Tim and Liz in Europe

Back to Reality

OK, so it took me almost two weeks to update the website to say we were home - there's been lots happening! Celebrating my brother Peter's wedding, trying to organise a bedroom, computers, cycling around our new old world and of course meeting up with people.
I know we are still missing a week in France and Belgium back there, that will come soon, as will a tidy up of a lot of things. I'm not sure what will happen with all of this, I'd like to put together a DVD version with more photos and a better interface. Soon. Maybe.
Note also the new Tree-View in the Journal Archives. It's not finished yet but you can play around with it.

But besides that, the Europe 2002/2003 trip has drawn to a close. I'll continue ranting and raving over here, so update your bookmarks accordingly if you are interested. For my first entry, I've started with some excitement about how we were about twenty metres away from up to fifty shots fired and the surrounding chaos with friends yesterday.
We travel around the world for fifteen months with no (safety) problems whatsoever and the first pub we go to back home we have to run away from mad shooters.

Touchdown!

After getting up very early to get ourselves on the road, squeezing four people and all our baggage into Meaghan's little Corsa/Barina, we were on the road. It wasn't long before we were glad of our decision to leave so early - a five car pileup on the M1 and then standard Monday-morning traffic on the M25. The trip was about two hours, after which we bid Meaghan and Dave a farewell for at least a year (at this stage!), thanking them for making our last journey to Heathrow so much easier.
Not much later, we had boarding cards all the way to Sydney (a good thing - I was a little aprehensive that we might have problems with our tickets, since they had come to us from a non-conventional travel agent cheapestflights.co.uk, but I needn't have worried. Similarly for our concerns about getting all our baggage on the plane - both our cases were about the 5kg-over-regulation 25kg we were told we could take, and our excessive hand luggage was professionally ignored. It was all easy from here!
No stamps out of the country for us, and before we knew it we were killing time in departures, spending up the pounds (Liz predictably bought a giant Toblerone, quite a tradition now) and euros (breakfast at an Irish pub there) we couldn't change. The gate appeared and we were off to do some more waiting.
The first flight was no drama other than quite a bit of turbulance. Singapore Airlines amazed us as always, doing their level best to make the long flight go faster with excellent service and plenty of gizmos to play with.
We didn't get much sleep, and by the time we had to get off and change planes in Singapore it was starting to catch up with us. My memory of the free wireless proved hazy, so we just sat for a bit, also amusing ourselves on the moving walkways. Two hours after our first touchdown, and we were ready to board our final flight before home!
It wasn't going to be quite that easy, as an announcement came over the speaker for a doctor to come to the desk asap. Liz is close enough when there is an emergency, so off she dashed. It turned out that an old lady had over-done it and had perhaps suffered a stroke. As always, Liz handled the situation amazingly well and calmed the poor dear down while we awaited the airport doctors' arrival.
We were the last two on the plane (they had held it for us), and after removing the old lady's baggage we were ready for take-off. The second flight was much faster (catching the wind which blows west-east across Australia), and much smoother. No sleep came here either, but after another great flight we were back in Sydney!!! What a strange concept.
Being the good citizens we are, we declared lots of wood and food we were carrying (no problems at all there), and walked out of the terminal building to a huge crowd of people. The smaller but still impressive group of our friends and family who had come to meet us was an amazing sight to see - fifteen months earlier we had left them from not far from here at all, and now after seeing so much we were home.

Last Full Day on This Side of the World

Perhaps our longest sleep-in this entire trip came today, finally dragging ourselves out of bed about 1pm. Meaghan seemed to be doing the worst of all from the excesses of the previous night, but a big fry-up breakfast soon put everything right.
Besides convincing them all to pose for a photo, not really much was done today. A few trips out here and there for supplies, Dave had to work, some TV got watched, and Liz and I caught up with journal.
Now we just have to finish packing our suitcases and hope and pray that they aren't overweight (or at least Singapore Airlines choose not to bother us about it if they are), and order in a pizza for the night.

It's funny that the whole trip is finally coming to an end - the emotions are a mix of sadness, disbelief and nervous excitement that we will return to the 'real world' for quite a while at least. Can't complain for a second - we've had a fantastic trip that we look forward to telling you all about (if you want to hear it, that is!). And of course there is plenty more of the world to see yet.
If there is as I seem to remember wireless net access in Singapore I'll put an update online from there, otherwise see you all in Sydney!

Flight Details: Tomorrow we leave here about 5:30am to get to Heathrow for the 11am SQ317 flight to Singapore, arriving 07:40 local time 25/11. After a two hour stop-over, we actually make it to Sydney on SQ219 at 8:15pm on Tuesday the 25th. Feel free to drop down to Kingsford Smith and say hello! We'd love to see as many faces as possible, of course!

Australia Falls to the Poms

We were all up early, Liz, Meaghan and I keen to show Dave (who is English) that the Aussies were going to clobber those pesky Poms in the Rugby World Cup Final. We donned jerseys, hoisted flags and headed into the big Weatherspoon's pub in central Milton Keynes in Meaghan's new car.
Shunning all reasoning, we got a few pints and sat down to watch the 9am kick off. Myself and the two girls were pretty much the only Aussie supporters there, against a crowd of the 'barmy army' in red and white. This didn't stop us from cheering loudly, but everyone was good sports about it.
As Jonny put that final kick over, we knew our vocals would come back to haunt us, but we just had friendly handshakes with the supporters, conceding that England had been the better team on the day, it was a fantastic game, and that the poms deserved to win. Oh well, we only have to be in the country for a couple more days to deal with the constant phone calls and text messages from English friends keen to rub it in!
The next thing after all that early-morning drinking and some post-match chatter was some food, and Meaghan and Dave led us to one of the pubs near the Snow Dome (one of the stranger things to find in a place such as Milton Keynes). We ate a great hearty meal before heading back to their place.
It wasn't too suprising that we ended up sleeping for most of the afternoon, which worked out well actually as we were heading back into town for a big bender for the night. A taxi drove us in, and after being sniffed by a sniffer dog and given the seal of approval, we were let into the noisy Lloyds bar. Plenty of Meaghan and Dave's friends were on hand to chat to, but overall the place was too packed and over-noisy to get much chatting done with heads more than one foot apart.
We set off about 1am to find a cab back to their place and crash for the evening.

