Cara-fan

While Peter and I were pushing the caravan the last meters towards the Croatian border last Friday, the owner of the very last bar before the border in Hungary came out, asking where we were going. Despite his bad German, it quickly became clear that he expected a friend to arrive by car – with a towing hook – within the next 30 minutes. This friend would likely be willing to give us a lift over the border.

So five minutes later we found ourselves as the only guests at the terrace of this remote bar. Sweat on our backs, mosquitos flying around us and a cool drink in front of us. An hour later the tow bar friend had not arrived. Two Bosnian truck drivers had. A Rachel Hazes lookalike waitress loudly served snacks to us and our new Bosnian friends. In the mean time the cafe owner kept himself busy installing a new satellite dish, in preparation of the world cup. The TV rapidly changed from a mix of white noise, black-and-white and color images, while he fumbled with the dish and wires.

After he was done we watched the exciting match between France and Uruguay (0-0), after which the tow bar friend had still not arrived. That night, at the cafe parking lot, surrounded by distant barking dogs, we could hardly get to sleep in the warm caravan. So instead of counting sheep, we discussed the advantages of camping in a caravan versus in a tent.

So before you know it, you slowly become a real cara-fan!