First Camper van Drive (segment no. 1): Erlangen - Freiburg im Breisgau (414 km)
Updated: Mar 7
Before I start the trip, I have two stories to tell. One relates to money and the other, surprisingly, to the soul. Regarding the money, like any good Jew, Jacob wanted cash. I said, "No problem," and turned to the local Deutsche Bank branch next to where we stood.
In my account, there is plenty of money just waiting to be withdrawn for the van, but in front of the German ATM, after I press all the necessary buttons, I receive a red refusal message. Jacob says we have no choice but to call my bank in Binyamina. Well, trying to get in touch with the bank and receive a coherent answer from a living human being in any human language is like going to the moon.
On my bank's nice website, I am told that I can contact the bank via the WhatsApp app. I write a detailed message about this and that, and a bot immediately replies with a series of options, none of which meet my request in any way or form. I go back to the website and see a special phone number for people who are abroad. A free number, you say to yourselves. A free number my ass! There is a click on the other side and an automated message: "for a loan please press one, for a mortgage please press two, for bla bla bla please press three..." you get the picture. Meanwhile I can almost hear my all Euro coins going to some communication mega company and I stop the call. So, I am forced to write an email and then I wait two days for a response. The reply is written in bankers language that I do not understand at all.
Jacob says, "What’s the problem? Just go from branch to branch, use all your credit cards, and in two days you'll bring me all the cash." I am stressed because in a week and a day I need to be in Spain (!), so I say, "Okay!" and spend two long days running from one bank to another while using all three of my credit cards, which ultimately yield only an amount that covers about an eighth of the car's price.
I tell Jacob that this is impossible; it will take a year to pay everything in cash, and I can already imagine how I will be late for my meeting in southeastern Spain next week.
Now, why am I anxious to get to Spain? Oh, do you remember talking about the body and fear that is only a form of energy flowing within it and all that? So, this approach, as far as I understand, is a neo-Buddhist approach to being/ existing. According to this philosophy, the root of the ego and Samsara is fear. According to AI "Samsara is a profound and intricate concept that emphasizes the cyclical nature of existence, the impact of one's actions on future lives, and the ultimate quest for liberation from this cycle. Understanding Samsara can provide insight into the human experience, the nature of suffering, and the spiritual paths that aim to transcend the limitations of worldly existence." I hope you understood that.
So, for most of us, fear governs our lives or, more accurately, the fear of that fear governs our lives. It is what creates the endless noise in our heads, it is what drives our need to move and engage, no matter what. As long as we are busy with something and avoiding feeling fear we'll be OK.
Years ago, a young, beautiful, and wise Israeli man understood this and set out to explore human behavior, specifically what dictates stupid behavior, in his attempt to find the formula that would free himself (I guess) from the grip of anxiety and allow him to realize his true potential. This man studied, experimented, read, and wrote until he developed a method. He applied it to himself and saw that indeed his life was progressing in the desired direction, so he decided to teach others this method, and thus the method became known as the Greenberg Method.
At some low point in my life, I also encountered this method. The meeting was transformative. For about an hour, hands touched my deepest pain, and some portion of my emotional and physical suffering was released. When the clinic door closed behind me, I felt as I had never felt before. I felt lightheaded and full of trembling love and compassion for others, and primarily a fundamental compassion for myself. This is no small matter. That day, I decided to dive deep into the method, to understand it, to engage in it, and to utilize it in any and every possible way. And so it was. And after a while a change did occur. I became just that little bit more brave and confident and, somehow, it made a big difference.
In the years that have passed since that first encounter with the Greenberg Method, despite having relied on it to kick start this current journey, I have distanced myself from it and even developed a bit of criticism towards it. Beyond that, I learned that there is not just one specific method that can be beneficial and helpful. There are many factors that contribute to stagnation, paralysis, change, and the development of a person, and each one of us has her or his own pace, way, and means that suit them best.
But now, in the present, as I rush from bank to bank trying to get cash to buy the damn car, I get a phone call from one of the Greenberg practitioners and I learn that an advanced workshop conducted by the master himself is going to be happening in Spain, not far from Valencia. I am doubtful about participating especially when I hear the price of this one week retreat.
