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Traveling With The Infidel
Some Reminiscences of the Road

Mañana Sol

So there we were, in Oropesa del Mar (just a little north of Valencia and right on the Mediterranean).  It was about 7:30 in the morning, and it was raining hard.  When we had checked in the night before, after a long search for a campground . . . first we drove around and around and around following signs for a campground that turned out to be closed when we finally found it, and then we spent some more time trying to figure out if there were other campgrounds and where they were (and it was getting dark and you know if you've been car camping that what you really want is to find a place, any place, and get the tents set up before dark) . . . but we had finally found a campground that was open, and as I was saying, when checked in we were attended to by a young lady, who was agreeably pretty and very pleasant and helpful who had said with great sincerity, "Mañana sol", and I had believed her (because she was sincere, because she was pretty and because I wanted to believe her) and I felt happy because there were some big, black clouds hovering above the Mediterranean, swirling and snarling and looking ominous.  And now, in the morning despite the lovely lady's sincerity and good looks, and a large dose of wishful thinking, it was pissing rain to beat the band, well not actually the band, when your in a tent it's actually just beating the drums.

When you're car camping in Europe (or anywhere else more than a day's drive from home) the two worst times for it to rain are when you're putting up or taking down the tents.  Other than these two times, if you've got a good tent rain is an aggravation and a mild to severe depressant depending on your personality and what you may have planned for the day, but it really doesn't have a lasting impact.  However, wet tent can have a lasting impact and it's pretty much unavoidable if it's raining during put up or take down.  It was mid-October, so rain wasn't completely unexpected.  In fact we had had rain off and on since we started this journey, but it had not yet rained during take down or put up time . . . well that's not exactly true because in Cahors, France it would have been raining during take down time, but we didn't find a campground and stayed in a hotel instead, and that had been kind of a bummer because that was the day the bombing of Afghanistan started, and there we were on vacation in France and nothing would change whether we had heard the news or not, except that we would have had a few more hours of blissful ignorance just enjoying the moment rather than worrying about things over which we had no control.  But instead, the rooms had TVs piping in CNN in French, so for awhile there I was, looking at the pictures and guessing about what the announcers were saying and getting ready to start fretting about things over which I had no control, until finally I decided to not worry about things I couldn't change, but to enjoy the vacation and the historical context in which it was being experienced . . . so I turned off the tube and went down to the bar.

But back to the rain . . . the rain presented a dilemma, and while we couldn't do anything about the rain, we could decide to stay and wait it out for who knew how long, or take down in the rain and get the hell out of Dodge.  I lay in my tent and pondered this awhile, listening hopefully for a let-up in the drumming, but finally all that listening to the rain forced me to brave the elements and make the walk down to the toilet safilities.  When I got back I had to get into the car for something or other, and the door slamming woke up Brother J-Bo, who was snug in his tent oblivious to the rain because of his ear plugs.  When he woke up the first thing he heard after the slamming door was the pounding of the rain, and without missing a beat he swore an oath, "Mañana sol".

Well, not knowing what the weather was like inland, but knowing that it probably couldn't be worse that what we were standing in we decided to take down and head for Toledo.  The campground had a sizeable laundry room, so we took off the rain flies and packed the tents to the laundry room and tried to mop them up a bit before packing them up and putting them back in the car.  Thirty or forty minutes later we were on the way out of the campground.  A quick pit stop at a little cafe we had found the night before in town (more about that later) for café con leche resulted in significant mood improvement, and within an hour of hitting the highway, we were back in the sunshine, climbing up onto the high plain of Spain where there didn't appear to be any rain. 

Just about noon time we pulled into a roadside gas station for fuel and food and a dry out break.  The sun was shining, a nice breeze was blowing and this brand new service station had carports that made perfect hangers for wet tents and towels.  A morning that had started out wet and depressing had turned into a glorious sunshiny day, just made for a drive through la Mancha de Quixote.

This story begins in the middle because it was this day, this transition of driving from storm to sunshine that provides the perfect metaphor for this trip, and in fact for most camping trips in Europe.  Camping isn't for everybody, but if you're adventurous, flexible by nature and steady of mood there is no better way to see Europe.  It's going to rain, and there's going to be sunshine, and it's going to rain again, so go with the flow and choose the times to run from the rain . . . hey, it's life's metaphor.

You're welcome to hitch a ride with us on this go around and come around journey, from Paris to Spain and back again to Paris.  There's plenty of sights yet to see and stories to tell and KarmaBum advice on putting together a car camping trip to Europe.

 Next -- Searching for Satori in Paris

© KarmaBum.com, November  2001