Milton Keynes Again

(Continued from London 4)
We eventually found our way into Milton Keynes, through most of the 138 roundabouts, on the phone to Meaghan as she gave us directions to their incredibly hard to locate new house. The directions I had printed out from Multimap were basically useless, but eventually we were there.
Their place is a nice little open-plan two-story house, plenty big enough for the two of them and in a nice quiet street.
After dragging our bags inside, and of course a cup of tea, Peter went off with Dave in search of accommodation for the night. Dinner came in the form of a great pasta and salad, after which we spent the night chatting on various topics from travel and sport through to politics, and of course language differences between English and Australian.

Final Farnborough Frolic

It was time to battle the London traffic for the final time, Peter expertly piloted his new Peugeot 307, which he calls "Son of Percy". He purchased it from the same place we obtained Percy from after being impressed with the original Percy. This one is of course newer and better, with enough buttons to keep the driver occupied for years to come.
Our first stop was Farnborough, where Peter and Liz's mother Margaret were brought up. We drove up Starts Hill Avenue to look at the house and around the area in general. There is far more traffic and traffic lights of course, but not a lot has changed with the house itself.
Next it was on to the cemetery where Peter's parents (and hence Liz's grandparents) are buried. There are plans afoot for a new memorial plaque, but that won't be organised for quite a while, so we braved the rain to have a look around before deciding to move on.
It was of course Peter's birthday! So, a celebration was called for, and the venue was to be none other than the Change of Horses, our favourite Farnborough-ish pub. We had lunch there, our shout for Peter, and I just had to order one final serving of spotted dick (photographed here with Liz and Peter) before we left the country. Liz and I gave him a Swiss Card for his birthday, purchased of course on our way through Switzerland.
Back on the road, we battled south London traffic to get across to Pearly, where Margaret Knight lives, a friend of Peter and Margaret from way back. We had visited her with Margaret quite a while ago, but arrived a little too early this time. We went for a walk up on "the common", meaning a grassy reserve. In this case it was up on the hill, and a wonderful reminder of how beautiful London can be on the outskirts, complete with fog and drizzle. Wonderful.
After a bit of a walk through this area, excellently preserved from development by the Corporation of London, we went back to Margaret's house to find she was now there. We didn't have a long time to stay around, but a cup of tea and a chat, getting her up to date with at least some of our travels since we last met worked out well.
We wanted to get moving, as we had to get through rush our traffic up to Milton Keynes to stay with Meaghan and for the night. As it turned out, the traffic on the M25 and then the A1 was horrific, the journey taking several hours. We sat and listened to the radio to all sorts of characters ringing in with their opinions about the two news headlines - George Bush's visit to Tony Blair's local pub where he ate Fish, Chips and Mushy peas. The town had its usual population of 1500 swelled to 3000 just with security staff and media for this event. The locals were amazed as they told tales of how Bush had said the place was nice and other assorted small-talk.
The next story of course was the impending Rugby World Cup final, where the excitement was reaching fever pitch. The next morning we would see how it all played out.
During this, we drove onwards to Milton Keynes.

Meeting Peter, Les Mis�rables

Midway through the day, after Liz and I had done some serious packing and organising of our luggage (so much to sort through!), a knock on the door heraled the arrival of Peter, Liz's uncle who we stayed with so much up in Carlisle.
He was down to say a last goodbye for a couple of nights before Liz and I head off, and also to see some sights with us around London.
After Les and Pearl provided plenty of cups of tea, we borrowed Peter and his new car for a drive into Hornchurch to post lots of things back to Oz. A little while later, we had 20kg of books and things packed into two boxes on their way back to Oz. One is going airmail so it may actually beat us home!
Peter found us a nice pub in the main road for lunch, where we ate a hearty lunch with a couple of ales before heading back to Les and Pearl's for the afternoon.
A little later, Peter mentioned that he would like to treat Liz and I to a night in a West End theatre! Not ones to complain at such ideas, we grabbed the papers and set out to find something we all wanted to see.
It didn't prove too difficult for Liz and I to come to the conclusion that the one thing we really wanted to see that we hadn't was Les Mis�rables, showing at the Palace Theatre. Peter approved of the idea (he'd seen it before, but mentioned quite rightly that it has probably changed quite a bit in the ten years or since he saw it, and even more so in the eighteen(!) years it has been running).
So, we got our walking shoes on (Liz's blister had healed quite a bit), and walked up to Romford station. It is quite a marked change from a year ago now when we were spending time up with Peter in Carlisle just how keener Liz and I now are to get on our feet and walk! Second nature now, and it was good to have this in common with Peter, a long-time walker.
Changing at Stratford onto the Central Line (and crossing our fingers as we passed along it through Chancery Lane, site of the derailment that stopped the line for three months earlier this year), we got off at Tottenham Court Road and walked down Shaftesbury Avenue to the Palace Theatre. We couldn't have missed it if we tried with the huge sign out the front, the crowds of people and touts standing at the door, un-ashamed of their trade.
Despite an annoying start with ushers checking tickets right in front of us due to some mix-up or other, the musical was highly enjoyable. Liz's smile didn't fade the whole time, and we were all bopping along to the music, Liz and I having played the pieces in Georges River Concert Band when it existed and Peter having sung many of them in his various choirs. Liz and I didn't know much of the plot line, which was interesting to discover, but the highlight had to be the very clever props (with a big rotating stage), and the shere professionalism of it all. That they can do it night after night is amazing.
Les and Pearl had kindly offered Peter a bed for the night (saving the hassle of finding a B&B and of course the cost), so we all went back there and got some sleep for the coming day.

