17-18 Sept 2000

This blog was originally posted during this trip, from 17 September 2000 to 27 January 2001. It was lost in the cyber world for many years. It has been recreated here in 2023 using the original diary text and photographs.

Sitting in our new van 'somewhere in the east of Holland' it seems a little strange that the sun is HOT and there are flies! But that's what this long.. long day has been like. Having struggled through a 24hr stint in the plane with a 'St Vitus Dance' victim in the seat beside me, not Janita, but a young man of the Asian persuasion who slept like a log while constantly squirming and wriggling, I thought I was all out of 'spark'. Wrong.

Put behind the wheel of a very large Ford Transit Van assisted by a very tired navigator (yes Janita this time), the adrenalin cut in and we drove most of the day through parts of Holland that we never thought existed. Areas around Apeldoorn were more like Australia than the Netherlands with open 'veldt' as the Dutch call it with burnt orange grass and vistas of distant hills! Yes, hills. This is an interesting area where wild boar apparently still roam free and deer amble in the forest - that is when they're not leaping onto the road - as the signs indicate. The four wheel drive is king and the squirrels are timid - (the squirrel is the only 'dangerous creature' that we actually saw!) The whole 'wilderness' is 550 ha in total but we all take these things very seriously in Holland.

The generally held view that all Dutch people speak English was well tested in the Dutch wilderness (50km outside Amsterdam). Many locals are only able to speak Dutch (and probably German) and little else. Terrible! Not only that, but they don't take credit cards either. What will become of us in this cardless society?
The good news is that all our toys work. Little TV (only in Dutch?)... 'puter, CD, phones.. chargers all A-OK.

19 Sept 2000
A spectacular day weather wise. Clear as a bell in the morning and very warm. Drove all day, mostly lost in the back streets of Holland. We are amazed at the difference a nice day (20C+) and an early autumn rather than winter vegetation cover can make. All we have previously seen of Europe is leafless trees and snow. Tonight we are in a truck stop near Bremen. We were in fairly early and had room to park but within 30 mins we were totally surrounded by very large lorries! Our previous experience convinced us that although they can be noisy, truck drivers are good protection.
Janita drove today for the first time. She has now had several beers and is feeling a little less stressed. Most of the problem today was not our lack of sense of direction but the driving need Europeans seem to have for digging up their motorways and redirecting traffic off into the countryside with no direction to assist one's return!

Denmark

20 Sept 2000

Off early this morning. Our truckie mates started to leave at 1.30am and when we surfaced at around 7.00am, most had gone. We had decided to drive most of the day today to get into Denmark so we could start to do 'touristy' things.

Weather again good but a little cooler and windy.

Late in the afternoon after several hours of 'motorway challenge!' we pulled up in Ribe, supposedly the oldest village in Scandanavia - great place and although probably a bit of a tourist trap it has some nice old buildings. Denmark so far is an eye-opener - very clean without being sterile - a good feel and very easy to get about and deal with people. It seems that to our advantage the 'homogenisation' of the world on the English - Big Mac - pop music standard has well and truly reached Denmark having already swamped Holland and to a lesser extent Germany.

Wind generators are very big in Denmark. Scores of them can be seen relentlessly pumping away, their huge tri-blade propellers in perfect synchronization in the seemingly constant wind. Standing as high as a five storey building, they have an eerie fascination about them, especially when they are clustered on hill tops in threes and fours like the Martian machines of War of the Worlds fame.

As we write the radio is playing ‘Credence' and several times today we were regaled with Savage Garden! Half the language of Europe seems to have been intruded upon by English! Perhaps we will regret this in Poland, Bulgaria etc, but it seems that most of the difference that we value is being eroded by the wonders of modern communication! By the way what a great thing TOYS like SMS are - we can send annoying messages to our 'kids' at anytime of the day or night direct to their mobiles for next to nothing! - COOL!

21 Sept 2000

Another beautiful day! The way Europeans measure such things, today is the last day of summer. Without the wind it would have been much like a Brisbane September day. Ribe drew us back again after a pleasant night in the Kommune's carpark complete with free water, chemical toilet and waste water disposal - absolute necessities for 'vanners. How civilised!

The town probably epitomises all that is Danish. The sight of a broken beer bottle on the footpath would be cause for a major hue and cry! Litter and graffiti are unknown - we suspect that those who perpetrate such atrocities meet the same fate as Maren Splid who was burnt at the stake outside the town on 9 November 1641.

Despite its often violent past the town has preserved a great sense of history and respect for those who made it. The cemetery is like a botanic garden. Graves from the early 19th century are still perfectly maintained. The Stonehuggier ( stonemason) had a display yard beside the grave yard set out like a 'serve your self' market!

The Vikingcenter was very interesting - especially the sections which showed Ribe in 800 and 1500 AD. The view from the Cathedral tower ( up 248 steps - hard on the quads and knees) is amazing - you can see behind the building facades to the pocket-handkerchief gardens - all with KMart plastic tables and chairs.

Denmark is not cheap - but to be fair the view that it is outrageously costly seems unfounded. Using the coffee standard, rather than the Big Mac standard, two cups of coffee and a large danish pastry, eat in, in a pleasant cafe, in a building that was probably built in the 16th century, cost 30kc $5 AUS... On the other hand it cost nearly $45 AUS to drive across the motorway causeway (20km) from Funen to Zealand, but the experience was well worth the cost! This has to be one of the great construction accomplishments of the 20th century - spectacular!

Egeskov castle was next on our list.

Open farmland, reminiscent of New Zealand (wonder why?) was only slightly spoilt by the ever present company flags that mark out the territory of every enterprise from car yards to chemical plants. Egeskov has been occupied since the 15th century. The castle itself is well maintained and spectacular. The gardens, on this the last day of summer, look just a little short of what we are sure they would have been a month ago. The other attractions, vintage cars, Dracula's crypt, tree-walk ..... smacked of National Lampoon's Wally World! Still, well worth while.

Copenhagen tonight. A very flash youth hostel with camping attached. The big boon is we have internet access and have been able to check our e-mail and update the home page. A quick look at the Olympic results was exciting - Australia still second to the US. Eight gold medals! Having tried to glean information from Dutch, German and Danish radio for the past few days, with little success, we felt free to be fairly jingoistic in our brief discussions with a German guy in the internet room.

21 Sept 2000

Jumped the S-bahn (train) to Copenhagen this morning. Buying tickets in stations where not a single word is comprehensible is always a worry! By chance the first person who happened by this morning was an 'expat' Pom who was extremely helpful in getting us moving. The city is best described as 'grand'. Even the usual big city grime is minimal in Copenhagen. Aided by another glorious day we worked ourselves hard to see the sights on foot in one day. From the Tivoli to the Rosenborg and many others between we marched on relentlessly. The Little Mermaid, one of the supposed 'attractions' was a major disappointment. Imagine a rather uninspiring cast metal statue stuck to a rock in the midst of a major industrial area and you just about have it!

Our "stowaway" has appeared for his first "photo opportunity." P.P rulz!

The city was almost deserted until midday, then people seemed to appear from everywhere. Friday afternoon may have been the reason, but streets that were almost deserted at 9.30am were crowded by 3.00pm. The square in front of the Rathaus (city hall) was packed with Danes of all ages.

Sunset even at this time of the year is around 7.30pm. After a big day on the town and the usual domestic tasks, it is after 10.00pm as we finish dinner. - How civilised! -

Germany

22-25 Sept

Berlin was our target on the eve of the 23rd. The distance was a bit much for us and we pulled up short at a truck stop about 170km north. Again, a stunner of a day. The Baltic sea, or a very small part of it, was like a billiard table. We stood out on the deck for some of the time but that was a bit much in a cotton shirt, even on a very mild day! Everything in Denmark just seems to happen with a minimum of fuss. Loading the ferry was like clockwork. The Greeks could learn. Last time we crossed from Patras to Bari it took them hours to load! We managed to spend every last kroner on the boat. How clever of us! Usually we have assorted bits left over that we remember just after we've crossed the border!

Puttgarden, the ferry terminal on the German side was in the old East Germany. Much seems to have changed in this the northern door to the 'new Germany'. Old autobahns, probably constructed in the 30s, have been ripped up and replaced by the standard German engineering marvel.

Ever dream of driving alone on a smooth super highway with no traffic in sight? Northern Germany is the place, except in the dream it wasn't a 2500cc diesel Ford Transit!

The northern plains of Germany are far less densely populated than one might imagine. Unlike the 'Dutch veldt', this is true 'open country'. Although it is fairly heavily cultivated and grazed, it has open vistas more familiar to us.

Coming into Berlin on a Sunday afternoon was relatively easy. For once we drove almost directly to the camping ground, which wasn't bad as Janita had to follow directions in German, the language of the Camping Grounds book supplied with the van. Not our best foreign language!

Outer suburban Berlin on the old eastern side is rather pleasant. At fifteen or so kms from the city centre we are in a cluster of villages, only slightly spoilt by new industry that is the obvious result of reunification. However, as we travelled into the city by train the decayed remnants of GDR were all around. Derelict factories lined the track for miles. We also suspect that the current line was simply built beside the old, as there are five or six huge, deserted, rusted marshalling yards adjacent to the main S-bahn line. The overall impression that we were left with was that the rebuilding of Berlin is a bit bigger task than the German government first envisaged. Even central Berlin is somewhat decrepit.

On the upside, we visited the Pergamon Museum. Whole ancient buildings have been reconstructed, shipped (looted!) from Turkey and the Middle East in the early part of the 20th century and painstakingly assembled in the purpose-built museum.

Through a haze of snow (electronic!) we watched Cathy Freeman win the 400m this morning (25/9). Even if the call was in German, the excitement of the race and the adulation accorded transcended language. The games have put Australia well and truly on the map, if only for a few weeks. Every radio station we scan past is constantly on

about Sydney, Australia, Cathy Freeman... and bloody Marion Jones (US)!!! What the hell did she do? We figure she won the 100m, but what else has got them all worked up? Everything that is not Australia is Odl.. doo .delee.. Marion Jones! Men at Work's, 'Land Downunder' is even played on the muzac in the toilets! Savage (bloody) Garden, and even Olivia Neutron Bomb flood the airwaves. McD's promotion that was on at home, 'If Australia wins ... you win!" is also on in Germany - and it is just that - If Australia wins they get a free ...something?

A quiet day today (25/9). Cleaned up a bit. Went shopping at a nearby village supermarket. Terrorised the locals with our 'German' and came home. Nice park. by the sea. If it was a little warmer (22C today) I'm sure we would have seen some crazy Germans swimming.

26 September

Slept-in, badly, this morning! Woke at 9.00am, having to catch the bus at 10.05. Now that might sound like plenty of time BUT we are on holidays and we don't move that fast. However we made it in time and made our three other connections to get to the city at a civilised hour, about 11.30am.

Cranes everywhere attest to the creation of the new Germany. But as mentioned before, this is a huge task and the end product may not be evident for another decade.

Moving about in big cities - and Berlin is a very big city! can be daunting but also fun and part of the challenge of travel. We seem to get lost less frequently, but walking into a station ten times the size of Brisbane Central with thousands of people who DO know where they are going is not easy. On the way home the trains were packed. Hands on cameras, wallets and passports.

Truckies have been blockading the city for weeks now over fuel taxes. We are not sure but today seems to have been more full-on than anything so far. There were literally thousands of trucks. The news tonight said seven thousand! That's a lot of trucks. The politzei were every where but there were no real problems. All seemed peaceful. From the Column of Victory which stands on the Strasse de 17 Juni, we could see trucks to the Reichstag at one end and out to the distance beyond our sight the other way.

Yoko Ono has committed an 'act d'art' on the Unter den Linden (the place to see and be seen!). A standard railway wagon stands on a small length of track in a very sedate square which is actually the site of the old Palace of Berlin which the East German government decided was beyond help following war damage. It was destroyed in 1950. The wagon has been raked with gun fire from inside and out.. And that's it!

Checkpoint Charlie was a bit of a non-event - a little sentry box twice the size of a "dunny" - sandbagged, and with a mini-billboard featuring a US soldier in front of it. We missed the Haus am Checkpoint Charlie as we were anxious to catch the train to link us with the tram which would enable us to catch the last bus home. But, as we remember the way it was in 1987, it tugged at the heartstrings nonetheless.

It seems so odd to be in a strange country with a strange language and come across "familiar "sights. The TV tower as we passed it struck a chord. We remember seeing it last time - even the side of the street we were on - also the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier - there was a baby East German soldier there whom we photographed with James last time. Most of it however is new and unusual - the language especially - What the hell are they saying over the microphones/TV/radio? Should we evacuate? Or celebrate???? People seem to be willing to help us poor Philistines - especially kids who have learned English in school. When we jabber away to each other, they ask if they can help or speak to us in English -- so comforting to those of us who struggle with menus, directions and S-Bahn lines.

Tomorrow we move on to Dresden and then to Poland. More reconstructed Eastern countryside and cities await. We suspect that what we have seen in the old GDR will be far better progress than in the rest of the old Soviet empire. But that's what we came to see.......

September 27

A "short" drive down the highway, with bits of 'unreconstructed' East German road to forewarn us of what we can expect in Poland. On to Dresden or thereabouts. Stopped near Moritzberg - Camping am Sonnenland - about 20 minutes by bus outside Dresden. The drive here was just long enough to dry our "smalls" over the heater vents. Perfect.

Dresden is amazing! It was re-constructed after the 1945 fire-bombing. You can understand why the Germans were so 'issed off with the bombing. What a beautiful city it must have been.

Reconstruction has continued since the end of the war. The Russians did pretty well it seemed to us - although we could see the newer bits among the old. However, it seems it was not good enough for the "New Germany" - they're re-constructing the re-constructions - roads, schlosses. bridges - you name it! The old (original?) bits lie in piles beside the re-constructions - carefully numbered of course - but .... if they're going to re-build the Frauenkirche, they're going to need more "bits". Is this a way of honouring the long-since past or simply eradicating the last forty years of Russian rule?? All in all, an interesting city, with its Neustadt and Altstadt clearly delineated by the Augustusbrucke (bridge). We are 20 minutes outside the centre of town and we're in the middle of farming land. Imagine Holland Park as the centre of a huge farm!!!!!!

Europeans are so-o-o-o obedient!! If the speed limit is 80 that's what we go - if there is a little red man we 'nein walk' - passing lanes are just that!! Makes life easier for us dumb tourists.

Seventy five km to the Polish border tomorrow. I suppose we expect much the same as we encountered 12 years ago going into East Germany. We suspect things might be a little less formal. But with visas to inspect and car papers to scrutinise there is still ample opportunity for a 'non-reconstructed' Polish border guard to 'make our day!'........

28 September

Ignominy! Turned away from the Polish border! After a wait of no more than 20 mins - surprising after all the horror stories we have read - we were waved into a holding bay. Seems our visas are effective from 2 October,- three days away! A very apologetic border guard (obviously reconstructed!) explained the problem and was very clear that if we came back in three days there would be 'no problem'. Rather than cruise around rural East Germany for another three days, we elected to return to Dresden (about 80km) and set off tomorrow for Prague. We will go back north into Poland later. At least we fared better than the several kms of trucks and Polish-registered vehicles towing cars (wonder why?) who are probably still there!

The motorway from Dresden to the Polish border is probably the best of the best we have driven on to date, and we should know - we drove it twice today! One can't help wondering whether if the Germans are hedging their bets in case they ever need to invade Poland AGAIN! - History would say that there is always a good chance someone will want to invade Poland.

The countryside is still very open and lightly populated. Weather still great, warm, 22C+, some haze? We are not sure whether it is pollution (doubt it) or a normal seasonal phenomenon. Except for a few light drops last night we still have seen no rain! Strange thunder too. It seemed as if a rogue thundercloud rumbled past - much like every car on the autobahn - Brrroooom! - on its way somewhere else!

A Greek ferry sank somewhere yesterday - we think - saw it on TV last night (part of our mobile telecommunications set-up) - but we're not sure when or why and Lizzie has, so far, been unable to enlighten us, although she is keeping us up to date with the medal tally via SMS messages. This modern technology is so-o-o-o-o cool!

Overnighted with the truckies again last night. Positively hot most of the night and a beautiful morning this morning. Better reception at the Czech border. They were happy to let us in and immediately tried to sell us everything from mushrooms to garden gnomes. Some young girls standing beside the road at fairly regular intervals, all dressed up for a night out…. at 1.00pm? We suspect that they also were in the market for … something?

Czech roads are not up to the standard of the Reich. However, they are no worse than Australian roads and the traffic is light. The countryside is very open and would be extremely picturesque if it weren't for the ever present haze.

Prague loomed upon us fairly quickly and Janita had the pleasure of driving directly through the centre of our first Eastern European city. Direction signs are more like we are used to at home. Non-existent! We managed to find a nice, empty camping platz about five or six km from the city centre and on the opposite side of the city from where we’d planned. As with most European cities Prague has a highly populated, but small centre and the suburbs quickly become rural villages. We are just at the fringe of the grey blocks of Soviet-style apartment blocks, in a woodland area.

People seem fairly easy going and nothing is too much of a problem even with the very significant language gap. Not many people speak English! We have been trying our extensive (one word) Czech vocabulary, - - thanks (da coo yaar) -, much to the amusement of all. It’s amazing what you can do with pointing and using that ever-green American tourist trick - just speaking English, loudly, until you get what you want!

Given the results of our first shopping trip to the local supermarket, where we bought about half a kilo of duck breast meat, thinking it was chicken, some bread and a packet of chips for AUS $3.30, we are not going to blow the budget in the East. And, as long as there are no bullet holes in the duck, our digestive systems will survive also, despite the fact that at least 50% of the water is contaminated. For those who are interested, we also had a beer at a little cafe on the way home. Two half litres of very nice Czech beer, AUS$2.18. We're in heaven!

Getting the hang of public transport in cities where you can't read the signs, street names or station names is getting to be a breeze. After two weeks on the road we seem to be getting the hang of metros, trams, buses and the frequent need to change between them. Our longest wait for a ride has probably been less then 10 minutes if you don't count waiting in a little village Imbiss (snack bar/pub) for a bus connection in the sticks in Germany.

Prague has enthralled us for two days. It leaves everything we have seen to date in the shade! A relaxed tone of sophistication pervades amongst the locals, who unlike their confreres in Paris and some other supposed 'chic cities', are in no way pretentious or condescending to visitors. City streets were full of Czechs and tourists all doing much the same thing, enjoying a couple of very warm (25C+++) last of summer days in what is surely one of the most beautiful cities in the world!.

The castle district and the old city are particularly beautiful, perhaps because they have been less "touched-up" than some other European cities. Our thigh muscles are growing stronger by the day as we climb towers for views and steps, steps and more steps - up and down in Metro stations and anywhere else they have chosen to put steps!

The view from just outside the castle gates is splendiferous! Prague - spread out before us - just as if there were no space between us at the top and the rest of the city below. A -bloody-mazing!!! The old city - tiny, cobble-stoned streets - is interesting and beautiful, but has become a mecca for tourist-inspired industries - souvenirs, money-changers and restaurants. A shame for us, but the economy must survive.

There seem to be a lot of Americans in the city as well as the ever-present Germans who are, for the most part, far louder than Americans and seem to have the attitude that they have become at least the economic 'master race', by stealth. Australians we come across are mostly young couples backpacking or the odd oldies like us. They are usually quiet and unobtrusive, but we can always pick them before we hear the accent. We can’t specify any obvious pointers, but it's amazing how often it happens.

Tourist rip off prices have not yet reached the Czech Republic. Transport in particular is very reasonable. A full day travel on and off buses, trams and metro trains cost us about A$.50 each. Lunch in a restaurant, salad and mineral water, cost about A$7.00 each. Dinner last night with two big courses and a couple of beers was about the same. Fuel is still rude by our standards, about A$1.20 per Lt.

Due to the wonders of modern communications we watched the marathon this morning. Watched is the operative word. The broadcast format in Eastern Europe is only partly compatible with our mini-TV, so we can see (very good reception) but can't hear! You might think this would not be a problem, but even languages as incomprehensible as Czech do give some verbal clues to assist understanding.

29 September

30 September/1 October

Tomorrow we are off for a couple days in some of the more remote areas of the Republic and then back to try our luck again with the Poles!

2 October

In a small orchard with more apples and pears than we could eat in a year falling all around us in a camping/guesthouse owned by a New Zealand born (left when he was three) Dutchman named Chris. This village is about 100kms south of Prague near the International Heritage-listed village of Cesky Krumlov.

Cesky Krumlov is as advertised. Another incredible demonstration of how seriously Europeans of every flavour take their history. Intact and preserved from the 16th century, the town could take you back in history - except for the usual tourist shops selling everything from splinters of the true cross to a local form of paui shell - not to mention the ubiquitous garnet and amber in every shop.

But back to Chris's Guesthouse. Apparently, foreigners like Chris and his partners are able to buy property in the Czech Republic if it is a tax-paying enterprise. He and his mate and their girlfriends manage this place from their homes in Holland, 'commuting' the 9 hour trip once a month in turn during the tourist season, May to September. We caught him just in time. He was taking down the sign as we arrived. The guesthouse was a stable which they have converted to dormitory style accommodation. Very comfortable. The camping area is the backyard orchard. This time of year, although it is still relatively warm, the locals have their wood fires going and the air is pleasantly smoke-scented.

Water is always a problem when travelling in vans. In a small village like this, the water is drinkable to the extent that it won't make you sick. But the level of chlorinisation gives it a bit of a smell! Vans are a bit like your basic biosphere. Inputs include water, gas, electricity, food and petrol (diesel), outputs are 'grey water' and toilet waste (chemical toilet waste) and, hopefully, forward movement.

Water quality can be variable, but generally those with better than average stomachs, like us, can usually survive most water changes. However, we hear that some of the water in Eastern Europe is polluted so we are more cautious than usual and keep our bottled drinking water separate from the 100ltr tank of general use water that the van can carry.

Filling the tank is one of the never-ending challenges in 'vanning'. Staying in camping areas can mostly solve the problem, although Europeans guard their water as though it were gold and it is sometimes difficult to find a tap even in a camping park. The notion of water available on almost every street corner as at home is anathema to Europeans. As a result, quick 'water missions' with a ten or twenty litre container are the go in service stations, showers, and camping kitchens.

Grey water is the leavings from washing up, showers/washes etc.. Vans have 'grey water' tanks that for some reason seem to hold about half the amount of water as the fresh water tank? If the original hypothesis of the 'van biosphere' holds, then the rest of the water must go somewhere? - More about chemical toilets later.... Disposal of grey water is not as great for us as it could be for the seriously environmentally aware. We usually 'forget' to put the cap on the tank drain pipe.!

Chemical toilets are a major technical advance on the ice-cream container. The standard is the Tetford system - a very nice little unit that boasts electric flushing and normal pedestal shape. From the 'user's end' this is a very necessary and easy to use appliance. From the point of view of the 'disposer', it is a bit of a chore. Your normal toilet cistern will cope with the 15-20 litres of effluent that a Tetford holds, as long as you pour slowly! Too fast and one has a problem that is best catered for with wellies, which are always used for such tasks. Mr Tetford built a breather valve in the top of his extraordinary contraption that tends to jam open if the flow out of the tank is too fast. This results in an additional flow of what the English like to call 'black water' (they can't have seen too much of it if they think it’s black!). Anyhow, enough is enough. As you can imagine one is not always welcome in public toilets with a Tetford. Again, some of the more environmentally unaware travellers have been known to take a quiet walk in the woods with their Tetfords.

More about van life another day.....

3 October

Drove most of the day in forest and grazing land. Deer wild in the fields throughout the day. Telc was our main joy for the day. A town untouched (again! - what happened to sacking, rape and plunder?) since the sixteenth century. For the first time in over two weeks we had to contend with rain for a couple of hours. The 'biosphere' was in shock! Too much moisture coming in is not a good thing. As we were driving most of the day, the effect of another of the biosphere's inputs, diesel, made all the difference. With the heater on full blast, wet jackets and last night's washing were soon dry and packed away.

The Czech countryside is rolling and fairly open. Villages with a character not dissimilar to most isolated areas in Europe, dot the back roads. Houses look like scenes from Combat ( a WWII TV series for the TOO young to know!) and while there are no people to be seen, the always-parked cars are a dead giveaway. There IS life here.

As the inescapable eventuality of cooler times ahead hits us, we have to be more aware of maintaining warmth and dryness inside. The car heater assists during driving times, but when the van is stationary, heating and also cooling rely on gas, battery and, when available, electricity. None of this is much of a problem yet as day time temperatures are still in the high teens or early twenties and nights only get as low as 7-8C.

Vans have two 12 volt batteries. One is the normal vehicle system battery. The second is a 'leisure battery' which is charged off the alternator when the vehicle is running, or off 220/240 volt power when available (at a cost) in camping parks. The leisure battery runs lights, water pump and is one of the alternative power supplies for the fridge. In addition, in this van the leisure battery has a 12V outlet which can be used to run a range of 12V appliances (read “toys”!). More on this later...

