TO BE CONTINUED part 4:

A TALE OF INVASION...

Then we all look like silent old men. 14 days it took us to even start communication, and it would take the presence of a powerfull Weber-grill, welltanned and underdressed women, to sit us down around the table.
Camping in my book have never ment being social, but here I bent over for those trying. And trying was exactly what made us look like silent old men. Camping in Spain, Costa Brava, Caella de Parafrugell, 2002.

Not before the beers had loosened up we began to talk. Little aggresive ants had taken their tow on more of us, pissing or biting our angles, that would be scratched all through the night, halfasleep and you would wake up in bloody sticky sheets in a hot tent. But someone at the table could inform us that these ants - original descenting from Argentina, suddenly had appered on the eastcoast of Italy in the early nineties. From there on it had only been a matter of time before their disciplined march would spread them mostly west towards France and Spain. So there we sat, scrathing and icthing, but impressed by certain modern principles for evolution, which ofcourse among the danish guest and houseowners at the table, turned the focus the mystrey and presence of the Iberian Killer Snail. Here we were, at the Iberian Coast, not a killernsail in sight but plenty of ants. The discussion of evolution - the snails really get us fired up, but it also stops the disussion, because evoltuion is happening as we speak and nobody can foresee consequenses or understand - really - the history of it. Its like deep space. Dont start thinking of it.
So we end up silent:
Silent like sad old men. Some with wives. Most wives alone.

So really we look like sad old women.