Dugger_Germany_Wordsmithing

Yo Kind Volks: Safely at home.

 

The weekend outing was a refreshing break from having a few people around, in our wee homeland. Immersing us in the bountiful masses of people on the frolic. The tag team, gay traffic in both directions, luxury campers spouting satellite T.V. antennas, cars weighted down with bikes not to mention the galaxy of bikers in blight, decorating the landscape. A pleasant look at a new Baltic area.

 

Since Heidi wanted to "break out" and test out the camping viability of "her" VW Tramper, I suggested a run to "Darss." I chose "Darss" because after ,what seems like too many polling English lessons concerning: "yur fav holiday place." One top fav was "Darss."

 

Actually, "Darss" is only one component of a peninsula that lies north of Rostock. Low lying ( everything is low lying here like underwear where the elastic as gone bad) but with incredibly very sandy beaches. No rocks and beachcombing is fairly meagre. No dead Whales rotting away, very tiny sea shells and sea-washed tiny rocks, some of interest.

 

For the uncircumcised the sand ekes under the foreskin. Much waving it about, in the clear Baltic to free the unwanted guests before the tiring walk back to the hopeful, jolly beer stand.

 

Interjection. In German a "peninsula" is called a "Halbinsel." Literally translated as a "half-island." Hence Spain is a, "Halbinsel."

 

The "Halbinsel," is composed of 3 areas. "Fishland, Darss and Zingst." To get there it is about a 3 hour howl from our place depending on the traffic jams. Friday we left late and arrived in the area at about 9 P.M. Getting dark as August wanes. Checked out a camping place that I rejected and drove back to a parking lot that I thought might do. "Love, Cheap and Free," are the words I adore.

 

In the dark missed some crucial signs. We made the bed and snuggled in.

 

At 6 A.M. awoken by a knock, knock on the Tramper door. It was a "Park Ranger!" In uniform! Not allowed to sleep in the parking lot. 20 Euro fine. But, the best thing was that it got us up.

 

I, working with our really old gas stove and wee water cooker made coffee and we gazed out upon the deserted parking lot. Something about an empty parking lot that desires one to comment.

 

I saw the machines in which one pays for this space. The signs, which in the dark warning of cause and effect, invisible, which I did not note, now clearly highlighted." No Camping Here." Two portable toilets adorned a corner next to the park info. A map kindly letting you know where you were at the moment. 2 other empty parked cars where, the Ranger guesses , people have slept on the beach. The Ranger informs us that this is also not allowed.

 

The parking lot is surrounded by quite an eclectic vegie mass. There is your birch, oak, vines and a myriad of underbrush doing back up strings.

 

There are birds. I thought I saw the Bird of Paradise. Quite dampish in the audience area if you viewed it as a hockey rink.

 

After my eclectic coffee, we did a walk through the forest heading to the beach. Quite a long walk but nice take on the surrounding vegetation. Typical Baltic. Great ferns.

 

Only at the early up at the 6 A.M. does one notices things like: the eager beavers. The mad biker. The insane jogger. Dog owners. And, two nude bathers that we noticed as we hit the beach. I picked them out right away.

 

The beach is very empty in the early morn. Heidi, If not know to all, is a water freak. Ancient frog genes me thinks. Must swim. Must, must swim.

 

The beach is a Greek ode to the god "Sand." Big time fine sand. Somewhere, in past times, as glaciers melted and grinded away and they really did a fine job of building up future human, fun times. Shrill kids and sand castles. Parents caught in a cork screw.

 

I remember that walking in the deep sand to the beach shore that I found it rather a chore. Wow, my memory is intact, it is quite a feat walking in sand. Laborious lifts of leg as we plowed our way to the Baltic shore. The abrasive between toe effect. Uncut toe nails full of ancient drift. I guess its fun for some.

 

Heidi can get pretty pouty and whining when close to water sources when I tend to slur such activities as bathing in search of the local historical museums that might engender new knowledge... which, in this case, somehow do not seem to exist. I gaze upon the flat calm Baltic noticing its lack of floating knowledge entrails. It is just water.

 

Heidi forgot her bathing togs. I said go nude. The 4 or so other people populating the beach this early morn seem to be preoccupied. Heidi does the plunge and I beach comb. As I said I didn't find my wale bones basically I was looking for large chunks of Amber. Picked up 3 tiny rocks for Heidi's Mum.

