19th October - Southern Greece and early Italy

Sunday 19th October

Reluctantly we departed ‘Camping Hellas’ after a few relaxing days in the sunshine. We were fully charged with electric, topped up with 150 litres of water and we’d even managed to do some clothes washing - something we hadn’t done properly in… well I’d rather not say, for fear of causing offence. Nevertheless, we couldn’t stay there forever no matter how perfect a location it might have been. We had to move on; Athens awaited.

As far as free parking spaces go, we’ve had some ‘goodun’s’: A stones throw from the beach in Torrenueva, 5 minutes from La Ramblas in Barcelona, the ‘spot with a view’ overlooking Monaco and a dead centre location in Split, but our location in Athens beats them all hands down. Our Camperstop book told us there was some “tolerated but not official” parking available next to the Acropolis. We didn’t expect there to be any, but we had a look just in case, and were we thankful that we did. We managed to find a large car park about 3 minutes walk from the beautiful structure, and what’s more it was clearly visible from the Motorhome windows! We arrived at night, which is when the Acropolis looks its most stunning, and the car park was located next to some small shops (selling postcards and ornaments) underneath apartments with balconies with views of the Acropolis. I don’t think you could ever tire of that view.

I suppose this parking spot is a bit of a cheat, because the next day we were asked to move on by a stern but quite friendly gentleman who must have owned a nearby shop, but we didn’t mind as we’d already explored the city by the time he wanted us to vacate the area. Athens was by far the hottest city we’ve been to since Valencia (where we must have got through about 5 litres of water each in the space of a few hours). We weren’t expecting this sort of heat in mid October.

We did the usual tourist malarkey, visit the sights, buy the postcard, thinking but thankfully not buying the t-shirt, and them moved on the following evening to Ancient Olympia, the sight of the first ever Olympic Games. Entry to the sight cost 6 Euros, a cost we were willing to pay, along with literally thousands of others, a staggering amount for a Wednesday afternoon late in the year. The sun continued to shine, which allowed us to stroll pleasantly and slowly through the remains of old sports venues, houses, athlete only areas and of course the old stadium. The latter in reality is no more than a long strip of gravel in the middle of a large sloped field on either side, but it was still impressive to think that all those hundreds of years ago this was the very spot where the Olympics began, and is still going to this day.

In a short space of time we also managed to visit the archaeological sites of Korinthos and Mykines. Ancient Korinthos being home to the ruins of the 5th Century BC Temple of Apollo (pictured), which in 44 BC was made Capital of Roman Greece by Julius Caesar. Olympia though was to be the last of our historical sights in Greece, and on the Wednesday night we drove to a beach a few kilometres north of the airport town of Preveza, so we could spend a relaxing Thursday in the sun before our Ferry from Igoumenitsa departed for Italy at 1.30am on Friday morning. Relax we certainly did, breaking from the sun bathing only for the necessary. We were joined on the beach by three other Motorhomes from France and Germany respectively.

The Ferry crossing was uneventful and took 9 hours. We travelled with Endeavour Lines, and the total cost came to 160 Euros for 2 adults plus the Motorhome, not including the 30 Euros “Port Tax” they surprised us with upon checking in at the Ferry terminal. The majority of other vehicles parked up in Igoumenitsa waiting to board were Motorhomes, and by an amazing coincidence one of the other 2 British outfits was also a fellow Southamptonian! The gentleman noticed our Southampton scarf on the dash board, was equally surprised to see us as we were to see him so he came over to introduce himself - what a small world we thought.

After a brief visit to Bari we travelled West to the small town of Airola, 20 kilometres from Benevento in the direction of Naples. We were following directions for an Aire listed in the Camperstop book, which simply said “Tennis Airola”, not particularly helpful in a city you’ve never been to before. We stopped and asked for directions a few times, and eventually one man couldn’t explain the directions so he drove there himself and we followed, which we thought we very good of him. Upon arriving however we found out that “Tennis Airola” was simply a hotel which had a few Tennis Courts and Football Pitches - not exactly what our Camperstop book had promised us. The man we followed went into the hotel and spoke on our behalf until the friendly Italian American proprietor called Enzo appeared and told us we could park in his car park, and even lent us an extension lead to hook up to his electric - which was handy as we’d been driving around for a few hours in the hope of a few volts for a much needed cup of tea. Enzo was extremely helpful, giving tips on local attractions and things to see and even gave us his mobile number in case we needed anything during the night! In the morning he presented us with a bill of 5 Euros, unannounced. We weren’t too displeased (we should have expected it at a Hotel I suppose) but it would have been nice if he’d told us before hand.

