1 Motorhome, 2 Lads, 1 massive trip

24th November - The Czech Republic

2008-12-03T17:12:00.003Z

Monday 24th November

The “first week in Austria” - as I titled my last blog - was to be our first and only week there, as from Vienna the town of “Horn” was our last stop before making our way across the border into the chilly Czech Republic. Our first port of call was the large town of Ceske Budejovice where we spent one night, before moving onto the beautiful nearby medieval town named Cesky Krumlov.

Arriving at Cesky Krumlov by night was a fine way of arrival, as the town centre is surrounded by the impressive town walls and Castle, which when lit up appear rather fetching. We waited until late morning to wander around town which was - we were quite surprised to notice - rather busy with tourists for such a small place, but it didn’t take long to realise why they (we) were there. Cesky Krumlov is an extremely favourable little town, home to ample narrow streets which occasionally cross over pint-sized wooden bridges taking you over the river which meanders its way through the old, well preserved buildings. The Castle which is so clearly visible from afar offers fine views (pictured) across the centre and is only a short walk from the pretty main square.

When parked up in Krumlov, it felt, for the first time this trip, that it really was cold enough to snow. We waited another morning in the hope that it would, but to no avail. After the break-in in Marseille our rear window is still cracked which lets in the cold beautifully, so most evenings we find ourselves wrapped up warm or sitting around in our sleeping bags to fend off the chill, so we figured that as we’re already cold we might as well have some snow! We asked in a hotel if there was any chance of just a few flakes at least but the Receptionist assured us that we’d need to wait until December - “Too late!” - we’ll be in The Netherlands by then!

On the Tuesday we headed north again and drove back through Ceske Budejovice, up the number 34 to our next stopover town: Telc. As with many of the places we’ve visited on this trip, the only reason for visiting these small towns is due to recommendations from our Guide Book, and Telc was no different. “A Place of Extreme Tourist interest” the guide claimed. Now I’m not here to moan about places - Telc was a real Czech town with an elegant main square surrounded by two serene lakes - but to describe it was a place of “extreme tourist interest” was somewhat generous. Perhaps someone from Telc council cut a deal with the publisher?

Our penultimate destination in the Czech Republic was Kutna Hora, a town with strong silver mining heritage before moving on on Thursday evening to the Czech capital Prague. We had been warned that parking in the capital was said to be something of a nightmare, but we’d like to think that we’ve become somewhat experts at finding parking spaces in almost impossible places, so this warning didn’t bother us too much. However, the warnings were wise as the whole of Prague has been “zoned”, so wild parking has become practically impossible unless you want to risk a parking ticket. We drove around the centre and the outskirts for around 45 minutes looking for a suitable destination, but everywhere we looked was either restricted to “Residents only” or “2 hours max”. There were no campsites open according to our Caravan Club book, and we were not going to give up on seeing Prague (one of our most eagerly anticipated places of the whole trip) so we had no choice but to park in a “Residents only” section and risk it. For the whole 3 days we spent in the Capital there was plenty of spaces around us and we didn’t receive a ticket or get moved on, so for us it was worth the risk.

We were parked on the East of the city which is bisected by the formidable Vltava river, and our spot on “Stitneho (Street)” presented us with a pleasant 15 minute walk into the centre firstly downhill along the busy tram-lined street of “Seifertova” then through the luscious green “Vrchlickeno Sady” park until entering the centre via the main thoroughfare “Vaclavske Namesti” - also known around Prague as “The Main Square” (pictured). Vaclavske Namesti is lined with all the usual town centre establishments, a H&M, 2 McDonalds’, a Foot Locker, a Burger King, a KFC and 10 Exchange Bureaus. But what makes it impressive is the location of the National Museum directly at the head of street and probably the most striking building in Prague (pictured).

The rest of our time was spent idly wandering the streets, occasionally rewarding ourselves with a seat in a Czech Bar or two, then getting back up and repeating the process until we’d seen all that Prague has to offer - which, in comparison to all the other capital cities we’ve been to, is rather a lot. However, our most memorable hour came on Friday night as we were walking in the North of the city in the region of ‘Holesovice’ when lo and behold it began to snow - and didn’t it just! A good 2 inches fell and laid on the ground within 15 minutes, painting the city a fresh white and giving the town a whole new look that only snow can do. It continued to snow on and off until we departed on Sunday evening, but clearly nothing like what we were about to discover as we moved into Germany.

Upon crossing the border, bringing our 7 day spell in the Czech Republic to an end, we passed towns which looked deserted, for snow around 2/3 feet deep had covered everything from Post Boxes to cars. It could well be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and it certainly is the most snow I’ve ever encountered. Thankfully the roads had been 90% cleared so the Motorhome wasn’t struggling, even on the slopes.

We now find ourselves in a small Aire for only 4 Motorhomes in Gelobtland (Mariensberg) (pictured) with Electric for only 4 Euros a night. The village is small, but we’ve spent 2 happy days here wandering around in the snow and building our first snowman, who we’ve named Bertie (don’t ask me why). We’re still wrapped up warm almost every hour of the day, and most of the time it’s colder inside the Motorhome than it is out, but at least now we’ve got a superb excuse to spend more time outdoors!

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Aire in Gelobtland + Bertie

Cesky Krumlov

15th November - Austria

2008-11-15T12:42:00.006Z

Saturday 15th November

As things stand, there is simply no comparison to be had between Italy and Austria. In my opinion the two countries don’t even come close, certainly not close enough to be judged together. By saying that I don’t mean that one is better than the other though, just simply that the two countries differ too much to compare. Italy was Italy; brash, bustling but beautiful, and I must admit I thought our experience of Austria would at least have similarities but I‘ve been proved wrong so far. As soon as you cross the border into “Osterreich” you’re greeted into a very different world from the chaotic scenes we found in Italy; A world where lederhosen are still considered acceptable, a world where you’re not judged by how fast you drive and a world where, most importantly, you can relax. Austria offers a completely different experience from it’s Southerly neighbour, but it’s one which has been no less enjoyable.

From Venice we travelled north into the mountains and spent a chilly night and day in Cortina before bringing our 2 week long spell in Italy to an end by crossing the border at San Candido - a town we visited 2 months earlier prior to entering Slovenia. It was odd driving on familiar roads, and we even visited the same ‘Billa’ Supermarket (which Austria is certainly not short of (there’s at least one in every town no matter how large or small)) for old times sake.

‘Mallnitz’ situated right up in the mountains and on the edge of the ‘Hohe Tauern’ national park, was to be our home for 3 nights. The town, more of a village actually, was small enough to walk from one side to the other in just 5 minutes, but it was charming enough and surrounded by stunning scenery and ski slopes - minus the snow - for us to explore for 4 days. On the second day we traipsed into the thick woods and found a perfect location for a small bonfire; in a small clearing next to a minor but attractive stream. We collected fire wood during the day and at sundown (around 5.30pm at the moment) we set out to have the fire. It kept us warm and occupied for over 6 hours and it was a very pleasant evening indeed; just lounging around sipping beer and reminiscing about the past 5 months of travelling - how far we’d come, where the time had gone, and what was left to explore? The rest of our time in Mallnitz was spent either walking, drinking tea or avoiding the rain. Unfortunately the night we had the bonfire was the only time in Mallnitz when it wasn’t tipping it down, but we didn’t let that spoil our time in what was the closest we’ve come to the Swiss village Grimentz, in August.

Parking the Motorhome hasn’t been an issue at all so far in Austria, in fact calling it easy wouldn‘t do it enough justice. In every town we’ve found a small, free car park located only a few minutes walk from the centre with no regulations against Motorhomes. This has been the case for every town we’ve spent a night and day in, including: Spittal an der Drau, Radstadt, Eisenerz, Bruck an der Mur and Reichenau.

We’ve had the same routine for every place visited so far in Austria; we’d rise quite late, around 10am, cook breakfast, read a book and generally relax for a few hours, set off to explore the town then move on to the next location in the evening. It’s hardly an exciting schedule, but it’s one we’re enjoying as we aren’t rushed and we’re progressing at our own pace.

From Reichenau we drove the 70km to Austria’s capital Vienna, and managed to find a spot to eclipse all other previous good parking spots. Think Oxford Street in London, think Las Ramblas in Barcelona then think OpernRing in Vienna, and that’s where you’ll find little old Eric the Motorhome and it’s two young inhabitants! We couldn’t be any more central if we’d tried - the bustling, hurried High Street is no more than 100 metres from our front door - if a Hotel boasted that location they’d put an extra 300 Euros on the bill! OpernRing is a main street but has parking spaces along its side, separated from the road only by a thin line of trees.

Finding this spot put us in great spirits, which were already rather high just from being in Vienna itself, which is just as great as we’d expected. I hadn’t known a great deal about the city before I arrived (My only recollection of the place came in Russell Watson‘s “Ooh Vienna“) but Mike was awfully excited about it and assured me it’d be beautiful. And how right he was. Vienna is without a doubt my favourite major European city so far, beating off stiff competition from Paris, Madrid, Barcelona, Monaco, Budapest, Athens and Rome, who in turn beat off stiff competition from Lisbon, Valencia, Nice, Turin, Bern, Florence, Venice… I could go on! On the night we arrived we took the underground to ‘Praterstrasse’ to watch a jazz/hip-hop concert in the ‘Planetarium’. This wasn’t planned, nor was jazz/hip-hop mine or Mike’s first choice in music, but we’d heard the gig advertised on the local radio and we quite fancied a dance. Tickets cost 18 Euros which we thought was steep but we had a little spare change from the money we‘ve been saving on petrol. Austria has been the cheapest country for Diesel so far, even cheaper than Greece, as we‘ve regularly come across 1.09Euros per litre. The venue was heaving with people of all ages there to have a good time, and a good time we most certainly had.

The next day, nursing only a very, very slight hangover, we set off to wander the streets of Vienna and we spent the majority of the day doing just that. It really is a breathtaking city. It’s just in the process of preparing for Christmas, which I think is slightly too early myself, but then again in my home town of Eastleigh they put up the Christmas lights as soon as Easter is over, but in Vienna it has created an exciting atmosphere in the town as people relax from their Christmas shopping by sipping mulled wine in the many available Christmassy outlets.

We’re still in Vienna, after spending 2 nights in the parking spot which dreams are made of, and will move on this evening towards, but not all the way into the Czech Republic.

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Another decent parking spot, Radstadt.

Top photo: Bruck an der Drau

3rd November - Italy

2008-11-07T11:42:00.004Z

Monday 3rd November

Did anyone else notice that we’re currently in November? When did this happen? Where has the year gone? Where has Italy gone for that matter? Since my last blog, Eric the Motorhome has visited Naples, Rome, Orvieto, Siena, Florence, Pisa, Parma, Mantova and now Venice (We tagged along too to keep him company). The three of us have seen all that and more in the space of 2 weeks - sounds pretty daunting really, and it’s hurting my brain just thinking about it. But there’s no denying though that these last two weeks have been nothing short of superb. Once you get your head around the Italians and their horrendous driving, you realise how much the country has to offer; Rich heritage, superb food, stunning coastline and beautiful towns.

