Enough about Germany. This past August, I squished into a station wagon with a couple of friends and a whole lotta snacks 'n' surfboards, and braced myself for around 2500 km of itinerary-less adventuring. The itinerary-less part proved to be key even before we'd left Hamburg, as our tentative goal to make it to the far side of Belgium looked more and more laughable as our tentative time of departure kept getting pushed back. (I guess we should have tentatively planned for that as well.) Once we'd finally made it out of the city, we drove 'til dusk and found ourselves a suitable field in which to tentatively set up our tent. There was a house nearby and we went a-klopfing on the door to ask permission to borrow a little field space. The Chubby Young Lad eyed us suspiciously and called to Farmer Uncle across the house with our query. Farmer Uncle's voice wafted back amidst the smell and sizzling of frying flesh, granting us the right to lay down our weary selves as long as we didn't set the fields on fire. As we were turning to leave, the Chubby Young Lad said suddenly, "So, y'all are university students, huh?" (Only the German equivalent). We conceeded and inquired as to what would make him think such a thing, to which he replied knowingly, "Yeh look like 'em." Okay. Just goes to show that everything is an eccentricity to someone.
It had been a long time since I'd fallen asleep to the rhythmic bowing of the crickets. And thus commenceth the first of many nighttime Wildcampen adventures, and the first of many wild road trippin' posts.
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