Tonight we are on full power in a camping area in Kutna Hora, northern Czech Republic. We have an electric fan heater on to assist with clothes drying, more than for our warmth. We are in T-shirts and shorts. The owner, who came by personally to welcome us (we are the only campers here!) had been out fishing all day, but the morning rain drove him home early. Good news is he caught two pike. Bad news is that the forecast for tomorrow is the same - rain. This won't matter too much for the main purpose of our visit - a 19th century "Ossuary" - part of a cemetery "decorated "with bones carved in the shape of bells, a chandelier, even the Schwarzenberg coat of arms. However, a wander round the rest of the town will require the bringing out of "The Drizabones" - a not-to-be-missed event. Wonder if Poland will let us in tomorrow?

Poland

4/5 October

For the fourth time in less than a couple of hours, the black BMW cruised down the hill past the decaying reminders of the long-gone 'darker days' of the Soviet empire - rusting Trevants, gutted vans of unrecognisable origin and the tangle of neglected, overgrown security fences and disconnected light poles. Following was the same gray Chrysler. Dressed for a theatrical performance of the Godfather, in black skivvies, dark sunglasses and leather jackets, the occupants quickly alighted, unlocked and entered the blue-grey doors of the 'lockup', and disappeared from view.

Sounds like a seventies spy novel and maybe it is?

We are not sure whether our imagination has been fueled by stories of the active Russian Mafia in Poland or we are really onto the heart of the infamous Polish 'luxury car recycling' industry. Contributing to the effect is the lingering fog which, with significant periods of sunny relief, has followed us all day.

Accompanying the two lead vehicles on each visit have been cars of lesser pedigree, but still slightly above your normal Polish street car. An Opel, a Mazda and a VW sedan have all carried interested parties to the mysterious 'lock-up'. This is Camping Sleza, Wroclaw. (No, we did NOT make the name up!)

More bizarre events occurred later in the afternoon but for now, yesterday.

To understand any culture one has to look openly at all aspects. Having seen the beauty of Prague and the historical wonders of several small medieval towns, we took ourselves off the the Ossuary at Kutna Hora in north eastern Czech Republic. 'These people are seriously warped'. The flat Australian vowels were unmistakable in the small church decorated with the bones of 40,000 people, apparently just for the hell of it, in the 1870s. The voice was not one of ours but one of the many fellow Aussies we encounter wherever we go. An hour or so before, Paul had been lugging a computer monitor - yes he could no longer tolerate the B&W screen and bought a cheap monitor! - to the top of the hill in Kutna Hora. As he took the last step he heard the flat tones and chipped in that he could do with a hand. The answer was as expected - "Get serious mate!" This young couple were driving and camping around and believe it or not they live in Yeronga!

Crossing the Polish border was not nearly as painful as we had expected after our last try. The border was heralded by the normal kilometer or more line of stopped trucks, but horrors! we still had crowns to spend. A supermarket just before the border saved our bacon - and spent all bar about 50c of our money, although it was a hard task. Czech crowns just buy so much more! We scoured the supermarket for "things to buy." For those who are interested, panty liners now come for G-strings, so the "flossing effect" will not be so painful. Then, to the border crossing. The guard insisted on a quick look in our shower/toilet- why??- and, we were off.

Polish roads are a notch below those in the Czech Republic. They are a bit rough but still nothing out of the ordinary by Australian standards. However, they don't come with the standard girls in short skirts plying their trade - a disappointment for Paul who thought he was hot stuff after being given a card by a call girl in Prague........

We already know the city of Wroclaw (not Warsaw) fairly well after driving through the middle of it twice to find the camping grounds. Wroclaw has about 700,000 inhabitants and is on the Oder river and tonight and tomorrow night so are we.... along with the strange operators of the 'lock-up'.

The story continues.

As the afternoon drew into misty darkness (nice, hey!) the activity at the Mafia lock-up increased. The BMW and Chrysler returned yet again - this time with a number of small vans in convoy. The tableau was enhanced by a little blond child of 3-4 who pranced around between the leather-coated men and their cars. Trying hard not to be seen to be observing these exchanges, we sat in our van and directed our gaze elsewhere - all the time knowing that a major international Mafia conspiracy was being played out before us.

Then all was revealed. As a careless 'apparachik' flung the door open wide enough for us to see... we had stumbled on the Great Polish Kitchen Sink smuggling ring. Yes indeedy, under cover of late afternoon fog and darkness, kitchen sinks were being traded by men in fast cars, dark sunglasses and leather jackets. A plot not dissimilar to the great Naples brothel discovery of 1987 (for those in the know!).

'Seasons of mists and mellow fruitfulness' - was it Keats or one of the other Romantics? Autumn can bring an attractive hue of yellow, gold and red to a city. Sadly, in the case of Wroclaw, nothing seems to cover the grey. On the other hand the fruit bit is another story. Roads throughout the Czech Republic and so far Poland are lined with apple and pear trees. We have not tried the apples (on advice) but the pears are unbelievable. Just like they used to be at home before the advent of freezers and chemical ripening.

To be fair, today is probably the worst day we have had in terms of weather. The sun was up there and the sunnies were required to deal with the glare, but the mist/haze/pollution hung on all day. Much to the detriment of our view of Wroclaw.

The city has had perhaps one of the most unfortunate histories of any European city. Close to the borders of present day Germany, Austria and Hungary, the state of Silesia of which Wroclaw is the largest city, has been torn every which way for a thousand years. The city was only returned to Polish control after the second World War and even then it was in a desperately poor state! The retreating German Army was ordered to stand and hold Wroclaw which it did for 81 days, during which time, 70% of the city was destroyed by Russian bombardment.

As much as the west enjoys disparaging the work of the Russians in their now 'lost empire', the work completed in these eastern cities under their rule is significant, if not always of the best quality. Photographs of the devastation of cities like Wroclaw have seldom surfaced in western documentaries. In comparison, London and even Coventry received 'but a scratch'.

Enough rationalization. - Why the hell did the rebuilding include the use of cobble stones? The further east we go the more prevalent these little blighters become. For those who are not aware the cobble stone is a square rock ranging in size from10cm square to 20-25 cm square. Used to pave roads in the days before the motor car they seem to be regaining popularity as traffic calming devices even in the west! It is in the countries of Eastern Europe that the cobble stone reaches its modern zenith! Carefully laid (and constantly relaid) over what ever surface may be available, cobbled roads cover the major thoroughfares of many Eastern European cities. On clay they are a nightmare. Dipping and humping, they keep front end mechanics in demand everywhere. In a van with lots of 'rattly bits' they are impossible!

Sadly Wroclaw did not leave us gasping for anything more than fresh air - the fumes were overwhelming! A nicely reconstructed city square and an extremely patriotic panorama painting of a major Polish victory over the Russians in 1794 were of note.

Tomorrow we strike out further east to Warsaw, only 300kms but given the time it took us to drive from the border to Wroclaw (120kms), we will make an early start and hope to beat the rush hour in central Warsaw.

A late hazy start. We hit the road about 9.45am. Surprisingly, we had an easy exit from Wroclaw as Camping Sleza was beside the main road to Warsaw.

The road improved as we got closer to the capital. However, the interesting uses of what we would call the emergency lane on major roads is worth of comment. Cyclists, horse-drawn carts, mushroom-sellers and the ubiquitous 'girls', all use the emergency lane. None of this would normally be a problem, except that this lane is also considered a usable half a lane by the traffic going in your direction (but faster), which wants you to move over into it (NOW!) and, even more disconcertingly, by those coming towards you, who also expect you to move over. The rule seems to be that the faint of heart, basically us, hug the far right verge. The rest of us overtake in either direction whenever we feel like it.

Approaching a bend, expect to see a large truck on the right side of the on-coming lane and at least one vehicle, sometimes a bus, passing it on what we would consider to be our side of the road. Adding to the excitement, those who share our side of the road and our direction can elect to pass whenever they like, including when the above combination is coming at us at 70-120kms/hr. Add to this the above-stated fact that others tend to use this 'non-lane' for various purposes and you get some of the picture.

As the large vehicles continuously pound the right side of the road they make 'truck ruts' in the road surface. These create a nice floating effect. Janita loves them - both when driving and when seat-clutching on the passenger side.

It may be difficult to believe but all this seems to work with minimum loss of life and all seem to play the game with good will and a real sense of co-operation. We think we heard one horn blast all day.

As we entered Warsaw, we were grateful that the fog had cleared to a clear, fine, very warm day. The first impression is of a large (pop 1.7m) prosperous industrial city. The rich farmscape in the 100kms or so approaching the city was in the throes of harvest. Almost every house and farm has a small stall selling mostly potatoes, apples, cabbage and slaw (shredded cabbage ready for turning into sauerkraut) all in large - about 5 kg - bags. The city approaches are much like the outer industrial suburbs of Australian cities. Lots of space, large modern factories and every now and then, monstrous supermarkets. The prize for the biggest to date now goes to the Geant complex, Warsaw. How many varieties of sausage can you think of? Will they fill almost 50m of display cabinet?

Polish kids congregate in these 'malls' much the same as at home. They are well dressed and impressively well behaved. Note: In Europe flared trousers and platformed shoes/sneakers a la 70's (for those who remember same) are all the rage!

We found the camping area more by good luck than good management. Confronted by the 'Frau' that the Nazis refused to take home and the Russians declined a visa, we had to use the best of our dumb foreigner acts to get into the supposedly closed park.

Meanwhile, as we write, Midnight Oil is belting out on Warsaw radio. AC/DC is very big everywhere in Europe and the AC/DC T-shirt is the uniform of the very cool! Sixties and seventies music is still very big in the east. Maybe they are catching up on what they missed. The Bee Gees, Beatles, Abba (yes lots of Abba) and even Gilbert O'Sullivan for some reason? Our record collection is looking GOOD!

Warsaw's suffering at the hands of the Nazis is well known. The uprising of the citizens under partisan leadership in 1944 and the revolt in the Jewish Ghetto in the same year both led to savage reprisals against the citizens and the city. The Jewish cemetery holds the graves of over 100,000 Jews who died in the uprising. Many thousands more were buried in mass graves or died elsewhere in concentration camps. Up to 250,000 Poles are said to have died as either a direct result of the partisan uprising or as a consequence of mass reprisals by the Germans.

Today nothing remains of the physical surroundings of these atrocities. The old ghetto is now parkland and row after row of grey Soviet-style apartments. In the centre of the city, almost 90% of buildings were totally destroyed as the Germans systematically demolished the city block by block late in 1944.

A spectacular monument completed in 1989 commemorates the Warsaw uprising. Far less imposing is the monument to the Jewish heroes of the revolt in the ghetto.

The 'stare grad' (old city), has been beautifully reconstructed, mostly from original plans gathered from archives from throughout Europe. The heart of the city has returned. On the day we visited - again blessed with beautiful weather - the people of Warsaw were out in force. Churches were full (Sunday) and the squares and main 'strolling' thoroughfares were packed. We joined the passing parade and walked for more than seven hours around the city and most of the way back to our camping grounds in the inner 'burbs’.

We suspect that we saw more of the city than your average tourist as we were on foot and mostly lost. The new city is modern, clean and could be in any western European country. Again, a bit of a sad comment on the increasing 'sameness' of cities world wide. The infiltration of western commercial enterprises such as McDonalds, Pizza Hut, Dominos, Athletes Foot, Foot Locker, KFC - to mention a few, all housed in mega-shopping centres make us feel totally at home -- and that's NOT why we came here.

This morning we skipped breakfast in preparation for a lunch at one of Poland's famed 'Milk Bars'. Expecting a large range of famous Polish dumpling dishes, all that was available was a limited range of soups. We selected bean and beetroot. Paul didn't mind it, but Janita took several kms of walking to stop gagging. Imagine a can of butter beans mixed with the juice and tail-end remnants of a can of Golden Circle beetroot, heated up and poured into a bowl. --- this was lunch! She says she did well to only gag.

On an afternoon like this, with the heavy mist and early autumn chill, the outskirts of the small city of Oswiecim could otherwise be the same as scores of similar towns we have driven through in eastern Europe. Except that the German name for this town is Auschwitz.

Unknown hundreds of thousands of people died here.

Leaving Warsaw this morning was easier than we expected. Except for the odd truck ruts in the highway, the roads were good and we arrived less stressed than usual. The city of Czestochowa is the most visited religious site in all Poland. The painting of the 'Black Madonna' equals Lourdes as a mecca for pilgrims. Disappointingly, the Madonna was not on display during our visit, but fortunately we did not have to resort to travelling on our knees in search of her as other pilgrims did. We kid you NOT! The Poles are a VERY religious race.

Trains pass our camping spot going to and from Oswiecim. It is impossible to hear the clack, clack of the wheels on the sleepers and the whistles without thinking of the trains that rolled down this line sixty years ago. Just across the road is the main gate to the camp.

10 October

One and a half million people died between 1941 and mid 1944 in Auschwitz/Birkenau. The scale and extent of this horror is indescribable ...................

11 October

Earlier impressions of Poland have had to be drastically re-assessed. If we had (another) $1M this would be the place to invest, if it isn't already too late. If Wroclaw (as opposed to Warsaw) is one's only image of Poland - it was our first - then we could be forgiven for despairing the country's future. But beyond this unfortunate city is a country which has achieved surely one of the greatest 'phoenix acts' of the last century.

The much publicised crime and destitution are virtually non-existent (except in poor old Wroclaw). Today we wandered around Krakow, the only Polish city to escape annihilation during WWII. Reconstruction in other Polish cities has been beautifully and faithfully undertaken. But there is nothing like the real thing. This city has a level of sophistication at least equal to Prague - but again - the Poles have an easy way (like the Czechs) that makes one far more comfortable than amongst the 'haute couture' of the more recognised centres of European culture.

The Wawel (Royal Palace) is the historical heart of Poland and the seat of the past Kings of Poland and the Stare Miastro (Old City) provides a fascinating wander through history. Polish cathedrals - at least here - are the most highly decorated we have ever seen -- every part of walls and ceiling are garnished in some way!

Every European city has its own special "thing" - Krakow's involves a trumpeter who blows on the hour - interrupted (figuratively) - as his 14th century counterpart was (literally) - by a Tartar arrow.

The Jewish section was a bit of a disappointment. After Auschwitz, you expect some further recognition of the Holocaust, but the Jewish section of Krakow is almost unrecognisable - apart from the many synagogues (for a city of 100 Jews).

School children of all ages swarm all over the historical monuments of Poland. It seems their history is of major importance! And it is also obviously important to the multitudes of Australians we hear around the traps of every European city we've been to so far. Our concerns about Poland appear to have been unfounded. People everywhere have been friendly and helpful.

12 October

From 1.3 km under the ground to 2000 m above. Not bad for one day. This morning we visited the salt mines at Wieliczka outside Krakow. The mines have operated continuously for five hundred years and tourists have been coming here almost as long. It is claimed that Copernicus himself visited the mines! However we suspect that it is one of the few places not blessed by a visit from the Pope!

Miners have amused themselves over the centuries carving incredible statues and whole rooms out of the rock. Some of the works are most spectacular, as is the dedication that has gone into the carving. One monstrous room was largely carved by one man who worked at it for over 25 years up to the mid-sixties… when his younger brother took over!

The trip down was via at least 700 steps and we kept thinking that what goes down must come up, but we were "saved" by a mine lift containing not more than 9 people which zoomed to the surface at the rate of 4 metres/sec, to the accompaniment of school children screaming. Most comforting!

At the other end of the scale, tonight we are camping at the foot of the Carpathian Mountains at Zakopane about 90 kms south of Krakow on the Slovakian border. A mostly sunny clear day was rudely interrupted by gale force winds for about an hour just before sunset. Then, within minutes, complete calm. Great for clothes drying, which is another of the major issues in the 'van-biosphere'.

Washing is something that some of us (mostly males apparently) take for granted. Dirty clothes out, clean clothes in. What could be more simple? Nothing could be further from the truth 'on-the-road'. Washing machines are somewhat scarce in European camping grounds and the general rule is the night after you do a hand wash of every stitch you own - the camping ground has a machine!.....which is fine, IF you can understand the instructions. In Dresden, we could only manage to make the spin cycle work!!

Drying is fairly easily done, especially when the weather is fine. A few hours dripping in the breeze is the start of a process that involves turning the car heater up to the maximum and closing all the windows! Knickers, socks and all other assorted bits are then rotated over the heater vents in the front cabin. A normal day's driving is usually sufficient. We simply ignore the curious glances directed at us by truckies, people in villages etc.

13/14/15 October

Oops! Missed yesterday - and the day before.

Did the tourist thing in Zakopane for the morning - checked out the market stalls - took the funicular to the top of the mountain and marvelled at the views - and the temperature - 19 degrees at the top but 24C at the bottom.

Later, crossed into Slovakia with no problems and drove, aiming at a quick visit in Bratislava. Overnighted at a "Services" on the motorway, nervously because there were no trucks, but our fears were unwarranted. The next morning we drove on to find a far better "Services" only a few kilometres down the track! We had planned to spend a day in Bratislava. However, in the spirit of 'if it's Tuesday it must be Belgium' we decided to drive on and have a couple of unscheduled days in Vienna.

Crossed the Slovak-Austrian border about midday after about an hour and a half wait! . Weather was again fantastic. People were out on the streets of Vienna in force on a day that can only be described as 'freakish' - uncomfortably hot (25+) and humid? Clear, sunny but with a little haze. Hard for us to take in when it was -15C the last time we were here.

Austria

13/14/15 October

The scale of the grandeur of the old Hapsburg Empire has been extremely well preserved. On days like the two we have had here the city is at its best.

The reason we missed yesterday was the bad company we ran into in the camping grounds. This place (like most of Europe) is full of Australians. One group in this camp come from Brisbane. In fact, they come from Tarragindi! One thing led to another and we finally got to bed at around 1.30 am.

All the travellers that we meet agree that Eastern Europe is an absolute bargain and the new travel frontier! Two days in Austria have confirmed this for us. The cost differential is about three or four to one. For example, one hour on the net cost us about $A10 in Vienna. Prague was $A3, with two cups of coffee!

We are looking forward to going into Hungary tomorrow.

Hungary

16 October

Hungary is so far, yet another surprise.

Clean modern towns and cities with the same degree of almost sterile neatness that characterises Swiss and Austrian towns. As the favoured next contender for EU membership, Hungary is a 'good thing'.

Gyor is a small industrial city in the north near the Austrian border. It boasts a finely preserved medieval city heart, which, unfortunately, we may never know! Having struggled in the now accustomed fashion to find a suitable parking space, we locked up and jumped out, only to discover that somehow we had locked ourselves out!

Vehicle security in Eastern Europe is a paranoia that is generally accepted as normal (if there can be such a thing?). We have a chain that secures the front cabin, in addition to the normal door locks. The back van door then becomes the only access. Somehow we managed to close the door with an inside lock set. Having keys in hand was of no answer - remember the chained front doors...because we have never had a key to that lock ...it was probably buggered by somebody else at some other time.

The decision was quickly made to break-in through the back door - all that was missing was the appropriate 'jemmy bar' - Now try explaining to an auto-parts dealer that you want to borrow a tyre lever to force open your van door - in Hungarian!

Two hours later, two very pleasant Hungarian gents happily wandered away from our van with a bottle of good wine each and we had the door open - the intervening tale is best reserved for dinner conversation!

Tonight we are again with the 'knights of the road' in a truck stop about 30kms outside Budapest. Having had a few beers and dinner at the attached restaurant (A$29! - we love Eastern Europe!) we are confident of not being asked to move on...

Tomorrow MUST be a better day

17 October

Ever driven into a strange, very large, city in mid-morning peak hour? Add incomprehensible direction signs and bloody cobblestones! - Never mind. We again saw more of the great city of Budapest than most of the locals have ever seen. We've crossed bridges and been on roads never designed for a campervan. Just goes to show what enterprising Australians can achieve when panic-stricken and desperate!

Budapest again surprised us. Where did all the negative 'press' about places like this come from? Heavy pollution however spoilt yet another clear day to some extent. But not even poor conditions can diminish the wonder we feel at seeing for the first time another previously hidden gem of Eastern Europe, kept from us by the Cold War.

We only saw the Buda part today - that is the medieval part of the city - interesting squares and the Matthias church - like that of Krakow -decorated to within an inch of its life - so different to what you expect to see in a church that sometimes you forget where you are and just wander around with your mouth agape and piety goes out the window.

While we thought the view from the Fishermen's Bastion over the Danube and Pest was good, although limited by the smog - after we'd climbed 140m to the Citadella - up hundreds of steps and very steep paths - we found a view even more spectacular - the whole of Budapest spread out before us - but STILL veiled in grey smog! If it's clear tomorrow, a return trip is in order!

(Weather wise this is our 30th day without rain during the day and probably our 28th day of sunshine! Temperatures have not fallen below 15C during the day and have mostly been well above 20C - sometimes as high as 29C! - is this October?) Why didn't we bring T-shirts and shorts suitable for “doing the town” instead of just our old “tatties” designated for “in-van” use only?

The countryside between Budapest and Gyor more closely approximates what we might call 'bush' than anything else we have seen. Mile after mile of heavily wooded hills. Eastern Hungary - to be seen later! - is reportedly even more akin to 'wilderness' (if such a thing exists in Europe).

On a totally different tack, public transport in most cities, even those of the East is very easy to use. We could learn a lot from the simplicity and uniformity of their systems. Buy a ticket (finding the ticket seller is the hardest bit) find a bus/tram/metro and get on. More difficult than it sounds, but the enforced contact with the locals is what it is all about!

Hungary is supposedly 90% ethnic Hungarian - whatever that means - given the ebb and flow of migrations and invasions through this part of the world over the last 2000 years. Our observations lead us to believe that it simply means no Asians! And what happened to the Gypsies? In fact, after a month we have not spotted a single Gypsy camp. Twelve years ago they marked the fringes of most European cities.

People are no more distinguishable from the heterogeneous crowds one might expect to find in any Australian city - except that the lack of people of Asian descent becomes more noticeable as we go further east. At home it is now not uncommon for Asians to be Australian born and to speak and (sometimes) act much like the rest of us. Here, that form of racial integration does not seem to exist. People of African origin or those of other non-European origin are few and far between.

Perhaps multi-culturalism is more than a glib political catch cry?

18/19 October

Budapest is a VERY big city. Even though the population is only somewhere around 1.6M the centre of the city (zentrum) must have developed to some extent as two cities - Buda & Pest. We must have walked 20 + kms both yesterday and the day before.

Yesterday we jumped a suburban train for a 20-25 km trip to the small town of Szentendre. The distance from the city diminished the haze enough to expose blue sky. The town was charming but a bit of a 'tourist trap' - stall after stall. Even this late in the season, tour groups were everywhere including the Japanese lady with the funny hat who pops up wherever we go. What must these places be like in July?

On the way back we saw (conveniently beside the railway track) the ancient Roman ruins of Aquincum, a garrison in Roman times - and Obuda - the old Buda, about 5 km from the current city, but there is no explanation as to why everybody moved down-river!!!.

Margit sziget (Margaret Island) in the centre of the Danube between the two cities was a chance find as we walked back into the centre of the city. Flowers were still in full bloom, the sun bathers were out in force and we "walked the walk!"

As we are - mostly - on foot, we are constantly confronted by beggars. All the guide books warn against giving to beggars. It's very difficult sometimes. Although we are highly suspicious of some of the more dramatic performances, there are others that make you feel guilty. The archetypal beggar is an old lady hunched on the ground, dressed in dark, tattered clothes - her face is never visible, her constantly shaking hand holds out a small plastic cup. As heartless as it sounds - they must have a dress code and a union. From London to Budapest they could be the same person!

Contrasting with beggars, ancient Roman ruins and centuries of history is the "Hipermarket" (sic) the ubiquitous just-out-of-town experience - picture Garden City or Carindale and you have it. Handy for people like us, though.

A 'reconstructed Eastern Europe' tourist rating for Budapest? Up there, not to be missed, but not in the same league as Warsaw, Krakow or Dresden.

Lake Balaton is the largest fresh water lake in Europe, outside Scandanavia. Two hundred kilometers around. Given the thirty day run of fine weather, we thought we were safe for an out of season visit to this "beach" resort. Wrong. Leaving Budapest, the pollution haze was the worst we have seen. Mid morning, the unthinkable. Rain.

Our view of the lake was somewhat disappointing. However as you might expect, the sun broke through later in the afternoon, soon after we had decided to return rather than make the total, round-the-lake trip.

What we have discovered - through sad experience - is that European towns , which appear "small" on the map, turn into mini-Brisbanes, complete with shocking directions. Therefore, we have seen the "Zentrums" of most of the cities and towns we only intended to drive around.

The Romanian border crossing awaits us tomorrow. We can only hope that our relatively carefree crossings to this point will be repeated at this, reputedly difficult border.