We didn’t spend the night in Naples, only a day visit. To be honest the town wasn’t a particularly spectacular place, and I can’t say I enjoyed it much. The lasting memory I have of the day is driving through a ridiculously small street up a very steep hill right in the town centre, certainly not suitable for Motorhomes and barely even suitable for mopeds. We got stuck, got shouted and honked at, got very stressed but we did manage to survive. That’s all I wish to say on the matter really, oh apart from that we got lost for 2 and a half hours trying to get away from Naples itself. Not a good day.

After stressful drives around Brindisi, Bari, Pompeii and now Naples we were feeling a little, well, stressed. The beach was calling, and we found a superb one just up the coast from Naples near Formia. We weren’t sure which town we were in, if there even was a town, but we didn’t care and spent a long day sunbathing and preparing ourselves for the onslaught of more hellish driving on the crazed roads of Italy in the general direction of Austria. The weather in general has been quite fortunate since Greece - it’s worth pointing out - especially for this time of year. In the past two weeks we’ve only had the odd miserable day.

I’m pleased to announce that from Rome upwards people with automobiles in Italy don’t all appear to have a death wish, and our driving has been much easier and relaxed, with many more Aires signposted making things easier for us Motorhomer’s. Rome was as magnificent as I’d expected. We parked outside the town centre in an expensive Aire listed in the Camperstop Guide and caught the tram to the centre for just 2 Euros. 30 minutes later we arrived at Termini station and were able to use our tram ticket on the underground which we duly did. Ottaviano Metro station is a 5 minute walk to Vatican City, which by the time we arrived at midday was already heaving with tourists. There was a queue about a kilometre long just to get into St. Peters’, we didn’t join it. I would have liked to seen St. Peters’, which is apparently (please correct me if I’m wrong) the Worlds largest church in the Worlds smallest country but after examining the extraordinarily long queue we decided we’d rather spend the time wandering the streets and seeing the sights of Rome. We had use of the Metro if we wanted, but only needed it once to get to the Vatican - Rome isn’t a huge city, or if it is then we didn’t notice for the amount of points of interest around Rome to keep us occupied. The Pantheon was ten times larger and more breathtaking than I’d expected it - and ten times as busy - and the Fontana di Trevi (pictured) was probably the second most beautiful sight in Rome, coming in closely behind the Coliseum ruins.

A few very pleasant days were spent exploring Orvieto and Siena respectively, which were both charming old towns and certainly worth mentioning. In fact they deserve more than just a mention, but if I wrote in detail about every place we’ve visited in Italy I’d have to write near-on 10 pages - the country really is packed to the rafters with interesting towns, villages, historical sights and even beaches. We could probably spend 6 months just travelling around Italy alone.

We haven’t been completely rushed off our feet though, because we quite uncharacteristically stayed in Florence for 5 nights. This was partly by choice, and party forced upon us. The night we arrived in Florence we - as seems to be the way in every place we visit now - drove into a car park which was too tight and not built for Motorhomes, so had to reverse out onto quite a busy road. I jumped out and stopped the traffic to allow Mike to easily manoeuvre Eric onto more suitable ground. Mike lowered both electric windows to hear my instructions and we got out no problem, however as we drove away neither of the windows were returning to their closed positions. Very confused and getting slightly wet, we frantically pressed the buttons, re-started the engine and tried everything we could possibly have tried when left with nothing but a non-functioning window knob, but to no avail. The windows were stuck and there was nothing, at 10pm, that we could do about it. Thankfully - someone must have been looking out for us that night - we found a very quiet spot down a residential street close to the centre of Florence. Noise was minimal, although it was a little chilly that night.

Well we couldn’t leave the Motorhome to enjoy Florence so we had to fix the problem before we could do absolutely anything. It turns out the fuse had blown, and the second mechanic we went to easily spotted this and fixed the problem within minutes, but this took practically the whole day driving around looking for garages, and it didn’t help that the first place we visited was home to the only mechanic in Italy who didn’t know a thing about cars. Our second problem came on our third day when we thought we’d somehow managed to spill a glass of water without noticing, as the floor beneath our feet inside the Motorhome was wet. Turns out that, despite how clumsy we both are with water in the Motorhome, the internal water pump has a leak, and to this day we haven’t been able to fix it, despite going to a specific repairs centre for Motorhomes. We’ve sorted the problem temporarily by switching off the pump, and using only the water we have stored in 5 litre and 2 litre bottles. The floor is a little damp, and it’s a pain that we can’t use the taps for a little while, but you can’t have everything your way can you?

So that put a few extra days on our time in Florence, but we did stay there longer than expected even if we hadn’t experienced the technical faults. Florence is a rather small town and everything is easily reached by foot and can be walked around in a matter of hours - but it’s too beautiful to be wasted on just a few measly hours. We walked it day and night, and then went back to the next day to repeat the exercise. On our fourth day we stumbled across a second hand English book store called ‘The Paper Back Exchange’ which was a god send for us as we were running out of reading material. I managed to pick up three paperbacks for 3 Euros (Robert K Tenanbaum ‘Fury’, Ben Elton ‘Chart Throb‘, and Robert McCrum ‘In the Secret State‘). The store can be found in the cathedral square and is highly recommended. For the rest of our time we simply slowly wandered the pretty cobbled streets, took in some superb street performers (musicians, no clowns or jugglers you understand) and had a few reasonably priced beers in the local bars. It’s prettier by night, as the case with many places, and Florence really has an enthralling atmosphere which made it my favourite location so far in Italy.

See what I mean? I’ve already written too much and I’m only at Florence! I could go on, and on. I could tell you about our surprise at the lack of wow-factor of the leaning Tower of Pisa, the gorgeous town of Parma, the fantastic chocolate market found in Mantova, our hours spent losing our way in Venice or many other delightful experiences we’ve had so far in Italy, but I just don’t have the time to write it all - maybe I’ll save it for my book!

As I write this we’re the only people camped at a small but beautiful campsite called ’Al Bateo Agricampeggio’ in Punta Sabbioni, a 45 minute boat ride across the water from Venice. There was an Austrian Motorhome here yesterday but has since departed leaving us to feel a little lonely, but pleased as we can enjoy the brand new facilities all to ourselves. Italy started off quite stressful, very busy and a little rushed at first, but as we’ve moved north things have really slowed down and the country has shown us what a superb place it really is. We’ve seen such a vast amount of interesting places, experienced so much and eaten some brilliant Pizza. Austria is going to have a hard job impressing us more than Italy has.

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Attempting to fix our leak in a Florence garage

Parma

The chocolate market in Mantova

19th October - Southern Greece and early Italy

2008-10-25T23:36:00.005+01:00

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

2008-10-12T11:42:00.006+01:00

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

2008-10-06T21:02:00.006+01:00

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

Budapest & Early Romania

2008-09-29T15:21:00.004+01:00

Saturday 27th September

We managed to park up in Tesco’s for 2 nights without any problems, which was handy because we would have struggled to park anywhere else in Budapest (legally) as it was constantly extremely busy both with vehicles and pedestrians. It was a 2 kilometre walk into the town centre down the “Kossuth” which took us past the Budapest National Stadium and the very grand train Station. My first impressions of Budapest were very favourable indeed, and we walked all the way past the town until we reached the swift river Danube, where we took a leisurely stroll along the riverside to the neo-Gothic Houses of Parliament building on the bank (pictured). It’s an extremely impressive structure; one which we gazed at for a number of minutes, but it certainly isn’t alone in terms of beautiful buildings in Budapest. The other one of note - which actually took my breath away upon the first sighting - was the Bazilika (pictured). It’s housed in a large square which makes it unnoticeable from afar, so it crept up on us somewhat when we suddenly saw it though a gap in the shops.

Budapest was certainly impressive, and due to its immense size could have been explored for a few more days, but we got itchy feet and made the short drive north to Ezstergom the “Medieval Capital of Hungary” on the Slovakian border. After a quite a while looking, we couldn’t find any evidence for this dramatic title, but we did manage to find Hungary’s largest Bazilika (Church) on a hill overlooking the Danube and across into Slovakia. The views were impressive and the Church was also, but not quite as memorable as the one in Budapest.

We were running low on all things electrical as we hadn’t had hook up since Slovenia, but what with their being no campsites and certainly no Aires in Hungary we had no choice but hope to stumble across an electric point somewhere. We first looked in a Tesco’s car park, then a Lidl’s (which I have to add are absolutely everywhere in Europe) but had no joy. After driving around for a few hours I had to idea to go and ask at a Petrol Station - they surely would allow us to cheekily hook up for a few hours if we asked nicely. It was very late, probably around midnight, so not many people were around so I thought if you don’t ask you don’t get and went in all smiley and polite and used my best sign language to indicate what we wanted. The female attendee was very pleasant but had no idea what I was asking, so she rang a friend who spoke English and put me onto him and after a while she understood and allowed us to connect for 3 hours! This allowed us to have a few cups of well needed tea and re-charge things like mobiles and the digital camera. We were very grateful of course and this perhaps is a good tip for Motorhomer’s who decide to venture into the unknown, or Eastern Europe as it’s sometimes called.

A few days later and we find ourselves in our next country, Romania. They’re coming around quick, these countries. The border crossing was non eventful, which made a nice change. Unlike most crossings, there was only one set of police, and they were friendly and let us through after checking our passports - no funny looks, no searching the Motorhome (as happened when we travelled into Hungary), no Green Card, no “illegal stuff” accusations, just a smile and a wave. One of them even said “Goohd Bay” which I thought was nice of him. The first city we drove through was Oradea although we didn’t make a stop. It was a pretty rough town. At each set of traffic lights there were small children who ran up to the Motorhome and begged for money which was very sad indeed. There were hundreds of hitchhikers all trying to flag down each car that passed, trying to get wherever they could - presumably anywhere other than here. Along the E60 which takes us into the Centre of Romania, and eventually on towards Bucharest, were even more children begging next to run down old houses, most of which were just shells of houses that used to be.

Romania has certainly been the poorest country we’ve visited so far - hopefully this sort of poverty isn’t a common sight across the whole of the country.

Our first port of call was the city of Cluj-Napoca, which is much more developed than Oradea but still hundreds of desperate hitchhikers and beggars lined the streets. We saw a VW van pull up along a bunch of around 10-15 hitchhikers, and as soon as it came to a halt they all ran towards the van pushing and shoving trying to get onboard. It was an odd experience, and we wandered why these people were so desperate to leave, not seeming to care where the driver was heading to. We are heading via a few cities towards Bran Castle near Brasov where Count Dracula was known to reside, Mike tells me he was just fictional but I’m still hoping to meet him myself so will keep my fingers crossed.

