically literate among you will sense where this is going.) But without batteries there is no source of 12-volt power: true, the charger/converter goes 110-to-12, but only to the batteries, not to the 12-volt loads like the water pump. We had not realized this. And even the refrigerator, which uses propane or 110-volt power, needs 12-volt DC for its control panel and propane ignition. We were prepared to do without some things, but we wanted to have refrigeration and  needed to have the water pump in order to winterize Rover for storage, and neither would work without the batteries. So we ended up driving out of the campground in Amsterdam to an auto supply store, where we purchased a single 12-volt battery for the three nights we were in Amsterdam.

But once again, it wasn’t that simple. We placed the battery in the tray right at the store and immediately saw that the cable leads would not fit the battery’s larger diameter posts. So we had to buy adaptors to reduce their size. What’s more, when we got back to the campground and tried to hook up the battery, we found we had only two posts (of course) instead of four to accommodate the seven or eight leads dangling like giant strands of spaghetti in our battery compartment.  And when David managed to get everything attached, he could not push the tray back in without everything coming undone. So for the last three nights we simply left the battery tray sticking out. Eventually everything worked out, but at no little expense and trouble.

While in Amsterdam, we spent the better part of a morning trying to find a pack-and-ship kind of shop because one of our window shades had come unstrung and Susan had hoped to ship both of them back to the manufacturer for restringing. We were referred to the post office but discovered they will not ship anything over 39” in length. So we gave up on that idea and, even though we were trying to avoid it, will have to restring them ourselves when we return next year. We spent much of the rest of the sunny day taking a canal tour in the city. The next day we cleaned Rover inside and out, packed for storage and packed for home. It was a good thing we accomplished so much because we found out later in the day that the airline had moved our flight time up and we had very little time available to complete our winterizing the next day.

Rover is now in storage awaiting our return next year. It has been an amazing three months and we feel truly blessed to have been able to experience it all safely and in good health. We promise one more blog entry after we have returned home and totalled our mileage and various categories of expenses.

We are delighted that several of our readers have expressed interest in doing what we are doing: we had hoped that this blog would have that effect. We understand the economy is having an effect on the shipping rates. Now may just be the time to go for it.  We’d love to see you in a campground next year.