From Benevento, Pompeii is a nightmare to reach if travelling by Motorhome. It’s only about 40 or so kilometres, but what should have taken us 30 minutes took more in the region of 3 hours. We found the SS162 quite quickly, the most direct route according to the map and a major-ish road to boot. After only 2 minutes it turned into a narrow street home to small shops and apartments which would have been more suited in central Venice than act as a direct road to Pompeii. Cars were breezing through without issue, but a large Motorhome like Eric was struggling through even the wider parts of the roads. Throughout the drive roads kept ending abruptly, changing names or heading in the wrong direction for no good reason other than to confuse the tourists, and of course there wasn‘t much space to turn around in a 7 metre long vehicle. We gave the locals a good laugh in a few towns though where we passed them on the same street 3 or 4 different times - each one harder than the last as yet another Fiat Punto had parked 2 feet from the curb.

We did eventually reach Pompeii, after yet more diversions due to the fact that the major roads into the town were closed because The Pope was visiting. At first we thought all the crowds gathered on the streets were there to welcome us, but apparently not. The ruined City of Pompeii was even busier than Olympia, but not surprising given the size of the “attraction”. It was much bigger than I expected, literally a whole city in ruins; hours it took us to wander it all. The cost was a very reasonable 11 Euros each, but for some unknown reason EU Citizens aged between 18-24 gained a 50% discount, which was given to us on presentation of our driving licenses. Strange but helpful to little scamps like us.

We parked up in a Campsite/Camperstop directly opposite the entrance to ancient Pompeii, buried by Vesuvius’ ash in 79 AD, costing 15 Euros with Electricity and shower facilities. After the long, stressful drive we were willing to pay this just to have somewhere safe to park… a hot shower was a major temptation too. I hope they’re powerful showers, hell they need to be!

Watching the Pope on the big screen

Waiting to board the Ferry at Igoumenitsa

12th October - From Bulgaria to Greece

Sunday 12th October

I thought for a second that arriving in Greece meant I was quite far from home and far from the normality of the UK, but after a quick impromptu glance at a world atlas I realised I haven’t even scratched the surface of this Earth - I’m still only an inch and a half from home. I can assure you it feels a lot further than that.

From Varna, on the Black Sea Coast of Bulgaria, we made visits to Velicko Turnovo (pictured left and below), Kazanluk and finally Plovdiv over the space of 5 days. The roads have been long and in most parts quite shockingly poor quality, many with pot holes so big you could get lost in. You’re charged 5 Euros for the “Road Maintenance Fund” upon crossing the border into Bulgaria, and my brother tells me it was the same when he visited 2 years ago, but we came to the conclusion that none of the money charged has ever made it close to the roads - or if it has then it’s being spent on signs that keep telling you they’re charging you for the privilege of experiencing such delightful strips of tarmac. On one occasion we went over a bump in the road large enough to take both of us out of our seats (and most of our belongings out of their cupboards), but not big enough to notice evidently.

Our last few days in Bulgaria were pleasant but uneventful, and we were keen to get to Greece not only because we’d spent a week in Bulgaria which meant our “Road Maintenance Fund” payment had expired, but we’d also heard that the sun was out across the border, which we hadn’t seen that properly since Southern France. We were getting withdrawal symptoms.

The Greek border crossing was muted in the evening, hardly a soul about, and we were an obvious nuisance to the lone worker who - can you believe it? - had to end his personal phone conversation to check our passports. What a terrible inconvenience we caused, how dare we? “If it wouldn’t be so much bother, here are our passports, Sir. We’d like to cross the border please, if we’re not being too much of a pain” was what we should have said, but of course we just smiled at the gormless face which stared back angrily until it grunted us through the gates. He clearly didn’t want to be there, or us either for that matter, so we promised him we’d never bother him again, apologised and moved on.

We’d just spent a good 5 hours driving south from Plovdiv, getting lost in a small town called Velingrad in the process. We were tired and it was late, so we parked in the first place we could find which happened to be a Lidl’s car park. We were only a few miles into Greece so we hadn’t missed much by driving at night - we’d wake up to it the next morning. The town we were parked in (which we later learnt was called Promachonas) was sleepy the next morning, and only a small selection of cars joined us in the supermarket. We didn’t hang around long, and made the journey down the E79 motorway to our first Greek coastal town of Salonika (Thessalonika). We’ve decided to use the toll motorways in Greece (our aim to avoid them throughout the whole 6 months has failed, boo!) because we only have 7 days until our ferry leaves Igoumenitsa to Brindisi on the East Coast of Italy, so we don’t have time to be getting lost on smaller roads, or getting stuck in 10ft deep pot holes which seem to be the norm in Eastern Europe. It’s a shame we can’t take it easier on the single carriageways, but after 3 months of them, driving on the motorways will make a nice change for a little while.