Lost in London

Another slow morning before we got motivated to get into the city and do a few last things which needed doing.
First was a trip to Harrods to answer Meaghan's request for one of the famous Harrods bags. My sanity left me and I let Liz lead us to where she thought it was, but we were quite mistaken! To be fair, I had no better idea than she, and we enjoyed our walk to the correct area (Knightsbridge), after lunch at Spittalfiends market, our last red bus ride (a Routemaster on route 8 from Liverpool Street to Oxford Street), a walk down Oxford Street then across Hyde Park.
The security all across the city was truly amazing, all for 'president' Bush's visit. In the middle of the park there were hundereds of police on horses, in four wheel drives and vans. Most had fully-automatic weapons, and almost all were sitting around reading the paper, happy to be paid for doing not much except for the fact that all their leave had been cancelled.
If we were still taxpayers here we would have been pretty angry at the fact that �5 million or so has been spent for a three day handshake visit so Bush can put a photo with the Queen in his re-election portfolio.
So, that behind us, we wandered further through the park we had been to a few times before, seeing it this time in a different season, and rather pretty light.
The main aim for the night was one last catch-up with my old work mates at (suprise, suprise) The Gun, the 'local' near my old work.
Plenty of people turned up, it was good to chat to people we hadn't seen for a long while, and also for the people to chat to others they hadn't seen since we left London. We're gonna miss those guys, and, dare we say it, that pub.
After closing time, we somehow found our way back to Les and Pearl's place for the night.

Sore Feet

It's quite funny really - Liz and I have walked around most of the cities of Western Europe and Scandinavia, all with no blisters at all on our feet. After wandering around London on Monday night, however, Liz had a massive blister on one of her heels. That's what happens when you wear silly fashionable boots!
As such, we didn't get up to much at all, just a wander up the road to find out postal rates back to Sydney for our excess stuff. Much more expensive that they were in The Netherlands, but not much else we could do.
We were tempted to get around London to see a few more things, but decided to wait until the next day, due to the rather high cost of transport from out here in zone 6.

Meeting up with Mates

We spent the morning doing some organising of things we need to get sorted before we leave for home. Things like Liz's tax, travel insurance and claims for the problems with Rosie.
At about 12:45, we headed out in the teeming rain to get into London. This involved first getting some pounds from an ATM (when will they give up and adopt the Euro!!) as the bus/train ticket seller at the newsagents didn't take cards. Completely covered in rain on the outside, it failed to get through our nice thick coats - a big change from when we didn't have them.
The bus took us to Romford station, then we jumped on the First Great Eastern service into Liverpool Street. Seeing all these places again was quite strange - on one hand it feels like home as I walked around this area every day for six months, but on the other hand it's just like we are tourists now, seeing the sights rather than just walking past them to get somewhere else.
We did eventually get somewhere else - my work's Local pub The Gun, where we met with Trevor my old boss. It was good to catch up, and we traded silly stories and generally boasted about how each other's respective countries stand no chance in the forth-coming Rugby World Cup Final.
Some pool playing and several British beers later, Liz and I set out for a walk to see a place we hadn't quite made it to last time - All Hallows by the Tower Church. The tower in the name is the Tower of London, and as such we needed to walk south from The Gun along Bishopsgate towards the Thames, then turn left at Monument Tube and walk for a little while.
The reason we wanted to see this church is that one of Liz's uncles was lost at sea in 1979, and his name is entered into a big book there which is reserved for people who have been lost at sea. The book itself was in a locked case, but one of the church attendants was happy to let us have a closer look.
The church itself was interesting - smaller than many and not exactly quiet due to its location and the number of vehicles driving by. Still, it is a fitting place for a book which contains such memories.
That done, we walked back the way we had come, and stumbled across a STA Travel office with a sign for cheap travel insurance on the door. We hadn't been successful earlier in the day organising this, and luckily so. We ended up getting a special youth insurance which covers us just for the flights (which is exactly what we want) for about 20% of the price we were trying to pay earlier in the day!
After spending a couple more hours at The Gun where we were joined by Alwin (a Kiwi) who was of course hassled for the way his rugby team lost to the Aussies last weekend, Liz and I were eventually the only ones left.
We had been shunning Indian food for the previous few weeks as we knew we would get back to London and wanted to go to the famous-for-good-curries Brick Lane. So that's exactly what we did. The hawker out the front of Dawaat Bangla Cuisine was the most convincing, so we sat down to a meal of way too much excellent food. Hey, that picture looks a lot like one from back in Singapore!.
No problems getting home with the tube from Aldgate East to Liverpool Street, then the train and bus back to Les and Pearl's.

Feet Firmly Up

After such a busy day, and as it was a Sunday, we had no grand plands for this day. We got up nice and early to watch England beat France in the Rugby World Cup semi-final. Nice that they beat someone finally, especially after loosing the League Ashes series yet again. Liz and I are actually starting to hope that England win the final next weekend just so they feel a bit better. The tabloid papers never stop having a go at their sporting 'heroes' at every opportunity.
Several nice conversations with Les and Pearl on various matters took up quite a bit of the day, along with using their fast internet connection to find out what was happening in the world.
Pearl's sister came over and the five of us ate a magnificent roast dinner, Liz and my first for a long long time. Somehow we fit in servings of a wonderful dessert also.
We unpacked all of our things we had carried, plus the suitcases we left here while we travelled around and put it all in different piles. By the time we had done that, we were in no mood to do any more, and it all just sat there on the bed in different piles until we wanted to go to sleep!
We also dosed up on English TV, glad to see that not much had changed at all. So many lifestyle shows, text-in-now-to-vote shows and celebrity gossip garbage!