Cluj-Napoca, away from the Highstreet

Budapest

From Luzern to Budapest

2008-09-24T17:46:00.005+01:00

Tuesday 23rd September

My last blog started with the fact that time appeared to be standing still, but I certainly cannot accuse it of that now. Since the 5th of September on that rainy day in Luzern, we’ve made visits to Germany, Austria, Italy, Slovenia, Croatia, Bosnia Herzegovina, and to where we are today: Hungary. Some of those countries were just passing visits, where we will return later on this year and the others we shall not see again during this trip. It has been a hectic few weeks and we’ve seen a lot, but it hasn’t felt rushed which is the main thing.

We headed towards the German town of Fussen - on the Austrian border - after leaving Switzerland (which for the most part was dull and rainy, but otherwise a very pleasant country indeed) where we visited the ‘Schloss Neuschwanstein’ which I’ve been told was the setting for one of the scenes in the film “Chitty Chitty Bang Bang”. It’s a fairytale castle with a superb mountainous setting, making for some excellent postcards - however, it’s not quite as impressive in person as you cannot really see the castle properly until making the 40minute trek up the mountain, and when you do reach it you’re too close to take it all in. There is though a bridge a few minutes walk away where you can get some good photos and take in the views and the scenery.

We would only spend a few days in Germany (one night in Konstanz, one in Ravensburg and the other in a campsite near Fussen) before crossing the border into Austria. Germany shall be explored in much greater depth this winter. Our first of only two stop-offs was the riverside city of Innsbruck, one of the host cities for this summers European Football Championships. We managed to find a parking space in an industrial estate (classy, I know) which was only a few minutes walk from the town centre. There are no official places for Motorhomes to park in Innsbruck (as with many other major cities also) so we didn’t have a choice but to park where we did. This was no problem for us, but one English couple we met at an Aire in Ravensburg told us they would “never dream of wild camping”, which we can fully understand, but it does seem a shame as you’d miss out on so many places which you wouldn’t see had it not been for parking up wherever you could.

We found a few Irish Bars in Innsbruck (The Galway Bay and Limerick Bills), which pleased us as it enabled us to get a few pints of Strongbow and Guiness which is one thing we both sorely miss about England! Innsbruck is a very favourable town. It’s quiet, not too busy and it’s quite noticeably very clean. Unfortunately, the weather didn’t seem to improve since our time in Switzerland and we got caught out once in just a t-shirt and got drenched whilst walking back towards the Motorhome. We spent a long weekend in Innsbruck, leaving on the night of Sunday the 14th when we drove a short distance up the 171 to an aire in a nearby village called Schwaz. It was completely full so we had to park just outside the aire but we weren’t alone in doing so, so we didn’t worry about breaking any rules! There were Motorhomes from all over; The Netherlands, France, Germany, Slovenia, even Slovakia, but no other British.

Our time in Austria had come to an end as we drove on the Monday through northern Italy towards Ljubljana, Slovenia’s capital, making one stopover in the Italian town of San Candido (Austria being one of the countries we will see more of in the winter months). Slovenia has definitely been the cheapest country we have experienced so far and this was most noticeable in the supermarkets, so we stocked up on a few essentials in a “Mercator” before arriving in Ljubljana. We found another wild camping spot in the car park of a sports centre, a short walk through a wonderful large park, about the size of Southampton Common, filled with dog walkers and quite strangely hundreds and hundreds of runners, as if a race was about to start. I half expected (perhaps naively) that Slovenia would be quite a run down, poorly developed country but that was not visible to us at all. Slovenia seemed to be doing very well - perhaps adopting the Euro and losing their currency the Tolar in 2007 has helped boost it’s economy, because despite the cheap shops the parts of Slovenia we visited appeared healthy and strong.

Before reaching the capital we spent a day in Bled, if only to visit the fantastic lake which houses the pretty St Martin church on a small mid-lake Island. It is the very definition of the word picturesque! We took the time we wander around the whole of the lake which was a very pleasant few hours spent indeed. The lake is very beautiful and by this time the weather has improved somewhat, so we were joined on our walk by tourists by the coach load but that didn’t spoil the relaxed atmosphere around the lakeside pathways.

After a few days in the capital we travelled South down the 409 towards Postojna, home to some extremely impressive caves, unfortunately though they cost 19 Euros each to enter, so was way over our budget. There is however a good secure spot for Motorhomes to park overnight directly at the cave for anyone wanting to visit. It costs 11 Euros for 24 Hours which includes unlimited Electricity and water and we were joined by 5 other Motorhomes who told us the caves were quite stunning, if only you can afford the entrance fee!

After 5 days in Slovenia we were making our way towards Croatia, and we crossed the border at Oragonja, only a few kilometres from the Italian town of Trieste! After 3 months of travelling around, going over many borders, this was the first time we’ve had to show our passports, so when arriving at the barrier we weren’t really expecting it. We put the window down and smiled at the waiting Police officer. “Hello” we said. “Err.. This is the border.” he replied, and then looked at us, shrugged and said “So…?”. For a minute I thought he was waiting for us to bribe him, but in fact all he wanted was our passports so we duly obliged and were let through without issue.

We spent a few pleasant days travelling down the coast of Croatia, making stops in Porec, Rovinje and Rijecka. The weather increased dramatically and after a few weeks of nothing but cloud and rain, we found the sunshine again. As Brits this obviously meant shorts and t-shirts time, much to the amusement of the locals who still thought coats and hats were necessary! Apart from a power cut which sent the town of Porec into complete darkness during busy evening trading hours, everything went swimmingly in northern Croatia, and after a few days we headed down the coastal A8 road towards Split. In all the places I’ve mentioned we were forced to wild camp as there are no official Motorhome parking spaces apart from official campsites - this sounds daunting for Motorhomer’s planning to visit these countries but there are lots of places to park if you are brave enough and obviously don’t break any laws. We have found that most places are quite relaxed about Motorhomes parking freely in their towns and most of the time you’ll get away with it, as we have so far. We have still only been asked to move on once, which was in Benidorm, but even then it was the same policeman who asked us to move 3 times so he clearly just had a personal issue with Motorhomes!

Split was aswarn with activity and was very different from the other places we’d visited in Croatia. It obviously benefits greatly from tourism and we saw many tour groups and Americans dotted around taking photos and buying souvenirs from the vast amount of small outlets scattered here and there. The 4th century palace of Roman Emperor Diocletian is worth a visit, and parts of the great building are incorporated into the streets and buildings of the town itself, which gives the surrounding roads a great deal of character. The palace and the main market square is set just yards away from the port which makes a very nice backdrop for the city. (Pictured: Parked up in the centre of Split)

We didn’t make any stops in Bosnia Herzegovina, in fact at one point it didn’t even look like we were going to be allowed in as the Bosnian Police didn’t like the look of us at all and made us pull over into a lay-by whilst they tried to talk to us and look at all our documents. One of the officers spoke a little English, and after a while of trying to understand each other, what was actually the problem was our missing Green Card insurance, or as they called it “Border Insurance” which we were forced to buy for 65 Euros for 7 days. It was a cost we weren’t expecting, but I suppose if we’d have done our research we’d have known we needed to buy this. After dilly-dallying around for about half an hour trying to sort out the purchase of a green card, we went back to present the card to the officers who were standing by Eric who came and said to us “Okay. Fine. Err… you have some illegal stuff in your van”. We were shocked when he said this and we though he was trying to con us into giving him some money or similar, but in fact he was only trying to ask us if we had anything illegal. I guess he wouldn’t have asked the same question to everyone, only two young lads with a Motorhome isn’t a sight you see everyday, so we forgave him that. (Pictured: The 4th century palace of Roman Emperor Diocletian)

We hadn’t planned to go to Bosnia at all on this trip but it made it easier to get towards Hungary from Split rather than travelling right up through Croatia again, so we had a 7 hour road trip until we reached the border at ‘Bosanska Gradiska’ where thankfully we didn’t have any issues getting through border control. From here we travelled north into Hungary (our 13th country) making stop over’s in Okucani (Croatia) and Pecs (Hungary) to where we find ourselves today, the capital Budapest. We arrived late into Budapest and we will explore the town in the day light hours, but for now we are parked in the most unlikely of places: A Tesco car park! It seems Eric, Mike and I aren’t the only British thing in Eastern Europe at the moment!

A castle in the hill nearby the Postojna Caves.

(Pictured at top: Standing in the middle of nowhere in Bosnia)

Central Switzerland

2008-09-07T13:54:00.003+01:00

Friday 5th September 2008

Time appears to be standing still at the moment. For the past few weeks at least it seems as if that - although we’ve progressed geographically - we haven’t made any progress time wise. It’s like we’re constantly saying we’ve been away for 2 months, time just doesn’t seem to be moving at all! It seems an age away from reaching the half way point at the end of September. This, I suppose, is a good thing; our time isn’t just flying away from us and we’re not wasting days.

As for the here and now though, after leaving Grimentz we decided to head to the Swiss Capital Bern - which has a mere population of 120,500, which we figured would make for an un-crowded, well looked after City. We weren’t too far off. Bern is indeed well maintained (as is everywhere we’ve travelled so far in Switzerland actually) but it was hardly un-crowded. We arrived on a Friday evening and the city was buzzing, mainly with youngsters who all seemed to be drinking and chatting on the streets as if all waiting for some kind of event to begin. That doesn’t sound particularly appealing really does it, but although there was lots of public drinking there was no hostility at all and we felt more than comfortable walking the streets at night.

We did struggle to find parking though, all the surrounding roads leading up to Bern were packed with parked cars and there aren’t any Aires available either. After about an hour of frustration we decided to cut our losses and park in a Pay and Display car park right in the centre next to the station. After inspection though it didn’t seem like anyone else had bought a ticket, so we took our chance and got away with it.

Nearby to where we’d parked was the large Aare river which we took a dip in later that evening, as many others were doing. On a warm evening after a busy days driving it was extremely refreshing and we both needed a clean to be honest after a little while without showering! As we were walking bare footed (and in nothing else but Speedo’s) through the busy town centre back to the Motor Home, two policeman strolled up for a chat. We were expecting a ticking off for indecent exposure or some other crime, but in fact they wanted to warn us about walking around without shoes in this area for fear of walking on needles left by drug users - which apparently are everywhere in Bern! We were a little shocked, not just because of what they told us about the huge amount of drugs which were about in Bern, but because some policemen actually wanted to speak to us to be friendly and offer kind advice. They spoke perfect English, of course, and even told us to ‘take care’ when we left. My experience (very little, granted) of the Police back in the UK has been nothing like that of those in Bern.

After a few days in the capital we headed north to a small Village called Lamboing, near Biel. I’d known of this place as until recently I had cousins Michael and Nadine living there, and had visited them on a few occasions. Unfortunately they moved to China a few weeks earlier so we could not visit them, but I still wanted to see Lamboing if only to retrace steps and relive memories. I remember me and my Mum having a superb day walking in the area, especially down the stunning gorge which runs from Lamboing itself down to the village of Twann, situated on the ‘Bielesee Lake’. This was at least 7 years ago, but the gorge was still just as beautiful as I’d remembered (formally known as the “Twannbachschlucht”, give or take a few c’s and h’s possibly). We ambled down joyfully in around 40 minutes, then remembered that we somehow had to get back up. When last here my cousin Nadine came down the mountain to collect us in her car, but this time we had no such luck. It took us around three times as long to get back up than it did down. We slept well that night.