Romania

20/21 October

Crossing the border was again a breeze. - Australians? What do you have in your baggage? Move on...

"For all you know, this could be the garden centre of all Bolivia!" (Sundance to Butch on their arrival in Bolivia - Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, 1969)

The sight confronting the two evergreen heroes of the greatest movie ever made was almost identical to that presented by the first village we passed through in Romania. Free range chickens, ducks and turkeys scavenged on the roadside. Broken farm equipment littered the dirt and gravel side streets. Dirty children played in the dusty streets. At every turn, horse-drawn carts driven by dark, unshaven men and women (yes, we mean both), lumbered along amongst heavy trucks, BMWs, Trevants, Dacias (Romanian made) and one lone campervan!

Was this finally the un-reconstructed East we had come to see? You bet 'ya!

Romania has a population of 22 million and a GDP about a quarter of Australia's. The monthly wage is about US$100. Capitalism has again been adopted with fervour, in this the poorest of the Eastern European countries. The usual street stalls line the streets of every village. However there is something different here. Except for those who have been able to jump the 'capitalist queue', mostly we assume educated urban folk, much of the population is still living the bulk of their daily lives as they did in the 1930s (mind you with satellite TV and electricity).

Water is carried by cart from wells to home. Corn and other staples are stored for the winter. Cattle and sheep are herded by shepherds - across Highway 1 today!! Horse-drawn ploughs are as common in the fields as tractors.

Sadly, the industrialisation brought by the Soviet era has either fallen into an ugly disuse, or is so antiquated that it pollutes what otherwise would be a beautiful country. Although small villages abound, the intervening countryside is virtually empty. Is this a result of Collectivisation? Whatever the cause, the country is open and often bare. It is not unusual to come to the top of a hill and have a clear view, as far as the eye can see, uninterrupted by any sign of human habitation. Most unusual in Europe!

To the roads. Guide books warn travellers not to drive at night in Romania. Why? The potholes, open manhole covers, one-way bridges and sections of roads in and around villages and poor or non-existent signage of all of the above!!. Extensive road repairs are in progress throughout the country and when one is lucky enough to travel on new roads, they are very reasonable. But! At least two thirds of the roads we travelled in the past two days allowed speeds of no more than 40km/hr. In a full day's driving, 8.30 am - 5.30 pm, (no stops!), we covered just over three hundred kms.

All along the roadside there are people!!! - people sitting outside their homes, either selling things or just sitting and watching the traffic - especially - it seems - us; people standing around and chatting or watching - again - us; people waiting for buses which never seem to arrive; people hitching rides EVERYWHERE - even policemen and soldiers at the end of a shift or tour of duty; people at the aforementioned potholes, one-way bridges etc trying to flog red onions and glassware to captive motorists. The most unnerving aspect of this country to date has been the feeling of being constantly observed. WHY - we ask????? It is an aspect of European life with which we Australians don't feel comfortable.

In stark contrast, the cities have all the services you might expect…although they are fewer and further between! But mixed with this are the ever present carts, dirt streets (even in the middle of cities) and undriveable roads!

Romania is not the Third World. But it is the closest we want to get at the moment.

Finding camping places is a matter of sheer luck. Last night we had an uneasy night in the carpark of a closed Spa Resort outside the small city of Oradea. We survived. Tonight we tracked down a Restaurant/Cabins place that allows camping in Sighisoara. Not bad as we don't have to sleep in the cabins (they are a bit off!) but we have pulled our van up beside one, fed our power lead in through the window and have full and exclusive use of the shower and toilet.

22/23 October

Transylvania is supposedly the home of Dracula! The real person on whom the character was based was Vlad Tepes, or Vlad the Impaler. His birth place is really the small village of Sighisoara where we spent last night. The birth place of the legendary Dracula is now a restaurant!!

Supposedly, the Dracula legend is associated with a castle at the small town of Bran. The castle is sited on a rocky outcrop guarding a small pass in the mountains. A perfect opportunity for that widely accepted European custom - the TOLL! With the sky as clear as a bell, the castle was a picture. We camped in a field at the foot of the castle hill.

More practical minds turn to what this great weather means at this altitude! COLD! The next morning the inside temp was 0C, with ice and the usual "crisp" -read "frozen" - laundry. - Still no rain to speak of after 5 weeks!

Late in the afternoon we were befriended by a local "lad" whose 'job' it was to watch cars in the castle carpark. His approach was less aggressive than the norm, so, against our normal practice, we gave him a tip. He had put us on to the free camping spot and later that evening he 'happened' past for a chat and told us that his mother made jumpers. Partly to get rid of him and perhaps more to salve our conscience, we agreed to look at mum's handiwork 'domani' - meaning tomorrow. Within minutes, however, mum was at the van door wanting to know the size. She was ever so nice and we chatted incomprehensibly but mutually happily for a while until we agreed to buy the local product in the morning!

7:45 AM -4C, at least, outside. As soon as we moved in the van there was a knock at the door. Poor old mum had been standing in the open field for God knows how long waiting for us to awaken! The total cost of the kid's tip and the jumper was less than $20AUD. The elevation of first world guilt was worth at least ten times that much.

Cold is actually refreshing and what we expected - but the van didn't. The b... wouldn't start. We assumed battery trouble (and for once were right). Now. To harp back to the van biosphere. We have two batteries. After trying every thing else we decided to 'jump' start the main battery from the accessory battery. Obviously this requires leads.. We had none. But this is Romania and anything is possible. Walking around on the scrounge is a normal activity here. After a while we came upon a buried cable. Was it live or not? Who gives a rats when you are desperate? In a sequence that again is best left for dinner conversation we 'came upon enough wire to jump start the car! (Good story - please ask one day!)

Drove into Brasov to find a new battery ........... and ........... after several attempts we finally found a Ford dealer, which was more than we had expected. This place was a story on its own (more dinner conversation) - don't forget to ask about the FORD 'chickie babes’ and their accounting methods!'.

This has been a very long day! To cut a long story short - Janita drove into Bucharest in peak hour in the dark! Got lost on the worst roads you could possibly imagine, survived humungous potholes, trams, tram lines and Paul's panic attacks Look out!!.Go left!!! NO, go right!! Found a freeway and we are now ensconced in a very questionable motorway motel (first time!). Had dinner. Did washing.....

The night before we had agreed to 'look' at some jumpers...... Romania has laid claim to two more victims.

24 October

Sun, smog, 0C degrees and a clear blue sky. What better a start???

Why are we in Eastern Europe? Vive la difference... And that's just what today brought. Off on the freeway to Bucharest. Why? 'Cause it's there!

During the communist period the Ceausescu regime commenced work on what was to be the largest building in the world. The Palace of the People. It is in fact the second largest building after the Pentagon - and we saw it! Well actually drove past it twice on our way into and out of what has to be the new lowest ebb in civilization - yes Wroclaw has been out done! - by smog, by ugly rows of ugly "Communist Grey" buildings, by roads being dug up, re-routed (without signs), and unmarked so the bit of the road you're driving on becomes a lane - easy!! -- but most of all by the people. They're everywhere - waiting for you to stop so they can clean your windscreen and then demand payment, waiting to cross the road, crossing the road right in front of you, lurking around streets (not just corners - whole streets!), just standing, watching you, waiting for buses/trams, etc, etc. AND they're generally dark, swarthy, dirty-looking people you wouldn't want to meet in a dark alley. So-o-o-o....

We had decided that we had had enough of Romania. But she had not HAD enough of us. Minding our own business on one of the country's 'superb?' roads, we were pulled over by what seemed to be a group of plain clothes Police. "Passports! Auto-documents!" The usual cry. We asked for ID from the officers and with the confusion of language and the imposed threat to us and our plans we complied (suspiciously) with demands to see our money. Were we carrying drugs? etc. In the course of all of this one of these 'Police' lifted one of our Visa cards... (Another dinner story!)

Mobile phones quickly remedied this problem. A quick call home to Liz and our cards were cancelled, hopefully before they were used.

With this bad taste in our mouths we attacked the Romanian/Bulgarian border, reputedly one of the most challenging in Europe, with gusto. Romania was not finished with us however. Ecology tax, Bridge tax and ‘just being a tourist’ tax took all but our last US$20. We approached the other side of the frontier with a degree of trepidation as we knew they also demanded their pound of flesh in US$s!

A very jovial immigration officer did the usual "Australians" - wise knowing nod? And waved us on. Next stop entry tax. US$15... Oh dear? Was there more? Oh yes indeedy! Quarantine. The officer smiled as only the knowing Serb can! "How much?" said I, knowing that I had $5 left and more than likely would be camping with the ever-present 'Roma' in no-man's land for the rest of the holiday. "Four dollars", she said, knowing somehow that that was all I had! We drove through the car cattle dip (another dinner story) and were in Bulgaria.

Overnighting in a servo right beside the motorway, the only bit in the country!. Noisy but seems safe!

Bulgaria

25 October

Sorry, but the Roma (gypsies) are a problem! There are many poor in Romania and Bulgaria, particularly in the country. But they don't hassle everybody in sight and turn the outskirts of villages into rubbish dumps as the Roma do. More informed heads than ours would be able to explain the Roma phenomenon and the inherent challenges it brings to countries where they live.

Bulgaria has far fewer Roma than Romania and although there is rural poverty that would astound most Australians, country people make the very best of what they have. Clean streets and an obvious pride in their culture characterise what we have seen of rural Bulgaria. In the cities the consumer revolution is in full swing. Despite warnings that Sofia was the pits, our usual several hours of roaming the city lost and looking for a camping ground have left an impression of potential similar to Hungary.

As we approached the city this morning we were remarking on the unusually clear blue sky. While we have not seen a cloud for days we have only seen the sun through a grey/yellow haze. Then we came over a hill where the city came into view. The sight was ghastly. Below a crystal blue sky was a layer of pollution that reached 500 or 600 metres. Driving towards it had an almost apocalyptic feel. Stacks continued to pump more muck into the sky that seemed already saturated. Cars, trucks and buses around us belched clouds of black and grey smoke, adding to the foulness. A sight that we will never forget. This will be the real price of reconstruction in the East. It has already hit many provincial cities and towns as industries that are inefficient or are unable to meet EU standards are forced to close down as the countries of the old Soviet empire strive for EU membership, consequently littering the countryside with the decaying remains of past hopes. Unfinished freeway flyovers stand as evidence of rapid changes in local industrial focus.

Finally we escaped the eye-stinging smog and headed for the Rila Monastery in the hills some 150 kms south of Sofia. Thirty kilometers out of town and into the mountains -- clean clear air! Beautiful Mediterranean like countryside. The Greek border is only 100 kms further on.

Bulgarian Traffic Police are everywhere on the roads, rubbing their hands together in glee waiting for unwary motorists who have failed to observe the 20km/hr sign specially placed. We were pulled over for the first time (by a real policeman) in the suburbs of Sofia. Having driven right through the city centre and done our usual unscheduled preview of the sights we were truly ’bushed’! The fact that we failed to signal when avoiding several oncoming vehicles on a road with five, six of seven lanes - take your pick! - probably drew us to the attention of this officer of the 'lieur'. Before he could blurt out our offence we overwhelmed him with the dumb lost tourist act. We are getting very good at it! Probably driven to pity by our stupidity and inability to comprehend anything he said, he became very helpful and directed us on our way.

The way to Rila was littered with police check points and when the signs say 30 kms per hour, that's just what they mean! A very slow trip, especially when it took us to 1194 m above sea level, but wonderful mountain scenery as we went.

The monastery was very different to the western style. Touches of the East and the Orthodox were present as they are in the music on Bulgarian radio. An interesting mix of Turkey, Greece and Bulgaria? Thank God, the preponderance of US, UK and even Australian Pop has declined and there is some identity to the culture. Haven't seen a Pizza Hut for days. KFC isn't here. Even McDonalds are few and far between.

Tonight in the suburbs of Sofia, Camping Vranya. Paul was checking in, when he was interrupted by a young Bulgarian male who screeched to a halt in a new car with a blonde in the passenger seat. This bloke pushed in, telling Paul he was in a hurry, grabbed the key to a cabin and, by the time we chose our spot, he and his passenger were snug as bugs in rugs in one of the cabins here. A few cars have come and gone in the couple of hours we have been here. Wonder what is going on????

We, too, have the keys to a cabin, for showering purposes. It is smelly, the toilet doesn't work, and the "bathroom" comprises the unworking toilet, a basin and the taps and shower hose - no such luxuries as a cubicle or even shower curtain, but the water is hot, so who can complain? We have become inured to the challenges of Eastern Europe. - You've got to love it. Just opened a bottle of ANKbOP (some letters reversed!) ''Whisky Cream" a Baileys copy - very nice $AUS 2.00.

October 26

The Bulbank is located directly across the road from the Sheraton Sofia and the Presidential Palace - they seem to be the same building? On entering it seems not too different to any other bank in the world? The usual metal detectors, armed guards and spivvy characters in suits. But please don't be deceived. All is not as it seems.

Banks are in business to take cash from some and dispense it to others. Right? Well in the case of the Bulbank this notion of core business seems to have got a bit lost.

The imposing edifice of the United Bank of Bulgaria (Bulbank to its friends!) provides employment to many scores of souls who are blissfully unaware of the impending doom that the electronic era in banking will surely bring them.

Armed with the knowledge of this sure consequence for one's tormentors it was easy to retain composure while seeking a simple cash advance in US$. The experienced travellers that we are we were alert to the need to first consult the information counter before selecting a Kasa (Cashier). Obligingly, we were directed to Kasa 2. Instantly suspicious and caught unawares by the co-operative nature of the information clerk we fronted Kasa 2 behind 4-5 other hopeful players.

A roaming swarthy boy in a suit mumbled something to the unlucky souls behind us who had not consulted the information oracle. Smugness quickly evaporated as the young girl next to us translated the mumble for her boyfriend - in English. The Kasa operator was off to lunch in 5 minutes. On advice we all moved to the long, long Kasa 3 queue.

Our new queue compatriots (Eastern Europeans are more used to queues than most of us!) were a Danish Archaeology student and his Bulgarian girlfriend. We filled in a pleasant 30-40 minutes chatting about the world in general and Bulgaria's part in the future of it?

At last my turn... No cash advances at this Kasa... sorry (a nice touch) you have to go to Kasa 2!

But there's a hole in the bucket dear Liza, dear Liza! ----

Sofia is not half as bad as its press. Walking the streets is a real experience. Millionaires, (other than us) crooks, men with attitude and nothing much to do with it but strut it about, women with fine clothes and seemingly more purpose to their lives than their male counterparts fill the streets. People. People standing, people chatting, groups of men plotting with shady looks, looking important, looking threatening, looking macho, looking... but doing nothing much at all. Black leather, black T-shirts, heavy coats (in 23C?) - the ‘not shaved in two days’ look... This is the real Sofia.

But standing back from all of this there is a hustle and bustle, excitement and a sense of something about to happen. A country at a turning point? The way forward has already been plotted by Poland, Hungary and the Czech/Slovak Republics. According to our friend from the Bulbank queue, the people want to go the same way as their more successful northern ex-Soviet satellite neighbours. The alternative is another Balkan disaster a la Yugoslavia.

Brothels are becoming a bit of a specialty for us. Camping Vranya, our current digs, is what Eastern Europeans call 'NON-Stop'. An interesting coining of an English phrase which can mean all sorts of things going on at anytime you wish them to! From dawn to dawn cars arrive and leave the bungalows around us - except for 122 which is our allocated shower room. No one bothers us and we don't pry. But, you have got to see the rooms to believe them. We have photos! Adults only and only on application.

As the sun sets on another perfect day (we kid you not - no rain in Sofia for 2 months!) we are less than 10 kms from the glorious People's Cultural Centre, Sofia. Late autumn warmth allows us to go about our chores, cleaning, washing...while watching everything and everybody!!! - in T-shirts and shorts. Why didn’t we bring decent ones????

In the small forest like park on the city side of the camping grounds, occupants of the adjoining row after row after row of 8-10 storey Soviet style apartments walk their dogs, stroll and jog. Fish snap at the surface of the creek that flows through the relentless rubble of plastic bags and bottles that litter the gully. Finches flock through the trees picking the chill-slowed insects. Yellow leaves fall, adding to the already accumulated carpet . Fifty metres upstream, near the free-for-all that passes for an urban freeway, a shepherd urges a dozen or so dairy cattle into the park to graze. The goat herder moved his clutch off some ten minutes earlier. Yesterday we were held up at the lights on the 'freeway' while an old gent prodded his cow over the pedestrian crossing, past six lanes of traffic. Contrasts are amazing. BMWs and donkey carts. ATMs and street barter. Cardboard box-like homes on village outskirts and inner-city urban palaces.

A 'reconstructed Eastern Europe' tourist rating for Sofia. Do it for the experience. Watch your wallet and don't bring your own car! For millionaires, don't invest just yet. There are a lot of unknowns here! Any country where our mates the truckies camp in guarded yards still has some problems!

One more day of Bulgaria, the southern city of Plovdiv. Then on to Turkey.

Turkey

27 October

Plov-drive today. Europeans call McDonalds Drive-Through the "McDrive". Today, and not for the first time in our Eastern European Odyssey, we did a Drive Through - this time of Plovdiv. The camping ground we were searching for was nowhere to be found - it must have escaped into the same black hole as the one in Veliko Tarnovo (another Bulgarian city where we searched unsuccessfully for a campground) - so we decided to make a run for it before the Traffic Police caught up with us. The odds were against us as every trap set by these vigilant officers had netted several prey. But wait! We have Bulgarian leva left. Off to the Metro - not the Underground railway as you might imagine, but one of a series of Megastores that have sprung up on the outskirts of almost every major city in Hungary, Romania and Bulgaria.

These shops stock everything from hairpins to clothes driers - a lot of it in bulk - you don't just buy 6 potatoes but 25 kilos! They are ginormous (perhaps they created that black hole that ate our lost camping grounds), deal only in cash - but kindly provide ATMs - and - at least for us tourists - force customers to spend at least 50 leva ($40 AUS).

Having spent our leva and filled the larder, we escaped Bulgaria, AND without serious police harrassment. From what we understand this is somewhat of an accomplishment. But enough Bulgaria bashing. It is a part of our trip that really requires time to reflect on what was perceived threat and what was real. (Bookmark this spot for a later reflection!)

Turkey so far is a hoot! The border crossing was probably the most drawn out so far but more of a pleasant sequence of misunderstandings than anything else (or are we becoming tolerant to inefficiency?)

Exiting Bulgaria was again part of the universal –‘ Australian? Off you go’ - bit. Whole bus loads of people have their socks unwoven but we seem to be blessed with the 'harmless twits' image? A quick glance in the 'biosphere' toilet is always enough to send the most ardent customs officer packing.

At the first Turkish check point our passports were given a cursory glance .. Australian? smile.. wave on. At the second a young police officer pointed us to the Cashier Booth 50 metres away for visas. This was not unexpected and we happily traipsed off to pay our US$20 each. Back to the obliging officer who stamped away with gusto and pointed to what we thought was the way out. Wrong again. Three hundred metres on we met the vehicle check. "Passports.. Auto Papers?". Auto visa?? This was a new one. Back to the Cashier (the same one). Another US$4 and we had an auto visa.

Not at all fazed we returned to the vehicle check, were ushered around several pushy Arabs of some sort and had our visa stamped for another US$2. An obliging customs officer (the same one who had helped before) waved us through - off at last!... But no. One more booth. Guess what! The customs officer had been so obliging he had neglected to stamp our passports with customs clearance. Back again. Somewhat embarrassed, the offending officer recognised his error immediately and called the official 'stamper' away from his dealings with some lesser beings and arranged the appropriate stamping . The only down side to this point was that the customs 'stamper' had the hide to suggest that we must be retired to be able to travel so far. A sense of humour - we think we like these people already!

Our exit was announced to the officer in charge of exit boom gates - ..something ... something .. Australians.. gate opened and off.

Excellent highway and signs directly to the very plush camping/motel complex that we call home for tonight. Good dinner watching the football with the locals.

28 October

What is it in people that makes them bearable? Or even likeable? Surely some of it has to do with one's own attitude at the time. But trust us, when you have no idea what day it is, you are fairly tolerant. Our tolerance has quickly turned to frustration when dealing with those north of the Turkish border and south of the Hungarian frontier.

However, as yesterday's border crossing proved, otherwise annoying dealings with people can be easy-going and pleasant. Having learnt not to judge a national character too early we still hold (possibly unreasonable) reservations about the Turks. But the book is well and truly open after one day.

Istanbul is one of the top four on the world's largest cities list. More than fifteen million people live here. That's more than the population of New York and Sydney jammed into the geographical area of Greater Brisbane. Most of them own very nice new little European or Japanese cars. Those who don't drive little yellow buses, taksis (sic) or trucks.

The chosen day for our arrival in this great metropolis just had to be Republic Day. The day we all go to town or drive our cars, buses, taxis and trucks about, waving the Red Crescent.

Now it is difficult for well-travelled people like us to admit it but we really have never seen anything like this! Six to ten lane (each way!) highways criss-cross the huge beast that is Istanbul. The lane markings are still visible and there are definitely no more than three lanes! This means that for every two lane markings, drivers make 3 - 5 lanes of viable traffic - and it is viable. People honk (politely) to let you know they are coming in on your right/left [whatever they choose] and the multiple lane system works - as long as you do what you indicate you are about to do. Hesitate and you are lost ( and castigated for your transgression with a quite different tone of honk.)

In the tracks of the Romans and the Crusaders we launched ourselves into the accelerating throng of literally hundreds of thousands of vehicles heading for the city on the D100. The reason being that our task for the day was to find 'Camping Londra'. Four hours later we had traversed the same small ring of freeways and back streets four or five times. If anybody ever needs to drive to Istanbul Airport we have an intimate knowledge of the main entrance. Wonder if the machine-gun toting guards around the perimeter had our number after the 6th pass?` This was not just our normal - lost in a strange city - trick. This was big time lost in a big time city!

As the minarets of the centre of the third or fourth largest city in the world loomed closer, we finally found our quarry and, as is our practice, drove straight past it!

Aided by a number of 'pump boys' at service stations, all of whom were more than happy to provide advice and directions in the best possible humour, we are now happily settled, and it is possible to laugh about our four hours in hell. But once one has survived Istanbul traffic nothing holds any further threat. Bring on the Romans!

Sharing our small patch of green in the midst of the total chaos that is inner Istanbul, is an English family with three small children in a Landrover and a tent. They are on their way overland to Bombay. Through Turkey and Iran and Pakistan. That's adventure travel! It might have suited them better if they were travelling in the IRE van we camped beside in Zakapone (Poland). It must have been a converted armoured car from the 'troubled Irish north'. Grilled windows, several obvious alarm systems and on a high wheel base. The obvious answer to the usual border question, 'purpose of visit?' for this guy would be 'invasion!'

As the muezzins call the faithful and the sirens scream constantly in the distance, we know we are in one 'big mother of a city!'

Tomorrow we jump the train (metro) with the rest of the fifteen million locals and head for the centre of the city.

29 October

Tactical Note:

TO: Major General Peter Cosgrove

Do not attempt to invade Turkey again. Learn from the past and let it be.

--------------------

Turkey spends as much on defence as the UK and Germany combined and a fair portion of the hardware purchased with the tax payers' money was on display today for the Republic Day celebrations. As we travelled to the centre of this amazing city we passed the marshalling area for the parade - a closed-down three-lane freeway. First we saw the light tanks with heavy machine guns and troop-carrying cabins. Then the tanks! Kilometres of them lined up ready to rumble. That was all we saw of the parade. We headed straight for the Blue Mosque, Hagia Sophia and the Sultan's Palace on the Metro and Tramway.

The press of people was minimal as it was Sunday. Having been awakened at sunrise by the chants of the muezzins from two thousand eight hundred plus minarets and the four speakers on each, we were on the road a little earlier than usual.

Everything works surprisingly well and with minimal hassle on the public transport system that must surely be one of the most amazingly diverse in the world. Metro, trams, ferry boats, private buses and city buses cram the roads, moving 3.5 million people a day, seven million person/trips.

The sights of Istanbul are everything the guide books promise - so very different from the Western culture with which we are so familiar. Respect for Muslim religious beliefs and practices demands that shoes be removed before entering a mosque, but recognition of a more modern concept (theft) means that plastic bags are provided for you to store and carry your shoes during your visit - a part of the Turkish compromise between east and west.

There are however always the downsides of every experience. Being forewarned about being hassled by carpet vendors and assorted touts, we began by simply ignoring them for the most part, but, by and large, they are not pushy and if you smile and say "No", they retreat into the background. They seem offended at being ignored. Turks, so far, have been overtly helpful and friendly. While we recognise this as an opening tack to "the big sell", it is a pleasant change from the general surliness of people in Eastern Europe.