Mad Rush of a Morning

We had left plenty of time to get ourselves organised, but it never seems to be enough in situations like this.
Things which somehow managed to get worked out were chucking out lots of rubbish, more clothes to the clothing bin, a final check of every cupboard and nook and cranny in Rosie, and then signing a contract for the sale on consignment to her next owner after repair.
Once we had all our bags attached to our bodies, the scale of the task ahead of us became apparent. The walk to Utrecht Centraal to catch the train to the airport was probably the hardest either of us have ever done. Both our bodies were shaking, our hands were red and swollen and we were very worn out. The worst part was over by this stage, but we still had a long way to go.
We had just missed the train we wanted, but they were running well and frequently so the next one wasn't far away. It rattled us to Duivendrecht where we had to change for a very full train to the airport. With that much gear there's not much point finding a seat, so we just waited in the vestibule areas all day.
When it came time to put my pack on, a nice Dutch lady helped me get the strap onto my shoulder - obviously not jealous of all we had to carry and wanted to help us out.
At Schiphol station (I just love the idea of combined airport and station, makes so things so easy for travellers), we stumbled straight into a luggage cart! Needless to say, we dumped our bags onto it quick as a flash and took stock of how most of our muscles in our bodies no longer wanted to behave themselves.
Next target was the check-in desk, where the line was short and the girl at the end confirmed that our reading of the fine-print had been correct and we could bring three bags between us, as long as the combined weight was less than 40kg. Infact, we had been carrying 36kg between us just in hold baggage, and I'm quite glad that she chose not to bother us about the weight of our cabin baggage as I think it would have topped another 20kg, double the allowance.
We were glad that all this had gone so well, and with boarding cards in hand and big bags gone, we wandered off to find our gate in the huge airport. This done, the nearest caf� supplied us with a slice of pizza and huge coke, which we complimented in true backpacker style with some peanut butter sandwiches and hard-boiled eggs!
There was about six euros left in coins in our wallet, which I let Liz go off and wander to spend since banks won't change them at the other end. Not too suprisingly (it is what she does on pretty much every international journey), she returned with a giant Toblerone! The rest of the change made it to a donations box (which, out of interest, seemed to contain more currencies than we have ever seen in any one place), then we packed up and went to wait for our plane.
It was delayed about fourty-five minutes, but eventually it came, we all filed on (quite orderly considering there are no allocated seats, it's just first-in-best-dressed) and went through the standard pre-flight checks. The crew on EasyJet are always so relaxed, easy going and play jokes over the intercoms regularly. Makes for a fun trip.
The flight was just fine, nice and smooth as we headed once again for England, waving goodbye to "proper joined-on Europe".

Back off the Continent

(Continued from The Netherlands 4)
Back into British airspace, we encountered something that on previous flights in and out of the place we hadn't - the weather actually looked better than it had in The Netherlands!
The ridiculously short flight was at an end with a safe touchdown at London Luton, and we all filed off the plane, once again thinking that EasyJet might be a cut-price airline, but they do everything very well. Not one whinge out of us.
After a quick look back at the plane, we filed into the terminal building. Immigration gave me no problems, and once we had passed through customs it dawned on us that that meant we had everything back into the country!
Once again a luggage trolley assisted us carrying our way-too-much luggage, and we purchased train tickets through to Romford. There was lots of track work going on, which wasn't that much of a suprise, but perhaps our journey would work out ok. The shuttle bus took us to the station, past places we remembered from when we last used this airport on our way to Amsterdam back in April.
Despite having to use three different trains and hence lug our bags on and off them, the trip went ok. People stared at us funny as we had so many things to lug around, but it didn't bother us - this will probably have been the last time we need to move things like this!
From Romford we took a cab to Les and Pearl's place, bringing our total number of means of transport for the day to nine - a Walk to Utrecht Centraal, train to Duivendrecht, train to Schiphol Airport, plane to London Luton, bus to Luton Airport Parkway, train to West Hampstead, train to Stratford, train to Romford, then cab to Les and Pearl's!!
We arrived there about 4pm, and not too suprisingly all we wanted was to dump our things and have a shower. Pearl cooked us a great English meal of fish and chips, and we watched a bit of TV and chatted before it was time to collapse exhausted into bed.

Posting Rosie's Contents

Awaking from the excesses of the previous night rather late, we spent the day getting ourselves organised. The contents of Rosie needed to be extracted. The array of stuff we have accumulated is quite bewildering, and it is at this stage of the trip that we pay for wanting to buy so many nice things and bring the home!
We ended up sending off two separate boxes, the first 14.5kg and the second 8.6kg via post back to Oz. Each had to be packed, and then I lugged them the three kilometres or so into town though the Westfield-like centre on top of the station, out the other end and the into the main Post Office.
There, the queues were about twenty minutes, and the staff at least spoke English, and were mostly helpful. The prices weren't too bad, and since they are going sea mail it will take six to eight weeks for them to arrive back home. It will be just like Christmas, only we know what is in the boxes!
Once we had both of those out of the way, the rest of our bags could be packed. So much stuff was being left with the van, but there was no way we could have taken everything. The next owners are going to love it, because it is fully kitted out with crockery, cutlery, saucepans, gas, electric cables, bbq, outdoor chairs, pillows, dooner, sheets, soccer ball and even a frisbee, all of which we added from when we purchased the van.
The dinner was great, Liz cooking up a great risotto and both of us putting in a last big effort to get through the alcohol backlog. No waste here!