A fantastic night was spent in an Aire (pictured) following on from Lamboing. It’s a must for all Motor Homers in that area, not only because it doesn't cost anything, but also because it has free (there’s that word again) unlimited water and electric! It’s located in Neuchatel, a short drive West of Lamboing. The Aire is situated on the Number 5 main road and is on the left hand side just before entering the town. We were joined by a Dutch family who also made good use of facilities.

The next morning we were drawn South to the Swiss Alps again, and spent 3 pleasant days in the village of Grindelwald, described in our guidebook as “the land of permanent snow”. This was a large attraction for us, so as you can imagine upon arrival the only sight of anything ‘snow like’ was on the top of a distant mountain. We were excited though by the prospect of taking the train up to the highest station in Europe - some 4000ft - to the top of the Jungfrau. We didn’t expect the fare to be much, as we were half way up the mountain already and it’s only a small train - how wrong were we. If I said it was 50 Francs each you’d be a bit taken back wouldn’t you? If I then said 100 Francs each you’d tell me to stop drinking, but I kid you not when I tell you that the fare was 158 Francs EACH. “How long is the trip, a week?” we asked in shock. Needless to say, we didn’t make the journey. I’m sure it’s lovely up there though. (Our parking spot in Grindlewald, pictured)

Currently we’re in the lakeside city of Luzern. We only arrived a few hours ago, but after a quick stroll around the main streets we can tell it’s a very pretty place indeed. Situated on the ‘Vierwald Stattersee’ lake, the town is clean and attractive, scattered with busy restaurants and posh hotels. It’s a green and comfortable walk into the centre from where we’ve parked, and all along the pathway little games of bowls can be found, attracting small but interested crowds - a brass band plays jolly tunes, and couples aimlessly walk hand in hand into the distance. All very agreeable.

It’s Friday night, getting quite late and tomorrow we probably won’t do a great deal apart from wandering and exploring a little - which shouldn’t be too strenuous. Switzerland is certainly treating us well so far.

(A mini fesival in Lamboing)

26th August - The Swiss Alps

2008-08-27T11:57:00.003+01:00

Tuesday 26th August 2008

And then it was cold again! Yesterday we had our most ‘British’ experience of the trip so far, by waking up in what seemed like a large ice bucket - well, almost. We now find ourselves high up in the beautiful Swiss Alps in a quite stunning village called Grimentz, in a handy little free aire with electricity for just CHF 1.50. The journey from the South of France was a long and steep one, but one which was more than definitely worth the effort.

After leaving St. Tropez we spent a few pleasant days in Nice before we visited our 4th country in the shape of little Monaco. We only spent one evening here, mainly due to us having to park what felt like a few miles out of the centre, in fact we were more than likely parked in France due to Monaco’s ridiculous size. We did have a stunning view of Monaco from where we camped for the night though (pictured). We visited the famous Monte Carlo Casino (also pictured), where we pretended to be loaded for one evening even though we spent not a penny on the tables or machines - we fooled nobody. Perhaps it was because I was sporting “ripped jeans”, not the usual attire for someone driving a £100,000 Bentley and spending £1000 on one throw of the dice. It was fun trying though.

Monaco was our last destination in France as we crossed the border into Italy and headed for Turin where we spent 2 days. We arrived on Saturday evening and we were surprised by the lack of activity in the centre of the town and it’s main streets, hardly a soul was about apart from us and a few street traders who can’t have been doing too well that night. We explored Turin properly on Sunday which meant the town was even quieter, and although almost everything was shut we didn’t particularly mind as we were the only tourists about - which made a change from places like Paris, Madrid and Barcelona which we’ve previously visited. Although I was slightly annoyed as I couldn’t find anywhere open which sold an English newspaper and I was desperate to read about Southampton’s one-nil victory of hapless Derby County the previous day.

Turin is a pretty place, but not much to write home about. Perhaps I’m being harsh, and perhaps I am judging it along with the likes of the three cities listed above, but in all honesty there isn’t a great deal to see unless you can afford to spend 10 Euros going into each museum, which Turin is not short of. We did manage to find a handy free (again!) parking spot though, almost in the city centre. We were parked right next to Turin’s second largest train station, and about 5 minutes walk from the main square. There was a little train noise throughout the night but nothing too drastic. We were somewhat apprehensive about leaving Eric here though, it was the first major city since the Marseille fiasco, but we needn’t of worried as no funny business occurred.

Even though we’d only just arrived in Italy, Turin was to be our penultimate stop there as this was only really a passing visit - we’ll explore Italy in full depth later this year when we catch the ferry from Greece or Albania, where we will arrive in either Bari or Brindisi on the South coast. Our final destination in Italy for now though was spent in an Aire listed in our trusty Camper Stop 2007 Guide, in Breuil-Cervinia, way up in the Italian Alps, within touching distance of the 4482ft high ‘Matterhorn’. The road was long and winding (we should have played our Beatles album on the way up) and it took around 30 minutes to reach the aire, but when we did it did not disappoint. The view of the overlooking surrounding mountains was breath taking and the temperature had suddenly fallen from what we have been used to these past few months, and we attracted some odd looks when jumping out of the motor home in just shorts and sandals, as you can imagine. We stayed only one night and although the guide said we’d be charged 6 Euros, nobody ever came to collect anything so we had another free stop over. Before a quick coffee in a nearby café we made our way back down the mountain towards Switzerland - what would be our 6th country of the trip so far!

We took the SS26 through Aosta (where I managed to pick up a Sunday Mail, thankfully. A tiny write up on the game mind, surprise surprise.) and then took the SS27 on mountainous terrain towards the Tunnel du St Bernard which would take us through the other side of the Alps into Switzerland. Upon arriving at the pay-point we were greeted with a huge sign saying “Camping Cars 36.50 Euros”. 36.50? For a small tunnel? It was quite ridiculous, and although we’d driven a long way to get there we could not justify spending that much of our budget on one tunnel, so we had to turn back to where we were told by the polite English speaking man in the kiosk that there was a scenic route through the mountains which would add around 45 minutes onto our journey. This didn’t bother us though, the scenic route sounds much prettier than a tunnel, and what’s more it’s 36.50 Euros cheaper. The views over the valleys below were awesome, but the road surface left a lot to be desired. They clearly haven’t done any work to this road since it was built in 500 BC.

When you cross the border into Switzerland, everything changes immediately. Not like when you cross from France to Italy or Spain to Portugal where you can hardly notice a difference. Switzerland stands out from any other country we’ve been to so far. The roads are perfectly maintained, everything sparkles as if it’s just been freshly scrubbed the same morning and the people are always smiling and greet you with a smile and a “Bonjour”. It really is a very agreeable little place.

We wanted to head to another aire listed in the Camperstop book in the town which we currently reside, ‘Grimentz’, for the sole reason that the photograph in the guide is stunning. On the left is a motor home dwarfed by huge snow covered mountains, and on the right a place to get water and electric. It said it was free too so that was a bonus. We drove along the SR21 through Martigny, where we had to draw out some Swiss Francs and headed along the straight and flat D9 in the bottom of a valley running alongside the river Rhone (which we’d last seen in Avignon). The flat Roman like road made a fantastic change from all these hills we’d been twisting and turning up.

We found the turning to go up in the ‘Val d Anniveers’ where the village is located two thirds of the way up. Upon arriving in Grimentz we were greeted by a few other motor homes parked in the road side aire, and although there was no snow like the photo, the location was still perfect.
The village of Grimentz itself is beautiful beyond words, and I have absolutely fallen in love with the place. It’s so quiet and peaceful, so pretty and just so perfect. Stunning dark brown wooden chalet style houses are randomly scattered across the hillside, and the village centre is like something from a fairytale. Each building has shutters on the windows, a small balcony and hundreds of flower baskets hanging off them, which look like they each have a personal professional gardener as they are all so perfectly kept. It adds so much colour to the place. My mother would absolutely love this place too, and when I win the lottery I’ll buy her one of these chalets to retire to.

For me, it feels like the real travelling has started. We’ve had our holiday, we’ve sat on the beach long enough, and now we are into proper Europe, real Europe and certainly beautiful Europe. In my opinion this little village certainly beats any of the major cities we’ve been to for beauty and interest. I could wander these petit streets for hours and never be bored, whereas after a few hours wandering a capital city it starts to take its toll, and the interest wears off after seeing most of the attractions. This village is the closest I’ve experienced since I lived and worked in Brockenhurst in the New Forest, which I absolutely adored for it’s charm and tranquillity, but this place is like no other - hopefully the photos attached do it justice. I don’t quite know where we’re going next (that’s quite a nice feeling to have) but if all of Switzerland is like this then we’re going to have a great time here.

A free rock concert in Monaco

The Aire in Grimentz

The Aire in Breuil-Cervinia

20th August - South of France

2008-08-27T11:47:00.004+01:00

Wednesday 20th August 2008

We’re still going, still plodding along! (Despite the lack of recent blog updates).

The trip seems to have taken a much more relaxed pace, which suits us both. We’re taking it much slower now than when we first started, spending more time at each stop and generally taking it easy - this is perhaps because of our sheer excitement and enthusiasm to “get to the next place” when we first started. At the beginning we were moving on literally every day, we’d very rarely stay somewhere for more than 24 hours, but that’s all changed now. For example we spent 4 days in a small town called Torrenueva in South East Spain (highly recommended for Motorhomer’s due to ample ‘on beach’ free parking and superb clear water), a whole week in Mojacar, 3 days in Benidorm, 3 in Barcelona, and 2 days in Banyoles & Narbonne respectively, so the pace really has slowed. It’s given us more time to relax and explore the places we’re visiting.

Barcelona was three days superbly spent. We managed to find a parking space (somehow) in the city centre, about 5 minutes drive from Las Ramblas (the main street) and within touching distance of the beautiful ‘Nou Camp’ football stadium. The parking was free and we weren’t asked to move on. This spot was especially handy for us as we were able to get tickets for the Barcelona v Wisla Krakow match which was a thoroughly enjoyable one. The game finished 4-0 to Barcelona and the atmosphere was superb throughout, the only worrying moment was after the game when a “safety” steward (and I use to term ’safety’ very loosely) tried to pick a fight with me for not leaving the ground quick enough! He was much bigger than I was, so I left it.

The city of Barcelona itself is vibrant and cosmopolitan with a good mix of historical sights thrown in. The famous “Sagrada Familia” was a disappointment though. It’s basically a huge cathedral, which would be stunning I’m sure, if it didn’t have 50% of the whole worlds supply of scaffolding attached to the side of it. They claim they can’t afford to finish it but they still had thousands of tourists (not us I might add) pouring inside each paying 5 Euros to “help us afford to finish this beautiful piece of architecture”… a lovely little scam they’ve got going on there!

