In the morning, we were fried. So much so that one of the other campervans had already scarpered when we opened an eye. Ours was still there, of course, because without a driver it's not going anywhere. We left without hurrying, because, after all, we didn't have any galactic mission today, just to fill up the water tank. We went to Hartmannswiller (which sounds like a villain's name in a film) and there we plugged into a fountain to fill the tank. Operation completed without casualties.

On wheels we decided that we didn't fancy Mulhouse today. According to Daddy Edu, it's not worth it, and if there are no croquettes or giant balls, I'm out. So we changed course towards Eguisheim, which is on all the lists as one of the most beautiful villages in France. Well, that's it, we went there with the camper, so happy... until we started to see signs everywhere: "No campervans", "Do not enter", "Don't even think about it", "Go back the way you came". The curious thing is that they were all against campervans, not 4x4 campers that look like Transformers.

We went in anyway. After all, if they didn't want us to pass, they should have put up signs with our photo. We parked on the outskirts, five minutes on foot, in a place that also had "no entry" signs, but as they weren't barking, we played dumb.

And my goodness, what a mess. Tourists everywhere, full streets, queues to take selfies with anything. The village, yes, beautiful. Colourful facades, windows with geraniums in competition mode, fairytale alleys and cobblestone floors (torture level for small paws). Yes, everything smelled like a mixture of waffles, chips and sweaty feet. The shops all sold the same thing: magnets, hats, soaps and wine. A punishment for the canine sense of smell.

There is a circular street called Rue des Remparts that makes you go around the village without realising it. I think humans don't even notice it, but I do: by the third lap I already knew that that bush wasn't new.

When we decided that was enough, we fled. Literally. We left the village as if we were being chased by a pensioners' excursion with cameras. We stopped in Bettelsheim, much quieter, and ate in the camper while a light drizzle fell. Perfect for not getting wet but justifying staying inside.

And as if by magic, just as we finished eating, the rain stopped. Perfect synchronicity! Then we set off for Colmar. On the way there was a technical stop at a couple of Daddy Edu's sacred temples: DIY shops and his favourite supermarket, which are as exciting to me as a nap.

We parked on the outskirts of Colmar, but in ten minutes we were in the centre. And Colmar... well, it is beautiful. Colourful houses, canals, flowers everywhere, picture-postcard corners and even an area called the Petite Venise. I didn't see any gondolas or pizzas, but hey. We also saw the Collégiale Saint-Martin, some very elegant squares and a less overwhelming atmosphere than in the morning. More tourists, yes, but the city is bigger and it breathes better.

After taking a thousand photos and posing like furry camper influencers, we went back to the car to look for a place to sleep. The first one didn't convince us. The second one either. The third one less. And in the end... Google decided it was a good idea to cross into Germany. Just like that. The navigator said: "Next right... and we're in another country".

But as it wasn't the plan, we turned around and went back to France. Now we are well sheltered next to the Rhine, which here looks like a real river, not a puddle. In front of us, Germany. Behind, France. And in between, us, having a quiet dinner with international views. We are staying here to sleep, me with my snout in France and my tail in Germany. I just hope that tomorrow a customs officer doesn't come and ask me if I'm carrying undeclared sausages.