Farewell to Hamburg and Seb and Jessi

We awoke with not too much to do for the day, besides pack up and head off.
Sebastian invited us to meet him for lunch at his Uni, which we thought a great plan as it was across the other side of the city. It was a nice walk up there, the locals suprised that we had chosen to use our feet rather than pay for the trains. To be honest our feet wanted to walk again, they are so used to it now!
We found the Uni up to the north of the city, and then the Mensa building and Philosopher's Tower where we were to meet. Seb came out a little later and we wandered with a friend of his into the food hall.
It was so weird to be back in a Uni after so long - the posters and flyers might have been in Deutsch, but their messages were the ones shared by students world wide - don't increase our prices and don't reduce the quality of our education. The sad fact is that in Germany, education is still free, whereas Liz and I (and everyone else in Australian Unis, of course) paid huge sums of money via HECS, and still had to face price rises and quality cuts as these people were here.
After an amazingly cheap student lunch, we walked out, grabbing on the way a sample bag each from a magazine company, filled with toiletries and things, which we could use, and of course a newspaper and magazine, which we could try to read. Great for the bus.
Not far up the road, we bid Sebastian farewell until next year some time when he aims to come and study in Australia for six months (must be a great place if he is considering changing from paying nothing to paying huge fees just to study out in Oz!). Once again they were suprised when Liz and I elected not to get public transport to the Hauptbahnhof where our bus was leaving from, instead just having a nice walk in the awful weather.
Our one remaining task for Deutschland was to find a fridge magnet to complete our collection, but it seems that Hamburg just isn't touristy enough to warrant decent tourist garbage shops, and the closest we could find was a keyring. Not what we were after, so we will have to try and find one online when we get home.
We found our way to the bus station, where our bus was already waiting, and climbed aboard nice and early to get a seat this time, happy to be together instead of strewn across the bus. It didn't look like we would get to sleep, but since it was only 2pm that didn't really bother us too much.
Leaving on time, bus eventually found its way across the border back into The Netherlands.

Ticking Off the Countries

(Continued from Deutschland 4)
Not suprisingly, there were no border formalities as we crossed back into The Netherlands. The Dutch don't have much to fear from outsiders - there's nothing that is illegal there which is legal elsewhere anyway, plus they are very tollerant of foreign people. Oh, and also, they respect the Schengen agreement which they have signed, unlike the Germans the other day!
The remainder of the journey passed un-eventfully, neither of us drifting off into sleep but that was ok - we had a bed to get to at the other end, and night was approaching.
Back at Utrecht Centraal, we just had a short wait for our bags before walking through the cold back to Donna's house and Rosie bus. We had a little bit of a shock upon opening the gate to see a different, much larger van where Rosie had been, but she had just been moved back to make room for some other people to camp there for the night.
The were a nice Canadian couple, also finished their travels, also with a blown engine, theirs the fault of Italian mechanics! That's not a good average for the mechanically-inclined people of Italy.
We cooked up some pasta and sauce for dinner, then slept to recharge for the big packing day.

Lazing Around

It's been a while since we had one, but we did pretty much nothing this day. Lazing around in bed, catching up with journal, making use of the internet connection, and cooking ourselves some wurst for lunch.
In the evening we chatted as usual on various topics with Seb and Jessi, before we went out with Seb to a pub for some drinks. It was cocktail happy hour, and we made good use of this fact. Ollie, the drummer from his band Mindcuffed also turned up, who's interesting claim to fame is that he plans to wear a G-string to their forthcoming gig.
An animated cab driver got us home in the small hours, and eventually it was all over.

Still Waiting...

Just under an hour late, the bus arrived heading to Hamburg. We had been standing for too long in the cold (no bus shelter or even seats), and even I with all my warm clothes was starting to feel it quite badly.
Not unsurprisingly, no apologies were forthcoming from the driver, as he grabbed our bag and ushered us upstairs - apparently the heating wasn't working downstairs. Great - half the bus not usable, which of course meant that upstairs was packed.
So packed infact that Liz and I ended up having to sit about ten seats apart - her towards the front next to a huge rude guy who refused to let her have any more than about half of her own seat, while he spread his legs wide in comfort. I fared a little better back in the middle of the bus, next to a quiet girl from who knows where.
Infact, the variety of people onboard was quite interesting, as we were to discover a little later.
The bus pushed on, but neither of us were able to grab much sleep. Liz couldn't even get her seat to go back, not that she would have wanted to fall asleep incase her head rested on her seating 'companion' anyway.
As we passed various stops and people got on and off we looked around for seats together, but there were so many others hogging two seats for their bags or whatever that never seemed to happen.
While I was dozing off, we crossed the border from The Netherlands into Deutschland.