But, because of the terrible fear of a first trip ever across a foreign continent, I am persuaded to participate in the workshop that starts in just five days and is about 1,900 kilometers away from my current residence. Now, this is why am I anxious and all this running around trying to get cash out of banks is not doing me any good.
In the end, Jacob agrees to make a bank transfer and gives me the details of three bank accounts. Each number is as long as your arm with about thirty-two zeros between the first five digits and the last three digits, and every time I try and write the account number, I make a mistake. I am beginning to lose hope . Eventually, with the help of my Father in Heaven, the transfers are completed, and I become a proud owner of a Fiat Ducato campervan. Hoorah.
The Waze app says, "Okay, here we go," and the great journey begins. The mantra is, "Think only about what has to be done in the next minute, just that and nothing else!" Waze instructs to turn right in 300 meters. 200 meters before the anticipated turn, my mind has already wandered to distant territories—did I remember to take the laundry I hung in the bathroom? Did I buy eggs? Is there enough bread? Vegetables? And whoops! You missed the turn; Waze plays the error tune, and my heart sinks.
Eventually, I manage to shift manual gears from first to sixth, and the car glides onto the A6, which is also A5 (no explanations online), eventually leading me to Freiburg im Breisgau, a small resort town located on the border of Germany and France not far from the nearby Black Forest. On the highways, one can breathe, and after about two hours, my bladder signals, my stomach is grumbling a bit, and I must stop. I notice that every few kilometers along the roadside, on large signs, there are images of a knife and fork, a logo of gas stations, and even a drawing of a bed. I understand that these are rest stations for tired drivers. After the next sign I signal right, downshift and exit the highway.
The public restrooms in Germany are something that for an Israeli is beyond comprehension. Before use, the toilet is flushed and the seat cleaned, and at the end of the "sitting" it does the same again. There isn't even a hint of the smell of urine or feces. The sinks are sparkling, everything operates without touch, there’s soap and hot water, and a functioning hand dryer. There’s nothing like it.
Outside the restrooms, there’s a convenience store, a restaurant, and picnic tables. A whole country lives and breathes alongside the highway. And it’s not the only one. Every ten to twenty kilometers, there’s another independent little country just waiting for me. I’m already telling myself that if the worst were to happen, I would move into one of those German public restrooms by the roadside and live there for a while.
Around six in the evening, I arrive at the parking lot in Freiburg im Breisgau. I forgot to mention that while I was in Erlangen, I learned that there are special apps for people with camper vans. These apps provide up-to-date information regarding the needs of vans and their owners—locations of day and night parking lots, prices, what each parking lot offers, reviews, locations of laundries, and more. The app I used was park4night . So, before I set out on my journey, I checked the available night parking lots in the town and chose the one I thought best suited me. Now, I am standing at its entrance.
With all the excitement and fear, my body, quite literally, begins to tremble. Do I need to register? Where do I park the camper? How do I connect to electricity? Who do I ask? I pull over to the side of the road, turn off the engine, and slowly make my way from the driver's seat to the ground. After so many hours of driving, I can hardly walk, and my blood pressure feels like it has dropped to an all-time low. I have to lean against the car to avoid falling to the ground. And once again, I return to breathing, relaxing my muscles and allowing that energy of fear to race through my body. A few minutes later, I look around.
Not far from me, there are a few campervanners that have already settled in nicely—they have opened an awning, spread out a mat, set up a table and chairs, and a couple with their dog are just about to sit down for dinner. I approach them and, for no reason at all, start laughing, and immediately they laugh too. I ask my questions, and in a somewhat broken English, the husband explains everything, offers to unlock the iron chain at the entrance to the parking lot, and points to a good spot where he thinks I can park my camper. Pointing to a relatively large building, he says "The office is over there."
Everything is working out great. At the reception of a public swimming pool that owns the parking lot, I pay what I need to pay, take a hot shower in the swimming pool facilities, return to the camper, prepare a soul-replenishing dinner, eat, have a nice cup of tea, brush my teeth, and lay down on my modest bed. The roof of the camper is raised and through the mesh I can see the moon and a star, and an owl hoots as I fall asleep.
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