After Barcelona we stayed in a large campsite called ‘Camping El Llac’ in the village of Banyoles, not far from the French border. The reason it’s called “El Llac” is due to its lakeside location, which on a hot sunny day is perfect to go boating on, we couldn’t resist and paid the man 10 Euros to row across a huge lake and get stuck several times in the bushes and reeds, much to the amusement of each passer by. ‘Twas good fun though. The Campsite had a large pool, small supermarket, restaurant, good shower and toilet facilities, plenty of places to refill Eric with drinking water and it had a hose, so no fiasco with 1.5l bottles again, thankfully. With electric hook up it set us back 22 Euros per night. Quite steep really but it’s the going rate of all campsites we’ve stayed at.

At around 11pm during our stay at this campsite it strangely started to rain - we hadn’t come across rain for over a month so this was quite a novelty, but after a few minutes we realised it wasn’t just a few drops but more a tropical storm! The rain was coming down like nothing I’ve ever seen in England before… the noise it was making hitting the roof of the Motor home was almost deafening! We wanted to enjoy it so went outside (fully clothed) for a walk, and within minutes the whole campsite was half flooded in around 3/4 inches of water; thunder and lightning exploding above us. We were enjoying it greatly… until we realised we’d left the bloody sun roof open. Splendid.

(Dancing in the rain, left).

We spent a few pleasant days in the French city of Avignon which still has almost a complete set of surrounding ancient walls before heading to Marseille (Frances second largest city). We found a spot to park on the “Quai du Port” which is one of the main streets in the beautiful “Vieux Port”, lined with bustling bars and restaurants. We were parked just around the corner though, out of site from the majority of tourists so we thought we wouldn’t have a problem being moved on. We arrived late at night so after a quick stroll we headed off to bed. In the morning we were surrounded by the same cars and hadn’t been asked to go, so we thought it would be fine to leave Eric there for the day whilst we did all the tourist stuff and explored Marseille, what with it’s beautifully decorated Notre Damn cathedral with quite stunning views over the whole city.
We spent a nice day in the sun and were even given a free ice lolly in a newsagents! The reason being of course is because it cost 80 cents but I tried to pay with a 20 Euro note, so she just let it pass… oops. We’d spent a long day exploring and soon after finishing our lollies it got late so we decided to head back to the motor home, with a pleasant opinion of Marseille and their newsagents left in the memory.

Upon getting closer to Eric we noticed something was not quite right. “What the hell is wrong with the window?” Mike asked. I looked up and saw half of it was on the floor with a hinge hanging in mid air. Our hearts sank, and as we got closer it was clear that we’d been broken into.

Eric was in a complete state. All the cupboards were open and almost everything was on the floor. We were completely gutted. It felt like someone had stabbed us in the back. We quickly looked around to see what had been taken, the first obvious one was the flat screen TV. They completely ripped it from it’s bracket which in itself is bolted down. Apart from that and 47 Euros, it was all the thieves managed to steal. We considered ourselves quite lucky as we could have come off a lot worse if 1) the thieves had thought to look in other places and 2) we didn’t have a safe.

The window (made of plastic) is snapped in half, but thankfully has not been completely broken and we managed to reattach it to the framework and is now pretty sturdy again. We’ll have to get it properly fixed eventually though. It was a complete shock and a pain to lose a very expensive TV, but we’ve treated it as a wake up call. We were stupid to leave valuables lying around, but thankfully they didn’t find them all, so from now on EVERYTHING is going in the safe at all times when we leave Eric.

The police weren’t interested frankly. We told them what happened, in pidgin English, they took a few details and then quite bluntly told us to leave the station - charming. They didn’t even look for themselves and we don’t expect anything to happen. We’ll call the insurance company in a few days when we get our heads out of our books we’re currently reading!

All in all it was a horrible experience but we’ll learn from it and it’ll make us stronger. The trip is going great in general though, and we’ve just spent a nice few days in St. Tropez, another playground for the rich and famous.

Maybe one day we’ll be able to travel in our of the super yachts we saw rather than a motor home… or maybe I should stop dreaming!

(Not a bad parking spot in Mojacar, Spain)

28th July - Southern Spain

2008-07-29T00:17:00.006+01:00

Monday 28th July 2008

For the past few weeks we have been living off pretty much the same routine, which consists of nothing more than waking up, going to the beach, sun bathing and going to sleep. We don’t normally get to the beach until around midday, the most likely reason being is because that’s not until when we’re awake enough to realise what’s happening outside of the motor home, then we do realise that it’s another beautiful day so had better make the most of it. It’s a system which is working well for us, but unfortunately not many interesting stories or anecdotes arise from such an existence!

We slowly made our way from Praia da Luz along the Algarve Coast, making leisurely stopovers at Albufeira, Tavira and Monte Gordo before crossing the border into Spain.

We were somewhat, not ‘disappointed’, but ‘surprised’ by the Algarve in general. We had this image of an idyllic, luxurious haven but we were much more impressed with Portugal’s West coast than it’s South. The Algarve’s beaches seemed small, (in comparison to the beaches of Nazare and Milades visited previously) over crowded and in some cases actually a little dirty. We visited ‘Praia do Castelo’ to the West of Albufeira and stayed for a few days as again we found a perfect parking spot a few minutes walk from the beach where we stayed for free without any hassle at all. The beach itself was as you’d expect beautiful on the eye with golden sand and apparent clear blue water, but as we got up close to the sea we discovered that it wasn’t that clear at all. We were obviously being very picky though… I mean, in comparison to the English Channel the water in Portugal was practically taken straight from a bottle of Evian, but by this point we had very high expectations after the superb waters we swam in on the West Coast.

We experienced more unpleasant water in Monte Gordo where the water was overwhelmed by green slime which had washed up on the beach and remains of which we still found on our swimming trunks a few hours afterwards. This wasn’t much of a problem though in all reality - the weather was always fantastic and we haven’t been moved on once for parking somewhere we shouldn’t - in fact at Monte Gordo we were parked up alongside 7 other Motor Homes, it was almost like being in a French Aire. I think the ease of parking will actually be the stand out memory of Portugal for us, at not one point have we felt threatened or unsafe and it’s all been free, what more can we ask?

We headed into Spain via the toll free A49 motorway, which made a lovely change after spending the past month surviving only on A Roads - we made some real progress in a relatively short space of time… we’d almost forgotten how that felt! (We were also pleased by the 12 cents drop per litre in the price of petrol just by moving out of Portugal and into Spain might I add).

Another couple of free nights were had in Punta Umbria near the town of Huelva and yet more sunbathing took place, before taking a long drive from there through Seville and down the A376/5/4/7 to the wealthy town of Marbella on the Costa Del Sol. Marbella was just as beautiful as I had remembered it from a holiday I took here two years ago, only if anything it seemed more rich and prosperous than before. A Café I had visited on the promenade called ‘the Bombaros’ was now a sleek and stylish Restaurant, no longer serving a three course meal for 11 Euros. An English paper now cost 4 Euros rather than 2, and a bottle of Peach Schnapps had also doubled in price - a shame for a traveller like me but a sign of the times I guess.

Marbella isn't just a promenade and a mile of Golden Beach though, it also has a stunning old town with narrow side streets and cute cafes and traditional tapas bars. The atmosphere it creates in the evening when the restaurants are full and the buskers are playing is delightful, and this part hadn't changed at all from my last visit. I fell in love with Marbella when I was here last, and I now remembered why - I could live here if I won the lottery...I wouldn't move away from England for many places, but this is certainly one I'd be happy to drop everything and move away for - it's a beautiful town.

We spent Saturday night in nearby Puerto Banus - a playground for the rich and famous, quite literally. Whilst wandering the streets we often passed Lamborghini’s, Ferrari’s and Aston Martins, meeanwhile the port is lined with million pound super yachts. They really are out of this world… all of them were bigger than not only my house, but any house I’d ever seen in my life. They were all lit up as the evening strollers walked by, and you could see all the way inside to where the rich people were sitting, drinking champagne and counting their money (an endless task it would seem). It was a warm evening and although we were clearly two poor travellers in a rich mans back garden it was still an enjoyable night where we somehow managed to only spend 10 Euros each in a bar called ‘Flicks’ (mostly filled with Brits). Every other bar we enquired in were charging at least 10 Euros just for entry, so we felt we’d done pretty well.

Next stop Granada, which is a few kilometres inland. We can’t be having that - straight back to the beach afterwards methinks.

13th July - Portugal's West Coast

2008-07-21T00:58:00.004+01:00

Sunday 13th July

Sitting here now we find ourselves in the beautiful Praia de Luz in the Algarve region of Portugal. It’s the 20th of July and I have no idea where the last week has gone. The last I knew we were in Madrid and now we find ourselves in the beautiful Algarve! We spent a few leisurely days and nights moving west across mid-Spain after leaving Madrid and crossed over the Portuguese border on the 13th.

The last week has been a complete blur, we have been basically just moving on each day from beach to beach on Portugal’s stunning West Coast and our time here has been fantastically cheap so far. Motorhomer’s won’t find any official stopover’s or Aires as you do so frequently in France, but we have had absolutely no problem parking for free at every beach we have visited, including Nazare, Santa Cruz, Portinho da Arrabida, Melides and Sagres. Each location has had a large, free and mostly empty car park directly on their respective beaches. How else could you wake up each morning with a view of different beach, and spend each evening watching the sun set over a different sea?

Lisbon was well worth a day trip, and even there we were able to park Eric for one day and night for just 1.20 Euros in the nearby town of Queluz, the next town on from Amadora which was actually a nightmare for parking. It was a manned car park next to the station, which 24 hour security - if we were in England we’d have needed to take out a small bank loan to stay there for more than a day. Lisbon itself isn‘t large, for a capital city. It has a metro but to be honest it doesn’t need one, and we were never likely to use it at 8 Euros for 10 stops, especially seeming as our train from Queluz only cost 1.30 Euros.

The city centre is full of drunks and beggars which spoilt our experience a little. The beggars were very persistent and very irritating after the first two or three - I know that sounds harsh, but they never leave you alone. They come up to people sitting in Café’s and Bars and families enjoying a meal, they follow you down a street - it was a bit sad really.

It wasn’t all bad though. The views overlooking the city and the ocean from the ‘Castle of Jorge’ (I think I‘m right with that name…you can tell I've researched this well can't you?!) are stunning, and although you have to pay 5 Euros to get into the castle you can just walk 2 minutes down the road next to the Church to experience the same panoramic sights for free - and there’s a bar, so it’s win win.