Salonika is a busy city, a very busy city indeed. We were stuck in traffic for what seemed like hours but was probably only around 20 minutes in reality, before we found a parking spot on the side of one of the main roads in town. We weren’t planning on staying the night, only a day visit, so we could afford to park the Motorhome on an angle and half way up a curb. It was a little abandoned, but that’s the price you have to pay if you want to see the big cities sometimes! The town centre itself seemed just as popular with people as the roads are with vehicles, and it was only 2pm on a Friday afternoon. The markets were doing brisk trade, the bars were full and the thousands of students were doing as students do best and sat around doing next to nothing.

The widely regarded symbol of the city, the White Tower (pictured), stands on the docks and looks impressive in the sunshine. It was once used to guard the east end of the city’s walls (many of which still remain) and it was even used as a prison, which is how it got it’s name as one of the inmates white washed the tower in return for his freedom. Unfortunately, like most historical buildings these days, the tower is now an overly priced tourist attraction, thus totally ruining the image of the structure.

We took the E75 South, towards Athens, ending up in a small village just shy of Agria and about 15 kilometres from Volos. This is our second night in Campsite Hellas (not just popular for it’s very original name) and costs 18.50 Euros a night with electricity and wireless internet. I decided to take my laptop down to the Campsites private beach - yes it has one - and write this blog. There really is something quite enchanting about sitting alone on a beach at night time. It captures the imagination. It’s calming. It was a warm evening, and the only sounds were the gentle waves crashing onto the pebbles, it was most enjoyable. As I sat there I thought that life doesn’t get much sweeter than this, and then it started to rain - further proof that I'm not as far away from Britain as I first thought!

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An amusing toy found in Salonika

5th October - Southern Romania & Early Bulgaria

Sunday 5th October

It’s an odd feeling knowing that we’re almost finished with Eastern Europe, it only feels like a few weeks ago that we were getting stuck in sand in Northern France, or running away from the Bulls in Pamplona (almost), but in fact it‘s been 3 months…3 bloody months!

Well, we now find ourselves right on the edge of Europe in Bulgaria; and here’s how we got here from Northern Romania.

Before venturing to Bran Castle, to visit Dracula, we made a few stop offs. Our first one came in a town called Sighisoara, which we visited only because our road map claimed it to be a ‘place of interest’, and our second being in Brasov - around 170 kilometres from our last city Cluj-Napoca. We spent 2 nights in Brasov which is pleasant and peaceful by day, and lively by night. The city is centred upon the large square, which is home to what appeared to be half the worlds population of pigeons - perhaps they all moved here when they were banished from Trafalgar Square a few years ago. A pint of beer in one of the local bars cost 6 Lei (£1.20) which made a hell of a nice change from paying the equivalent of 9 Euros for one pint in central Switzerland.

Brasov is only a short drive to Bran Castle, which I must be say was a huge disappointment. We were travelling there expecting a superb structure on top of a large hill, but in fact found quite the opposite - yes, a meagre building on a mound, but they were still charging an entry fee of 10 Lei. The cheek of it! We didn’t bother going inside as it would have taken around 5 minutes to explore the whole building, which we weren’t that impressed with anyway to be honest. There was a large market at the foot of the mound which we stumbled across, but unfortunately this was quite as disappointing as the castle itself. All the stalls sold were Dracula tat. Dracula hats, Dracula t-shirts, Dracula mugs, Dracula water pistols, Dracula pens, Dracula masks… all absolute rubbish which wouldn’t be good enough to use as fuel for a bonfire. Needless to say we didn’t stay long and later that evening we made the 160 kilometre drive to the Romanian Capital, Bucharest.

Bucharest was nothing like I’d expected it. Everywhere we’d travelled so far in Romania was deprived and run down. Stray dogs wandered the streets, beggars were commonplace and the whole country seemed somewhat underprivileged - however, Bucharest couldn’t be more different. Let me tell you know, it is a very, very rich place indeed. Mercedes and Ferraris whizzed past at 100mph, and important looking men and women waltzed along wearing expensive Armani suits - it’s almost as if there is actually money in Romania but all of it has fallen on the capital alone, which notably is not a tourist town, but simply a place of work for the masses. This doesn’t mean it’s not a fine place to visit however, in fact there are some stunning buildings and plenty of good bars, it just isn’t your typical tourist location like Budapest was, for example.

We parked right next to the Hilton Hotel, which is in a fantastic central location for exploring the city, perfect for Motorhomes and only cost 8 Lei for the day, and they didn’t mind us staying over night. You’d have to arrive in the evening as we did though, as during the day it’s too busy for a Motorhome to manoeuvre easily but it starts to empty as the workers go home at around 6pm. We decided again to ask at a Petrol Station to hook up to their electricity, and the gentleman (who spoke perfect English) was more than pleased to allow it, and told us we could stay all night if we wished! We didn’t need to, but it was very kind of him to offer, and of course this allowed us to recharge all our batteries before moving towards the Black Sea.