City buses deserve special comment. Approximately the size of a Fort Transit panel van 7000 of these off-yellow workhorses roam the city, gathering at almost every corner to take on another load of passengers who seem to be replaced on the queue as soon as the bus leaves. They are always packed to the extent that their tails drag on the road. Private buses are more comfortable but more expensive (10-20 cents more). At every stop, private operators honk, play tuned horns and pace the pavement soliciting custom. Constantly in the background of all this movement is the drone, honking and screeching of the 18,000 taxis, thousands of trucks and millions of private vehicles.

Astonishingly, this afternoon when the populace was really on the streets, we made the journey from the centre of the city to our park, about 12 - 15 kms by metro and tram in about 30 minutes. (As we write fire works - we hope.. are erupting all around).

This is no poor third world city, nor is it New York or London. But in its own right it can justly claim to be one of the truly great cities of the world. For the statistically minded Istanbul has 1,500 banks, 1000 hotels, 135,000 grocery shops, 36,000 hairdressers, 13,000 police officers and 300,000 public servants. Every year the city needs to build 80,000 new houses and yearly there are 70,000 marriages, 40,000 deaths and, interestingly, only 5,000 divorces.

Muslim culture is strong and pervasive here, particularly noticeable in the ratio of men to women (90:10) we saw on public transport and on the streets. Of the women we did see, the majority are wearing shapeless, full-length coats and headscarves - ( of course they could have been having bad-hair and/or fat days). However, accommodation seems to have been made, since the times of Ataturk, the first leader of modern Turkey (and interestingly the General who led the defense of Turkey in 1917), for western ways - in particular a tolerance and even an encouragement of diversity in religious and political views. The state-sponsored renovation of the Basilica of St Sophia in the 1930s is just one example of the willingness of the Turkish people, and in particular the citizens of Istanbul, to understand and live with their unique geographical position, astride two massive and historically turbulent continents.

Today may well have been a freak, but the strait between Asiatic and European Istanbul was a picture. The bays and bridges framed by a skyscape, not dissimilar to Sydney, were further enhanced by a clear (pollution-free!) blue sky.

30 October

Today we met the pulse that was and is the real Istanbul. The streets and alley ways of Eminonu lie in the heart of what was old Constantinople. At the foot of the Sultan's palace, these streets today teem with small shops, street traders and trucks delivering goods in medieval byways no wider than the average driveway. The Romans and the soldiers of the Crusades trod these streets and today hundreds of thousands of people move through the streets in a good-humoured tide, pulsing around slowly-wandering gaping tourists like us. The feeling is exhilarating and not at all threatening, although, with the normal travellers' wariness, everything we carry of value is well hidden.

Higher up the hill in Eminonu are the markets of the Grand Bazaar - four thousand four hundred shops in a market that has operated here for centuries. Traders are direct but not aggressive. Service, if you show interest, is over the top. Buying a $6 T-shirt could well involve a drink of tea and several fittings. Shopping is a great game played and enjoyed by all players.

Crossing the Galata Bridge from Eminonu was like moving between two vastly different worlds situated within 500m of each other. The shortest underground railway in the world whisks you from the edge of the Golden Horn to the top of the Galata Hill, for centuries the 'sentry post' for the city. Overlooking the three major intersecting waterways on which Istanbul stands, the Galata Tower provides a panaroma of the whole central city.

In Galata the street-hustling shoe-cleaner boys wear clean woollen jumpers and 'bum-bags' to carry their cash! The two kilometres of chic shops and side arcades with quality produce from fish to game have much the same feel as Paris, Prague or Budapest. Traditional Moslem dress is rare here, or perhaps there are fewer bad-hair days. Wealth is obvious, but not ostentatious. Crossing back in the late afternoon to the teeming streets of Eminonu, the sky was clear and the late afternoon sun again turned the harbours of Istanbul into a 'must stop and gape' site.

Trams were passing stops unable to fit more passengers. Ours was 'close' to say the least. But people were polite and co-operative, even in the midst of what we would normally view as intolerable conditions. Contrary to popular belief, Turkish men have adjusted to the expectations of the increasing numbers of women in the Moslem culture who have chosen to dress and behave in a Western way. Although it is interesting that the usual practice of men standing for women on trams, buses etc., is more prevalent when women in traditional dress require a seat.

Children are extremely well behaved and almost always in the company of their parents. The usual signs of youth out of control, graffiti, street crime and general 'rabble rousing' is totally absent in Istanbul! Strong Moslem family values may well be the reason.

What more can one say about one of biggest and most exciting cities on earth?

31 October

Left Istanbul this morning under clear skies, but as we crossed the city, the extent of the pollution in the industrial areas became evident. Without question Istanbul on a bad day is right up there with the cities of Eastern Europe. For well over a hundred kilometers, visibility was down to less than 500 metres and we could feel it in our throats and see it on our tissues.

Istanbul's industrial and urban sprawl on the Asian side of the Bosphorus reaches as far as the city of Izmit where over a hundred thousand people died in a devastating earthquake in 1999. From the highway the only real signs of the disaster are the thousands of temporary homes in large compounds like concentration camps.

Away from the cities and up into the mountains, we left the smog behind. A beautiful day with snow just visible on the highest peaks, even though the temperature was in the high teens. The landscape changed through forest - with snow to road level - to open (Australian-like) grazing land to rocky Mediterranean desert. From sea-level at Istanbul this morning, we have climbed to 1850 metres, on the Anatolian plateau which extends east to the Caucasus Mountains.

We are camped in a motorway services area 40 km outside Ankara. Given the clear sky and the open countryside we expect a cold night and a colder morning. These chills are usually only until the sun gets up as there is still plenty of warmth left and as we go further south it should continue to keep us warm.

1 November

Our concerns of being the only overnighters in the services last night were alleviated around 8.00pm as truck after truck joined us. In the cool (0 C ish) light of day the realisation that we are in the middle of an earthquake area hit us. Why had we camped against a wall?

We hesitate to say this for fear of breaking the spell - but we have had the most unbelievable weather. In six weeks, we have had one day when it rained for a hour or so and we broke out the Drizabones. Turkey does not have clouds! Clear skies every day so far. Once we are away from urban smog the countryside is magnificent.

Left the service area just outside Ankara about 8.30am and drove on a six lane motorway virtually alone for an hour or so to Ankara and around its ring road. Turkish motorways have tolls. But at the price, why would you do it any other way? Nine dollars for the services of an empty six lane motorway for nearly 400 kms from Istanbul to Ankara [including the Bosphorus bridge toll]!

Ten kilometers from the centre of Ankara there is nothing much to see. Open plains dotted with small clusters of unfinished housing estates. Thousands upon thousands of houses. Few occupied -- are they super-organised and ready for the next 50 years of expansion - or are they using the leftover funds from the Earthquake Appeal?

Turkish drivers are reputedly the worst in the world. Another myth dispelled.

Compared to Bulgarian, Romanian and even Polish drivers they are not half bad. The system seems to work this way. If you get a short polite beep it means "I'm coming through." If you get a long sharp blast, you have transgressed in some way. Passing on single carriage roads is done much more cautiously than in eastern Europe. And as with everything in Turkey the whole thing is achieved with good humour.

These people have to be the friendliest we have encountered anywhere!. Good manners and the every day civility of a G'day, a nod or some other greeting are ingrained here as they are at home (or more so?). Pull into a camping ground and the 'chief' (boss/owner) will be by within a respectable time to welcome you personally. Monday, returning from a day in Istanbul, we crossed the freeway near our camp (by overpass - although there were other options!) to do a bit of shopping, in the mayhem that is inner suburban Istanbul. As we crossed the road the cleaner from the camping area caught my eye. Amongst hundreds of people, maybe even thousands, he nodded recognition as he trod the teeming streets to his home.

Crossing the mountains into the valley of Cappadocia is something we will never forget. Even having seen the spectacular landforms in videos and pictures is no preparation for the real thing. Geology and history have combined to create a truly unique environment in and around the small village of Goreme. Flows of volcanic lava followed by millions of years of erosion have created mounds of rock that the inhabitants of this valley have carved and quarried to meet their needs for thousands of years.

In the late afternoon light the colours change by the minute. This time of the year tourists are relatively thin on the ground. As a result prime vantage points to take in the sites of this unique region are virtually all ours! Our camping ground - and we are again the only occupants - sits above the village with views of the whole valley. Having finally found a shop that sold beer, this is a Moslem country let's not forget, we retired to our uninterrupted panorama at sunset.

How's the serenity??!!

Travelling in Turkey is far easier than we anticipated. 'Bankomats' (ATMs) are on almost every corner. Roads are excellent. Petrol stations take VISA and 'Services camping' (on the motorway and free!) is again viable. The only thing that we can't seem to find is a big supermarket! Having tried the outskirts of every large town and city we have passed through we have given up and started to shop in local 'corner shops'. Interesting! Language becomes a problem, prices of goods are not marked and what you want is never available. On the beer index Turkey is the pits. AUS$1.50 for a 500ml can. The record so far goes to Romania 62c for the same product. But on almost every other measure Turkey is tops!

Turkey 2

2 November

Goreme is a seasonal tourist town with a population of around 2500. This time of the year the main attractions, the carved rock dwellings, are the haunt of he last of the Japanese 'fly through' bus tours and the few late season travellers like ourselves who have gambled on the weather in the hope of having the sort of day we had today.

Directly across the road from our camping grounds we discovered one of the many hundreds of cave churches that were dug in about the eighth century. Alone we climbed through the rocks and wandered for a kilometer or so through the hills that two months ago would have been crawling with tourists. Need we say it - but - the sky was clear and the sun hot enough to cope comfortably with a T-shirt.

The outdoor museum and the village were all that was on our agenda today. At the museum, comprising mostly churches carved out of the tufa (volcanic rock) by Christians escaping the Ottoman Turks, we met up with a Canadian gent, Bill King, a teacher from Ontario. Bill had followed much the same route as us through Eastern Europe, but using public transport. The day disappeared in the almost deserted village as we chatted about our experiences, checking out the bars and the sidewalk cafes. Finally we wandered up the hill to our perch at the top, to watch another spectacular sunset over the valley. Only to have the serenity broken by the arrival of a bus load of flaming Australian and English campers!

Goreme seems to actively target Australian tourism, with its Vegemite Cafe, Oz Camping and Downunder Carpet Emporium! A couple of the hotels are run by Australian girls who have Turkish boy friends who run local bars. It is difficult to figure which way the 'marriage of convenience' deal is working here but the whole village seems to speak English with an Australian accent!

This is the furthest east our Odyssey will take us. Although Turkey has far more to offer further to the east, the presence of Kurdish terrorists and the proximity to the borders of Iran, Iraq and Syria mean that tomorrow we head south west to the Mediterranean coast.

3 November

Ever wonder how many shepherds die of heart attacks? Our limited research says none. All those we have seen over the past couple of months have been alive and one must assume well! The ancient art of following or leading a flock of sheep, goats or cattle from field to field is still widely practised in Eastern Europe and Turkey. Grazing is not necessarily done on one's own land. In fact it seems to be mostly the opposite.

Within 10 kms of the centre of Istanbul, sheep are penned up under a freeway flyover at night and grazed during the day on median strips, parks, common land and wherever the wily shepherd can get away with it. In open country, flocks of all sorts of beasts including turkeys and geese are tendered by men, boys and women who have the art of standing very still while leaning on a stick down to a fine art. What great thoughts and reflections fill the millions of shared hours these folk spend with their stock?

Turkey again takes the cake! Here the better class of shepherd does not walk to and from the village. Oh no! Almost every grazing flock, herd or gaggle is accompanied by a donkey - and sometimes two - one to carry the shepherd and the second to carry lunch and the 'billy".

Today we broke all records and were on the road by 8.00am! The tour group of Poms, Aussies and assorted Europeans that had joined us the night before was just on the move. Sufficiently so to advise us of the best road to Antalya, our long range target, some 500kms south on the Mediterranean.

Good roads and rapidly changing scenery seemed to make the day fly. The hundreds of kilometers of sugarbeet farms in full harvest lined our route for the early morning. Villages here in the southern part of the Anatolian Plateau are a combination of concrete construction and traditional mud brick with turf roofs. Tractor-drawn carts have replaced the horse and donkey here and the sugar beet depots that are placed every 30-40 kms are packed with scores of wagons constantly adding to the mountains of beets awaiting heavy truck transport to the refineries.

Descending the plateau first required a major climb through spectacular rocky, pine studded peaks, with Paul clutching his few remaining locks while Janita drove. Our second spots of rain hit as we went through the mountain passes on the descent to the Mediterranean coast. Behind us, in the rear-vision mirrors, we could see the black sky presaging a night of snow on the peaks, but before us, blue skies - of course! Once on the coast, villages disappeared and the 'cote d'....' seems to have taken over. Tourist 'ville' from here to the Spanish border?

One of the things we REALLY love about Turkey is the fact that most of the cars seem to live in Istanbul - where we're NOT! After all, it's only fair -Paul coped with 7+ million of them on our first day - so he's done his share of defensive driving.

Very warm again as we set ourselves up in a rather grotty camping grounds 40 kms east of Antalya.

November 4

The 'season' is over in Antalya but the temperature doesn't know about it! Early November and it was uncomfortably hot today (27C++)! These places must be oppressive in high summer. The harbour and old town were very well 'dollied-up' for the tourists and the touts were about in force. Boat rides, shoe shine, lunch and the ever-present – carpets.

Every travel agency in Europe has special deals to the Turkish Mediterranean. Driving down the coast you can see where they will all go. Thousands upon thousands of six to eight storey holiday units line the coast for hundreds of kilometers. Huge international hotels stud the main towns. This is the Gold Coast on steroids! Yet all the while, amongst the development and the glitz, the goat herders push their charges through the town streets and the farm labourers pick cotton by hand in the fields beside the highway, returning to their sheet plastic homes beside the road at the end of the day's work.

We are dug in on the edge of the Mediterranean just outside the once-small village of Kas. The sea is its usual crystal blue and flat as a billiard table. As we dunk our toes in the sea the sun sets over the outlying islands.

The obligitary white holiday units of Kas tumble down the steep rocky hills following the line of the winding mountain access road. The old village is long-gone and the kids on the streets speak fluent 'sales' in five or six languages. The new prosperity must be most unwelcome amongst the older traditional souls. The minarets are still there, but their prominence is significantly diminished by the tower blocks and palm trees. Modern misses abound in the streets. The midday call to prayers goes almost totally unheeded.

Early reservations about the Turkish people have totally evaporated. We feel totally safe here, which is a new thing after weeks of suspicion through Eastern Europe. Turks on the whole are on the make, but ‘No’ means ‘No’. The hassling stops and pleasantries are exchanged with no further obligation. On country roads farmers in the fields, shepherds, kids and even passing drivers often wave a greeting. Walks in the streets of villages, towns and cities are a constant interchange of good-natured small talk with passers by, shop owners and touts. We are still to see an aggressive interchange on the streets. It's difficult to explain, everybody seems to have an angle, but they are not upset by a 'knock-back' and often chat on regardless. Even in traffic, requests and comments are indicated by gentle little "beeps." It's only if you do something seriously bad that you are reprimanded with a serious "b-e-e-e-ep" - so unlike the aggression we so often encounter on the streets of Brisbane.

November 5

The beach, blazing sun, clear blue sky and all the fun of the Mediterranean without the prices and crowds. This is November in Oludeniz, Turkey. As Lonely Planet says, this place is too beautiful for its own good. A lagoon at the foot of steeply sloping mountains - ideal for para-sailing - ask the guys in crutches! - it is mirror-like, sapphire blue - in fact all the superlatives in the travel agent's language.

Sitting at sea's edge in bare feet, T-shirts and shorts with the gum trees in full flower, the only thing reminding us of where we are is the chatter of the small family groups picnicking further up the beach. In much the same way we did as kids, before TV, shopping malls and all the 'other' better things we seem to have to do? The men play a form of dominos for hours on end; women sit and chat and do handiwork; younger kids explore and the older ones play with their cars or their parents' cars, dabble with a bit of fishing and drop in and out of the adult groups.

This camping ground is definitely Antipodian territory. The kid on reception says 'G'day mate' as his normal English greeting, even though he thought we were English-speaking Germans. The only 'foreigners' in the camp seem to be a couple of retired 'Deutches volk' who keep carefully out of the way, and a couple of American backpackers. We are beginning to suspect that there is a whole down market sub-culture in Turkey that is in someway linked to Australia? Bus tours come and go at the major sites packed with Japanese, Germans and French, without an Australian in view. But when the throng moves on, sitting quietly in corners or walking slowly in the more peaceful spots, are 'Bruce & Sheila'.

Noisy Aussies are not about in the bars now. But you can see where they have been. Stickers and flags adorn the 'low-end' bars and restaurants everywhere. And again, Australian girls in tow with Turkish guys?

November 6

Ever lain in the dirt under a Ford Transit in a two-goat village in the middle of Turkey with the poop of one of the aforesaid beasts under your head and attempted to change a tyre with the advice if the village boys men and dogs? - At last I've got one on almost everybody!

Trying to take a 100 km shortcut on a class three road seemed like a good idea at the time. But as the roads turned to gravel tracks through tiny villages the quaintness started to wear off! BUT!

This is what we came to see!!! On the back roads people wave or toot each other just as we do on country roads at home. When one is lost advice comes from all quarters with much pointing (mostly in different directions) and many a toothless grin. It was at such a crossroad that one of the more astute of our advisers indicated a 'problem'. A flat tyre. No problem. Under the truck undo the spare, fit it and off. Hum?

After many a long and meaningful discussion in several languages, about the preferred method for releasing the spare from under a Ford Transit, it was Australian inventiveness that finally solved the problem (answer available at dinner).

Why do we always assume that people will accept a reward for helping? We can never pick it. Half the village missed lunch time prayers to help us - we were pulled up just outside the mosque - feeling obliged we offered a million TL ($AUS3). Oh dear no. Most upset we were. A wash at the communal village spring was required, some small talk about Australia - we think - and a shake of the hands was all that was needed. All but one small thing - a basket of walnuts for us to take on our way.

On the other hand! Take the money out of my pocket. It feels soooo.. nice.

The Turks are GOOD! Having pulled into the small village of Pamukkale, we were directed to a nice campsite at a small hotel by a young guy on a scooter. He AMBUSHED us - saw us come through the village, knew that the end was near, and hey presto, just as we turned around to do another re-con, there he was... Do you want camping? Follow me.. Four million TL was the agreed price (AUS$12) for the night. Meet Momma.. Meet Poppa ..Welcome.. welcome... shake hands all round...'Would you like a nice Turkish dinner?'... 'How much?' 'Sounds reasonable'.. Why not. 'During the off season I knit things'... By 7.30pm a $12 night had become $60. But hell it felt good!

The ruins of the town of Pamukkale are not the main reason for the tourist throng. Most come for the lime coated hills and springs. Calcium-rich waters cool and leave deposits to create pools, stalactites, and waves (looks a lot like a glacier from a distance) and the result is a white mountain which you can clamber over - in bare feet only - glad it's not cold!! The Turks win hands down at geographical phenomena!

Italian archaeologists are restoring a large Roman settlement in the hills above the village. The theatre has been reconstructed but most of the rest of the city is just 'lying about' in the fields. Wandering about in the rubble of a two thousand year old civilisation as it is dug out of the ground is fascinating!

November 7

Izmir is the third largest city in Turkey, just a bit smaller than Sydney, with a similar harbour setting stretching for hundreds of kilometres around the bay. From what we could see - in the dark - it might well warrant a return visit in daylight. Driving was no challenge at all! After Istanbul, being lost in Izmir in the dark, at peak hour was just a doddle! We are getting the hang of this big eastern city driving. Rome and Paris will be like a Sunday drive in Toowoomba!

Overnighted at a very classy services on the Canakkale road. Paid less than we should have for the diesel and got two free glasses from the tank boys. We were confused; they were just very amused.

Ephesus - capital of Asia Minor in its time. The theatre and library are the best preserved/reconstructed. Walking among the ancient ruins today brought goose-bumps - how many before us?

November 8

The town of Aliaga is a smallish port on the Turkish Mediterranean coast. Alongside the oil refinery are five or six huge gas distribution factories that take the propane and butane by-products of the refinery and bottle and re-bottle it for the gas-hungry consumers of Turkey. Passing the line of tankers waiting to load at the refinery, our confidence waned. It was a bit like fronting at the gates of the Lytton Refinery in a Mini and asking to be filled up. We were desperate. One cylinder left and blank stares from every refiller in the country.

Here we were with our 6kg cylinder at the gates of the largest gas wholesaler in Turkey. The storage cylinders these guys use are several storeys high! Waved on from the first gate we got a better reception at the second where several men who knew about these things - men know about all sorts of things in Turkey! - came forward to assist us.

Soon, Ali...??? the manager appeared. "Yes we can fill your tank. But you are not our customers. We will fill it as a friend" - Cool we thought!

Next thing we were in the office sipping tea and engaging in an interesting and informative conversation about Turkish history, politics, Gallipoli and the Greek-Turkish situation.

An ex-airforce officer, Ali...??? had spent 40 years in the halls of NATO power and was well informed and well educated. A very nice man! But our only escape seemed to be the obligatory tour of the factory. Lucky for us, the filling of gas cylinders is not a complex business and the tour was short. As usual the hospitality was almost overwhelming.

Of note was Ali...??'s comment about Gallipoli, "You will hear your friends (countrymen) whistling on the wind".

On to Pergamon (4th century BC) - the acropolis was a steep drive up - but well worth it - interesting to see what is there and imagine how it would look with the altar from Berlin superimposed. The Asclepion below in the middle of "No go - Defence Areas" demanded even more from the imagination.

Turkey is a land of contrasts. Today we went from the ancient city of Pergamon to the modern resort town of Ayvalik. But tonight as we sit - 5 metres from the Aegean Sea - in a quiet bay - disturbed only by the sound of fishing boats or our self-appointed guard dog or the Aegean gently lapping - life is much the same for us as it was for the ancients.

9 November

Ships thump-thump up and down the channel in constant procession directly in front of us as we watch the sun set over the Dardanelles from a beach just outside the small city of Canakkale. Allowing ourselves more than the usual dose of jingoism, we have John Williamson on auto repeat on the CD.

The straits are narrower than we expected. It is easy to understand their strategic significance in 1915. We wonder however why Churchill (??) planned the landing on the west side of the channel. The east side where we are is far more accommodating. Motels, condos and camping grounds litter the open beaches. The other side is dominated by steep cliffs, few beaches and very few good investment opportunities.

Met a Dutch couple at probably the only supermarket in Turkey (that we could find anyhow!). They travel 10 months a year in their van. They have sold up everything in Holland and moved to France where they spend a couple of months a year. The rest of the time they follow the sun south. From Turkey they are on to Spain and then Morocco for the winter. - Life can be tough!

Went to Troy today. From what we'd heard and read, it wasn't worth the effort .... but as usual with these things, you have to form your own opinion. It was very interesting to see the various levels of occupation over the past 5000 years and read the hypotheses about their development.

Mustafa, the local tout, was waiting for us when we returned to the van. We can sleep here - quite safe - by the way there is a restaurant just here ..... they're always very nice but always looking to make a million lire or fifty - and who can blame them? ...they work very hard to earn it. But what makes us more empathetic towards them is that they can accept a ‘No’ with good grace and politely back off.

What's a good place for holiday?? Turkey??? What a good idea!!!

10 November

Drove into Canakkale this morning about 9am to a frozen world - traffic lights on red; people standing stock-still on the streets - and an air-raid siren blaring. Had the world ended? Had a superior power come to suck up earth's energy? No. We think it was the Remembrance Day ceremony - judging from the number of school kids, guides and scouts and defence force personnel we saw shortly after and the main squares decorated with floral tributes, manned by honour guards. It was weird there for a moment.

Spent most of the day 'bumming around' Canakkale and driving up and down the coast looking for the battle fields. Found an internet cafe in town. Possibly the greatest internet bargain in Europe/Asia. AUS$3 for an hour and two coffees!

Hotel Kum is a major resort complex with luxury motel units, large pools, beach front, restaurant, cafe, bar etc... and camping! This place could accommodate 500+ people. We are the only ones here. The beach is the next inlet north from ANZAC Cove. We tried to walk all the way around but the cliffs eventually rose directly from the sea and we gave up.

Tomorrow, Saturday 11/11/2000, we will spend Remembrance Day seeing the war cemeteries and monuments. Tomorrow night we should be in Greece.

Just over two weeks in Turkey has been merely a taste. We will be back! Everybody we meet says the same thing. This is a great country, with great potential, friendly people and one of the oldest and best preserved cultures on earth.

From the teeming streets of Istanbul to the white sandy beach we walked along for two to three kms this afternoon without a soul in sight, - not forgetting the thousands of villages and towns ranging from desert hamlets of grass-roofed mud huts, to the plastic humpies of the farm labourers, to spotless palm-lined boulevards of the Mediterranean resorts - this country has it all! - And after a while you don't even notice the three times a day call (wail!) to prayers from the million minarets - broadcast over 4 million loudspeakers.