So far we have used Portugal as a resting zone. This last week has been our most relaxed by far after spending a lot of time on the road in the previous two weeks down from the Northern tip of France all the way down to Madrid, we feel we’ve earned a bit of a rest even though we probably haven‘t. The good news is we haven’t even begun our attack on the Algarve beaches yet, we’re only at the beginning, and of course after that we have the Spanish Costa’s and the south of France to err… ‘brave’.

Sun, sea, sand, cerveza…Ooh it’s going to be a tough next few weeks, I can sense it.

Parked in a campsite in Spain, just to prove to my Mum that we have actuallydone some washing!

Monsanto, Portugal, up a large hill.

Parked in Bathalla, Portugal - large gothic Cathedral in the distance.

Our view of the sunset over the Atlantic, from the Motor Home.

9th July - Madrid

2008-07-21T00:37:00.003+01:00

Wednesday 9th July

After leaving Pamplona we headed South West towards the city of Burgos, 100 kilometres north of Madrid. We spent a day in a campsite in Monasterio de Rodilla, east of Burgos, after finding out the hard way that the campsite we were heading to in the centre of Burgos (20km away from the other campsite) no longer existed. ‘Picon Del Conde’ in Monasterio de Rodilla was very pleasant though (staff speaking little, but enough English) for 14 Euros a night with electric hook up.

The next day we drove the 100km down the A1 to Madrid, where we parked again next to a train station, this time; El Escorial was our base, an historic, pretty old town around 15km from the centre of the Spanish Capital. It’s Monastery (Pictured left) is worth a visit too, and according to our guide book it’s not only one of the “Best Sights in Europe” and describes it as an “Immense Renaissance complex of Palatial and monastic buildings and mausoleum of the Spanish Monarchs".

Parking was free at the station, which we obviously love, and we weren’t the only ones parked there over night (no other motor homes though, unfortunately). We caught the 9.15am train into ‘Madrid Atocha’ station which took just over an hour. Spanish trains are nowhere near as comfortable as the ones we encountered in France, and at every station stop you are greeted by a series of overly loud sirens - presumably to wake up the locals who had too much Sangria the night before. The fare was much cheaper than in France though…swings and roundabouts.
Madrid was fantastic, I much preferred it over Paris. It seemed like my kind of city. There’s an interesting mix of old style with contemporary architecture, more honest retail (in comparison to the many jewellery and shoe stores in Paris which you could only visit after a large lottery win) and there were some really fascinating buildings on offer. For example, the Palace of Communications is more than stunning, and was one of the first sights we were greeted with after disembarking at ‘Sol’ Metro Station.

We paid a visit to the Restaurant Sobrino de Botin in Calle Cuchilleros, just off the famous Plaza Mayor square. It dates back to 1725 and was one of the locations where Ernest Hemmingway wrote some of his short stories - one of which Mike was reading at the time. The waiters kindly let us in for a look and to take some photos - which was good because we weren’t on the kind of budget to spend 9 Euros on a glass of wine.

The whole day spent in Madrid was an enjoyable one. Looking back, I must have been extremely fond of the city because I haven’t let the fact that it took us 4 and a half hours to get back to El Escorial mar my view of the place (wrong train after wrong train after another wrong bloody train).

To make a difficult last few hours worse, when we got back to the motor home our grey water was leaking. Although I suppose that was more a problem for those who had to experience the stench of it after we had departed. Sorry!

The Palace of Communications.

Real Madrid's 'Santiago Bernabeu' Stadium, worth a visit even if you're not into football.

Saturday 5th July - Pamplona, San Fermin Festival

2008-07-16T18:09:00.002+01:00

Saturday 5th July

Biarritz would prove to be our last destination in France (for the time being) as we crossed the border into Spain on Saturday morning along the N10 towards Irun and San Sebastian. We had no trouble making the crossing and it was surprising to see that even when we were as much as 100 metres into the land of Paella, that there were absolutely no cars with French marked number plates. Everything immediately looked very Spanish; the chubby builders, dodgy hairstyles, and of course the ‘100 metre sprint style’ language. It was a shame to be leaving France in a way - it had treated us well. It is clearly very set out for Motorhomer’s, what with their Aires and so forth, and the people just seemed very open to us at all times.

We had known even before out trip that the San Fermin festival began on the 6th of July in Pamplona and we were heading in that general direction ever since leaving Paris. I was looking forward to experiencing the festival atmosphere (which lasts for 10 days where apparently everyone just has a huge holiday and does nothing else but get drunk and dance in the streets - which sounded appealing to me), however I was not looking forward to the cruelty and the actual tradition of San Fermin.

I watched some Bull fighting on TV about 2 years ago and was sickened by what I saw, and I knew that this festival was all based on the running and then fighting of the bulls. I had to bite my tongue and get on with it. “It’s tradition!’ I kept being told…

Anyway, we arrived in Pamplona early morning and found another perfect spot right in the town centre, where we started a bit of a trend and around 7 other Motor homes ended up. We have had very little trouble finding places to park so far, even if they aren’t official Motor home stop over points. We took a walk into the old town (Casco Antiguo) and even though the festival didn’t start until the next day the atmosphere was already building. There were thousands of people walking around all wearing exactly the same thing (white trousers, white shirts and a red neckerchief), people were drinking large bottles of San Miguel in the streets and people were in high spirits. Dotted all over town are photos of the festivals of years gone by, photos of bulls chasing crazy blokes down a small alley way and some people being thrown up in the air - I had no sympathy for them what so ever.

Although I was walking around saddened by the thought of the cruelty, I was getting sucked in by the enthusiasm of the Pamplona people and I was starting to look forward to the next few days of dancing and drinking. After a few drinks, my anxiety had all but disappeared and we danced to a drumming band for hours in the rainy streets, with thunder and lighting going off above our heads, silenced by the music and shouting. It was a sight to behold, it really was, and at one stage I was thinking “I’m not sure if I’ve ever been happier than I was at this very moment”. It was a perfect night, strangers were dancing with each other, the locals embraced us as foreigners and often wished us a “Feliz San Fermin!” and even the homeless were jolly. Roll on Sunday - where it all properly kicked off!

Sunday 6th July

We had been told by a few locals to arrive in the centre of Pamplona no later than 10 o clock, if we wanted to be in the Plaza Consistorial at midday where the festival was officially opened. We arrived at 9.30am and it was already very busy and the people were already tipsy. One thing I had noticed that this was not just a festival for the very young and lively, people of all ages were enjoying the festivities which was nice to see. We took a walk around the Plaza Del Castillo and then the route of the running itself and I found myself being more and more drawn into the spirit of San Fermin. There was always this feeling of doubt in the back of my mind though.
We headed back to the Plaza Consistorial at 10.15 and by this time it was heaving. We had to squeeze through everyone to get roughly to the centre in front of the Town Hall which was beautifully decorated with Spanish Flags and other patterned banners. By 11am you could hardly move. There was shouting, bouncing, pushing - it was manic - and this was certainly not for the faint hearted. I’d noticed that by this time only young people had remained, I guessed it was going to get worse.

It did. By 11.30am it was complete chaos. I’m not sure how many, but there were certainly hundreds upon thousands of festival goers squeezed into one small square, and this left to mass pushing which resembled a riot. It was impossible to fall over however, because as soon as you’d start to lose your balance you would just be resting on someone else and them the same and so on and so on. You couldn’t even lift your arms up, it was that tight. By 12 o clock, the festival was started by the mayor of Pamplona and everyone lifted up their red scarves like you see in the pictures and there was lots of shouting and singing. It was also very political as the whole of the Basque region is fighting for independence, so at times it turned a little nasty, but it didn’t mare the general feeling of delight among the Spanish, Americans, British and huge amounts of Australians who attended.

We met two Spanish guys who had studied in Southampton a few years ago and so we got talking to them for a few hours, it was very civilised indeed. The rest of the day was a blur of more dancing, more drinking and more talking nonsense to locals and vice versa. We didn’t go back to the motor home for sleep until 5.30am. Ouch.

Monday 7th July

Two hours kip and we were up to go into Casco Antiguo for the actual running of the bulls. Mike was well into it all, he was going to run it himself. I certainly was not, for two reasons 1) Because I treasured my life too much to put it at risk for one small event and 2) Because I was still very much against the idea anyway.

Mike was too late to run, by 7.45am the route was shut off completely by the authorities ready for the 8am running. The atmosphere was just amazing, even I was excited. I’m such a hypocrite, but I couldn’t help but feel drawn into it all. Mike went running off elsewhere to try and jump onto the course and I stayed behind, and climbed half way up a building on one of the side streets to try and catch a glimpse of the events - like hundreds of others did too. All I saw was heads going past for about 5 minutes, and suddenly it was all over. Everyone around me was asking “Is that it?”… what an anti climax! A few heads bobbing up and down, and few rounds of applause and that was indeed it! I saw more action watching the replays in the television of a local bar. Even though I saw very little of the action itself, my adrenaline was pumping faster than ever just because of the buzz of the people, and I hadn’t even ran the damn thing!
On the TV though I saw a few bulls falling over, and not being able to get back up along the cobbled streets. I saw some people teasing them and such like. At this point my heart really sunk. I felt sick watching those poor animals going through absolute hell and needless frustration. They have absolutely no idea what they are doing there or why they are here. One minute ago they were happy somewhere quiet and just living their normal bull-like life, and then the next they are thrust in front of thousands of people screaming and shouting and flashing red scarves in their faces. At that point it really hit me of how sad all this was, and it was time to leave Pamplona.

I left with very mixed feelings. On one hand I’d had the best few days of my life partying and taking in the sights, but on the other hand I’d seen in person the thing I stand so firmly against.
The overall feeling of Pamplona though was one of brilliance… I loved the city and the people and will probably return one day.

4th July - Biarritz

2008-07-16T18:05:00.002+01:00

Friday 4th July 2008

We spent the whole of Wednesday at the Aire in Mimizan. We had to pay another 11 Euros for the privilege but we needed a day of rest after yesterdays debacle. We were parked up next to the biggest Motor Home you could wish to see from Scotland. It was ludicrous, bigger than my house back home. The owners seemed pretty settled, maybe this was their home now. 11 Euros a night with free electric, showers, toilets, and a beach side location isn’t an expensive way to live I imagine.

We left Mimizan on Thursday morning heading to Biarritz. The D652 was fairly straightforward, but it still took us around 3 hours to find the Aire listed in the guide book. It was located on the D911 heading out of Biarritz towards Bidart, and it said on the sign upon entrance that we’d be charged 10 Euros per 24hours, but there were no ticket machines and nobody ever came to charge us, so we got away with two free nights, and so did around 40 other Motor homes. This Aire was extremely busy with families, and there were no spaces left at all at one point - I suppose we are just coming into the high season hence the high volume of other campers.
The weather on the Friday in Biarritz was beautiful and we spent the whole day in the town centre or on one of the many beaches. The first beach we went to, just opposite the Aire, was called ‘Plage Milady’ - it was only a small beach but it had the most vicious waves you could imagine. There were around 5 life guards sat on the beach just observing the swimmers as it was quite dangerous really. You could only get about 15 foot out into the water before literally being swept back to shore by huge powerful gushes of water. No matter how hard you swam or how desperately you tried to stay on your feet, the sheer power of the waves knocked you down. It was cracking fun!

