I assume no one wants to hear my gushing about our van and bikes, but what they hey?
Yesterday was an enormous day. Wouldn't have thought it possible to cram so much in. We're in a big city with an intricate but very functional transport network. Throw in me with swollen blistered feet. So first excursion for the day is back into Marienplatz to search for shoes, cos basically, I couldn't walk. Now I can hobble, thanks to a new pair of Eccos. Planets - damn you - going in the next charity bin. (First world prob.)
Me: Oh my god, Al! Diabetic feet! They're killing me. What if I get gangrene? Ohhh! (Whines a bit.)
Al: You've got blisters! Okay. Everyone gets them. Enough.
Next, train and connecting bus out to Sulzemoos - 27 k out of Munich central - to get our motorhome. It was easier than last time, cos back in 2010 we didn't know whether we'd been scammed when we booked and paid for the van. This time, we knew that McRent, or whatever they're called, were there with our luxury home on wheels.
Al got straight back into manual mode and driving on the 'wrong' side of the road in an enormous truck. He had the sweat patches to prove it but have to concede, yet again, that the guy is a saint. Picture me on his right doing the full front seat driver's assistant. Edge!! Edge!! Watch the yellow line!! You're over the yellow line. Fuck, fuck fuck!! Okay, I'm going to try to shut up now, sorry, Al. Oh mein gott!! Edge, edge! Don't hit that woman!! Second gear, second gear!! (I could go on, and I did!)
Al successfully navigated back to this camping ground, one of the places where we first discovered the joys of campervanning back in 1985 in an orange combi van. Keep wondering how we managed back then with no communication home apart from the occasional expensive phone call and lots of airmail. Poste Restante kept us going during those six blissful months.
Having parked our van in the 'camping' we had to get back to Hackerbrucker on the other side of central Munich to collect our bikes. So, one bus trip and a couple of train changes on the Uber.
Now the fun bit: finding our way back, on bikes, to the camp. Not too bad, given the amazing cycle paths and drivers' regard for cyclists. Should have been a 6 k ride but we cycled on the wrong side of the river and overshot our turn off by a couple of k.
Suffice to say, by 10 last night I was gorged on cheese, seedy bread, olives, pate and chardy and feeling good.
There's something about sleeping in that little cubby hole bed.
Note to self: a shower token gives precisely 4 minutes of hot water. It doesn't dwindle out, it shuts off. I was covered in Palmolive Vibrant Colour Shampoo, having forgotten the soap. Not to worry. It rinses off quite briskly in freezing wasser. The sudden icy deluge seems to have reduced my ankle oedema. Perhaps I should have tried this earlier.