48 hrs.

There are no informative pictures of Thursday night. We were kind of pressed for time. OK here's an example.

Yeah, what is that. Here's what things looked like if I turned my head to the right: 

Mmm, yeahh slightly more revealing. But mostly we just forgot pictures because we'd been traveling at top speed to get here, this charming little biergarten/terrace called Das Sonntag. Why was time a factor? Wellllll the day before, Nelson had made an 9:00pm dinner reservation. The next day, I left Amsterdam on a 3:01pm train to Groningen, she picked me up at the train station in the Black Fox (Nelson's car) and we somehow arrived at Das Sonntag in Worpswede at 8:58pm.

OK, OK, we also stopped to check in at the campground and set up the tent, and then got lost for the first of many many many many times this weekend. But still. It felt like a triumph. Anyway, we arrived at Sonntag not only right on time but also stupidly hungry, which we kind of seemed to do everywhere this weekend, so we had a couple of flammkuchen that were ultimately unphotographable in the available light, but they certainly did the job with/to/for our available stomach space.

I get the feeling that sometimes it sounds like I don't speak English.

And then we just "people watched" or whatever you call that, while nursing a couple of Beck's (the local beer, brewed in Bremen, never thought of Beck's as being anyone's local beer, but yeah it is, in the same way Heineken is Amsterdam's local beer), and struggling with terrifically spotty Wifi.

Then the next morning you could really kind of see what the campgrounds looked like:

Oh but right, I have to talk about coming home after curfew and Germans and rules. And forgetting your passport. And not sleeping due to power snoring from neighboring tents. Soon, rabbit, soon.

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