The town centre is very clean and Biarritz is clearly a wealthy place, with a lot of posh restaurants and jewellery shops. We went to have a drink in one of the bars (it was my round). Mike had a small (25cl) local lager and I had a bottle of Coke. 8 Euros it cost me. 8 bloody Euros. Mikes beer cost 4.20, and she didn’t even fill up the glass! I was shocked and to be honest, quite angry. I paid it and enjoyed the drinks in the sun…but we kept the glasses; we felt like we’d paid for them anyway.

1st July - Nightmare Day, Mimizan

2008-07-16T17:58:00.003+01:00

Tuesday 1st July 2008

Today has not been one of our best, but has certainly been one of our most memorable - for the wrong reasons.

The day started well, waking up in Mortagne-sur-Gironde in the sun overlooking the harbour with acres of fields of crops directly behind us. It was a beautiful setting, the “Rolls Royce of Aires” according to our British friend Tony. We went for a wander through the village up the hills where we found a viewing point overlooking the whole village, where we took a few photos (added at the bottom). We thought we were going to take it easy today and take a nice drive down to a place called Arcachon, west of Bordeaux where we saw there was an Aire - we expected a nice relaxing day.

Just before setting off though, we noticed we’d left a tap on in the bathroom, which now resembled more of a professional swimming pool rather than your standard washroom. The floor was completely soaked through, and we must have wasted about 15 litres of perfectly good water. Obviously we had to fill up again, which wasn’t that much of a pain but it was just a shame to waste so much. That was the first little annoyance of today.

The second, getting lost for about 45 minutes after taking a wrong turning. The third, finding that the Netto Supermarket which we had taken a de-tour for was closed at 2 o clock in the afternoon. I didn’t know the French had adopted the idea of the siesta?

The fourth problem which arose, was that we spent nearly 2 hours looking for this Aire in Arcachon. We couldn’t find it for the life of us, but at the same time we were also constantly getting lost at various crazy French roundabouts or road layouts, thus wasting more and more time. French signage is very odd. It seems fantastic at first and you can more often than not find a sign you want to see, but then they just disappear; no matter how much you look or how slowly and carefully you drive in an attempt to notice any glimpse of the words “Camping Car” or “Aire”. They just vanish after one or two brief showings and there’s nothing you can do about it!
By this time it was getting on for 17.00, we really were not doing well for time at all. It has just been one of those days so far - time was just flying by and we hadn’t even done anything yet.
We decided to abandon the idea of staying in Arcachon, which in a way was a shame because it did genuinely appear to be a very pretty tourist location with some long golden beaches, but we were sick of the sight of the same roads over and over again.

We drove south again down the D652 as our guide told us there were one of two other stop over’s just shy of Arcachon. We noticed some quite stunning sand dunes to our right as we were cruising along. They were enormous, we felt we just had to pull over and explore. BIG mistake. We pulled over, not realising that what we were driving onto was thick, soft sand. And lot’s of it. Obviously, we got stuck what with the sheer weight of the motor home. We tried slowly going forward, then slowly going back but were getting nowhere. We were just digging ourselves deeper and deeper into the sand. I was getting so frustrated and I was already starting to think we were in deep trouble. We tried digging ourselves out with a spade and starting it again, this time in 2nd gear and after letting some air out of the tyres, but we seemed to just be sinking and sinking with every move. To try and explain how bad it was, the back right hand wheel was almost completely out of view, underneath the sand, and the back of the actual motor home was just resting on the ground. It appeared there was no way out at all.

A friendly German family appeared to try and lend a hand. They gave us some rubber mats to put under the wheel so we could try and drive onto them. No joy. Then a huge French lorry pulled over, only spoke a few words of English but they got out some rope and it was clear they were going to try and pull us out. By this time of course traffic had slowed down to almost walking pace as people were getting great joy from watching two moronic Brits struggling in the heat. The lorry idea didn’t work either though. When they tried to pull us forward the rope just snapped; Eric didn’t move an inch. At this point I was losing all faith… if a huge lorry couldn’t pull us out then what could?

Next up to try and lend a hand were an English couple from Exeter, they tried putting some logs underneath the wheels whilst we were busy digging away sand from under the back of the vehicle, as that was also a major factor in stopping us from going anywhere, not just the invisible back wheel. Again this didn’t work.

We must have had about 5 or 6 more different groups/couples who pulled over to try and help. We can’t remember them all, there were so many but nothing was working at all. Thanks to everyone who stopped, not that they’ll be reading this but you never know. I tried calling the AA but none of their lines were working. Could this day get ANY worse?

Demoralised, tired and sandy, we thought about resting for a while, until a truck pulled up behind us and looked slightly interested. The man inside was French and spoke just a little English, but he seemed very confident that he could help us which gave us encouragement. He got out some very thick army style rope, attached it to the front of this vehicle, and tied it to the back of ours, I jumped in, put Eric into reverse and after the count of 3 we both moved backwards together in one last attempt at freedom. Hallelujah! We had movement! After more than an hour of panic and failure we were set free by this friendly giant of a Frenchman (he really was huge). We couldn’t speak his language but we gave him a hug, thanked him, took a few photos and parked up the road slightly to get our breath back.

By this point we were so tired we just wanted to park anywhere and relax for the rest of the day. We found a fresh water lake just past a place called Biscarosse so we cleaned off all the sand in there, and we are now in the Aire of Mimizan. It is 00.25 and we arrived just under an hour ago, so we couldn’t see much of the area as we arrived but the Aire itself is huge, every other space having it’s own electric hook up and there are even showers and toilets in the far corner. The Camperstop guide says there are around 70 spaces, and to be fair to the French authorities, this particular Aire was very, very well signposted right from the main road (D626). One night costs 11 Euros which we were more than happy to pay just to be in a safe location where (hopefully) not much can go wrong. Touch wood.

The day has escaped us, time for bed… I’ve always hated sand. I think I will for ever.

The Aire in Mimizan. 2minutes walk from the beach.

Friday 27th June: Paris, Fouras, Mortagne-Sur-Gironde

2008-07-16T17:37:00.005+01:00

Friday 27th June 2008

By morning Esbly had turned into one giant car park. We were surrounded by Renault Twingo’s and Opel Astra’s, and the actual car park next door was full to the brim. This is obviously where people park for the day and catch the train into Paris for work. This was a good sign as this is what we were planning to do for the day - minus the work of course.
All went swimmingly, and we arrived at Gare du l’Est at 10.30 so we had most of the day to see the sights and do all the tourist malarkey.

Paris was okay. Well, to be fair it is beautiful and the buildings are fascinating and the quaint shops and bustling atmosphere was enjoyable, but in my opinion it was just London with a beret - and London can get on your nerves after a while. It was much cleaner than London though, which made a nice change. According to ’Neither here nor there’ by Bill Bryson, people in Paris pay £52 a year to go towards city centre cleaning, whereas Londonians only shell out just £16. From what I saw this would make sense.

We saw everything we wanted to, the Tower, The Louvre, Arc de Triumph, Notre Dame and so on and so on, and it was a pleasant but tiring day. The metro is fantastic, it’s worth pointing out. When a train is meant to arrive, it arrives, literally on the dot. This is in bleak contrast to the London underground of course, where a train is like gold dust.

Me and Mike both fell asleep on the train back to Esbly, to the amusement of the lady sitting opposite, but somehow we didn’t miss our stop.

Got back to the motor home, put a couple of spuds in the oven and crashed out to bed. It’s surprising how tired you get just from walking around slowly and sometimes aimlessly - we must have covered many miles that day.

Saturday 28th June 2008

We spent the whole of Saturday as basically a road trip. It was going to take a while, but we wanted to go from just outside Paris all the way to the West Coast (La Rochelle) without going on a single toll road. It took around 7 hours but we did do it. I’m not sure of the route right now, but we managed it, and we arrived in La Rochelle for around 7pm where we followed the signs for the Aire in the large car park called ‘Esplanades’ des Parcs’. We found it without too much difficulty, which was handy because La Rochelle was a large, busy city. On arrival we were greeted by the sight of around 30 other Motor homes which is always pleasing on the eye after a long drive. I’m not sure what it is about seeing other fellow Motorhomer’s, but it certainly gives a nice warm feeling inside.

We had completely ran out of fresh water, so we chose this Aire as the ‘Camperstop Guide’ said we could fill up for free here, but we did not see any place to do this. (We later learnt that we had just completely missed it, but we did look quite hard.) We couldn’t stay, as we desperately needed water; we had plates and dishes piling up to be cleaned and we were getting thirsty! That’ll teach us for using 1.5 litre bottles to try and fill up our 100 litre tank!
We drove south down the N137 from La Rochelle to a place called Fouras, just north of Rochefort. There were two Aires in Fouras, and we opted for the one signed posted called ‘Place Jean Moulin’ (and it was very clearly signposted since entering Fouras). There was space for about 10 Motor homes and I think we got the last space so were quite lucky. It cost 6 Euros for 24 hours, but had no electric hook up.

Bit of a nightmare though, we still couldn’t get water as we needed to buy tokens to put in the machine, by this time is was getting late on a Saturday and the Tourist Office was closed - and knowing it was a Sunday tomorrow it wasn’t looking too rosy. We drove to a nearby Campsite called La Cadoret, and cheekily filled up some of our bottles with fresh water as we were getting desperate.

The town of Fouras (beach pictured) is beautiful and we would spend the whole of Sunday there also. There are about 4 different beaches to choose from, some sandy some pebbled, and as we had found everywhere we had travelled so far; the people were more than friendly.
We found out that the Fort looking object that could be seen out to sea, was in fact Fort Boyard, where of course ‘Fort Boyard’ hosted by Melinda Messenger (in her prime) was filmed! This was one of my favourite shows a few years ago, so it was a little strange looking out - and it somehow seemed quite eerie. It must be so quiet and lonely out there, I wondered if it had a caretaker living alone there? I don’t think I’ll ever find out the answer to that.

Monday 30th June 2008

Had quite a lazy day today.

It’s been very hot these past few days, and today was no exception. We took a short drive in the morning to a place called Mortagne-sur-Gironde which is a picturesque village full of white washed buildings, and a lovely harbour where lies a fantastic Aire with free water and electric hook up for just 6 Euros a night. We found a British couple and started talking to them for what seemed like a few hours, but they were very friendly and helpful, and leant us their hose so we could finally fill up with fresh water. We can drink again! They even gave us some large containers which they no longer needed so that will help us in the future - we are such amateurs compared to them, but their generosity will no doubt come in useful.

We need to start returning these favours that people are doing for us, but we can offer people nothing at the moment as we have nothing of use and have absolutely no experience of Motor homing! We did offer Tony and his wife some baked beans however, as we have plenty - I guess it’s the thought that counts!

