Ah yes, the summer of 2015… The summer that we traveled about 5500+ kilometers in an oh-so-charming (after all, the eye wants something too) but nevertheless somewhat less comfortable camper. It went something like this: 'Honey, I want to take Willem (the dog) to my parents in Spain'. 'Okay, but Willem can't fly (because he's too fat).' "Then let's go by car." 'Oh, I saw a great old Hymer camper, should I rent that?' "It's okay, honey."

Well, that crazy Mercedes Hymer was indeed too textbook charming and absolutely fine. If you go to camping de Lievelinge want to live in Gelderland. Nothing to complain about to the landlord, totally our (okay; my) mistake. And you don't hear about anything from a good husband. The Hymer therefore dates from a year somewhere around the year I was born, which I will not go into details about. It couldn't go faster than a maximum of 90 kilometers per hour and the 'air conditioning' consisted of a stupid 8 centimeter high blower that you had to wind up.

Our route? From Amsterdam to somewhere near Enschede where the Hymer had to be picked up, to a campsite somewhere in the Ardennes (read: never camped before and no preparation whatsoever, people, nothing) to a horrible B&B owned by English Onslo and Daisy -style types (you know, the ones from Hyacinth Bucket (pronounced Bouquet, if you please)), somewhere along the way because we couldn't go anymore, to central-south-west France where I had discovered a cute castle (fantastic!), to Biarritz (fantastic!), to San Sebastian (fantastic!) right through central Spain via Zaragoza (where it is still 8 degrees at 40 o'clock in the evening - think about the pace, poor Willem and the lack of air conditioning) to Dirk's parents near Moraira in Spain and back via in-de -near-Girona and near-Montpellier to Paris (always a good idea).

We found a campsite for the first stop, which was nice old school (because romantic, we thought) in the paper ANWB guide. It had 4 stars, had to be good. At about 21 pm we drove onto the site, were helped very friendly and were given a spot. Only the places with electricity were forgiven, did we mind that? No dude. Everything in all its glory. Until we walked back to the reception - dying of hunger. Where was the restaurant? Eh. Not so. There was a canteen but it closed at 19 p.m., 19.30:1,5 if you were lucky. The nearest supermarket then? Well, that was an hour's drive, XNUMX hours with our super cute Hymer. Long story short: we still had half a bag of paprika chips for dinner and at night it turned out to be – damn – stone and stone cold. Did I mention we had never camped before? At least no different than at a campsite where super-deluxe tent and facilities were all arranged. We only had a single sheet... So we 'slept' under a few towels until we were allowed to leave again the next morning with the tires not so screeching.

That had to be different. And so it happened: the next campsite had 5 stars, a real restaurant for the evenings, the ANWB guide said, was located in the middle of the vineyards, and we could be there before 16 pm. Cat in the cup. And it was. The restaurant had a cowardly schitzel and a half-raw hamburger on the menu, the wine from the chateau next door was 25 euros per bottle (no joke, we immediately bought three out of recalcitrance. They are still in the cupboard) and – fun – exactly on 'our' evening was the children's weekly performance. At the table. Lots of children. Few tables. Immediately followed by bingo. Bofferds.

After that experience, the booking.com app our best friend and we have only slept in sometimes okay and sometimes wonderful hotels and parked the camper in the often narrow French and Spanish super steep streets. Also in Paris. Fuck it. Did I mention that his husband is the best driver on the planet? We are fortunate that the camper did not fall out...

Oh, and don't worry about Willem: at every gas station we bought bags full of ice cubes with which we made cold towels for him to lie on, for the road. And of course our King Willem had a wonderful stay in all the comfortable hotels that followed the campsites.

