ROOM WITH A VIEW.

Pepe’s eyes shine with excitement. He scans the new world that passes by his window from his car seat. A child’s curiosity embraces anything and everything. It’s my own fault, I think to myself, because when we spend time with each other at home, we go out, on a treasure hunt, or chase after thieves and other baddies. Indoors, we build dens to hide in from monsters. And the books I read to Pepe are about boys who explore the world in a small boat. Or, as the case may be, about a girl who goes camping with her father – and has the time of her life. That probably inspired him. So now it had to be a camping trip, of all things. “I’d like to do that much more even than I want the big race car transporter,” says Pepe. And his will be done.

That is why, rather than entering the address of a beautiful beach hotel into the sat-nav, I am now asking it to calculate the time it will take us to get to the campsite – at least I have chosen one with direct access to the sea. I sigh and push the car’s engine starter button. Slowly, we are leaving Seville’s bullfighting arena and the Alcázar royal palace behind us, cross the wide Guadalquivir river and are finally driving down the Autovía del Sur. The lush green treetops of the pines by the side of the road protectively arch over it like a cosy blanket. As Pepe’s excitement increasingly mounts at the prospect of our camping adventure, I relax and enjoy the vehicle's comfort. Maybe this trip wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

We take a short break in Cádiz; the sun bathes the city’s bright buildings in a warm light. Pepe and I admire the cathedral, have a look at the Baluarte de la Candelaria fortress, stroll through the historic city centre’s alleyways whilst licking an ice cream. Then we get back into the Countryman. We will reach the campsite in Tarifa in about an hour and a half. I put my foot down; my son on the back seat looks out of the window again. Solar PV systems line the motorway, in the form of simple flat panels, but also in the form of towering constructions that remind me of baobab trees. “What are they?” asks Pepe. “They’re collectors that collect the sunlight and turn it into electricity,” I say, trying to explain the general idea as simply as possible. Silence. “So we are driving on sunshine?” my little passenger asks just to clarify the issue. “Yes, in a way,” I say with an amused smile. 

As I park up the MINI Countryman, the sun disappears into the Atlantic like a giant red orange. I’m now facing a major challenge: the camping novice has to put up the tent! I loosen the three safety catches on the black fibreglass roof box. Thanks to the integrated gas springs, the tent erects itself almost without my help. Within two minutes, our home on the road rises up into the coming night. I breathe a sigh of relief. Pepe and I can’t wait and climb up the aluminium ladder. The roof tent is equipped with a beautifully soft mattress. There’s a mesh window at the front and one at the back that can be opened with a zip. Curious about the view, we unzip the front one. Perfect: a room with a sea view. Great excitement is followed by deep sleep.

Over the next few days, we go on excursions to various beaches, watch the kitesurfers and drive to the Duna de Valdevaqueros, one of Spain’s largest shifting sand dunes. The MINI Countryman safely carries us across any terrain, no lurching from side to side, no skidding on the sand-covered roads. These days, when people like something, they post it on social media. After a few days, I upload some pictures on Instagram: Pepe at the camping table, the view from the tent window onto the sea, us two rookies grinning proudly in front of our pitch, the smart MINI Countryman in the background. The girlfriend from back then – the one I went to France with – writes to me: “Should I be worried about you?” No, everything is perfectly fine. The post garners a lot of hearts. 

On the last day, we wake up early. Still in pyjamas, we walk all the way right down to the crashing waves. Pepe runs along the water; I sit in the sand, squinting into the rising sun. When he’s completely out of breath, he plops down by my side. “Over there is Africa,” I say, drawing the outline of the imaginary landmass in the air with my index finger. “Does the world look a little bit differently beautiful everywhere?” asks Pepe. I nod. It is moments like these that will later become memories.