Although he has the worry (prayer) beads, the Turkish music CD and the evil eye charm hanging from the rear vision mirror, Paul has decided not to turn Turkish just yet. He says we still have to find the window-sized portrait of Ataturk (Mustafa Kemal) to complete the picture. Although the male-dominated society here is VERY appealing, Janita suspects the real reason for his reluctance to complete the change is the fact that the Turks make very bad wine, and their beer, although better than average, is expensive!

11 November

ANZAC Cove for 11.00am 11 November 2000. Not an experience easily forgotten. As Little Johnnie Howard said, 'This is sacred ground for Australians'. The whole peninsula is a National Park, with Turkish, ANZAC and British monuments and cemeteries sharing the splendid isolation.

Having first visited ANZAC Cove around 10.00am we had moved on and only by chance returned to check if there was an organised ceremony. As we arrived the Last Post was playing and the minute of silence had just commenced. Around thirty people were gathered on the beach for what was a simple and moving ceremony culminating in the throwing of red and white flowers into the waters off the cove.

We spent the best part of the day visiting the Turkish and Australian monuments, in the company of as many (if not more) Turks as Australians and New Zealanders. Each of these groups of people would have felt, as we did, that their soldiers were equally revered (and the word is not used loosely) in their final resting place. The graves are lovingly cared for, with the headstones immaculate, separated by flowers/shrubs (notably rosemary which flourishes in the area)

As our friend in the gas refinery said, "You will hear your friends in the wind." The silence is sobering, voices are kept to a murmur, emotions are palpable.

Leaving Turkey for Greece was as much of a circus as entering. Just park the van wander around aimlessly until you find the right people to stamp the right documents and on your way.

Immediately Greece provided a contrast. Supermarkets on every corner. VISA accepted everywhere. And an obvious level of development well above what we have experienced over the last month and a half. But this is not necessarily always a good thing!

Our views regarding the Turkish people have been well enunciated in the diary notes for the past few weeks. Before that the amalgamation of experiences we have had since leaving Germany well over a month ago have been on the whole positive (with a few noted exceptions!). We have never experienced the level of poverty that exists in many of the rural villages of eastern Europe and Turkey that we visited. But having said this, most of these countries, particularly Poland, Czech Republic, Hungary, Slovakia and Turkey seem to have turned the corner - what will the next ten years bring? And who will reap the real profits???

Greece

12 November

Greece is the beach camping capital of Europe. What else can you do but pull up on an open isolated Aegean beach as the sun goes down, have a few beers, dinner, a good sleep and get up to a clear blue sky and 20C. We have done it for the last 2 nights. So what the heck - we are doing it again tonight just outside Thessaloniki.

13 November

Fishermen are pulling their nets in beside the van so we had better get up. It is 8.00am after all - don't these people have lives?

On the way to the bin with the morning's rubbish drop, Paul nodded and chatted with the local fishermen as one does on any beach anywhere in the world.

"Yasu" said he.

"Do you really believe the Americans landed on the moon or was it just an elaborate television hoax?" one fisherman said (or just as well could have).

"Yes, I do enjoy fishing. At home it is one of my favourite pastimes!" Paul casually replied. Smiles and wise nods were exchanged and all went about their business

An unnecessary phobia about language seems to exist among travelers - particularly English -speaking travellers. The simple fact is that 80% of the world speaks some English and probably 50% of Europeans speak it well enough to achieve a mutually beneficial outcome. Add to this a small dose of travellers' German and a few words of the local lingo (we always learn the word for "Thank you"), a bit of creative mime and a lot of pointing and the most complicated exchanges become easily achievable. The answer is confidence!

Television in some countries is a powerful teacher of language. Last night we watched 'While You were Sleeping' in English on Greek television. In smaller markets like Greece, Holland, Hungary, Romania and Bulgaria, all programs are telecast in their original language with local sub-titles, just as on SBS at home. With this exposure from childhood and the teaching of English in most school systems, it is relatively easy for people to acquire fairly advanced language expertise. The obvious draw back of this process is the American accent that infects most English. The one exception to this rule seems to be in Greece where the infecting inflection is often Australian, due to the large number of returned immigrants and 'six monthers' - people with dual citizenship who follow the seasons or the work from Australia to Greece.

14 November

Wandered about the village of Kalambaka last night, just watching the locals. The town is a major tourist centre 'in season' as the closest town to the monasteries of Meteora.. But now the citizens of Kalambaka have their town back to themselves for a few short months.

As we sipped our Amstels on the footpath beside the town square, the kids were out in force. Buzzing around the small square on their tiny mopeds, playing football on the lawn (in the dark) and chatting in groups. It was about 7.00pm and it seemed as though this was the usual pre-dinner 'run in the yard'. As we wandered back to the camping grounds the kids were already moving off and leaving the square.

This morning the guard had changed. The village 'oldies' were enjoying the strong morning sun and the square was theirs.

Again, with the exception of the passing waves of Japanese bus tours, the town and the monasteries were ours. A couple of American rock climbers and a German couple in a caravan were our only company, seemingly in the whole town. The Americans are on a 12 month trip moving from rock to rock. They are off to Turkey next to climb Cappadocian rocks and were interested in our experiences. The Germans are habitual travellers and are off to Australia and New Zealand next European winter.

Part of the thrill of this sort of travel is the people you meet!

Tonight we are just outside Delphi - ancient home of the famed oracle - camped on the slopes of Mount Parnassos looking down on the Gulf of Corinth. It's a talent - we just seem to pick the bestest places to wake up to!!!!

15 November

City driving is getting to be a breeze! Having enjoyed a fine warm morning (20C+) wandering amongst the ruins of Delfoi (local spelling) we hit the road for Athens.

Our planned side excursion to Marathon went a bit astray, but on the positive side we saw a number of village back streets up close!

Athens is a little smaller than Sydney with a population of about 3.5 million. After Istanbul, driving here was a doddle. The traffic and the driving habits of the locals don't cause us problems now. Hell - we drive like locals! One nano-second delay at the lights elicits a polite beep. One second requires a more severe response. The practiced use of the 'flash' and the 'engine rev' are all part of the sophisticated system of traffic survival on big city European roads. What is a hassle is not knowing where one is or where one is going!

Despite these difficulties we have yet again found the needle in the haystack that is 'Camping Athens'. We stayed here 13 years ago and on driving through the gates we recognised it immediately. What has changed however is the quality of the facilities. Three out of the last five nights we have stayed in parks as opposed to 'on the beach'. The facilities in all three were four star! Twelve years ago you were lucky to have a rubbish bin. Now..... ever so nice...even given the fact that Greek sanitary systems don't accommodate toilet paper, therefore you use and then drop into a waste bin which is emptied.... sometime. Details, details...

Athens opens a new Metro Station which is on our way into town tomorrow. What a challenge. First day in a Greek Metro Station??

16 November

Had a quick look at the new Metro but after an equally quick look at the map it was clear that we could easily walk everywhere we wanted to go in the city. Today we decided to just walk about, do a bit of shopping and not play tourist.

Old habits die hard however and we managed to wander past most of the city sites with the intentional exception of the Acropolis.

Having trod the streets of so many large cities in many different countries in the past couple of months it is becoming clear that with the obvious differences of the main sights, big cities have fairly common characteristics. One starts to wonder whether a big city is more characterised by its 'big cityness' than its national character. How often have we heard people say, " Paris is not France or Rome is not Italy or Istanbul is not Turkey or....... ?? At times Athens fells like Sydney, London, Paris, or any number of other large cities. The traffic, the hustle, the dirt, the pollution, the attitudes of the people seem to have more in common with 'big cities' than with the rest of Greece. And this is probably true of many 'big cities'.

Back at 'Camping Athens' early in the afternoon we have had an opportunity to clean and wash much as we did at this same park 13 years ago.

Had dinner with a young couple from Salisbury (Brisbane) who are doing much the same trip as us but in reverse. We were able to share horror stories and some good information that should be useful to us all - a very late night!

17 November

Big happenings on the streets of Athens today. There was some agitation yesterday from what we thought was the Greek communist party. Heavily armed police were on the streets, but all we saw was a street march by some very 'dangerous' looking pensioners protesting against social security cuts! Today however there were riot squads on almost every corner. After we had visited the Acropolis we checked out the markets and headed back up town. More police had taken up position and many streets were closed. In the distance we saw and heard a large crowd on the move. We headed for the bus stop and home.

We have been unable to work out what happened (if anything?) from the news, but with the exception of some aggravation amongst the crowd at the bus stop (because the bus was 15 seconds late!) everything seemed calm.

In the last couple of months we have become more and more grateful for the laws put in place by most Western countries aimed at limiting pollution. In Eastern Europe particularly, but also in Turkey and Greece, the pollution is palpable - in your eyes throat and nose, in the van's curtains and cupboards - and, more importantly for us, in our perception of what we see -- or can't see. It is a serious problem.

18 - 19 November

More than half the trip to go! (like a glass half full!)

Tonight we are on the Blue Star 2 (Not the White Star line!) on the Adriatic between Greece and Italy. One day people will fly like this. Camping on the deck is the 'In thing' on the Italy - Greece voyages these days. We are in our van on the open lower deck with a view of the sea - including the necessary sunset over the water (can't get enough of them), electricity connection, water connection and toilets. On top of this we have the full facilities of the ship for the 20 hour trip, restaurant, cinema, casino, shops and disco!...

Yesterday we did a loop through the Peloponnesian Peninsula: Corinth for the canal (astounding for its sheer unexpectedness), Epidaurus for the theatre and Mycenae for the Lion's Gate: wonders of the old and new world! - spending the night for free (almost) at a camping grounds in Mycenae. The camping was closed, but we had full use of all the facilities for the cost of the electricity (AUS$5).

A quick drive today to Patras for the Ferry. Now! Many of those who know us well would have heard our horror story of our last ferry trip from Patras to Bari... Well we were prepared for the worst, but all that went wrong was that we drove through a storm on the way to Patras. Yes, rain. After 9 weeks we had real rain for an hour or so.

We rocked into an agent, prepared to be told that the next ferry was in two days.. But, dare we say it? Luck was again with us. It was 12.30pm and the brand new Blue Star 2 that we could see from the store window was due to leave at 1.00pm. A quick phone call, tickets issued, off to the company office on the wharf for a boarding pass, to customs - no checks required, watched a stowaway being apprehended from under a truck, and on board inside 40 mins of walking into the agent's office! Modern Greek efficiency - a far cry from 13 years ago!

If you are expecting anything to go badly wrong given the fact that this IS a Greek ferry; forget it. All has gone well - so far! We have had a nice lunch at the very flash cafeteria, watched a movie, (Philadelphia!! with the exciting prospect of Crocodile Dundee to come!!!) lost the obligatory thousands of DRS at the casino and are getting ready for dinner. The ship docks in Brindisi about 10.00pm and then on to Ancona where we are scheduled to arrive at 9.00am tomorrow morning following a long sleep in our own bed! (even if it does roll from side to side!) How cool is that?

Italy

20 November

Floods, rain, savage storms have lashed Italy and Greece in the past two days - or so the news says. Our crossing of the Adriatic last night and this morning was calm (apart from a bit of rolling) and the sun rose over the sea, highlighting the first snows on the Italian Alps as we sailed into Ancona.

Evidence of flooding was apparent in some of the towns we drove through along the coast today. But, all we saw was a few hours of showers. Now settled in Rome, there are a few showers about but little to show for the storms that passed through last night.

Over the Alps from the Adriatic to Rome is an interesting drive with long tunnels, spectacular bridges and 'viaducts'. The coast from Ancona south is one continuous city for well over 100 kms. The 'season' is over now and all is relatively quiet. But! It is easy to imagine the chaos here six or eight weeks ago when the tourists were about and the beaches were crowded.

Talking is a big thing in Italy! One can talk in a car; talk beside the road; talk on TV for hours on end! When talking in any of these places, one must use the hands. Fine. But on the autostrada in traffic moving at 120 kms/hr, social chats between two women in a small Fiat fluctuating between 100 kms/hr and 20 kms/hr - depending on the intensity of conversation and how much hair adjustment is needed - can become more than a little tedious as hundreds of trucks, BMWs, (at 170 kms/hr), and a lone Campervan attempt today's challenge - surviving another day with Italian drivers!

The rules are simple. Show no fear. Exceed the design limits of your vehicle by at least 10% at all times and never allow a space of more than 20cms between vehicles. This is an 'if you can't beat them - join them' situation. A faint heart will never survive on these roads. Grit your teeth, put your foot down, use your indicator and horn and go like the clappers.

Gained an hour today with the change in time zones - VERY noticeable in terms of the sun - we have come quite a distance west.

Look out Rome! Veni, vidi, vici.!!

21 - 22 November

Another 'lost night' with fellow travelllers has again caused a lapse in our diary discipline as a result of a very late night!

Yesterday we spent the whole day at the Vatican. For the first time in nearly nine weeks the weather was foul! Wave after wave of squally storms crossed the city culminating in a major down-pour just as we reached the top of the cupola of St Peter's - the end of a mega-climb of several hundred stairs. We avoided the worst of the storm by ducking between columns out of the wind. This one storm was the worst of it but the day was generally glum except for the couple of hours that we spent inside the Vatican museum, when of course the sun belted down outside!

2000 is the Jubilee year of Christianity and the Vatican has spent a fortune cleaning and restoring St Peter's and most of the church's other significant artistic and historic wealth. The ceiling and The Last Judgment of the Sistine Chapel have been cleaned in what has been hailed as the artistic event of the century. The result is spectacular!

Public transport in Rome is relatively cheap and very efficient. A day ticket on all suburban trains, trams, buses and metro costs 6000L ($AUS 5.00). From our camp to the centre of town is about a 10 minute trip. Trains are not overly crowded and the much-publicised threat of theft on trains and in public places by gangs of gypsy children and pickpockets, was not apparent to us. We are however very careful and have everything well out of the way under coats or under our shirts on strings around our necks - grateful for the 'cooler weather' - ( 8 - 19 degrees centigrade today) -which makes concealment easier.

But, perhaps Eastern Europe has heightened our awareness? Or dulled our emotions?? Our only response to the gypsy child who got on our train this morning and fell to her knees, weeping, was "Good show, kid, but we don't understand a word!!" And we weren't alone - the only response from the people in the carriage seemed to be one of anger from one man who resented this intrusion on his morning travel.

Today we walked most of the major sights, under clear (clean!!) blue skies! Rome has a great 'feel'. It is vibrant, noisy, crowded like any other big city, but also 'laid back', easy-going and fun (particularly crossing the roads!). Even this late in the year the city hosts thousands of tourists. The streets are full of Americans who seem to have a real 'thing' for Rome. Every second sound you hear on the streets has an American 'twang' to it, often preceded by a radio signal, as they like to "keep in touch" with the people two feet behind them (also carrying walkie-talkies),- informing all and sundry every time they draw breath -- or fart....

Rome's wealth of history is everywhere, from the ancient sites of the Colosseum and the Forum to the more "modern" Piazza Navona and Trevi fountain, the Spanish Steps and the Victor Emmanuel monument. Wandering through narrow back streets, we came across buildings which used ancient columns as part of their walls. The very stones speak. Sitting on the Spanish Steps watching the world go by one of the most recognised places on the planet is a feeling only 'millionaires' can really understand!

While Rome has been great, the 'new-ness' and adventure that has been there for us over the last two months in Eastern Europe and Turkey is just not there. Travel here is easy, comfortable and yes enjoyable! Maybe we have had enough of living 'on the edge' and should just relax and enjoy? Especially the pizza and the gelati?? We think so.

Tomorrow we hit the autostrada again for Siena. The tolls are more reasonable than we remembered ($AUS 10 for 150 kms - and through mountain passes) and the automation of the system, including payment by credit card, make the motorways the only way to go!

23 November

After almost ten weeks on the road it is time to announce the results of our intensive study of the numbers of various nationalities 'on the road' at this time of the year.

The overall honours go to the Germans who, while they are not always the most sociable company in camping grounds, are most certainly the most numerous. Next are the Dutch. Generally multi-lingual and extremely well-travelled, those we have met are generally older ( 50+) and often retired. Australians are a close third, well ahead of the French and Italians. Brits and Americans bring up the rear in the off-season camping travel stakes. Australians, except for our good selves, are usually in their mid to late twenties, on trips of three months or more (as part of a working holiday) and -again with us as the exception- driving UK registered vans and cars that mostly have seen better days!

Tonight we are sitting on the edge of a hill in Tuscany about 10 kms outside Siena. Even with the last of the day's fog still lingering in the valleys, the views are spectacular. A cool snap last night brought fog for most of our trip from Rome to Siena. The sun was up there, but it only broke through a few times.

Siena has a well-preserved medieval centre which celebrates centuries of rivalry between areas of the city with a horse race around the city 'square' on two days in July. This time of the year that excitement is missing, but the square and the Duomo are amongst the most beautiful we have seen. The "square", contrary to its name, is shell-shaped and framed by buildings of various hues of burnt sienna - quite lovely!! The narrow, steep, cobble-stoned streets - that we didn't have to drive on! - and the closely-packed houses, create a sense of familiarity - more a village than a town "feel".

The Duomo is most unusual, being built of black and white marble, in a horizontally-striped pattern, but with a magnificent interior, with works by famous Renaissance artists. We Catholics do GOOD churches!!!

24 November

Michelangelo, Da Vinci, Dante, Donatelli and Machiavelli all walked the streets of Firenze. Under the patronage of the Medici family this city was the centre of a renewal of art design, invention and literature that changed the face of history (the Renaissance).

From our van window we can see one of the most famous skylines in Europe. We can walk to the centre of town across the Ponte Vecchio inside 10 minutes! Rain and high cloud have done little to dampen the enthusiasm of the thousands of tourists who still cram the streets of Florence late on this November evening.

It may be sacrilege, but it is difficult to escape the feeling that once we crossed the Adriatic into Italy we entered a huge tourist 'Theme Park'. Some of this feeling is more than likely attributable to the fact that even travelling as we do, the supermarkets, petrol stations, restaurants, bars and every other western convenience are so easily accessible that we don't need to 'get down' with the locals in village shops, bakeries etc. as we have had to do for the past couple of months. After all, retired Americans travel independently here - and that's a worry - if any place is so 'American simpatico' that is probably a warning to real travellers to look elsewhere. After all who really goes to Surfers Paradise except Japanese (and retired Americans!)?

On the other hand, the history that is so tangible in Italy cannot fail to overwhelm. Walking the streets that once comprised the Roman Forum of ancient times; the streets, in Siena, where Florentines once threw dead donkeys and excrement in the hope of causing plague; the streets of San Gimignano (cobblestoned, narrow and almost free of modern vehicular traffic); the streets of Florence (where we started this thought pattern), we become silent, respectful witnesses of things and people past.

25 November

It is possible to experience culture overload - this is not a question but a statement of fact. Every corner of Florence is a Renaissance masterpiece. Every piece in the Ufffizi warrants close study. In the Academia, the masterpieces of Michaelangelo's "David" and "Prisoners" are only a small part of international treasures gathered here.

A small city, Florence is easily covered on foot. But every corner offers something new and enthralling. This is our third visit in 25 years and we still wander about with our mouths agape!

As the weather lifted and the sun broke through this morning, the streets filled. Italians love walking about in 'their streets' - and why not? Such animated, intent conversations are all around that one feels as though the whole street is one big Woody Allen scene!

Pizza is of course the meal of choice for 90% of the people on a coolish (15C) day like today! What choice! Pizza here is not sold as at home. Round and in a flat box. Oh no..no.. buying and eating at a real Pizzeria Rustica is as much an experience as a meal, with hysterics and much drama on both sides of the crowded counter.

Pizza is sold by the kg and the purchase is made from the shop's special range of pizza which is laid out in slabs about one metre square. Much pointing and adjusting is required to ensure that the exact amount is cut before weighing. And this is not just a language problem. Native speakers can be seen indicating minute movements of the knife before the final cut, just as we do. The end result is slapped on a piece of paper and usually eaten on the move on the street. The taste is, of course, out of this world.

On returning from the shower, Paul opened the van door to reveal a spectacular view of the lights of Florence (obscured by the rain last night). Doesn't rate, he said. The view from the toilet block is incomparable - the Duomo and Campanile featuring from this angle. We LOVE Florence!!

From what we can translate from the news tonight the flooding in northern Italy continues. Florence was warm and sunny today. But there is evidence in the river of previous flooding. Further north at Prato, the flooding seems to have been more severe, but we will see tomorrow. Touch wood - we are still blessed with good weather.

26-27 November

Call them autostradas, motorways, autobahns or freeways, they are a world on their own. In France, Italy, Spain and most of Eastern Europe you have to 'pay to play' in this fast-moving tunnel that joins almost every city and major town in Europe. Entry and exit are controlled and every service is provided inside the 'tunnel' to assist and attract the traveller. Italy in particular has a great system. Pick up a card from an automatic dispenser on entry. Stick it in a slot on exit, followed by a credit card, 'grazie.. arrivederci' says the machine, and off you go....

'Motorway world' generally has its own radio station that beams traffic information, drive time music and news to you on a fixed frequency as you zip across the country.

For us, these super-highways provide relatively safe accommodation in their 'aires de service', as well as an escape from the narrow, crowded streets of urban, suburban and 'rural' Europe.

Tolls are the obvious cost of this escape and accelerated path to your chosen destination. Legend has it that motorway tolls in France and Italy are exorbitant. Not true. Crossing Italy from Ancona to Rome and travelling north to the French border cost us about $50. Well worth it in fuel, wear'n'tear and mental anguish.

Yesterday and today we roamed on and off the Italian and French autostrada/autoroutes trying to see as much as we could of the Italian/French Rivieras close up. At one point we got so 'close up' that we 'slightly bent' a mirror on a parked car in a street only wide enough for two bikes! Recent floods must have caused landslides as much of the corniches (all three options!) were closed with forced diversions to the autostrada!

Nowhere is the illusion of a separate 'motorway world' so real as in the highly populated areas we travelled through in the past two days. In Germany, Holland, Eastern Europe, Turkey and Greece, motorways are a great mode of accelerated travel. Here, they are an ever-present 'drone'. Above the coastal towns, the via ducts and the tunnels of the motorways call from above every narrow street and from almost every set of traffic lights.

Denying the temptation to escape to the express lane does bring its rewards. In the last two days we have experienced crystal clear skies and 17C - 20C temperatures.(While this sounds cold to us Brisbaneites, inside our "vanworld" it is single-layer time -- no spencers, tights, singlets or sweaties - lovely and warm in fact.) The views from the van ('cause campervans can't stop anywhere on the Italian or French Riviera!) have been spectacular. Monte Carlo, Nice, Menton, San Remo, and San Raphael - our current beach residence - all shone in the freakish late November warmth.

The Cinque Terre in Italy was an exception to the usual 'drive by' as we were able to park the van in Manarola and walk down to the harbour, albeit quickly, as unguarded car parks are a bit of a risk in Italy. This is the price we pay for having a "bed on wheels."

France

28 - 29 November

Ah 'la belle France" where the beggars of the Riviera smoke tailor-made and bring a packed lunch, 'l’occasion de pieces d'autos' - the wreckers! look like the car park of a Bulgarian country club and there is literally a shopping centre on every corner.

The only sad thing is the loss of the classical French language as we learnt it at school! (albeit 30 years ago). The modern French have lost the subtlety of the original language as we know it. So severe is their embarrassment when confronted by our classical French sentence structures that they quickly lapse into English to mask their loss of ability to speak their own language as Napoleon did!

St Tropez is usually home to the rich and famous. Brigitte lives here! But this time of the year it is a pleasant port town with medieval streets - free parking! and uncluttered streets.

Autoroute 'Aires de Service' are legendary for the quality of their overnight parking areas. Just outside Aix en Provence we stayed in one that had almost as many services as most of the camping grounds we've stayed in. Toilets, showers (cold) waste disposal, water and a great view of the Provence countryside.

The loss of our credit cards in Romania has come back to haunt us! Seems that none of the bills that are auto-paid from the Visa account have been paid for two months - oops! Without our SMS message link to the world we are dead! And what will the girls at home do if the home phones are cut off? But modern communication has saved the day again (we hope!). A few e-mails, some quick SMSing to Liz and we had a number to (free) call Optus C&W from any public phone in the world - Well it worked a treat in France at any rate. All seems well again on the phone front.

Today (29th) we visited Avignon and the Pont du Gard. Not much for a whole day but we seem to be getting more laid back with our 'touriste' visits these days. With wanders around towns and the inevitable hassles parking it can take a whole day to 'do' one smallish town! Avignon was exceptional though as it provides free (guarded) parking for visitors PLUS a free shuttle bus into town.

Tonight we are again in 'motorway-world' in an Aires de Service just outside Nimes. Tomorrow we are serious about our driving and are off to Spain - a whole 200kms away!