 Route
(for convenience, I'll leave the camping experience for what it is, enough about that, let's move on to the real tips)

Chateau de Dirac
Remember the cute castle? That was Chateau de Dirac. The moment when everything turned out well (although luckily we mostly laughed). In the south-west of France, an hour's drive from Bordeaux, a castle loomed just outside the sleeping village of Dirac. We had to look for the small front door, but once inside the high walls overgrown with plants we walked through the dream of Hubert and Isabelle and their three little daughters. They left busy Paris and their well-paid jobs there and moved – as easy as that. Everything was (and still is) renovated and decorated by Isabelle, who is clearly a stylist. Fortunately for us, the couple also set up a guesthouse in the adjacent former stables. We were allowed to come and test in 2015, 2016 was the first year that they accepted guests, albeit cautiously, and the castle has been open for the first time since the summer of 2017. By far one of the most beautiful addresses ever. If you go, have Hubert prepare a simple lunch.

Biarritz
Biarritz is a bit of surf, a touch of faded glory, a good dose of old chic, the occasional hippie pinprick and above all, crazy fun! In Biarritz that je-ne-sais-quoi is in the air. The nonchalant. The French. The delicious. Plenty of tips on where to go, but don't miss Café Commerce and Saline Ceviche Bar

San Sebastian
It is only half an hour from Biarritz across the border to San Sebastian, Spain. And San Sebastian is, if possible, just as great as Biarritz: both Basque Country and yet two completely different worlds. While Biarritz is truly French through and through, the same applies to San Sebastian and Spain: temperament, rugged buildings, sleek streets and, above all, Lots of Insanely Delicious Food. The great thing about San Sebastian is that you don't really need any tips: dive into the super narrow streets of the small center and the tapas party has begun.

 

Costa Blanca

To sleep: Seahorse is by far the nicest place to stay in the area. The Belgian owners have created a little oasis on the edge of a small village, on top of a hill, where it is always fully booked (booking on time is, as always, the trick) but never busy. As said: an oasis.

Eat Drink: La Siesta in Javea
In the category 'so everything turned out well indeed'. Because there are beach bars like La Siesta in the small, you-don't-have-much-to-find Javea.

The Spanish coastal towns Begur en Cadaqués are both not to be missed if you slowly return to the Netherlands via the Spanish south coast. They are about an hour apart and one, Begur, is a quiet, almost too quiet place from the holiday books. Stroll down to where Sa Tuna is located on the coast, where the photos in the third place in this post were taken. Glory. We did sleep at the Ca Sa Sal Luxury Hotel. Luxury. On top of a mountain. With a fleet of vehicles in front of your door that you will be proud of. And yes, we put our handsome, broke Hymer there with love.

Cadaqués is a bit more touristy, in a good way. Beautiful white streets to stroll through for hours. But whatever you do, be sure to stroll around Talla Restaurante; more than good food with a sea view. A pearl. Look for the bright blue door in a low white building and you're in the right place (Cadaqués is good for your blue and white Instagram feed anyway)

 

Lodge de La Fouque near Montpelier
This is where my husband got fed up. Just because he was fed up. Which was certainly not due to the crazy (and very expensive place – we thought we deserved it. Read: I thought so). In the middle of a natural park (flamingos!), between the water and a stone's throw from the sea, you will find the luxury resort where you should be able to completely relax for a week. Lying on our beds by the pool, only disturbed by the waiter who regularly serves drinks and fruit on the house ('on the house', which is easy of course when you ask half a holiday budget for a room). Since everything was already going crazy, we also booked a boat trip, with a local skipper, sausage and wine from the region. Delicious. Don't think about it anymore.

Hermitage Saint Roch in Arc-en-Barrois
Halfway through France it was time for another stopover, which turned out to be a wonderfully renovated old monk's house. An experience. If you (also) go, be sure to stay for dinner as the man of the house cooks with so much pleasure; Anyone who doesn't get an appetite for it has no feeling. Or no stomach. Everything only with products from our own garden or from the nearby region. And there is wine. Wine with every course, carefully selected and you will enjoy it! The views from the rooms and the common area are beautiful and you also eat nothing but homemade products for breakfast.

And of course we stopped in too Paris, just with the Hymer on the doorstep of the dog-friendly Le Pigalle hotel. Fuck it. And it was fantastic.

Watch the campaign here FBTO, kind of the same story, different people (to know more, check the site of FBTO):