понедельник, 22 октября 2007 г.
Memories of a trip to Alsace (III)
With thick protectors and helmet wobbly Schwyzer Mama the gently sloping road in front of our caravan along. They learn in-line skating. Even their knees tremble, which they desperately pressed together. The way below their roles is treacherous, the driving direction ahead difficult to say. Sohnemann giggles. The little sister gives heart to show solidarity and schlingerd hectic squeaking behind. My dad rises from his chair schaffellüberworfenen, presented "The funny paperback" aside, shuffles comfortably behind and starts Mama, before they fall. But suddenly sees the angle of the eye and exiting lops. Then the ear hears rich murmur.
It clatters short and dry. A huge children messenger struts on the campsite like a vain peacock. From honking cars can master Adebahr not impress. Those who crossed his path will be waiting. A whole pack curious, and he pulls behind her, while he measured step roams the campsite.
He knows he is a sensation. Only a small, but they must first. After all, he is the heraldic animals in Alsace and bommelt as plush animal version of thousands in the streets of the picturesque villages in his homeland.
And he also knows that his unusual appearance him the hearts and lots of food chunks can fly. Why laboriously catching frogs? In order loose, it can be diced cheese, baguette shreds and liver sausage Flats Chen in the beak werfenDie trainingsbehosten standing wave giggeln ball, get their kids, everything is astonished. Five meters away they kneel down, the small flash their completion Fuji camera flickers. Unfortunately, just the butt of the Danish neighbor shoved into the picture and catches the light. Nevertheless, a beautiful picture for a travel anecdote. "This would actually be able to see a stork. He is with us on the wrong campsite. We have fed him. That was very fun. The butt heard Mrs. or Ms. Ulsgaard Sörensen. " The Schwyzer dad smiles again through his mustache, his son, a butcher knife in his hand and said: "Gchescht dchamit times to Schtorch!" Later calls Schwyzer of his children to the table: "Kchommt, 'There's Schtorchenrágú!"