EUROPE: Migration of the Hairy Legs

As the hot summer sun beat down on Europe last week, there was the perceptible rumbling of Germans on the move. By car, canoe, and kayak, the advance guard of 1.2 million German campers in Lederhosen and halters swarmed all over Europe in an annual migration that has made the German camper Europe’s most ubiquitous tourist and unseated the camera-toting American as the most unwelcome guest. Said a Cologne industrialist at his campsite: “I look upon camping as a denial of the materialism that has sprung up in Germany. Outdoors we can turn our backs on our material gains and try to find the answers.” Snort Italian shopkeepers and French bistro owners: The Germans are campers because they are pfennig pinchers.

Some German campers travel in a style worthy of Europe’s richest new rich, but most boast of how far they can go at the least expense. On the average, a camper’s vacation only costs $40 for two weeks in the sun. One Frankfurt camper spent ten days in Italy. He brought along gas for his motor scooter, canned food, which he cooked over a portable stove with German canned heat, a tent, blankets, and other necessities for independent outdoor living. Cost of his trip: nothing. Said he: “The only thing I took from Italy was water from the public fountains.”

Saving Instinct. German campers have made the three-hour cup of coffee a way of vacation life. In Italian cafes, they sit six deep around a cheap bottle of vino nero, dawdle away an afternoon for 30¢. Tip-conscious waiters avoid them like the plague, comment sardonically: “They have more money than other Europeans. Naturally they want to save it.”

Earnest students of culture, the German campers efficiently map out their trips to the last detail, often spend a year planning their itinerary. In some cities, street hawkers do a thriving business renting clothes to hairy-legged Germans kept out of historic cathedrals by priests who consider Lederhosen unsuitable wear.

Crucial Phrase. German business has been quick to respond to the new camper market. For $300 the camper can pick up a Barnum-sized four-room tent with picture window and carport. Gadget-minded campers can now provide themselves with burglar alarms which are attached to tent flaps, and miniature fences to isolate their area from the common crowd.

But to most of the 50,000 nature-lovers who spilled over Germany’s borders last week, money was more to be cherished than spent. Though most German campers are monolingual, they can rattle off one phrase in three or four languages: “Mister, would you mind if I set up my tent on your property?” It is a highly important phrase, because by using it, the German camper saves the 25¢ charged by official camping grounds.