 

The "Amber" number is that this long coast line way up to Lithuania, Estonia et al was a "gold" mine for said product. Traded from this area long and far. Medieval time treasure. Still mined. Another story.

 

Heidi does the long swim. The satisfaction on her face will be long remembered. Now at peace after trudging back through the fine, as gold sand, we walk that firm forest path back to the Tramper.

 

We slowly head out from our "fined" camping place and join the holiday traffic flow. We are off to "Zingst." A camping place we know nothing about. Something on our poor, elderly map.

 

Actually, before that, we stop off a tourist shopping mall in the in between. Contains a gas station that it is bumper to bumper with in coming and out going. Plus a small mall like thing that tends to give a Canadian shine to it all.

 

In this Zeitgeist, I enjoy watching the multitudes herding their kids about trying to avoid unavoidable indulges.

 

Actually on the stop over Heidi bought me a pair of jeans for 30 euro...brand..."Tom Dooley's"...plus 3 T-shirts for 15 Euro. Must assume imported from the abused.

 

Ah, the new camping place. Long time ago camping was basically a un-fineable outing. Some Off. Some illicit. Pee unencumbered. This is a camping place that might called a 4 star. We secured a large space for the Tramper. Cost only 33.60 euro for our nightly stay.

 

There was some tenting space for the triers. We didn't deign to look.

 

Our spot, nicely located mind, was ad midst a plethora of every luscious mobile camper found on the current market. I can't say what was rented or owned, but, in any case, the fumes of good income fumed.

 

The facilities. Grand passions! Shitters, a plenty for early morn ejections. Fresh water. Two restaurants. Great store with all needs. Newspapers in German, on hand.

 

In the this grand setting we put the "Tramper" to its test.

 

Basically putting up the tent that clicks into its hind legs. I found it could have been larger especially when the table and two chairs are mounted and sitting with red wine glasses in hand. My red glass hand seemed to hang a little outdoors.

 

Other than that that, it needs more thought on nightly air flows. A bit stifling after the 4 hour sexual endurance race. Some sectors of the Tramper seem to implode causing claustrophobic feelings. More on the engineering.

 

After we set up it was back to the "new" beach. The "new" beach, just across the road, is also a sand number. Movies come to mind. "March OF The French Foreign Legion Through The Drifting Sahara Sands To Rescue The Omar Of Sand From The Wicked Berbers Of Yor."

 

Heidi bathed away while I couldn't find one interesting item from the ancient sands. As the day waxed on the beach filled. Nice weather. Now I was involved in the masses. If "full" is a useable word I would say the beach was "fucking full."

 

Of course, the beach runs forever. From here to the Polish border and, if you forget borders, all the way into Russia that Baltic beach flows.

 

Basically checked out people in passing. My take. Lots of fat. Paunches amongst males over 40 quite noticeable. I tried my best to suck it in. Some women beggar description. Okay, who wants to flagellate everyday?

 

I tried to note the number of sunglass wearers. The women who caught my fancy. Especially, where female bums explode through light, summer wear when it becomes acute as they labor through the Sahara. Love to give a hand.

 

Or, just watching the parents having a blast with their kids. Conflicts and resolutions.

 

We were located next to the dog beach. Really. So watched the dogs do their thing. Lots of dogs having fun, I thought.

 

After Heidi swum her swum back to the campsite. Training thighs across the sand again.

 

Camping place had two restaurants. We dined well. Drank that wine and drifted off.

 

Next day, I was up and at em. Coffee and hard boiled eggs. We realize we must get new outdoor camping equipment.

Heidi insists back to the beach. French Foreign Legion feeling again. Almost amongst the first where Heidi again swum her swum. I just stood in it. Not bad water temp. What Olympic am I training for?

 

A stop at a village on homeward leg titled as an early art commune aka 1896. Actually not much to be seen but it rained and we dined on shrimp and a sauce out of bananas and Hollandaise sauce.

 

Then off through the Sunday,rampaging traffic homeward. It rain hard in some areas. Especially, when Heidi insisted on a coffee break at an Autobahn stop. Automated Cappuccinos. That is when you really get see another roadside attraction.

 

The run back to the far away parked Tramper was wet.

 

Post Scrotum. Besides myself this was a real German trip. Not a foreigner in situ.

 

Felt odd, on the Mediterrean North not to see one who had not lost their color pigment.

 

Tomorrow. Heidi brings her class here for a short visit. Coffee, no pig, clean takes and all.

 

Luv.

Done