Spain

30 November

Autumn fades to winter today. Or it does in most years.

This morning (our 26th wedding anniversary) started grey and glum. Hopefully no reflection on our marriage! By 11.00am the sky had cleared and as we approached the Spanish border, the Pyrenees loomed in their snow-covered magnificence. So much so that all the Spanish truckies seemed to get the smell of home and took off like riding school horses once their heads turned to the stables.

By the time we caught up at the frontier, hundreds of trucks had massed at the motorway entrance on the Spanish side heading for Barcelona. Inch by inch we all edged our way on to the motorway, through the toll gates and OFF at break-neck speed for home!!

We soon abandoned the fray and headed for the Costa Brava town of l'Escala through beautiful countryside, a strange mix of green fields and brown autumn colours in the afternoon sun. The vineyards of Provence were pruned and ready for the onslaught of winter. But on the Spanish side of the border a sudden return to grazing land and vegetable farms totally changed the appearance of the countryside.

Like the resorts of France and Italy, the Costa Brava is virtually deserted now. Just the way we and the handful of like-thinking travellers and the locals like it! We share the huge camping ground of Cala Montgo, which in summer would easily accommodate thousands, with four or five other campers, including yet another mob of Australians from Cannon Hill, with three kids, who are on the road for four months.

Around us there are hundreds of empty mobile homes and wooden bungalows; across the road, the other half of the campsite has a humungous pool; the laundrette, supermarket, medical centre, restaurant, cafe and Turkish baths are all shuttered for the winter, but the Telebanco (ATM) is still open. And the other camping ground right beside us offers more of the same - this is a camper's heaven. Oh, and by the way, 300 metres down the road is a bay with a sandy beach, clean, clear water. White-washed villas are tucked between green pine trees all the way up the hill and an assortment of restaurants, cafes and pizzerias offer tit-bits for when you get a bit peckish. With temperatures in the high teens and clear skies, the feel is much the same as July and August on the Gold Coast. But without the people. These towns are seriously closed down for the winter!

Outside - clear skies with twinkling stars, champagne chills in a bucket of cold water; inside - the "Gypsy Kings" play mood music. Life's a beach!!

1 December

The Aussie family we met last night are doing much what we did 13 years ago - travelling Western Europe with their three kids. They hired their van from the same company in Holland and they live in CANNON HILL! The family they have travelled with for the last two months live in Crown Street Holland Park, 500m from us!

The beaches of the Costa Brava filled the first part of our day today. Again deserted and beautiful in the warm, now winter, sun. The notion of a 'season' is foreign to us. These towns totally close down from September/October until May/June. That means shutters up, closed shops, hotels and every other service.

The small city of Girona about 100 km north of Barcelona was a pleasant surprise. We decided to drive through and stop only if we could find easy parking (a major problem in the van!). Spain however seems far more accommodating of large vehicles such as ours. We found safe, free parking within easy walking distance of the centre of town and strolled into what the guide book said was a well-preserved medieval town dominated by a Gothic Cathedral.

The clouds had gathered and showers threatened so we expected the worst - an end to our luck with the weather! But…as we strolled the narrow medieval streets, the clouds again cleared and we climbed the hill to the truly Gothic master piece of Girona Cathedral. Having brought only our sunnies, the eerieness of the solid stark cathedral was enhanced by the artificial darkness of the glasses!

Barcelona was our final desination for the day. As it turned out the freeways of Barcelona proved more of a challenge than we anticipated. Perhaps we have become over confident following our successful conquest of such urban nightmares as Istanbul, Izmir, Athens and Rome? The city must have spent billions on its freeway system for the Olympics. The spidersweb of three to six lane highways got the better of us for a while but we eventually found the camping grounds and are settled in for a couple of nights.

Camping grounds in Spain are heavy duty! We were impressed with L'Escala’s Cala Montgo last night, but tonight's spot takes the cake. Three pools, water slides, tennis courts, billiard room, supermarket, beach (12kms from Barcelona), restaurant, several bars and space for 2-3 thousand people! The only draw back is that we are under the flight path for Barcelona airport.

2 - 3 December

Ever stood on a beach and seen the sun rise over the water and then returned in the afternoon to see it set over the water on the same beach? In Barcelona this time of the year the sun takes a rather small southern arc, rising about 7.30am and setting about 5.30pm and from the beach where we are camped the sun both rises and sets over the Mediterranean!

Today, 3 December, was another freak day. The sky was a deep blue and while there was a bit of a sneaky westerly breeze every now and then, the temperature was in the high teens for most of the day. As it was yesterday, the city today was full of life. People here come out in droves for this sort of unseasonal weather.

Yesterday we took a 'bus touristica' for a loop of the city. Sitting on the open top level, we were able to appreciate the architectural variety of this great city! Heavily influenced by the modernism of Gaudi, Dali and Picasso, Barcelona is a work of art in progress. The towers of Gaudi's La Sagrada Familia (Holy Family Church) dominate the skyline. Rebuilding commenced in 1982, almost one hundred years after the foundation stone was laid. Even with the engineering technology available today, Gaudi's design must be a major challenge. I hope we live long enough to see the finished product. It will be a true masterpiece!

One area of the city features buildings designed by Gaudi. It is easy to see how the English language coined the word 'gaudy' to describe anything outlandish! But here it works.

Walking about today we roamed through medieval streets, modern waterfront developments, grand nineteenth century public buildings, beautifully laid out parks and gardens, and busy streets packed with character and life.

On the hill of Montjuic, above the city, are the sites of the major Olympic venues of 1992 - like most similar sites, looking very empty, but, no doubt, well-used. Also in this area is the Poblo Espanyol - a village re-created for the 1929 Exhibition to demonstrate the major architectural Spanish styles and now a tourist heaven of craft and souvenir shops.

Everywhere in Barcelona the Catalan spirit is foremost. One suspects the Spanish national flag is only displayed to comply with legal requirements. Music and dancing fill the squares of the city. Much of it seems spontaneous and it is obviously enjoyed by all. There is a strong South American influence in the street music and dancing. People with obvious South American Indian heritage are prominent in the street entertainment scene.

Mexican influence in music in particular seems strong in Spain. When you think about it, this reversal of the 17th and 18th century colonisation of the New World is not unprecedented. The United States long ago eclipsed Britain as the most influential English speaking cultural power. Brazil dwarfs its 'mother country', Portugal, in both size and influence. Mexico is bigger than Spain yet through its close contact with America, its culture is perhaps more familiar than that of Spain, thanks to the all pervasive American media .

Street crime is supposed to be endemic here and in other big Spanish cities. But we felt safe, with the exception of a few moments where our now fairly high developed sense of danger cut in. Groups of 18-20 year olds hanging about on street corners hovering and watching the passing crowds for the 'slowest gazelle in the herd' are not as common in Barcelona as in the cities of Eastern Europe, but the unwary are always likely victims of the snatch and grab thief, despite the warnings everywhere, both verbal and written.

4 December 2000

Barcelona turned it on again this morning. Another beautiful day as we headed south towards Valencia. Much of the country near the coast is just like the rest of the 'Mediterranean Strip' that reaches from Turkey to the Atlantic French-Spanish border, row after row of villas and units for thousands of kilometers, all aligned to catch the sun. The colours change subtly from country to country. The Spanish favour the white-washed look, much like the Greeks.

Cranes crowd the beachside skyline along much of the coast between Barcelona and Valencia. Yet another boom?

Abandoning the Autopista (Motorway world) we took to the local highway, N340 to experience some of the local countryside. The villages are becoming more as we imagined them the further south we go - wide streets, stucco buildings and just enough dust to be authentic! In the olive groves, orchards (oranges of course!) and fields, you can still spot the ruins of older homes, abandoned as the new prosperity arrived. The charm of the older pueblos still seems to be preserved in the centres of the bigger towns.

Just as we were getting in the relaxed mood that these good roads, civilised traffic habits and weather engender, BANG! A blown tyre. Janita was driving and did well to keep the van on the road. After a tense half hour on the edge of the road changing the tyre in heavy traffic we were off again.

After the shock of the blow-out, we decided to take a 'punt' on one of the many camping sites open along the coast. Winner! 'Torre la Sol' outside Castella about 60kms north of Valencia. It tops all camping grounds so far! This place has its own bull ring! It is full of the most luxurious vans we have ever seen. All German. Some are the size of Greyhound buses. All the usual 'basics' are available: jacuzzi, sauna, heated pool, mini golf, several restaurants, bars, beach and... did we say 'BULL RING!' The place is packed with retired Germans - all set in for the 'winter'.

Spain is luxurious, but reasonably priced. We did a supermarket shop today that we calculate would have cost us about AUS$300. In Spain, $200! Fuel is about EU average, AUS$1.20/lt.

Despite all the messages - from the Autopiste company to the man in the "Change" office yesterday - about Spain being a "very safe country ...BUT.. watch out for....", we have found the people we have met to be very friendly, helpful and honest - even the payment collector on the Autopiste this morning refunded the extra 5 pesetas we had inadvertently given him.

We have had enough of this weather. Tomorrow we head inland towards Madrid where we expect snow in the mountains and the bitter cold we came here for! One can take only so much warmth and blue sky and besides, all our T-shirts are dirty!

Spain 2

5 - 6 December

Our impressions of Europe as a crowded, heavily urbanised continent have been seriously revised over the past few months. Travelling from the northern plains of Germany through Eastern Europe, Turkey and now Spain, we have seen some very open country. Not quiet wilderness, but enough space to feel 'at home'.

Driving from the Mediterranean coast near Valencia west towards Madrid, the countryside changes from orange orchards to vineyards to olive groves and finally to sparsely rocky desert. All this within 200kms.

Along the way we visited the town of Cuenca. The old town sits at the top of a gorge separated from the new town by two rivers. Many of the buildings appear to teeter on the edge of this gorge with their balconies overhanging it. A footbridge across the gorge provides a wonderful photo opportunity.

Parts of this country have recorded continuous human habitation for over 10000 years. First the Iberians crossed the narrow straits from Africa. Then in 1000BC the ubiquitous Celts invaded (as they do!) from the north. Phoenicians, Greeks and Romans followed in ancient times. Then in the eighth century, the Moors (Muslims from north Africa) occupied Spain for almost 800 years. Almost from the first day of this occupation, the 'reconquista', the re-conquering of Spain, began. Nobody in Spain mentions the 'Spanish Inquisition' that followed the progressive return of Christianity to Spain - but then 'nobody ever expects the Spanish Inquisition!'

One can only imagine what the now degraded countryside of central Spain looked like as the Moors rode across the open plateau to establish their capital at Toledo. Thirteen hundred years of grazing and farming have obviously had their toll. Today the land has suffered much the same as parts of Australia. Although it has only taken us 200 years!

1492 was a big year for Spain. Toledo, the Moorish capital fell to the Christians and Columbus began the European 'colonization' of the new world. The defeat of the Moors is today commemorated in modern Toledo by the display, on the outside walls of the church of San Juan de los Reyes, of the chains from which Christians were freed in the final assault on the city. They have hung here for more than five hundred years.

It's a bit of a shame that this feverish activity finished in 1492. - Last night, we arrived in Toledo, driving with more care than usual, as we had lost the 'power assist' on our brakes. After several, very one-sided discussions in Spanish with mechanics, we figured that we needed a new alternator. Surprise, surprise... not only do we have a big sleep in Spain every day from about 1.00 - 4.00pm, but the 6th and the 8th of December are holidays, followed by a weekend! So we have to wait a bit for repairs!

The holidays have bought some joy however. A number of the museums in Toledo are free today and as we discovered they are fascinating. Alcazar, the muchrebuilt fortress-castle of Toledo was the most interesting. A fortress since the eighth century, the building itself has a thousand stories. The most recent is perhaps what brought it alive for us.

In 1936 the nationalist forces in the Spanish civil war were held seige in Alcazar for more than 70 days. In the end, the Communist forces all but leveled the fortress. But the defenders held out in what is now celebrated as one of the most heroic actions of Spanish military history. Now reconstructed as a military museum the citadel records this event and hundreds of other exploits of the Spanish military over the last 1000 years.

Spanish tourists packed the city streets on this coolish (but nowhere near as cold as we expected!), cloudy holiday. Their main focus was the Carolus Exposition at the Museum de Santa Cruz. This year marks the 500th anniversary of the beginning of the rule of Carlos V who presided over the 'Golden Age' of Spain.

Remember the exploits of the conquistadors? And the wealth and power they returned to Spain following the defeat of the Aztecs and Incas? This exposition has gathered documents and works of art celebrating this period from museums throughout Europe. One of many amazing exhibits was a set of floor plans for the Alcazar fortress that was used for the reconstruction following the destruction of 1936. Where did they come from? The city archives of course! Held there since the extensions to the fortress ordered by Carlos V in the early part of the fifteenth century.

7 December

With no brakes to speak of, our main task today was to drive gently to the local Ford dealer, 1km away, have the required repairs done and hit the road for Avila and Madrid. - You guessed it! That's not the way it happened.

Finding the Ford dealer was easy with the directions from Pancho and Jose from the camping grounds. Manuel has nothing on these two but more about that later....

Accustomed by now to explaining complex technical problems across the language barrier, we soon had an answer to our problem. - No. Not until next Monday (today is Thursday). Our only option it seemed was to drive to the outer suburbs of Madrid where the FORD dealer had been alerted to our plight and was standing by with the appropriate part.

An Autopista (Spanish Motorway) is somewhat of a driving challenge at the best of times. With dodgy brakes it's an experience to be savoured only once in an average life time. (Always leaving the door open for all possibilities.) Finding the dealer was easy, and our arrival at the front desk sent the receptionist running to the back of the workshop for help. - Very few Spanish speak even a little English and this far south, no French either.

Help arrived in the form of a twenty something guy who greeted us with 'G'day, what's the problem?'. Turns out this gent (regrettably we never got his name) was born in Spain, migrated when he was five and returned with his family a couple of years ago. With his help and the assistance of the workshop manager the errant pressure pump -(it seems this was the problem after all) was replaced in record time and we were on our way.

Back to Pancho and Jose at Camping, Circo Romano, Toledo. These two would be a fine study for a TV comedy show. As most of this week is a holiday in Spain, Pancho and Jose, the gardener, and night watchman have obviously been left in charge of the park while the 'real people' have a lo-o-o-ng break. Like many Mediterranean people, the Spanish seem to be shouting and arguing when in fact they are engaging in normal conversation and Pancho and Jose engaged in "normal conversation" most of the day. It's difficult to see what they did the two days that we were in the park, but they were always about. Dragging things, yelling at each other. Fixing things, yelling at each other. Moving things etc... But always at the service of us - the happy campers.

Machine washing in parks usually requires a jeton (token) which is purchased at the reception. In this case Jose happily sold us a jeton, but then launched into a long monologue (or it may as well have been!) indicating that there was more to this washing game than met the eye! When we arrived in the Lavadoros (Washing room) he and Pancho were busily refitting light bulbs that seem to have been removed from some areas of the camp for reasons that are far too complex to explain here. Turning on the light switch produced a shower of sparks and explosions that would raise the dead. Not a problem for Pancho and Jose (by the way, these are their real names) simply refitting a second set of bulbs would obviously solve the problem!

Using a broom stick this time, Jose flicked the cut-out switch on the fuse box. Another spectacular display. It would seem silly to give up while there were still some bulbs left, so we loaded up again but no matter how gently Jose flicked the switch the outcome was inevitable. Guy Fawkes night again!

Jose had had enough. The washing was not on - the fact that the machine was on another circuit will have to remain our little secret - and he stormed off. Pancho however was made of sterner stuff and as we followed Jose back across the park he protested in the background that he had the answer....We will wash another night.

The 'rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain' and today it did, preceded by gale force winds that nearly blew us off the ring road, but the temperature at 2 pm was a mild 17C. Given that Madrid regularly freezes in December and January, a little bit of rain, only our third experience of such in 12 weeks, is a small price to pay for relative warmth.

Finding our site tonight was true to form. Having negotiated our way onto the Ring Road, a 3 lane means of avoiding the worst of any big city, it only remained for us to get off at exit 36. Easy - peasy. Then the lane we were in forked. A 'stay on' (the ring road) and a hand indication was of course misinterpreted. SO -- we did what we have done for most other major cities - saw more of it than a lot of other people. We are well-travelled O'Neills!!

8 December

Madrid does not have the flair and panache of Barcelona or the history of its 'outer suburb', Toledo. It wasn't until the 16th century that Madrid came into its own as Felipe II's capital. Like every big city (pop 3.5M) it has its eyesore suburbs, rundown industrial areas and the feel that it will all be OK once they 'put it all back together'. What it does have is that 'buzz' of hundreds of thousands of people in the streets for any reason at all. The reason today was the feast of the Immaculate Conception! A public holiday in Spain where hardly anybody goes to church but 95% claim to be staunch Catholics.

We headed for the Prado museum first up as the weather was not up to our now mandatory requirements. Warm with clear blue skies! In fact it actually rained while we were at the bus stop outside the camping grounds!

Goya's works are featured here along with other old masters from across Europe. The Prado is right up there with the Louvre and the Uffizi as one of the world's great art galleries. Highlights were Goya's 'black paintings' and a small selection of 15th and 16th surrealist works depicting visions of hell and damnation. The hour’s wait to get in was well worth it!

Similar to Picasso a century later, Goya demonstrated an ability to produce everything from studies of contemporary rural life and landscapes through portraiture to art that today would be considered 'modern' in style. His 'black paintings' were an outpouring of the artist's dismay at the political situation of his times and to some extent his own poor health. The man was seriously depressed!

Crowds stand in awe before the work of Heironymous Bosch - 'el Bosco!'. Painted in the sixteenth century, his works could easily be shown with 'pop art' of the sixties. Indescribable! Awesome!

We should have trusted our luck. When we left the Prado, the sun was out, the sky was clear and the temperature had risen to a very respectable 12C. From all directions people flooded the streets. We were glad of the slight chill as we could wear our coats that act as 'pickpocket protectors'. Theft in crowded streets like these is not specifically a Spanish thing - more a big city phenomenon, however, the Lonely Planet as well as people we have met have warned us about Spain, so we are perhaps even more cautious than normal.

Christmas markets were in full swing. Everything from nativity scenes to gum (Australian Eucalyptus) sprigs with painted flowers were on sale. We walked the streets with the ever -growing crowds for a couple of hours and felt that we had seen all there was for us in Madrid.

9 December

He waited at the fence for a full 20 minutes. Had Paul been misunderstood?

Many years ago our second son James, nine at the time, had what he described as 'a close encounter of the French kind' with a Moroccan cleaner in Paris. James had been minding his own business in the Bois de Bologne camping grounds when a gentleman of the Moroccan persuasion engaged him in what we are sure was an innocent casual conversation. James just listened and wandered off.

Conversations with Spanish shepherds are apparently not as easily terminated. As the sun was out late this afternoon Paul wandered down to the back of the camping grounds where a flock of sheep were grazing. Being after 4.00pm, he of course had a beer in hand! Before he knew it, the shepherd had sauntered over to him and engaged in a very long and (to him) most amusing conversation. Paul’s part was simply to nod, smile and point at the sheep and dogs with his can of beer. Nothing more seemed to be required.

At an appropriate break in the 'conversation' Paul said, “Buenos Dios”, smiled and escaped.

But the shepherd didn't move. He stood awaiting Paul’s return. Had Paul inadvertently offer him a beer? - This was Paul’s 'close encounter of the Spanish kind'.

Earlier in the day we had visited Avila, a medieval walled city about 100kms north of Madrid - one of the best-preserved in Europe. It was - oh yes - another beautiful day! The city was a photographer's dream in the winter sunlight. Spanish tourists were out and about on this long holiday weekend and the streets were more lively than we suspect they would normally be this time of the year.

Sadly, we have started our return trip north that will take us to the north western coast of Spain and then on to France where we meet Elizabeth on 22 December. From here we have only just over a month left to spend in Ireland and England.

We had expected colder weather and even snow in central Spain. As strange as it may seem we are looking forward to the inevitable change as we move further north and west. We came to Europe expecting a difference, especially the weather, not clear skies and warmth a la Australia in the winter. Despite having been spoiled by the last many weeks of perfect weather, we are quite happy at the prospect of a typical European December. After all, we have the Drizabones, including Paul's lambskin vest, we only need the right temperature!!!

10 - 11 December

Familiar noises surround us tonight. Surf pounds constantly in the distance and sea breezes whistle around our van. We are perched on a headland above the Spanish town of Zarautz close to the French border. It has gone 9.00pm and the temperature outside is about 15 - 16C. There is a full moon tonight and the king tides have whipped up waves that were crashing over the coastal roads as we wound our way along the beautiful northern Spanish coast. Oh Yes. Again the sun was beating down all day!

Out our side window we have a panoramic view of the town and the beach. The lights of the town make it far more attractive than we are sure it will be in the morning. It is a 'new town'. One of the many modern apartment block-dominated settlements that seem to herald the Euro-prosperity that Spain, Italy and Greece in particular have acquired in the last ten years. Older Spanish villages are now no more than farm storage sheds and barns. Deserted for the nearby comfort of well-planned and, one must say, fairly attractive apartment blocks (if you like that sort of thing!).

Salamanca and Burgos took most of our time yesterday and today. Both are pleasant and manageable cities with the now 'usual attractions' of a spectacular cathedral and medieval squares and buildings. Cultural overload is probably to blame for the previous unfair comment. But after hundreds of cities and towns and thousands of villages they all begin to merge...

Daniel (Elton John's brother), "Says it's (Spain) the best place that he's ever been" .... "and he should know he's been there a lot". And even though 'Daniel' is dead, many of his countrymen agree with him and flock here all year around. Today we saw 'convoys' of caravans towed by GB plated fourwheel drives, heading south through Spain to Morocco and points further south for the winter.
In the next couple of days we will cross back into France. Many weeks ago we noted that the 'costa ...' commenced on the southern coast of Turkey and ended at the Atlantic French-Spanish border. Well we are here now and that was a fair statement. We have not completed the full circle around Spain and Portugal. However, the thousands of kilometers of Mediterranean resorts that we have driven through have been amazing. The new tourist developments go on for hundreds and hundreds of kilometers. In many areas, particularly in Turkey and parts of Spain, cranes line the coast, building block after block of units for the 'nouveau Euro-rich'.

This is Basque country and the language is dramatically different to Spanish. Not that that makes much difference to us! But the street and highway signs that we have learnt to recognise over the past couple of weeks have been replaced by those in the local language and the local form of lettering. Just another challenge!

The contrast with Romania and Bulgaria is staggering. Even those more favoured for inclusion in the 'EC Club', Poland, Hungary, Turkey and the Czech and Slovak Republics can only dream of the living standards enjoyed by the 'old club' members! And what of the new nations emerging from the ruins of Yugoslavia?

What will the next ten years bring?

France

12 December

Back in France we are in a 'not so flash' Aire de Service between San Sebastian and Biarrritz. San Sebastian was a bit of a disappointment. Granted we did not stop and do a walk about as it’s towns/cities like this when the only disadvantage to the van - its size - makes itself felt. Parking was impossible and, as all we could see was one nice stretch of beach in the midst of an industrial port city, we did a couple of 'drive-throughs'. We did have time to notice that the entrance to the 'Civil Guard' headquarters was protected by a couple of heavily armed men and had two redundant and rusting armoured Landrovers jammed across the street entrance. - This is Basque territory!

Temperatures in downtown San Sebastian were between 25 and 27C today. We just checked and it IS 12 December! The warm wind howled and buffeted the van most of last night. We suspect that what we are experiencing is what the French call 'le Mistral'. From what we can recall from our days as geography teachers... the Mistral blows off the mountains and for some reason... which we have forgotten!!! it brings unusually warm weather to one side of the alps and very cold weather to the other?? Or something like that?? Whatever the cause, the change was sufficient to coax swimmers into the surf at San Sebastian beach!

Returning to France was a bit of a disappointment after Spain. Many parts of France have become what we have been calling 'anywhere-land'. They have no particular character and could be familiar parts of any Australian, American or European city. Car dealerships, light industry, petrol stations and supermarkets are the same in anybody's 'language!' While parts of Spain can be similarly described, there is still some of the 'old Spain' left to enjoy.

We met an English couple (actually English-Welsh) last night who are part of the return match for the Spanish Armada which launches itself upon Spain for most of the year. They are starting a three month holiday campervanning it around Spain. Given the weather it is little wonder that the Brits are finally escaping their living rooms and moving about. As they pointed out, the UK is also somewhat of a 'rip-off'. These two had visited family in Australia, Tweed Heads actually, and were amazed at how cheap things were in Oz - half UK prices according to them. We can hardly wait for our first trip to a UK supermarket and petrol station.