Back to Hamburg

(Continued from The Netherlands 3)
At the border crossing into Deutschland for our fourth and final time, we had by far the most thorough border check. At about 3am, we were awoken from half-sleep by an announcement that passport control was coming onboard the bus. Strange, considering that due to the Schengen agreement there isn't supposed to be any between these two countries.
After the one border guard spent ages going through the entire bus, going very thoroughly over the suprisingly huge variety of passports being offered for inspection (Liz and I had no dramas at all for a change), the huge rude guy next to Liz was given a second visit. He spoke little of either English or Deutsch, so another person was brought on, but the big guy wasn't giving them an easy time. Another person towards the back of the bus was taken off, including their luggage - perhaps this was the reason for the unusually thorough border checks.
The remainder of the trip passed uncomfortably, but at least we were able to sit together after Bremen. Not much sleep came though, and by the time we arrived at Hamburg Bahnhof I had totalled about two hours and Liz closer to two minutes. And, despite running close to two hours late due to the late start and the border check, the bus driver actually got us into Hamburg ten minutes early!!! Making good use of the Autobahns, I guess. Pretty scary ride at the front of the bus up top though.
As we got off, we spotted Daniel who we had met in Brugge! We had a few quick words but weren't in the mood for socialising, so we parted ways - he off to find his hostel and us in search of coffee. This took us to a dingy little place where we lack of sleep made my rusty Deutsch even worse, but we obtained what we were after. I'm not sure how the only other customer there was managing beer at 7am, but he was.
By 8am, we moved to McDonalds to waste some more time, and eat some grease to keep us going. We over-stayed our welcome there for a while, with me using the translation dictionary to work at a snail's pace through a magazine, before deciding that it was time to move towards the city.
The rest of the morning was spent at a caf� which suprisingly had free wireless internet where we read books and purchased just enough drinks to keep the waiters happy, before we went for a walk around part of the Aussenalster, Hamburg's large outer lake. The weather was notably colder than the last time we were in this city, making an interesting contrast.
We ambled back into town about 2pm, grabbing some local 'cuisine' in the form of a wurst or two, before walking the couple of kilometres to Sebastian's house. He was working until 2pm, and aimed to be home by 3pm. We passed a bit of time in a funky caf� up the road and then walked down and said hello.
It was a little funny returning to the place where we have spent time both with them and on our own. A week or two ago Jessi had a tangle with a car on her bike, she is ok but her knee is pretty sore. No permanent damage and it could have been much worse.
Liz and I were very tired, so we anti-socially crashed asleep while Jessi studied and Seb went to his final band rehersal before their first gig next week. When he came back we sat awake for a while, drinking and chatting about various things, which ended up with just Seb and I discussing quantum mechanics while mostly asleep. With that, we called it quits for the day!

Around then out of Utrecht

We awoke to a lovely Dutch day - apparently Penny and Jono didn't sleep too badly, but were quite cold all the same. They can't say we didn't warn them! After doing very little for quite some time, Jono and I eventually dragged ourselves up to the supermarket to grab some breakfast gear. Also there was a large clothing bin, into which we put an amazingly large number of items of clothing that Liz and I had decided were not going to make it home. Quite a score for the recievers of such things as the clothes are still fine, but the task of getting tatty yet warm clothes to the other side of the world was going to cost us too much.
I cooked a bacon and egg breakfast for the hungry masses - much appreciated after so much baguette and bread!
After probably the most touristy photo we've taken in a place tourists probably never get to, we headed into town as we all had things to sort out - Jono and Penny tickets to their next destination Frankfurt, and Liz and I further north in Deutschland, once again back to Hamburg to visit Sebastian and Jessi. This was all done through Eurolines, the big daddy of bus companies over here.
After stopping to sample some local cuisine known as Oily Balls (kind of like donuts with fruit pieces and much oilier, covered in icing sugar), we went further into town, where Jono and Penny went off to check their emails while Liz and I put on a much needed load of washing at a laundromat. We also checked out postal rates for sending stuff home from the van - sea mail is quite cheap, so we purchased a large postpack to fill with stuff and post when we return to Utrecht in a few days.
The town overall was actually much more scenic than I at least had expected - nice canals and old buildings everywhere, even the post office was quite an impressive building inside.
While we were waiting for the laundry to finish, we found a caf� across from it, staffed by some very friendly locals and a huge cat called Tom Cat. We still miss our animals! Not too suprisingly, we played a few rounds of cards while there, and eventually decided to head back to the van to organise a cheap dinner.
The chosen meal was spag bol, so we got some mince for that and a large serving of frites (hot chips) to snack on, eaten as by the locals totally smothered in about a jar's worth of mayonnaise.
Back at the van, Jono and I did the washing up while the girls prepared dinner, but the 240v light in the van was knocked down (again), blowing the bulb and taking the fuse of half of Donna's house with it! Apparently that's fairly common as her house does support a mechanic's workshop, lots of people and now us sitting in the driveway.
So, we ate our dinner candle-lit, which was rather nice anyway, and everyone pitched in with a big effort to make a dent in our rather large alcohol collection which will never make it back through customs. We had a great night in the van, just chatting, laughing and enjoying the last time we would all see each other until at least August next year, when they return from their round-the-world trip.
Just before eight, Penny and Jono saddled up and walked up to the station to get their bus - it's been great being able to meet up with them here and there, share tales and suggestions. Enjoy the rest of your trip guys!
We convinced Donna's Turkish mechanic to have a look at the blown fuse, and the power was restored. We installed a light-bulb that Penny had generously walked up in the cold and purchased from the supermarket, and then we had light! In retrospect, the candle-lit dinner was cooler anyway.
Liz and I now had some packing to do, and then we read until it was time to head off to the bus stop at Jaabersplein at the front of the station for our turn. The bus was due at 23:55, but by midnight there was nothing but people waiting in the freezing cold.

Re-United with Rosie!

