Camper van 02
For most of your life, you've experienced a fluctuation between extreme moods. Experts have established that some people have this tendency and it's even got a name, but we won’t label it. For me, the swing between a tsunami and calm waters is simply what is.
Your entire life, you find yourself oscillating between extremes. One moment, you're at the center of the circle, fully engaged with your surroundings, and the next, you're an outsider, observing from afar the warmth of the communal fire. In one instant, your fingers dance across a fret, and everyone sings along with you, lifting your spirits until happiness is almost too much to bear. Yet, in the blink of an eye, before the pendulum swings too high, you retreat into the silence of your room.
As hours pass, the memory of the excitement fades. Just before you wrap yourself in the remnants of smoky wood, you escape from your room, get into your car, and hit the open road. This linear movement of your body through space helps to stabilize the internal swing within you.
You return to your room, sit in front of a screen, seeking validation for your discoveries. You watch countless videos on YouTube and realize that to narrow the radius of your pendulum, all you need to do is fly to Germany, go to a used car lot, announce your arrival, select a Wohnmobile that meets your needs, pay for it, and drive. Simple, right? Well, it turns out, it’s not quite that easy.
To insure and register the vehicle in your name, you need a local address. And a local address can only be obtained through European citizenship or residency in a European country. There are a few ways to do that. You can go through all the bureaucracy of starting a non-commercial business and registering the vehicle under the company’s name, or you can get a fictitious rental agreement that requires payment to shady characters and, needless to say, is not entirely legal.
Once again, my pendulum swings wide.
However, I've learned to breathe into the space of uncertainty. With each breath, my energy flows calmer, my thoughts sharpen, and I remember the power of collective wisdom.
On Thursday, I post a a question regarding acquiring a camper van in Europe on a group page on Facebook, eager to see what responses I’ll receive. Comments begin to pour in followed by discussions and debates. Before long, an argument ensues—what’s permissible and what isn’t. No, the opposite is true! This way is allowed, that way is not! I read comments of self-proclaimed experts chastising other self-proclaimed know it alls for not understanding anything, and the back-and-forth escalates. Frustrated, I disconnect from the collective wisdom of this page and, in an automatic motion, sink into the depths of the southern pole.
The next day, Friday at 11:44 AM, my phone pings with a messenger notification. I check it and see an unfamiliar name with a message:
"Hello, contact me, I can help you in Germany."
I feel a jolt of panic. Why the private message? Why not a normal reply to the post? Who is this person? Is this a scam? I stare at the message for several long minutes, my body tense with hysteria and my mind in a frenzy. But then I remember to breathe and let the fear wash through me.
"Later," I manage to reply and continue with my day.
On Saturday at 7:54 AM, another ping from messenger interrupts my morning.
"Good morning, Shabbat Shalom."
What a nuisance! Seriously? it’s Saturday morning!
I roll back into bed and carry on sleeping.
By 10:58 AM on Saturday, I tell myself that perhaps my late father is watching over me and that maybe I should give this what's his name from Germany a chance.
"Shabbat Shalom to you too, I'm all ears. How can you help?"
"Let's talk in Whats App," he replies.
In Whats App, I examine his profile picture—glasses, aged between 45 and 55, a nose that wouldn’t embarrass any Jew. He’s definitely not Apollo but in the little Whats App picture he seems to be sitting among five giant Barbie dolls made of Lego. Well, well…
Through our Whats App exchange, I discover that he has a sister living nearby in my village, and I can talk to her. She will tell me he has helped many people, including two who also happen to live not far from me. He gives me their phone numbers, and I reach out to them. They provide firsthand information about their experiences regarding the purchase of a camper van, and both give a glowing recommendation of this quirky guy who likes sitting among Barbie dolls.
We start having daily conversations. He asks me to describe my dream vehicle and inquires about my budget. After I describe my desired van, he sends pictures of various models in different sizes and prices, and slowly, my dream takes shape. "I’m going to get it for you," he writes in Whats App. "Get what? And how much will it cost me?" I ask, but he doesn’t respond.
A day passes, then two. On the third day, I receive photos of the coveted vehicle. My heart races, and my body dances with excitement. The pendulum's swing stabilizes, settling into a calm movement. He sends a series of videos showcasing solar panels, storage drawers, voltmeters—showing how much electricity comes in and how much goes out. I watch the videos and feel quite overwhelmed.
Then comes a live demonstration. "See? This is the hot water. You can heat it up with battery power or gas. Got it? You have a shower here in the sink. No, you don’t shower in the sink; you pull this shower-head out and take a hot shower outside through the side door. See?” He pulls the shower-head and turns on the water. “Oh, and there’s also a shower in the back…” The camera pans to the rear of the vehicle as he demonstrates again. “And here’s the gas tank, and this is the battery that powers everything inside the vehicle… Let me show you… This is for the fridge, for heating the water, for the lights, and for the fan. You have a stove here. Look at that! There’s even a fan above the hobs. It’s like a five-star hotel…”
“I want it! I want it!” I exclaim to the amusing man who isn’t shy about anything. “And what about insurance? What address will we register the car to?” I ask. “What are you worrying about?” he replies. “We’ll take care of everything!”
And that’s how it happened. Jacob, one more angel with a big heart—the one who went with me to the bank and helped me choose the right bedding and pillows—bought me a fantastic camper van, and it’s registered in his name. I bought the vehicle from him, but the transaction is based on a private agreement between us. So, from the authorities’ perspective, the van is his, the insurance covers all drivers, and I’m just an additional driver. However, between us, there’s a written and signed contract stating that I am allowed to drive the car wherever my heart desires, and any tickets or fines or repairs, if they occur, will be paid by me. And that was that.
On May 28, 2023, I left the little bunnies in Erlangen, picked up my camper van in Mainz, and the journey began.
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