Trip story with child

Trip story with child

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When we got up in the morning, there were very few people left from the crowd. At another point everyone was on the road to share memories with other cyclists, to give information about the road and to make short but lasting friendships. My father said that caravans and cyclists are the most helpful and most knowledge-sharing tourists in the world.

While my parents were gathering the tent, I managed to get permission to go to the ornamental pool next to me, which I had a look at yesterday evening. My mother immediately reserved my spare clothes against this predictable outcome. First I threw little pebbles into the pool from afar. I was so interested in the frogs carved from the colorful stones in the pool that I managed to wet my top while playing from one to the other.

A few of the cyclists apparently had a break day here. But since we weren't on the break, we had to leave now. We left the camp to take care of breakfast on the road. While me and my mom were playing a game of rolling on lush grass, even under tall trees, my father went to another town about 3 km away and found scrambled eggs for me and came back. Is he a magician?

Well, the clock's going to be too late, so I quickly put everything down. As we passed by a huge highway, my father, who immediately turned it into an opportunity, and who knows what apicopas (biscuits) he took, quickly played the jumping game. Even if the trucks were delayed by a few ten seconds, I continued to cheat and jump. But when I was tired of how much apicopa trucks, my father started to help me by holding my hands. I finally started laughing. Our game ended with laughing lying on his back on the grass.

We saw cow stables, one of the sources of famous Swiss chocolates. As it is told in the urban legends, ours was not surprised to see that the oxes were not played classical music in Switzerland. However the facilities were very modern and clean. Even when passing through a village engaged in animal husbandry, my mother was interested in the low odor.

My father, who didn't like the bike paths and signage system on the Swiss side, crossed the German side of the first bridge he found. With the fake sword he gave to my hand as we did when we were passing through such bridges, we extended our arms like raiders and went on the cavalry attack.

My dad messed up again. This has become one of the classics of our tour continues to drag us to interesting places. The GPS river is in the wrong place and even keeps showing us sometimes in the river. Hooray, we have a gps who likes 'bicky' like me. We passed a path just across the river where my trailer fit. We came back on a road with a lot of traffic to be afraid to break into. My father even went on an expedition on foot.

When I woke up from my sleep, I saw ours talking to someone. Thinking they were exchanging experiences with a cyclist again, uhh what? This brother has a trailer like me, but he doesn't have a bike to wear. So how does he take his huge trailer?
Saying that his name is Manuel, his brother walked out of Nuremberg and pulled his trailer behind.

I haven't been able to get rid of my sleepiness yet, but I can see that this brother is different with everything. Who knows what he's got on his trailer with a cap like the Indians, a long wedge attached to his trailer, the torches he attaches to both sides of the trailer, an old saucepan swinging from behind and making a clinging sound.

When he saw the trailer, he thought we were carrying a load. He didn't even notice me until I made my voice. When he saw that the burden was me, he screamed. He offered us some of the blackberries he picked up from the road, the biggest I've ever seen. So we gave him wafers. I would also visit to Turkey comes one day she said. His dog, called Bamboo, hugged my father's feet to give him wafers. At one point, my father had a light tooth on his wrists, so my father had to flee behind the wooden trailer.

The wooden carriage made a loud noise and the evening dress waved towards Basel and the airplanes were passing by. “Why are we on the bike again? Bisiklet my mother said. The only way to meet Manuel, to get enough positive energy and life lessons from him all over the world and to have a chance to look at the world from a different angle is to meet him here. It is a pity that none of those who have flown from above, by car, will have the opportunity to eat Manuel's berries.

As a result of a wrong description of the camp marked on our map, we reached a roundabout and exhausting road.
I was very interested in the entrance barrier at the gate of the campsite. I showed them the entry cards of the cars passing by for a long time and looked at the amazement at how the yellow door opened with strange noises. Our parents sat beside me because they were aware of the extraordinary interest that I would show to some things in accordance with my age, and we played the color of the next car.

After cooking eggs for tomorrow with our remaining camp tube, I fell asleep in my coveralls.

“Ipet Cina”

Tibetan plane tree.
15 JULY 2011

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