24 May Bains les Bains
Still in Sanchey we booked an apartment for Bains les Bains, since campsites are a big scarce commodity here. To shorten the way a bit, we went again off the voie bleue cross-country. If you walk off the Mosel from time to time, you also get to know which region you are walking through. In our case it was the Vosges, which explained the constant up and down. The landscapes were very beautiful, strongly reminiscent of the Eifel. Only the localities differed. These reminded me more of Brandenburg shortly after the fall of the Wall. Abandoned, decaying, every other house put up for sale, somehow depressively oppressive.
Don’t misunderstand, not all villages are like that, just many which were on our way. It is the old song, the young go to the city, and the old at some point can no longer manage or maintain their estates. Although I like this morbid dreariness, I am aware that behind every dilapidated house or house for sale there is a sad story. How interesting it would be if these houses could talk. It was 27 exhausting kilometers, but we mastered them as well. One kilometer before the finish we also passed an Intermarche, a supermarket. I shopped without thinking that we would have to carry all this in addition to our luggage, but we packed that too, stowing something here and something there, and at one point I had only a bag of fruit and eggs in addition. The appartmennt was thankfully on the ground floor and was quite large. Then I could simply hoist the packed trolleys up the three steps and cart them into the room. As always, shortly after we arrived, the room looked as if a storm had blown everything into disarray. The tent over the kitchen table to dry, the bags were cleared out hastily, because what you were looking for was hiding at the bottom, as always. In those moments, I can never imagine that we will leave a tidy room when we leave. But we do. Honestly, I swear!
The stay in Bains les Bains included a special day for us, our 8th wedding anniversary, which we naturally wanted to celebrate with a small feast in the restaurant. A day earlier, I set out on a sightseeing and restaurant-finding tour. Wow, what a little town. It was a kind of spa, because there was a thermal bath there. There were many restaurants and hotels. Unfortunately, the emphasis here is on “gave”. They were still there, but only as dilapidated witnesses of a glorious time. Similar to the villages around, only here the center was affected by the wall corrosion, the people in the outskirts cherished their houses and gardens. A pizzeria and a restaurant held out. However, the pizzeria was closed and the restaurant, according to the menu, had never heard of people who do not eat meat. Okay, granted, that seems to be the case throughout France. But my heart-all-love was pretty bedraggled about it, but quickly got herself together and we got some macaroni, parmesan, tomato sauce and cooked ourselves. So it still became a special day, because after all we spent it in France, where l’Amour is omnipresent.