The first ones out of bed, we packed our gear and trudged to the nearest Metro station, using up some of our already-purchased Metro 'strips' in the process. Plus, it would have been quite a long walk to get there.
Emerging once again in Rotterdam Centraal, we had a quick look around the place but generally settled on two train tickets to Utrecht Centraal, electing to get there sooner rather than later to see our beloved bus.
As it happened, the train that we picked was an infamous "Stoptren", meaning it was an all-stations one, stopping at every little no-horse town along the way. No real matter, we weren't in that much of a rush and we both have books to read now, although the scenery is always interesting in the endless flat Dutch landscape.
It shuddered us into Utrecht, and we started to get our strange sense of deja vu - this is where our trip 'started' when we first picked up Rosie all those months ago. We half-remembered the way out of the station, and the GPS did the rest, and before long we were walking along the beautiful canal-lined street with windmills and fold-up bridges that leads to Krugerstraat, Donna's street. This walk was quite scary, ramming home the fact that we are really coming to the end of it all after so long.
We rounded the corner, and there our big bus was! The elation was pretty amazing, seeing her safely parked in a back street, not a scratch on her. Liz gave her a hug to say hello, and then we checked and noted that inside nothing was even slightly out of place. Amazing. The thing has been towed half-way across Europe and with no hassles at all. Such a relief!
The rest of the day was spent organising all of our belongings into various categories based on whether they are definitely coming back to Sydney with us, maybe, or were going straight to the bin. There were also plenty of clothes we put in bags to take to a nearby clothing bin.
It was so weird to be in the camper once again, and we both temporarily wanted to do it all again - driving over mountain passes, stopping wherever we wanted, camping when we felt like it and cooking whenever, wherever it took our fancy. But then reality hit us - running out of gas to cook with, the cold weather now with no working heater, and of course the fact that the engine is cracked somewhat in half combined to make us once again happy to be packing our things, heading for home.
After a while, Donna's mechanic came out and put a spare battery in Rosie, started her up and drove into Donna's driveway. We didn't think it would start at all, but it did, albeit with some truly horrible sounds to let us know all was not right. The mechanic's English isn't that good (although, as always I have to say far better than my Dutch), and we thought perhaps he wanted to work on it, but it turned out he just wanted us off the road, safely inside. That also meant that we could connect the electrical hook-up cable up, giving us light!
No need to find a supermarket, as we had so much food still left in the van. Starting on the long process of using up as much as possible, Liz cooked risotto and we got stuck into the Czech beers.
Just before the final scene in the DVD of Saving Private Ryan, the mobile started ringing. Very strange - it turned out to be Jono and Penny, back at Utrecht Centraal station! They were supposed to stay with a friend but she wasn't answering the phone, so they wandered if they could use our Lonely Planet to look for hostels.
I rugged up against the bitter cold, and walked up to the station. Seeing them in the third city around Europe was great fun, and we attempted to work out some accommodation for them. They tried once more and were able to get through to their friend, so madly we dashed around, found the bus stop to get there, dashed for the last bus stop and I waved them farewell, picking a meeting spot for the next morning.
I was just about to turn off the canal street into Krugerstraat when my mobile rang again! Apparently the bus had just gone back to the station and sat for ages, and they wouldn't make it to their friend's place in time. So, only remaining option was one we had discussed a little earlier - they came back to sleep with us in Rosie!
It was a bit cramped, but we made it work. After a bit of manouvering, all four of us fitted in - Liz and I in the bed (although the wrong way around as it was on a slope), and Jono and Penny on the floor. They had sleeping bags, but even in them and with beanies, scarves, jackets and gloves fully deployed they still felt the cold overnight.

Rotterdam

On Saturday morning, it was sunny in Rotterdam, but very windy and cold. Breakfast was provided by the hostel, so we stocked up on lots of food before putting on our warm clothes and heading outside.
We had decided that as we were now so close to the van in Utrecht, we could take our time getting back there, so we thought we would stay in Rotterdam a second night. But the hostel was a bit more than we wanted to pay, so we walked up to the train station and found a place called Use It. It is basically a tourist information centre, but much more helpful than the usual travel infos, and more importantly it was aimed at budget travellers like us. They were really helpful, and found us a much cheaper place to stay, and although it was a bit further from the middle of the city, it turned out to be not too far from the hostel where our bags were.
Once that was organised, we walked through the wind back to the hostel, got our bags and checked out. From there we made our way to the new place, which seemed to be a privately-run hostel. It took us a while to get there, partly because our bags were so heavy, and partly because we got a bit lost. Anyway, we found the place, and were shown to our six-bed room. It seemed like a nice enough place, so we claimed two beds and gratefully put our bags down.
While we were at the Use It office, we picked up a walking tour of Rotterdam guide, so we used that to have really good look around Rotterdam. The guide, which is produced by the Use It people, turned out to be very informative, and I think we say nearly everything in Rotterdam!
We skipped the first part of the tour, because it was about the area around the train station, which we had already seen. Instead, we walked from our new hostel into town, and into one of the busiest earliers, with shops bars and restaurants.
We stopped for some food because we were already quite hungry, and then we started the walk.
The first part took us around the area we were in, pointing out popular squares, the best street for shopping, and a huge square called Schouwburgplein, surrounded by modern buildings and complete with a few huge red lamp-posts. Using some buttons on a stand in the square, you could move the lamp-posts around in different positions - quite bizarre! Nearby we saw The Beurs, otherwise known as the World Trade Centre.
Next was the Hoogstraat, a street lined with shops and on Saturday lots of market stalls. We bought a book from one of the stalls, and then continued on down the length of Hoogstraat. At the far end were heaps of market stalls, and the area was crazy with Saturday-afternoon shoppers.
In this area we saw lots of modern architecture: the city library with huge yellow pipes curving over the roof and down the sides. Then there is the "spaceship", the roof of the train station called Blaak, which looks like a flying saucer that has crash-landed. Next, and most interesting, were the cube houses which were build between 1978 and 1984, and are probably some of the most interesting buildings I have ever seen. They were much bigger than I had thought they would be, and are still used as residences today.
From the cube houses, we walked out to river Maas, where we had the big red Willemsbrug to our left and further up to our right Erasmusbrug, two bridges that stretch across the Mass. We walked along the river-side, up towards Erasmusbrug, with the sun making the bridge a pretty silhouette. Once we reached the bridge, we turned away from the water and walked down a road that has a Rotterdam "walk of fame" with lots of famous signatures, hand-prints and foot-prints in the cement. It was quite fun picking out names we recognised, like Jackie Chan and Tina Turner.
The next part of our walk took us through some crowded back streets, and then through too big parks. The first one was Museumpark, and as the the name suggests, it has quite a few museums around its edges, or in the streets nearby. The second park, called "The Park", was full of lots of pretty autumn colours, with lots of brown and yellow leaves on the ground.
We had to walk a little way along the edge of a busy road, but then we came to a nicer street, where we chose a busy but nice bar to sit in. We had a few drinks and a nice long chat, before deciding that we were quite hungry. It was dark outside, but the wind had died down a little.
We walked a short way to West Kiurskaed, otherwise known as Chinatown for its many Asian restaurants and grocery stores. We found a cheap but nice little Asian eatery, and the food was really tasty and filling.
After dinner we walked back to our hostel, and spent the evening relaxing and watching the TV that was in our room.