We left the Petrol station in the evening, and were too tired to drive anywhere far so we parked up for the night in a Carrefour/Ikea Car Park which was colossal so nobody asked us to move on. However, what we didn’t expect was to be woken up at 8am by the sound of knocking and shaking at the Motorhome. I was instantly up (I’m quite a light sleeper, I think I get it from my Dad) and woke Mike up as soon as I knew what was going on. I looked out the window and saw it all in the shadow from the street lights. “Mike, wake up, there’s someone on the roof.” “What the….” was the censored version of the reply I received. We were a little concerned obviously so ran outside straight away to find the culprit a small child, who witnessed two extremely tired Englishmen gifting him with shouts of anger and orders to get down. He was only a young guy, and clearly homeless too (there are many throughout Romania) so when we realised this the shouting subsided but he still ran away as fast as he could after climbing down the steps at the rear of the Motorhome. After a quick inspection, what he was doing was trying to steal our bikes which are housed on the roof; all the ropes were untied and the top bike had been moved as if he was prepared to throw it to the ground which would have no doubt rendered the bike useless anyway. Looking back it was quite a funny event, but if I’d have lost my bike I’d have been fuming - so I’m just thankful I woke up in time to scare away the little scoundrel.

This wasn’t to be the end of our troublesome events in Romania unfortunately. Later that day we drove along the number 3 main road towards the city of Constanta, but we didn’t make it. After crossing the River Danube just before a town called Cernavoda, our rear right side tyre burst and we came to a sudden halt on a roundabout after just exiting the Motorway. Although we were frustrated at this, we suddenly realised how lucky we had been. If that tyre had burst just a few minutes earlier when we were doing 65mph on the Motorway, who knows what would have happened?

We were stranded on the side of a busy roundabout, so we knew we had to act quickly and instantly got out our warning triangle, traffic cone, fluorescent jackets (by this time it was late at night), torches and relevant tools for what we thought would be a simple tyre change. It turned out to be anything but. We’d managed to change the tyre without incident, in about 15 minutes, but it was ensued afterwards which caused us problems. As we went to drive away again, the wheel appeared to be locked and we couldn’t move, we could reverse about half a foot but that was it. We were sure we’d done everything right but not being mechanics, we had no idea what the problem was. We tried looking and fiddling for a few minutes in the hope that something would give, but to no avail. We had no choice but to walk in the dark of night to the next town, which was Cernavoda, and seek help. By some miracle, the first person we came across spoke perfect English. “What do you need?” he asked us. We weren’t exactly sure, so all we said was a telephone number for a breakdown service, but instead he kindly offered to drive us back to the Motorhome to inspect the problem first, which we accepted. He made a few telephone calls to a mechanic friend of his, but by this time it was very late, gone midnight, so nobody could come out. We tried to take the wheel back off, but one of the bolts was stuck; no matter how hard we tried it just wouldn’t budge. We had no choice but to try and get some sleep by the side of the road, and our new friend (whose name is Adrian) said he would come back in the morning and bring along the mechanic and try and get us sorted. We were extremely grateful for his generosity and we exchanged telephone numbers so we could meet up again the next morning. What we didn’t expect was for him, half an hour later, to return with a basket of food and drink for us, including hot Pizza, Cheese, Bread, Fruit, Milk, Orange Juice and Chocolate! We hadn’t asked for this at all, but we were absolutely touched by his kindness - it was probably one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for us - especially someone we had only known for about an hour!

To cut quite a painfully long, tedious story a little shorter than I could make it, Adrian’s assistance was incredibly helpful, and his Mechanic friends were able to sort the problem, which was partly (or perhaps, completely) our wrong doing as we’d used the wrong bolts for the new wheel. We’re stupid English kids, what can I say?! We were only charged 30 Euros for the mechanics time - I can’t imagine how much it would have cost in the UK - which we were more than happy to pay. What is more important than getting our problem solved however, is that we have made a fantastic new friend in Adrian from Cernavoda. We swapped email addresses and he was even keen to hear about our travels, so I gave him the link to this blog. The compassion he showed to us that night was invaluable as it saved us having to call out what would have been an incredibly expensive Breakdown company, and if you are reading this now Adrian, we are very grateful. Thank you!

As I write this, we are currently parked up at yet another Petrol Station (a ‘Shell‘, this time) hooked up to the mains. I absolutely recommend this to all Motorhomer’s travelling in Eastern Europe. It’s exceedingly helpful and, as we’ve experienced, if you ask nicely the staff are more than happy to allow it. The station is located in the Bulgarian town of Razgrad, in the North of the country. We’ve just spent a pleasant few days in the coastal town of Varna, where a pint of local beer cost 2 Leva, which is the equivalent of, wait for it, 70 English pence! 70p a pint! Well it seemed wrong not to have at least three... at least I think it was three!

Having a break in Romania

Not quite Dracula, in bran

Adrian (centre) and his two mechanic friends