Post-trip debrief back in Melbourne

Arrived back in Melbourne last night.  Interesting that I've got a winter garden happening here, as opposed to all the greenery and flowers blooming in France and Germany.  However, the weather is quite similar to that on the day we left Munich on Friday.  Except it's not raining here.  The sun's up and it looks like my washing will mostly dry on the line.

Before I put our wonderful holiday to bed, I must mention that our final few days in Munich went well.

Despite my concerns re McRent, the rental company from which we hired our van, the handover was better than expected.  We'd felt ripped off in 2010 when we were forced to pay 100 euro for an alleged hair and smudge of 'shampoo' in the bathroom as I mentioned in my previous post

This time we had to return the van on the date planned between 9 and 10 am.  I'd awoken at about five.  Special combo of anxiety and the fact that it was light outside.  I'd started my cleaning frenzy by seven.  I was quite irrational but determined that the van would 'pass' the inspection.  Unfortunately, it started raining which made it particularly difficult to keep mud and footprints out of the van.  I covered the clean floor in towels and Chux cleaning cloths and we used these like stepping stones to avoid 'recontamination'.  

We were also concerned about being charged for a faulty latch on the rear door of the van.  When we'd returned our van in 2010 we were charged for a key that snapped off inside the lock.  Surely not our fault but rather the quality of the key?

As per instructions, we filled the tank with fuel then dropped it into the carwash prior to returning it.  McRent pays for this final exterior clean.

Upon our return to McRent, Sulzemoos - 27 kilometres from Munich - we were greeted by a delightful bloke.  He seemed impressed by our efforts.  He climbed a ladder to inspect the roof, lest we'd damaged it in some way.  We had been concerned about hail storm damage, but we were clear.  He surveyed the vehicle, muttering 'Gut, gut,' while I hovered around in my massive yellow Vietnam rain poncho.  In one hand I clutched a trigger bottle of all purpose cleaner; in the other a Chux cloth, ready to pounce had he suggested, like his female counterpart two years earlier, that the van was not clean.  Must have looked a tad insane.

Perhaps it was this insanity that led me to take close up shots of all the surfaces in the bathroom as proof of their gleaming condition. 

I needn't have been so concerned.  The fellow assured us that it wasn't our fault that the door latch had broken and that it was easily fixed.  We passed with flying colours, apart from the 302 euro that we had to pay for damage - our fault - to the table top in the van.  Otherwise, we got the rest of our 1200 euro deposit back.

The guy at McRent could not have been more obliging on our return, including driving us and our bags back into the village to catch our bus to Munich.

BTW we also did well selling back our bikes.  We'd originally paid 260 euro for two second hand bikes.  We sold them back for 120 euro.  We couldn't have rented bikes for eight weeks at that price.  Definitely the way to go if you're ever considering a similar trip.

So, props to McRent.

And props to us.  We drove 3000 kilometres and cycled 685k during our eight week holiday.

Au revoir, France...

It's our third night in Strasbourg, Alsace, and tomorrow we cross the Rhine and make our three and a half hour journey back to Munich.

I've forced myself upon several unsuspecting people in Strasbourg over the last couple of days in a bid to speak just a little more French before I return to Australia.  So the receptionist at this camping got it.  She's Venezuelan and speaks French with an odd accent but she's amazingly fluent.  She, like everyone else, complimented me on my accent, that even I have to admit is pretty damn good.  I keep crediting my French professors and teachers, and they've played their part.  The big thing is though that I have a musical ear, am a good mimic - can rip off just about any accent after a few minutes exposure - and I studied drama.  I'm a ham, and ham it up I will.  That all equals good accent.   Pity about the paucity of my other language skills, like being able to find the right word when under a bit of stress.  Sometimes it happens.

Back in 1985, when Al and I first came to France, we had an accident on our second day here.  Yes.  Some cross eyed long haired fool in a rickety old Citroen pulled out in front of our little orange combi unexpectedly as we were going up a mountain.  Al slammed on the brakes and the guy driving a minibus load of schoolgirls behind us slammed into the back of our van.  He immediately blamed us and seized upon the opportunity to escort us to the gendarmerie - the cops - to sort it out.

When we arrived at the police station, this young fellow started to explain that we'd caused an accident.  I understood this, unbeknown to the young guy.  In archaic sort of French I interrupted.  "Excusez-moi!" I said in a wobbly voice.  "En Australie, quand on frappe dans la derriere c'est votre faute!"  (In Australia, when you hit someone in the rear it's your fault.)  The young fellow quickly changed his tack and bowed his way back out of the cop shop.  He then made it his business to help us fix our van as best we could.

But back to today.  I've bought bread that we don't need just to have the interaction in the boulangerie; I've befriended the owner of a restaurant and told him our life story and how 'triste' - sad - I am to be returning home after seven weeks in France.  A couple of days ago a beautiful young waiter in a restaurant gave me an impromptu French lesson - I was trying to work out a conjugation.  That earned him a five euro tip.  He reminded me a lot of my son, Pete; such an obliging young man; polite.

Anyway, I really am triste to be leaving.  It's been an amazing holiday, and ride, literally, given it was a cycling holiday.

Think we're planning to be back here in two years for the fete du velo, the highlight of our time away.

Dare say I'll shed a few tears as we cross the Rhine tomorrow, but it's best to leave wanting more.

On Wednesday we have to face 'the inspection' by McRent, the company from which we rented our van.  Last time we were charged 100 euro because the delightful young frau who inspected the van - that I'd scrubbed on my hands and knees - pronounced - after inspection, 'Zis van is not clean. Zere is a hair and zere is shampoo.'  This time I'm ready for her and she will be challenged!

But that's Wednesday.  Prior to that we have to find our way from our camping in a suburb thirteen kilometres out of Munich back to the bike shop to get our refund.  Hope Sat Nav Jane's up for it.

So, til we meet again, la France.  Missing you already.