13 December

Another pleasant night in a motorway services last night. One doesn't even hear the trucks anymore. And only paid 13 French francs for the tolls! (about AUS $3)

Temperatures plummeted to 24C today from 27C yesterday! We walked the streets of Biarritz in cotton shirts. The beach and town are very laid back this time of the year. We 'classical French speakers' are right at home in a small city like this when the tourists are gone and the beach is ours. We were so impressed with Biarritz that we checked out the Real Estate prices. Amazing. A 20 sq mts, three bedroom unit close to the front will cost you AUS$95,000...!!! Sounds great.. (Work out how big 20 sq mtrs is!).

We have a bit of time to kill as we don't have to pick Lizzie up in Paris until the 22nd, so we decided to poke around some of the countryside around Bordeaux. Everything is closed! Whole towns are locked up: supermarkets, petrol stations, schools, the lot! The countryside however is still very attractive. Small farms and larger 'hobby farms' share the coastal plain with pine forest and marsh land.

We are not sure whether there has been a large storm or whether the sand drifts that have taken over the beach front towns are a normal seasonal happening? Some beachfront villages are almost buried in golden sand many feet deep. One village we visited was all but deserted with sand drifts up to a meter deep in the streets. Much like a western ghost town. Our map shows this area as the Cote d'Argent (Gold Coast). The local signs refer to it as the Cote Sauvage. The area seems to be well and truly on the agenda of the hardened international surfer. 'The boys' were out in the Atlantic swells today and while the air temperature was in the low twenties, the water temperatures are another question. This is the North Atlantic, and it is the week before Christmas.

A really interesting day.

Switzerland

14 December

This is going to sound a bit strange....but ..last night we concluded that we have had enough of the good weather. We have enjoyed 13 weeks of almost perfect warm sunny weather and we have decided that what we need is ' perfect cold weather', that is snow-covered villages and clear blue skies! After all, we have packed for a European winter.... we want to USE some of our cold weather gear!!!

The alarm went off at 6.00am. Not an unusual hour for those of you who work for a living but for us it was about 2 hours earlier than our normal day commences.... and DARK!!!! The sun didn't rise for another two and a half hours. Lausanne, Switzerland was our agreed target. It must be cold and it must have snow this time of the year...

Driving the 700kms from west to east across France would not usually be much of a challenge for drivers used to Australian roads, except for the fact most of the road between Bordeaux and the Swiss border is non-motorway and visits every town, village and city en route! Needless to say we pulled up short. After ten hours driving we only managed the six hundred kilometers to Lyons, 130kms short of the Alps. The good news is that on the way, things looked up. The weather was shocking. Wind, rain, temperatures close to freezing. Yes! The Europe we remember and love to hate!

As the Loire and Rhone rivers met, the sun broke through and the villages on the hillsides took on the beautiful late afternoon glow that only the fading winter sun can bring.... The temperature climbed as the sky cleared and as we drove into Lyons, the late afternoon low was 14C.

... What do we have to do?

15 - 16 December

'Cold at last, cold at last!'

Switzerland had to be a sure thing for a bit of pre-Christmas chill and a little snow. At first we were worried. Geneva was cool but not cold. No snow and not a lot to offer of real interest. After all, we've been there and done that....Switzerland has been unkindly described as the world's greatest theme park. You pay your motorway toll and from then on it's like one big shopping centre. Even the fields in the countryside seem to be mowed. This view is somewhat flippant. So the Swiss are obsessive about straight lines, matching 'things' and cleanliness! Things could be worse - .....

Last night (15 Dec) we camped at a motorway services that provided free power, water and toilet emptying services for campervans. - Heaven! Or it would be if it also provided hot showers!!!

Desperately seeking snow, we again altered our plans and headed for the Jura Mountains near Interlaken. We were rewarded with some great foul weather and snow on the way. But as we now know as our right, by the time we got to the lakes the sky was clear and the scenery was picture-postcard.

High above the town, Grindelwald, just below the north face of the Eiger, was in full sun. Despite the narrow and icy roads we decided to drive rather than take the easy way - the train. Our reward was typical Swiss "photo opportunities" at every turn. And when we reached the top of the pass, the chair lift beckoned and despite the 'steep' price $AUS50 for two, we went to the first stop, some 500m above the town.

Europeans who visit our beaches must feel the same fascination with the sun, surf and sand as we do for the snow. It is so clean! So Swiss! One has to wonder what the dusty, dirty and dishevelled Romanian villages look like now under an all-forgiving blanket of snow?

Tonight we are in a camping ground just outside Interlarken. Right beside Lake Thun, with an uninterrupted view of the snow-capped mountains that frame the lake - and to think we are doing all this on full pay! Long live the welfare state.

17 December

After a few days in Switzerland the countryside seems better described as a huge golf course, rather than a theme park. Rolling hills green and mowed, major water hazards and a well-defined 'rough'. ‘Club houses’ on every corner of every fairway complete the picture.

Sometimes Switzerland looks like hundreds of scenes from biscuit box lids strung together. Design consultants must have to approve the planting of every tree and the construction of every fence!

The few people we have had contact with have been extremely pleasant. Not a bit like our memories of Swiss rudeness on our last trip. Prices are easily calculated and compared here as the Swiss Fr is usually at parity with the AUS$. We seem to pay no more for everything except fuel - how lucky we have been at home!!..

The language changes in Switzerland are dramatic as you cross Canton borders. French is spoken in the south-west, Italian in the south-east and German everywhere else. Street signs, radio stations and advertisements change along well defined lines. English is, of course, spoken everywhere!

Enough cold. We have returned to France, via free German motorways and are settled 2kms from central Strasbourg.

Sunday is usually a good day to 'snag' parking spots near the centre of most cities. Not today. Pre-Christmas shopping has flooded the streets with traffic and people. Our attempts at 'park and view' visits to Luzern and Basel turned into extended drive-throughs. The latter along 'pedestrian only' streets!

Tomorrow we are having an easy day in Strasbourg. Paris is only hours away and we have 4 days to get there to pick Lizzie up.

France 3

18 December

Macca's is much maligned as an obvious example of the globalization of American culture. Like many others we have tut-tutted at the sight of the golden arches at some of Europe's most beautiful and significant sites. But from the back streets of Bucharest to the alley ways of Athens, you can't beat them as a reliable, clean toilet stop! - By the way we have only succumbed to the temptations of an easy standard plastic Mac-meal once!

As the cooler weather bites (thank God!) a certain member of our travelling party requires fairly regular Macca's stops, especially when the consumption of Gluhweiin (heated spiced wine) has been required to ensure the maintenance of the recommended body temperature. And this was definitely the case today. Strasbourg turned on temperatures that hovered around freezing most of the morning until light rain brought a slight relief and a return to 5-6C. Steely grey skies and a cold that bites into your face - great! and just what Christmas is all about here, although...when we checked the weather at a cybercafe today...surprise, surprise!! sunny skies are on their way. We just can't help it. We are Europe's "little rays of sunshine!"

The city was a bit of a surprise to us. As you would expect, it has a very German appearance. Half-timbered buildings are well preserved throughout the centre of the town. Alongside this the city fathers have built what is the most futuristic tram system we have seen. Trams shaped like bullet trains slide through this very compact city of half a million people on a schedule that seems to have a car at any stop within two or three minutes. While its main claim to fame is of course, its cathedral, we found the winding medieval streets interesting as well, especially with the beautiful decorations and lights.

This is the week before Christmas and the 'big spend' is on in full. The cool weather seemed to have no effect at all on the crowds, except for the mysterious disappearance of most of the crowds for 'sleepies' between 12 and 2.00pm. We only intended an over night stop here but we will spend two nights and head off tomorrow on our now very short trek to Paris.

19 December

Drove through Alsace and Lorraine today. Mostly on the autoroute. Evidence of the change of 'landlord' in this area over the past few hundred years is everywhere. Street names are a strange mix of German and French. In some cases streets have two names. The German and French. And one is not just a translation. It is a totally different name! Older buildings are distinctly German and in some villages and towns an obvious effort has been made to retain this influence. Most people here speak German and French and fewer speak English. As a result we have been forced to speak more French than usual. We survive quite well but we still seem to leave some puzzled and amused faces behind us?

A very gloomy day today with fog in the valleys and a light haze elsewhere. Great! The gloomy weather conditions are counter-balanced by the festive decorations on houses and shops. Santa is much in evidence, climbing ladders to windows, balconies and chimneys - even lounging on window ledges, having achieved his goal! Greenery swathed in red ribbon fills the summer window boxes and big bows of assorted hues adorn the hedges and front doors.

It is getting cold enough not to have to worry about the fridge, which stopped working on 12V some weeks ago. It's fine on 220V when we are in camping grounds and that's usually enough to keep most things cold enough for the day or two that we usually spend in 'freebies'. The only exception has been the beer! On a couple of occasions we have had to force down warm beer! Now, however, the beer we keep in the storage locker under the van is easily cool enough without refrigeration.

Just two weeks ago we were sitting around in shorts and T-shirts at night. Now its full trackies and sox.

20 December

War monuments, particularly those on the scale of those in north-western France, can be seen as either grand nationalistic symbols, or real memorials to those who died on these fields throughout the 19th and 20th centuries. Hopefully, in this enlightened age, in the new Europe, they are legitimately seen as the latter.

Millions of Germans and French, thousands of Britons, Americans, Canadians, other Europeans, Indians, Australians, New Zealanders, and Africans lie, mostly in unmarked war graves, within a 150km radius of us tonight.

It is difficult to imagine that the last time we visited Europe, only 13 years ago, the conflicts that caused these atrocities were still a reality in the form of the Cold War and that the trip around continental Europe that we have almost completed would have been virtually impossible.

The battle for the forts around Verdun commenced in June 1916. For 20-30 years before the German advance, the villages around the forts of Vaux and Douaumont, had enjoyed a short period of prosperity as thousands of French garrison troops flooded their small rural villages.

Before the battles of the Great War, the villages were evacuated. Those villages closest to the forts, like Douaumont 5-6kms outside Verdun, first suffered shelling and then, as the battle continued for many months, total annihilation. When the citizens of Douaumont returned to their town in 1919 it was as it is today. 'Not a stone upon a stone.'

Forest growth eventually reclaimed Douaumont, as it did the rest of shell-pocked battlefield. Until 1932, when the French government bought the land in and around the village to establish the current monuments.

Today, the village streets are gravel paths between the shell holes and cleared forest. Small plaques recall the name and occupation of each householder. The village still has a 'charter' and elects a Mayor. It also proudly displays official French town entry and end signs, as does every other city town and village. The descendants of the original inhabitants work on a voluntary basis with forestry workers to maintain the village.....

This is our second visit to Verdun and the sight of the French National monument towering above the thousands of war graves still stops us in our tracks.

On a lighter note, one can't help wondering if the two great wars of the last century had any impact on the German's penchant for roaming over everybody else's territory. They are extremely effective at it today. Every camping ground from the Rhine east to the Bosphorus and west to the Channel is full of them.

21 December 22 December

Charles de Gaulle was our focus for the last couple of days. Having to pick Lizzie up this morning (22 Dec) has been the only fixed date that we have had to work towards for the whole trip so far. We were paranoid! A deadline, for us -the "seasoned travellers" who have roamed the world for the best part of four months not knowing what day it was!

All worked amazingly well. Our planned trial 'dry-run' to the airport ended with us camped in the long-term carpark 'PR', with our own free 5 minute shuttle bus run to the terminals whenever we wished. We took a trial trip yesterday afternoon. Lunch at one of our choice of 20 or so restaurants. A bit of a shopping and back on the bus to our home by the runway of one of the busiest airports in the world! -And…. Oh yes! Charles de Gaulle also has a train connection to central Paris which runs behind carpark PR!

We had planned to get up at 5.40am to jump the shuttle to meet Lizzie's 6.20 flight. As our feet hit the ground at 5.40, the mobile rang with a message: 'I'm here. Where are you?'. All was well. We were fully dressed and 'shuttled' to the terminal just in time for Lizzie's exit from the arrival hall at 6.05.

Fully aware of the pain of jet lag, we dragged her on a quick tour of the villages and towns of the Ile de France. Including Chantilly, which was a very pleasant surprise, and on a nicer day would have warranted a serious look! Then on to the Bois de Boulogne camping grounds in central Paris which thanks to good navigation (for once!) we found immediately. We jumped the bus and Metro into town and 'popped up' at the Arc de Triomphe, shopped the Champs d'Elysees, walked miles, and then realised that poor Lizzie had not slept for 20 hours and was not used to our now frenetic pace... One tired girl is now fast asleep - 4.00pm...

23 December

After a cold and overcast day yesterday, we awoke expecting more of the same. But the clear skies had followed us and Paris turned on a spectacular day. While the temperature was only about 10 degrees, at walking pace, this was more than comfortable given the bluest of skies and a bit of warmth from the winter sun.

Parisiennes have a bad reputation for rudeness and in some cases it is well warranted. But the 'big city' principle needs to be applied here. All big cities seem to have more than their proportionate share of 'difficult people' of all types. In Paris, service in shops and most public offices is good. Every now and then though the old 'no-service' for the foreigner seeps in. Such was the case at the camping ground in the Bois de Boulogne, where the - no effort - clause seems to be written into the employment contract!

Shopping filled the first part of the day for the ladies. Those of us with higher cultural sensitivity took in the Georges Pompidou Centre. The National Museum of Modern Art that is housed here may not be to everybody's taste, but the building alone is well worth a look. Seeming more like the inside of a building services well, with pipes, vents and ducts as the exterior walls, the centre is equally loved and hated by locals and visitors.

Climbing the Eiffel Tower is of course mandatory for any visitor to Paris. We dragged ourselves to the second level (which is as far as you can walk) and took the lift to the top. Free entertainment was as usual provided by Italian tourists who enjoy themselves so much and so overtly that all around them are constantly amused. This group of mostly women (of all ages!) giggled and squealed all the way up in our lift - they are a nation of clowns...

The views on a day like today are well worth the pain of the climb and the cost AUS$9. Despite the usual stories about outrageous prices in Paris, we have found costs no more than you might expect in similar venues at home. The record price we have paid for a beer by the way, is still held by the bar at the Brisbane International Airport - AUS$4.80!

Sunset from Montmartre with the Eiffel Tower, across the city, illuminated for Christmas and the New Year/Millenium is a sight never to be forgotten. Topping the day off with a quick walk up the Champs d'Elysees with its Christmas lights and the attendant crowds we again had to almost carry jetlagged-Liz back home for an early sleep!

24 December

Shopping was again on the agenda today. What else does one do in Paris??

Sundays is a reduced price day at the Louvre, so we had to queue for a short time to enter what is surely the largest collection of European art in the world. Far too much to take in in a day or even a week! We hit the tourist high spots, the Mona Lisa and Venus de Milo followed by a 'walk by' of most of the other rooms.

It was much warmer today 12-14C and the coats were a bit superfluous. Crowds had started to build by late afternoon sun for the Christmas Eve street parties in the Champs d'Elysees as we hit the Metro for a quiet evening beside the Seine in the Bois de Boulogne.

If one can express a personal (male) view of Paris - It has consistently marketed itself well and built a romantic aura around sights that in reality are no more or less attractive than half a dozen other European cities. It's a big city with big city 'buzz'. But I am always at a loss to see the 'magic' that supposedly separates Paris. Could the Paris and its image be in danger of becoming cliche?

The females of the party describe Paris as a city with a very efficient transport system, ATMs for cash and buying everything from Metro tickets to entries to museums, wide boulevards for strolling and looking at lights and sights, a huge Metro to "play on", certainly some cool shops, but more importantly, of beautiful buildings and a sense of history. Even the male person of the party was enraptured (proof in the previous day's entry) by the sight of sunset over Paris from Montmartre!!!

25 December

Christmas Day. Mass at Notre Dame was packed with several thousand people for an impressive ceremony (organ, choir, the works!) on what sadly has been the most miserable day weather wise we have had in 14 weeks! The temperature hovered around 2-3 most of the day and the rain was constant. A perfect day for a visit to the cemetery of Pere Lachaise. Hundreds of famous French men and women are buried here in what, especially on a day like today with cold rain and mist, is best described as Gothic Splendour!

Although not a Frenchman, Jim Morrison's grave seems to be the main attraction. Wedged in amongst eighteenth and nineteenth century family mausoleums, his simple black marble grave was covered in flowers and other strange offerings including half empty bottles of Coke? Devotees can also purchase Jim Morrison tribute T-shirts in the nearby shops.

Probably the most ghoulish tomb was that of a nineteenth century artist which featured a bronze torso, presumably the deceased, struggling out of the grave.

After a rather damp walk up Boulevard St Michel, we called it a day and retired to the warmth of our van. Having phoned greetings to those suffering in the sweltering heat of a tropical Christmas we three are holed up waiting to see whether our Christmas dinner will be yummy things in the rather classy camping grounds' restaurant or a less salubrious fare of tinned German sausages and sauerkraut in the ambience of our campervan, with drying clothes dangling in our faces!

The glumness of the weather has in no way dampened the spirits of the large Italian contingent in this camping grounds. Of the fifty to sixty vans here about half seem to be Italian. This morning an Italian Santa appeared, roaming the streets of the park with a small entourage of kids distributing lollies. As we write, another group have arrived in a huge van, and are amusing all with their antics as they attempt to park their vehicle in a space two cigarette papers longer than the van! Experts of course are in abundance. There is much pointing, gesturing, yelling and shouting. Children of all ages are darting in and out of the paths of the attendant masses and the women have retired to the back of the crowd under a huddle of umbrellas to have a 'bit of a chat!'. - A nation of likeable clowns!

26-27 December

With the local restaurant closed for Christmas we settled for a select arrangement of frozen cuisine from the exclusive Bois de Boulogne Camping Market! Crepes and Indian vegetables the packets said, but we are still not sure which was which? Never mind, it was Christmas dinner in Paris.

Our original intent was to see little or none of non-metropolitan France. As things have turned out, we have seen more than we did on previous trips. However, Boxing Day was a pure driving day. We hit the road at the civilised Parisian hour of 10.00am and after a non-eventful, though slightly 'lumpy', ferry trip, were well entrenched in Dover by 7.00pm... the odd snow flurry enlightening a rather dull trip.

The 27th was much of the same as we 'sped' across the UK motorways from Dover to South Wales to catch the next ferry to Ireland. Right! The M25, the London outer ring road, was a four lane parking lot for 50-60 miles (oh yes we still have miles in the UK). As the countryside of eastern England merged with the rural splendour of Wales, the M4 traffic managed a sedate crawl of about 60kms/hr.

Driving a left-hand drive vehicle on UK roads was not the challenge we expected, although roundabouts and turns into double-carriage roads are "interesting!!" The generally courteous British drivers and their amazingly tolerance of us, the foreigners, made for a safe and easy trip.

As much as we have enjoyed the diversity and 'differences' of the countries we have travelled through in the past few months, there is something truly reassuring about dealing with people who speak your language. Things such as the simple niceties of a chat with a customs officer about the climatic differences between Australia and the UK or being able to get exactly what you want when shopping, take a lot of the tension out of travel. In particular, the 'jolly chipper folk' of the camping fraternity in the UK are very welcoming.

Camp sites here have improved markedly in the past 13 years. On our last visit we were appalled at the poor standard of UK camping facilities in comparison to what we were used to at home. Things have come a long way. Heated shower blocks. No coin in the slot showers and clean grounds are among the most obvious improvements. In comparison with most grounds in Australia, the pendulum has swung heavily to the UK side.

Tomorrow we tackle the Irish Sea. Snow, sleet and freezing temperatures are forecast for tonight. We can hardly wait!

Ireland

28-29 December

A coolish morning with a heavy frost was all we could muster last night (28th). However, as we drove towards the Welsh port of Fishguard, it became evident that we had been in a rather sheltered spot. Snow and ice covered most roads. The village of Fishguard was a major surprise as a ferry harbour. Small and relatively untouched by the thousands of tourists and truckies that pass through, it has managed to retain the character of a small fishing port with little or no industry other than the small fishing boats that now, with the low tide, lie in the weak winter sun on the muddy bottom of the small harbour.

The Irish Sea was a pussy cat. Smooth as silk. Having enjoyed a very scary movie (What Lies Beneath) in the ship's cinema, we drove into an Irish night that was forecast to be the coldest in many years. With Dublin 150kms away over icy roads, we elected to 'tough it out' without heating in a closed camping grounds where they were happy for us to just park free for the night. By good luck rather than any management at all, we again managed to park in the only part of south eastern Ireland that didn't experience heavy snow and frost. Literally within metres of us, snow fell most of the night. Today, being inexperienced driving in such conditions we managed about 20kms per hour for most of today

Wicklow and Carlow Counties are, as near as we can determine, the ancestral home of the O'Neills. Cutting a very long story very short, the O'Neills seem to have experienced a slow decline in power and influence from a zenith in the eighth and ninth centuries to a rather ignominious series of migrations to the 'New World' at the end of the nineteenth century.

From their feudal strongholds in Northern Island the O'Neill Chieftains controlled most of Ireland by the late ninth century. Fleeing to avoid waves of invaders (again a gross simplification) the clans moved gradually south to Carlow and Wicklow. Avoiding mention of the English in the plight of the O'Neills and of virtually all other Irish families is unavoidable. Suffice to say, the lot of tenant farmers in rural Ireland was not a happy one.

file:/.

Records are patchy, many destroyed by the (not to be mentioned) English. But it seems that the branch of the clan that eventually migrated to Australia moved off the land and progressively closer to Dublin as the twentieth century approached. First to Newtown Mt.Kennedy and then to Mill Yard.

Light snow had frozen over by mid-morning as we struggled along the narrow country roads of County Wicklow in search of some tangible evidence of a past family presence. Shillelagh, Ferns, Tomacork and Kilquiggin were the focus of our first search. The graveyard at Tomacork bore little fruit with the exception of a very recent tombstone for Elizabeth O'Neill. Much to the horror of our Liz! Most of the older stones were weathered so badly that very little remained of the inscriptions. Interestingly, both this graveyard and the one we looked at in Shillelagh had Jordan monuments. Jordans are part of Janita's maternal ancestral line.

Research done last year by a Sean (John) O'Neill of Dublin for Mary De Jabrun (nee O'Neill), mentioned all these towns as past 'haunts' of the O'Neills and there are voluminous documents quoted in this work proving an O'Neill presence here. What we were seeking was something that we could see - most likely a grave -.

Shillelagh's Catholic Church was built in 1948 and the graves in the cemetery all post date this construction. The nearby Church of Ireland graveyard on the other hand has many nineteenth century monuments. Locals told us of a grotto close to the present site of the RC church that contained many hundreds of now unmarked Catholic graves. (Da English are to blame!) - (Site not visited) This advice also indicated that most Catholic burials in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries were either at Tomacork or Kilquiggin, not Shillelagh. We were directed to an old graveyard at Kilquiggin that was reputed to have graves over 200 years old. Hours of searching under rapidly darkening skies bore no fruit. We will return!

30 December

"Dis is not da scheduled run" the driver said as he pulled up outside our snow-covered campsite in the suburbs of Dublin. "But if you are off to da city, I'll drop ya in dere". The open top double-decker city tour bus was freezing. Unthawed snow and ice lay in the aisles and the windows were covered with ice - on the inside! But who knocks back a free ride in a strange city?

The sky was the sort of clear blue that means that the temperature you started the day with was about the best it would get. Today that was -3C. And that's all it got to in the brilliant sunshine of the coldest Dublin day since 1982.

'Paddy' - name supplied to protect the innocent - our driver, not only provided a free ride but also free entertainment. His usual bus had broken down and this one was a replacement from the depot. 'Two hours dis motor's been runnin' and da heaters still frozz..' 'Oh God, Oh God, da ice is still dere after two hours!!'.. 'See dat?.. da frozen fog .. oh God.. Oh God da freezin’ fog... "Oh God its freezin'.. 'five hours of dis to go!.. Oh God...' Rugged up with everything we had we were comparatively warm, but Paddy seemed to have come to work expecting his normal coach. He was somewhat under-dressed.

Aside from the historical importance of the GPO in O'Connell Street, Trinity College and the most important sacred site of the Guinness brewery, central Dublin has few real attractions. But it does have pubs and characters on every corner. We elected to dine in our namesake's pub. O'Neill's provides a fine line in counter lunches, with Guinness, of course, to wash it down.

31 December 2000- 1 January 2001

Missed last night for fairly obvious reasons!

Rain and a steep rise in temperature melted all the snow overnight on the 30th. Although the locals were overjoyed to see the end of the cold snap, we would much rather the cold, snow and the crystal clear skies that prevailed during the day to the howling wind and driving rain that followed.

We had no more success tracking down the old cemetery that we were told about by locals in Shillelagh. The poor weather was no help and we abandoned our search in favour of easier prey - the village of Avoca, where the Ballykissangel TV series is filmed. Nestled into the side of a hill, the small mining village has real charm that has been only slightly spoilt by the blight of commercial tourism. We sat in the bar with a pint (of course), surrounded by photos of cast members and assorted visitors and locals, just waiting for Quigley, Peter, Assumpta, Orla or Sean to walk through the door. (Apologies to the uninititiated.)