Will probably do the same tomorrow (not a lot) as we make our way south to Biarritz. Not sure where we’ll end up yet, but hopefully we’ll still be right on the coast.

The Aire at Mortagne-Sur-Gironde

The Aire in Fouras

Mortagne-Sur-Gironde from above, motor homes on the left

28/06/2008 - Moving towards Paris

2008-06-30T18:01:00.006+01:00

We set off from La Crotoy fairly early, around 10am. We seemed to be the first ones up, out of around 14 other Motor Homes. We’re not used to being the first ones awake, ever. There were a few people with little dogs which must sleep in their vehicles taking them for a morning walk along the beach, it was all very peaceful and we couldn’t believe how quiet the roads were from around 9am-10am. Hardly anyone to be seen. We had a coffee in the sun, and moved on.
We headed down the D940 towards Abbeville then moved east on the D925 then south on the D938 until we reached Albert. That sounded quite easy just writing that, but I can assure you it wasn’t. We’re still getting partially lost every so often, but we’ll get better with time. Mike’s great Granddad is buried in one of the British War Cemeteries in a place called Dermancourt just south of Albert. We parked up on the side of the road and paid our respects. It was very humbling, and we met two other English people and it was nice talking to them about their experiences thus far on their trip. Mike’s Great Granddad was called W. H. Hunt who fought in the London Regiment, and died in 1916, we think during the battle of the Somme, and he was stationed in Dermancourt itself. The Cemetery was very pleasantly kept and is clearly being looked after by the War Graves Commission. (Picture: Parked by the side of the road in Dernancourt)

We knew that by the end of the day we wanted to be near Paris, as we plan on going there tomorrow. We won’t be driving in the centre of Paris though, that would be suicide. We had a few Aires in mind in a place called Coupvray which is next door to Disney Land, and we drove down there (again on the ‘D’ and ‘N’ roads) passing through the busy city of Amiens in the process.

We didn’t find the Aires, well we found one but it was 17 Euros per day and it was directly in the centre of Disney Land, so we passed on that one. We headed back to a smaller town we saw called Esbly and thankfully we are now currently parked directly next to Esbly train station, and we haven’t been asked to move on yet! Touch wood it remains that way, as Eric is staying here tomorrow whilst we get the train into the capital. Not another Motor Home in sight in Esbly, but it’s another peaceful, pleasant town, filled with Bars, Brassieres and Hair Salons. (Picture: Parked up by the side of the Railway Station in Esbly)

We had to fill up Eric today, and diesel cost 1.42 euros/per litre which works out at about £1.16 - so a little cheaper than in the UK currently.

My shoulders ache now, must get some sleep. Early start tomorrow - the Eiffel Tower awaits!

(Mike by his Great Grandfathers grave)

(Dernancourt British War Memorial)

24/06/2008 - We've arrived - The first few days

2008-06-30T17:42:00.006+01:00

We made it. We are in France. Thank the lord! I knew we were coming, but I guess I always thought it just wouldn’t come, as if I’d forever be saying “We’re going away in 6 months, 5 months, 4 months” etc but we’re officially here now!

Since Monday, every day has been really quiet hectic. We were absolutely non stop on Monday, getting our safe fitted (thanks Glenn), going into Southampton and Eastleigh to buy lots of bit’s that we’d either forgotten or just left to the last minute, packing and saying our goodbyes - it was just manic from sun rise until we’d finished watching Max and Paddy’s Road to Nowhere at about 2am on Tuesday morning. What a fantastic way to end the day, and a perfect way to mark the beginning of our trip.

We were up on Tuesday at 5.45am and drove up to Mikes Granddad’s where Eric was parked, filled up with water, loaded everything up and we were on the road before 7am to get to Dover for our 12.05 sailing with Sea France (£36 for two and a motor home! Cheap as chips.) We arrived very early at around 10am as traffic was non existent in most parts and we were put on the earlier sailing of 11.05. We weren’t first in the queue but we were put on the ferry first, which made us feel quite smug, and of course that meant we were first off when we reached Calais - which made us feel even more smug.

We arrived in Calais and it only took us a few minutes to get off the ship and out onto the main roads. By this point we have not had to show our Passports once, not even to the French authorities! We hope this care free attitude applies to all our border crossings, although we don’t expect it.

Driving on the right hand side of the road took around 13 seconds to get used to, it’s really easy. It seems that everyone and everything is so much more laid back than England and we’re were still only in the port of Calais. We headed down the D940 along the coast line and we were heading towards Berck-sur-Mer where we knew there was an Aire de Service, thanks to our ‘Camperstop Guide Book‘, and also thanks to two gentlemen on the MotorhomeFun website, whose usernames escape me at present, but we thank you for your advice all the same.
We passed so many places for Motor homes were parked in the first 50miles along the D940 and it gave us great hope for the rest of our trip. In England parking anywhere in any vehicle is practically prohibited, but it seems here that Motor homes are welcomed and encouraged.
We didn’t find the Aire in Berck-sur-Mer. This may have been because I had been driving for so long and didn’t get much sleep last night, and Mike was quite ill so needed to sleep, so we were hardly at our most observant by this time. However, we did find a large car park in the town of Berck where 7 other motor homes were parked, there was no electricity or water or and services at all, but we were safe in the knowledge that we were not alone. We settled down and got an early night.

We awoke early Wednesday morning and had breakfast before walking around town and stumbled across a market place selling all sorts of fruits, cheeses and bon-bons! We are on a very tight budget, so needless spending is off the agenda - but we did get a free tester of French cheese so we were already 1 piece of cheese up. That’s probably worth about 10p. Good news.
After spending the day in Berck we took the short drive to nearby Le Crotoy, again down the D940 and after about 30 minutes of going back and forth trying to find the Aire, we stopped and asked a chap outside his house for directions. He didn’t speak English but he told us left, and it was literally two minutes from where we were. Our first Aire! Hoorah! (Pictured left) It was actually a quite joyous moment, we’d found an Aire and nobody can tell us to move on! Parking costs 5 Euros for 24hours and for 2 Euros we got 55 minutes of electricity and 10 minutes of drinking water.

When filling up with water, we were using two 1.5litre bottles, and we thought that was alright. We attracted quite a crowd though, and someone quickly came over to lend us their large watering can! And two minutes after that a different man gave us his hose to use, we couldn’t believe peoples friendliness, we were pleasantly surprised. We’re the only English here, but I don’t think people are holding that against us.

We’re now going to head to the beach as it seems that we’re about 2 minutes walk from it, but we’re not quite sure. It’s 19.50 and it’s still lovely and warm, not a cloud in the sky.

I could get used to this Motorhoming lark.

(Below: Another view of our Aire in Le Crotoy)

09/06/08 - 2 weeks until we leave

2008-06-10T13:37:00.003+01:00

I never really planned to write a blog of our trip, until someone on Motorhometoday.co.uk suggested it, and I thought it was a pretty good idea, so here we are. (That's Me in the above picture)

Here is a list of the countries we're doing between the end of June to December 2008: France, Spain, Portugal, Switzerland, Austria, Slovenia, Croatia, Hungary, Bulgaria, Macedonia, Serbia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Greece, Italy, Germany, Czech Republic, Belgium, Luxembourg and finishing up in The Netherlands. So in total 19 countries, with an average of just over 9 days in each country, not necessarily in the order posted above though...

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It's two weeks today until we head off to Calais from Dover in the first ever motorhome we have had, so I'm starting to write now as there are quite a few things going on, or at least there should be. The motorhome we have is a Mercedes Autotrail Mohican, it's a 6 berth (apparently) and it has a lovely little bathroom thingy-ma-bob on the back... Nice. Oh yeah and the motorhome is called 'Eric', named after Mikes Grandad who died this time last year. If it wasn't for him, we wouldn't be going on this trip at all, so Cheers Mr Warner. (That's Mike, above).

We drove the motorhome for the first time in about 5 months yesterday, and Mike drove it for the first time ever! He only passed his driving test a month ago, so I was a tiny bit concerned about if he'd be ok driving it - I needn't have worried. I drove it to an empty car park on the outskirts of Winchester, where Mike took over. There were no problems at all, he handled it really well and we promptly took it out onto the open road towards Petersfield, but stopped prior to there, as we were lured towards a pub by it's sign on the side of the road; Had a quick half a pint, and moved on.

We drove it down the M27 a little bit and got some good practice driving in the dark. It was really nice being the passenger actually, everywhere we have driven Eric before has been me in the driving seat, so I really enjoyed just sitting back and thinking about the potentially epic trip we have waiting ahead of us.

It's going to be a hectic 14 days. There are so many things which need doing. The reason we left it so late for Mike to drive the thing was because we have had a nightmare trying to get it taxed. We had to send away for a logbook to prove ownership, and that took longer than expected - we were getting a bit worried to be honest! Why is it such a hassle to give the government money through the form of tax? Sure I could understand it if we were trying to claim money from Mr Brown, that the process would take so long, but simply to give money to him? It's been such an effort. Grrr.

Anyway, here is the list of things we need to do/purchase before we set off on the 24th June:

- Put it through an MOT

- Get a bike rack attached to the rear

- Fix the rear reverse light which is cracked

- Buy and fit a safe

- Buy a clamp/wheel lock

- Buy a set of spare bulbs

- Buy light invertors + reflective jackets

- Get two new wheels for our bicycles

- Buy first aid kit

There are probably more things too. Actually looking at that list it doesn't appear horrendous, but considering that Mike has college exams up until we leave, and I am working full time until the 16th, it gets a little more daunting. It's alright though, in the last week we're going to blitz through everything - it'll be a rush but it'll work out. :)

All day everyday at work I'm just surfing the internet looking at motorhome websites, reading reviews of previous trips that people have done, or just browsing through pictures of some of the places that we're going to. I think I'm just a bit excited.

That's all for now, cheers, James.

hello everyone, this is Mike here, thought i'd put in my 2 cents. so the trip is only next week its about bloody time :D this trip has been in the planning process for so long, but now things are in the 'doing' phase and its great. this trip has been the only thing keeping me sane at college, ive been dying to travel for a few years and its like next week we're going which is abit unreal really.the beauty of this trip is the motorhome, its gives us complete freedom which is gona be a great thing to experience. it will enable us to really experience the countries we are going to. the real character of places are off the beaten track, which are usually inaccessable to many travellers, but to us there are no constraints. for me this trip is more than just travelling. its a spiritual awakening, espeac at 19 its time to look to the future, my views and opinions have changed quite a lot the last 2 years and this trip is further exploring who i really am. being away from familiar things will be nice, just to get away from my town and the streets i have walked for over 10yrs is gona be sweet, ive had enough and its time to leave.i'll leave it there, i'm sure you will hear from me sometime int he future, i wanna use as little familiar things as possible when away so i'll be staying off the interent, off the phone, just cos i'm sick them really, sorry to say. so you wont hear from me for awhile. but take it easy, relax, have a cuppa tea and i'll see you soon. Mike