Warmer weather encouraged revellers into the city last night for New Year's celebrations. We jumped a bus after a long wait in driving rain, looking forward to seeing in the first year of the new century. However, in a very 'Irish' move, the buses only operated for the early part of the night. Concerned about being trapped in the city with no transport, we jumped a taxi about 11.00pm and headed home.

Campers in England and Ireland are particularly 'jolly' people. On our return, such a jolly crew of Irish folk welcomed us to their celebrations in the camping ground's common area. All, including ourselves, had a great time.

Rising a little later this morning, it was almost midday by the time we arrived in town. The city was a little the worse for wear from the previous night's activities. Litter and the odd 'lost soul' floated through the streets.

To kill the afternoon we headed to the zoo, unaware that Dublin Zoo is one of the best in the world. Modern animal management principles have been applied in an environment where both the animals and the public get the best possible treatment. Natural environments have been established for most animals with free access by the animals to 'interface areas' where they are only separated from the public by large windows. Most of the inhabitants seem to have adjusted well to human attention and happily present themselves. Mind you the low temperatures over the last few days may well have contributed to their willingness to frequent the heated 'interface areas'. An excellent experience!

2 January

Newgrange and the area around it in County Meath, just to the north of Dublin were home to a civilization that constructed monuments that pre-date Stonehenge by 1000 years and the Pyramids by 500 years. The valley of the Boyne River where Neolithic tribes constructed their grave mounds is perhaps better known as the site of the battle in 1690 between William III and James II which resulted in the loss of Ireland to the English.

Over fifty ancient 'passage tombs' similar to Newgrange dot the nearby valley. Newgrange's importance derives from the astronomical aspect of its construction. During the winter solstice, for 5 days around 21 December, the rising sun penetrates the tomb passage through a roof box built into the door of the tomb. The real significance of this for the people of the time is of course lost to us. But what is important is the precision with which these ancient architects calculated the alignment of this entrance.

Management of the site is superb. A visitors' centre sited a kilometer or so from the site provides interesting displays and audio-visual presentations about the tombs and the Neolithic tribes that constructed them. Visitors are taken by a shuttle bus to meet tour guides who escort groups of up to 25 at a time over the site.

Ruined castles, abbeys and round towers abound in the Boyne valley, often standing in unrestored splendour in open fields or incorporated into other ancient structures. Each has its story, half myth, half fact?? The hill of Slane for example is reputedly the site of a monastery established by St Patrick. The story goes that old 'St Pat' lit a huge Paschal fire on the top of the hill in 433 as a challenge to the pagan King of Ireland whose capital was atop Tara, some ten miles away. Legend has it that the King saw the fire and the support of the people for the new religion and while he himself never converted, he did not persecute those who did.

Slane, like many monuments in the area is thankfully in a totally unrestored state and so has an 'aura' of the past which well-intentioned restorations have removed at some other historical sites. It is possible to struggle to the top of the old monastery tower which on a good day we are told provides not only a clear view of Tara but also of the sea to the east.

Pubs are of course as much part of the attraction of Ireland at its ancient monuments and culture. We have tried our hardest to visit as many of these national institutions as we can manage. Tonight we are off to town again to meet a distant cousin for a 'few'. Public transport in Dublin, at least in our area, leaves a bit to be desired. Infrequent and unreliable services are not sufficiently compensated by the genuinely pleasant and helpful attitude of the drivers. Standing in driving rain or snow waiting for a bus, without the benefit of a shelter, is simply primitive! We are therefore depending on our host for a lift tonight rather than another long cold wait and longer bus ride.

3 January

Left Dublin this morning in weak sunlight and a stiffening breeze. Unfortunately, within minutes, our path south took us into showers with only very scattered periods of sun

Kilkenny, the place, not the much-loved Irish stout, is a bustling small city dominated by Kilkenny Castle, the ancestral seat of the Lords of Ormonde. The association of the family with the city has spanned more than 600 years up until the present. The family's name, Butler, seems to have been derived from the exalted position of 'Lord High Butler' which was held by the first Lord Ormonde in the 12th Century. Interestingly, we have always considered Ormonde to be a Scottish name, as it was the Christian name of Janita's father!!!!

St Canice's Cathedral, Kilkenny, contains some of the tombs of the Butlers and an interesting listing of the Lords of the Manor through to the present day. Some 'sticky ends' befell the poor Lords of Ormonde. One poor unfortunate found himself on the wrong side in one of the many tussles between the English Crown and its citizens and lost his head at Newcastle-on-Tyne. Another never returned from the Crusades and is buried somewhere in Jerusalem. A couple did achieve sufficient notoriety to be buried in Westminister Abbey. We'll look for them there in a couple of weeks.

Lizzie has been generally unimpressed with our interest in graveyards and funereal inscriptions in medieval cathedrals. A grand monument celebrating the death of a local luminary, 'on his way' to a battle in 1797, did however take her fancy!

Kilkenny, believe it or not, has a Guinness brewery. It must be the only such establishment in the world to boast its own ruined abbey. The Abbey of St Francis is situated in the carpark of the maker of the much revered 'black stuff'. It gives a whole new meaning to 'going to church' doesn't it?

4 January

Samuel Grubb is probably one of Ireland's lesser known eccentrics. On his death in 1921, his wish to be buried standing upright above ground with a full view of his beloved "Vee" was honoured. Today his burial cairn stands high above the road that winds through this picturesque valley. From the heights of the hills surrounding the valley, he overlooks a seemingly endless quilt of patchwork fields and hedgerows rolling on to the horizon.

The Lords of Ormonde, of Castle Kilkenny fame (the town not the beer!), held a number of castles and strongholds in the county over the period of more than half a millenium. Cahir Castle, 30 kms from the family seat in Kilkenny, was the scene of one of the less glorious events in the family's history. In a renegade act, one of the 'brothers Ormonde' vacillated between loyalty to his Anglo-Norman heritage and alliances formed over generations with local Irish Chieftains such as the O'Neills and the O'Donnells. In a famous siege during the 16th Century, he sided with the Irish and his castle, after a siege of only 3 days, fell to the forces of Elizabeth I, under the command of Lord Essex.

The major loser in this campaign was not however the lesser Lord Ormonde. Angered by Essex's inability to bring a swift solution to the 'Irish Problem', Elizabeth had Essex beheaded in the Tower of London - an act that, due to the incompetence of the executioner, was a little more painful than usual. He missed on the first blow, sinking the axe into the unfortunate Lord's shoulder. The second strike also missed the mark, but the third delivered the head of the once-favoured Essex to the crowd.

Reading the detailed accounts of the siege and then walking around the castle is the sort of thing that most history buffs dream of. For example, the assumption that geographical features remain constant over time very rarely holds true. In this case, the river that now flows some 50 meters from the castle walls in fact formed a significant moat directly below the battlements in the 16th century. Details.. details.. details...

Coincidence and/or chance are fine, but finding what is more than likely the grave of a direct ancestor while wandering about in a major tourist attractions is beyond the odds! Buried behind the ruined cathedral on the Rock of Cashel is one 'Michael Devitt' whose wife (also interred) was a Duggan. The Duggans are first cousins of Janita's grandmother and the Devitts are maternal relatives of the same branch of the family. Janita's grandmother's brother had the 'family name', Devitt, as his second name. We wonder?/ Just too much coincidence?

'The Rock' was in full winter splendour as the mid-afternoon sun cast a golden hue on the ruins and illuminated the green fields. Home to the Bishopric of Cashel from the 12th Century, this fortress cathedral, perched high on a limestone outcrop, was occupied through to the latter part of the 18th century before it was abandoned, some say simply because it was built in such a miserably cold, wind-swept position!

Aside from all this excitement, today was the best weather wise we have had so far in Ireland. We saw the beautiful valley of the Vee without fog or cloud, which is apparently rare, and as the day progressed the sun shone brightly and the sky cleared as we visited Cahir Castle. Later in the afternoon the Rock of Cashel loomed in the kind of light that sends photographers into a frenzy.

A stroll down to the village pub before dinner was pleasant but quiet as the locals don't "hit" until 9:30 or so. Where do they get their stamina?

Ireland 2

5 January

Modern Ireland is known as the Celtic Tiger of the EC. 'To be sure' the pace of the island's development is obvious everywhere. However, the quaintness that has always typified the country is still there in abundance.

Irish logic is just a little different from the norm. Yet it is indisputably still logical.

The language itself abounds in wonderful reconstructions of the English language that hopefully will not be lost under the weight of the common Americanised English that is slowly pervading all languages. For example, "Ah! It's yourself and you'll just be after wanting a drink", translates perfectly to "Hi. I expect you want a drink?" and "If you go back da way ya came and dis time turn right" means "Take the first left".

Road signs in the country still befuddle and confuse the uninitiated. Imagine confronting a narrow country crossroad where three of the alternatives facing you lead to the place you are seeking! What's worse is when one of the alternatives is the direction you have just come from. Be sure though that all the roads will eventually get you to your destination. But more than likely in vastly varying times.

Having visited Blarney Castle today, the above reflections are probably most apt.

Heavy fog dogged us most of the morning, but by the time we reached Cork, the inevitable blue sky awaited us. People keep asking us why we bother visiting Ireland this time of the year. Every time so far we have been able to say that it’s 'great days like today that make it for us.' The answer is always a bit 'Hanrahanish'. 'Ah but you should have been here yesterday, it was wet and miserable'.......?

6 January

County Cork has been associated with two of the major maritime disasters of the 20th century. The Titanic's last port of call was the harbour town of Cobh, today a suburb of Cork City. The Lucitania was sunk by German submarines off the Irish coast between Cobh and Kinsale.

Today the village of Cobh is a quiet backwater in the new (very large) port of Cork. In fact, the unkind might say that it is little wonder the Titanic never came back - there is not a lot going on in Cobh...

We seem to be getting into the swing of this 'Irish thing..' On another beautiful day with mostly bright sunshine and warmish 10-12C we managed a quiet bit of shopping in downtown Cork - a pleasant city of wide, tree-lined and 18th century house fronted streets, a leisurely drive to Cobh and a quick visit to the very interesting and well-presented Old Cork Jail. And believe it or not, not a single Irish publican got a sniff of our hard earned punt!

7 January

'Dere's no loonie like a Irish Loonie, and I should know!' (Spike Milligan).

Even though the legendary Goon was in fact born in India, he seems to have got it right! On the road from the picture -perfect seaport of Kinsale to Inishannon a group of true hardcore Irish loonies were out in the warm winter sun engaged in what they informed us is the very serious sport of 'Road Bowling'.

With very official looking warning signs displayed, 15-20 of 'da lads' were throwing a metal ball down the winding country road. Rules of Road Bowling are simple and similar to golf. The way it works is that the players and their supporters (there are many more supporters and advisers than players) hike off from the Pub at the bottom of the hill for about 2 kms. At the "T" the first player bowls the ball under-arm, down the road. After highly technical and always contradictory advice from supporters, the small group of specially trained 'bowlers' hurl the bowls down the road. Bends and the camber, all bring a special subtlety to the game, or so the players claim. At the end of the day, the team that takes the least number of throws to reach - yes you guessed it - the Pub, wins.

A bit further on, we hit a bit of a traffic jam around a nondescript country intersection. Hundreds of people were flocking to an open boggy field where a number of tractors were lined up. Always assuming the prevalence of the normal we assured ourselves that all we had come upon was a 'farmer's field day'. Further up the road the real secret was revealed. What we had observed was a ploughing competition! - Give them a bit of good weather and there is no limit to what the Irish will do to amuse themselves outdoors!

8 -11 January

Irish hospitality is to be blamed for the major lapse in discipline in maintaining our diary over the past few days!

County Kerry markets itself as a 'sub-tropical' paradise. Having lived in the sub-tropics and tropics all our lives, our expectations of a sub-tropical winter have been somewhat dashed in the beautiful south-west. Granted, the amount of sunlight and blue sky is well up to and even beyond our expectations, but the temperature is far from sub-tropical! Maximums of 7-8C are the best we have had over the past few days. However with the blue sky and sun it has been extremely pleasant.

In Tralee, we visited Sally and Mark Smith at their recently sold nursery just outside town. Sally and her girlfriend had visited the O'Neill family frequently during a four year stay in Australia in the mid 60s. Our arrival without warning after 'only' 35 years was somewhat of a thrill all round.

Irish hospitality is simply overwhelming! To say no to anything on offer is so difficult it becomes impossible. Consequently we have given in totally and spent the last few days with the Smiths and the Bowlers (Eammon and Joan). The Bowlers have no connection with us except that their nephew is soon to join the O'Neill clan through marriage. Nevertheless, one phone call had us welcomed into their home above their successful supermarket in the small Kerry town of Cahirsiveen.

With Cahirsiveen and Tralee as bases we were at leisure to explore the Dingle peninsula and the famed Ring of Kerry. Both were splendid in the 'scattered bright sunlight' - an Irish weather bureau term -. However, in our view, the Dingle peninsula is under-rated in comparison to the Ring.

One disappointing feature of both areas, and probably Ireland as a whole, is the loss of character that rapid development is bringing all over the island. Thatched cottages are so rare now that most are restaurants or craft cottages. Derelict stone cottages stand in the fields everywhere, but few are being renovated to maintain the character of the landscape. Instead, new houses are growing like mushrooms all over the country.

Some traditional industries still survive. Peat cutting in the lowland 'Bogs' has provided fuel for thousands of years in Ireland. Peat can be best described as 'early cut' coal. Formed over millions of years, the bogs contain decomposed forests that when cut and dried, provide a relatively clean and very accessible fuel for the fires that have always been needed in the Irish winter. Today tractors cut the peat. But only forty years ago, this was a manual exercise using specially shaped shovels. Ponies hauled the peat to the road for collection and whole villages depended on this as their only fuel for cooking and heating.

Tonight we are in a beach carpark outside Galway - and yes we did see the 'sun go down over Galway Bay'!

12 - 13 January

'Poking about' best describes what we have been up to over the past couple of days. With fairly mild clear days, we have looked around Galway, driven the coast around the spectacular Cliffs of Moher in County Clare where Janita's ancestors came from and had a quick look at Limerick.

Having English language radio after so many months has put us back in contact with the world. At the same time it has opened a window on the Irish way of life that has often had us in stitches. Accents aside, Irish radio is a hoot! Every talk-back caller sounds like a character in a comedy sketch. Common names like Seamus, Sean, Paddy and Michael add to the effect. Gerry Ryan is one of the local household names in talk-back. With much the same techniques as purveyors of this art all over the world, Gerry draws the most amazing characters. In one sequence, a caller called to complain about the local communications provider 'Eirecom', who he believed was using his home phone account to test all the faulty lines in the country. Callers jammed the lines with more and more outrageous stories of the underhanded business practices of the telecom giant. Including one who was observing one of the offending operatives in her very street. As she described the clandestine 'phone-tapping', Gerry maintained a serious mood, playing out every shred of 'big brother' paranoia! - Great radio! and so Irish.

Our laid back attitude to the serious business of travel only seems to have come upon us in Ireland. Is it that we have finally settled into the groove after four months on the road or is it the ease of travelling in this wonderful country? The latter is probably the main cause. Although one feature that may not have contributed to our current relaxed mode is the roads! Granted, much effort seems to be going into upgrading major trunk roads. But! most country roads are in an atrocious state. Potholes that are well up to Romanian standards, poor signage and narrow, narrow roads that are not coping at all well with the traffic demand, are the norm away from the main highways.

We visited Bunratty Castle outside Limerick today (13 th). It was a bit of a mixed bag. The castle itself is very small and while well restored and presented, it lacks the scale and grandeur of many others we have seen. The attached heritage village on the other hand was great. A full village street and accompanying cottages are presented down to the most minute detail, including peat fires.

After a quick drive on a most pleasant sunny day, we are back in Dublin tonight preparing for our ferry trip back to the UK on Monday morning.

14 January

Drove into central Dublin today and parked for most of the day just behind Trinity College. The city was very sunny, but bright sun and clear blue skies were a portent of another freezing night. Having seen the Book of Kells - it's only a book after all! - we had time to kill before meeting a prospective in-law, the aunt of our soon to be Irish brother-in-law.

By chance we were parked around the corner from the Irish National Museum so we wandered around to fill in the afternoon. What a surprise. This has to be the best free attraction in Dublin. Interesting displays featuring the tumult that has been recent Irish history and an extensive Viking history exposition kept us busy for a couple of hours.

After a beer and a pleasant chat with our soon to be 'aunty Patsy', we headed for the 'salubrious' Dublin docks, our home for the night while we awaited our early morning departure for Holyhead in Wales. Remember the fact that we were heading for WALES. It will be important later....

15 - 16 January

Without heating (no power) we expected a very uncomfortable night on the Stena Line dock as we waited with the ever-present 'lorries'. The micro-climate effect of the proximity of the sea and the large concentration of industry and 'tarmac' kept the inside temperature at a respectable 5C. A lot better than the -5C that we had expected!

According to conversations that we overheard on the ferry, the day was a one in a hundred experience. As we left the Port of Dublin the more hearty of us, a score or so, strolled the decks in the sun enjoying a not oft repeated view of the city and its hinterland. The trip was a very slow one (3 1/2 hours) as the usual service, the HSS Superfast ferry was undergoing a winter refit.

The Irish sea has a very bad reputation, but today, as it was when we came to Ireland, it was on its best behaviour. Without a word of a lie a '12ft tinnie' could have made the trip on the billiard table seas. The anti-seasickness tablets we had bought for Lizzie, our not-so-happy sailor, were superfluous.

Approaching the coast, the views were something that had to be shared, so Paul ducked below to inform the female members of the party that they should go up on deck " 'cause you could see Wales." Only the more spirited, and senior of the two was sufficiently excited to leave the warm lounge. Some minutes later she returned wanting to know which side I saw THE whales, because she couldn't see THEM at all! It is important to realise at this juncture that this was just after midday and well before 'officially sanctioned serious drinking time!'

After overnighting in a very pleasant caravan park on the outskirts of Birmingham, we joined the heavy flow of motorway traffic and thundered on to London on the sunny but icy M40. A quick afternoon bus trip to town and a walk up Regent Street was all we could fit in on this very cold afternoon.

Stars fill the clear sky tonight. For once however this is not terribly good news. Weather forecasters tell us that a large very cold air mass has settled over the UK. We expect -5C tonight, but with our trusty fan heater we will be snug!

UK 2

17 - 18 January

Crystal Palace Caravan Park is on the site of the old 'Crystal Palace', a glass and steel Exhibition Hall built in Hyde Park for the 1851 London Exposition. In 1854 the building was transported to the (then) outskirts of the city and rebuilt in the area now known as Crystal Palace. Sadly the 'Palace' was destroyed by fire in 1936. Today, Crystal Palace is an inner-middle London suburb.

Ten years ago, the journey out here would have been somewhat dangerous as the bus passes through Brixton, the scene of violent race riots. Today the whole south-east is mainly West Indian. Much of the housing is 'Council Estates' (public housing) but it seems fairly well maintained and rebuilding is going on everywhere, and public signs refer to making the area safer through "Neighborhood Watch" type schemes and video surveillance. After the racial homogeny of most European cities, London's 'melting-pot' is refreshingly different.

Twelve million tourists visit London every year. As the biggest city in Europe with 8-12 million people, depending where you stop counting, London takes this invasion in its stride. Even in the depths of winter, a cacophony of languages fill the streets. We all come to see a fairly standard set of attractions, the Tower, Westminster Abbey, the theatres, the shops, pubs, museums and galleries. They are all great and whatever your interest there is never enough time in London!

London is such a well-known city that it would be pointless to try to describe all the above. Suffice to say that over the almost quarter of a century since we first visited the city, it has continued to interest, captivate and excite us. There is always something new or a new slant on something old. At the Imperial War Museum for example a 'Blitz Experience' and a '1940s House' have been added to the extensive collection of war memorabilia from Britain and the Commonwealth.

A neighborhood air raid shelter has been constructed within the museum. Visitors enter the darkened shelter to the wail of the sirens. Recorded conversations capture the drama of the times as the bombs fall all around. When the all clear is sounded we exit into a simulated bombed-out London street. - Chillingly realistic and probably a very difficult experience for those who actually lived through the war years in London.

To our pleasure, the London house of the 1940s was much the same as our own house which we have attempted to maintain in the 30-40s style. A major TV series has been made around an English family who lived in this house (the English one, not ours!) and experienced a total 1940s lifestyle for some months.

We have commented previously on the numbers of European school children who visit important monuments and museums. England is no different. While they are far more boisterous than most other groups of kids we have encountered, the British education system seems to promote in them an understanding of history and culture to much the same extent as their continental neighbors. We overheard teachers speaking to their (primary) students of the Blitz and of Hitler's invasion of Poland. If we did the same, our students in Australia would rebel... What's that got do do with us? What year? Our students - probably as the result of our system, and the relative youth of our country - do not have the same appreciation of history and the global effects of historical events.

The weather -- a constant source of discussion -- has been pleasantly cool, sunny and clear the last few days with minimums of -4 and maximums of +4 centigrade. Hard frosts in the morning and the freezing fogs tell us that it is cold, but the electric heater in the van and the Drizabones on top of our normal winter gear (plus tights and spencers for the girlie crew) have made winter bearable -- in fact enjoyable -- for us -- especially after the sometimes unseasonable heat of Eastern and Southern Europe.

London is reputedly the most expensive city in the world. Believe it! Forget all the stories about Paris, Rome and the rest. They are actually fairly reasonable. London is outrageous. On the 'beer standard', London almost doubles its nearest rival, Paris. A 500ml can of beer in London will cost you UKP 1.20. In Australian dollars, $2.80. In Germany, the same can would cost AUS$.70! In Paris AUS$1.50. A trip on the Underground, inner zone will set you back UKP 1.50 (AUS$3.90). On the Paris Metro a similar trip is 5.4FF, about AUS$1.25 If you can escape with a couple of sandwiches for lunch for less than AUS$14 you must have stolen one of them!

Fuel prices have dropped dramatically in the last month. Even so, one litre of diesel is 81p ($AUS 2.20). .... Oh well if you don't want to pay, don't stay.....

In a couple of days we will be on the ferry to Holland.

19 - 21 January

Only a few days remain of our 'great adventure'. Having left London for the third time without seeing all we wanted, we have a good excuse to come back.

Tonight we are camped on Harwich Docks in preparation for the last of our six major ferry trips, from Harwich to the Hook of Holland. It is Sunday evening (we think?) and our van has to be returned to the agency in Amsterdam on Wednesday. We fly out for Singapore and home on Thursday.

Holland - Singapore Home!

22 January

Ferry crossings were fairly much a non-event for us at this stage so the thought of a three and a half hour trip was seen as fairly 'ho..hum'.

Wrong again! This was SOME ferry! Constructed in Finland, the HSS boasts a Casino, three restaurants, two movie theatres, a McDonalds (of course) and a full wall composite-video screen playing music videos. Belting along at near 30 knots on a billiard table sea, the feel was more like an airliner than a boat.

23 January

Back in Holland the 'Legoland' landscape of the 'countryside' - mostly the suburbs of Den Hague and Amsterdam - was covered in snow. Our last nights in the van were in the fairly grotty inner city Camping Zeeburg.

Amsterdam is much the same as we remembered it from previous visits - in a word - sleazy! The contrast between the city and the rest of Holland is staggering. Rubbish fills the streets; public transport is chaotic; 'Big City' indifference abounds and "window-shopping" for "girls" is still the norm – at any hour of the night – or day!!

One bright spot was that we had returned to the land of cheap beer prices!

24 January

Returning the Van to the company office in central Amsterdam it was interesting to compare our ability to navigate and drive in big city traffic. After four and a half months we think we finally 'nailed it'!

We cannot speak highly enough of Braitman and Woudenburg the company from which we rented the van. Their service from day one (almost 18 months ago) to the handing back of the van was impeccable. While the van itself was a little old in comparison to others we saw, it was reliable and comfortable.

This is still the ONLY way to travel!!!

Amsterdam Central station is one of the biggest in Europe. Where else would we spend our last night but in the Ibis Hotel with a close-up view of the platforms! Given the places we have stayed over the last few months we probably couldn't have slept without the constant train noise.

25 – 27 January

If you can't stand the heat don't even go in the kitchen!…

Long distance flights are never a picnic. After such a long time on the road our return flight could have been complete hell. After three trips to Europe we were ready for the worst. However, with the benefit of a four hour sleep in Singapore on the way home and access to more than a dozen movies on the flight, we survived fairly comfortably.

Home alone at 6.15 AM Brisbane time, by choice, we jumped a Yellow. (our devoted children HAD offered to collect us, but we suspected the hour would not find any of them at their best),

What more can you say?… The greatest adventure of our lives (so far!) was over…

Where to next?

Paul & Janita O’Neill

Friday, January 20, 2023