Back to NL

(Continued from Belgium)
We recognised Dutch signposts and lots of Dutch numberplates as we crossed the border.
We got off the bus in Breskens, and found ourselves conveniently outside the ferry terminal. I went and asked the bemused ticket seller how long it would be until the ferry left, we quickly bought tickets and boarded the ferry.
The crossing took about half an hour, and the boat hardly had any passengers. On the other side of the channel, we were in Vlissingen. We walked off the boat, over the road and into the train station.
We hadn't decided where to go next, so we sat in a nice caf� and had a cup of tea and a snack, and spent a while working out where to go.
After much discussion, we bought tickets to Rotterdam and then boarded the "Stoptrein". As it implies, it stopped at lots of stations, but the scenery was beautiful - very flat with lots of farmland, canals, villages and towns. I saw pheasants in the fields and a rabbit racing away from the train in fright. We were quite excited when we recognised a spot where we had been before - a huge lock where we had had to wait a long time in the van for the bridge to open. I think this was where we spent quite a while searching for a supermarket.
At Roosendaal, we had to change trains and by the time we made it to Rotterdam, it was quite dark. We didn't have a map of the city, but somehow we found our way to the tourist office, where we were given directions to the hostel, and half an hour later we had lugged ourselves and our bags there.
For dinner, we ate at the hostel, buying our meal at the bar there. After a couple of drinks and a game of pool, we headed upstairs to bed.

Bus out of Brugge

On Friday, the weather was still perfect, but it certainly wasn't getting any warmer. We fixed our own breakfast at the hostel again, and then packed up our bags. We went out for a last walk around Brugge and bought a couple of typical Belgian things - lace, chocolate, beer glasses. We bought frits with mustard and sat in the middle of Markt to eat them.
Back at the hostel, we got our bags and then walked to the train station. Our walk took us through some lovely quiet streets, and past more pretty canals with colourful views.
At the train station, we bought bus tickets, but we still had fourty minutes to wait for our bus, so we lugged our bags into a nearby bar. There was just enough time for one last beer in Belgium!
Just before 1pm, our bus left and we waved goodbye to Brugge. It was quite a slow journey, as the bus stopped regularly to pick up and drop off passengers, and it took us an hour and a half to get to the coast.
Along the way, we crossed the border and found ourselves in The Netherlands.

Cycle Tour out of Brugge

On Thursday morning, Tim and I organised our own breakfast of tea and bread with peanut butter, and the we spent a couple of hours at the hostel trying to catch up on our journals.
Some time after 11am, we headed out to explore a bit more of Brugge. We looked around more of the streets, and spent a while looking in a few of the lace shops and other tourist shops. We also bought a serving of frites and sat in the middle of Markt to eat them and enjoy the sunshine.
For the afternoon, we went on a bike-ride tour that took us out of Brugge, through the pretty country-side, into the villages of Damme and Ostkirke, and almost as far as the border with the Netherlands. Riding through the country-side was great. The guide told us about the farm crops, and the nearby cows, the many canals we rode over or alongside, and an old German gun bunker that we stopped at. The countryside around Brugge is packed full of interesting history, most of which I knew nothing about, so apart from enjoying the ride, we learnt heaps.
The villages we stopped in were small and simple, but very pretty and again we learnt a lot about the history of these villages. We saw a couple of old flat-topped towers that we learnt were once used as light houses when boats had been able to come much further before the land silted up.
About half-way through the ride, we stopped in a small village to chat, and Tim and I had another Belgian tradition - waffles. They were much lighter and tastier than I had expected, and I really enjoyed mine.
Back on the bikes, it was now getting very cold outside, so it was good to get moving. We stopped a few more times to learn more, enjoy the gorgeous views and take a couple of photos. We got back to Brugge shortly after sunset, and although we had ridden close to fifty kilometres, I was suprised that both Tim and I felt quite good and not too tired out.
We stopped at a supermarket to get some food, and then back at the hostel we cooked and ate our dinner. Later on, Tim, myself and Daniel (a guy from Brisbane who we had met the day before) went out to a couple of pubs together. The second pub was nicer than the first, and we tried a few more Belgian beers before heading back to the hostel for a good night's sleep.

Around Brugge

On Wednesday, we again had breakfast at the hostel, then packed up our bags and checked out. We then walked from the hostel to one of Brussels' main train stations, and twenty mintues later boarded a train for Brugge.
We arrived in Brugge at about 10:30am, and then took a bus from the train station through the city and got off near the hostel we ended up staying in - the Snuffel Sleep Inn.
Our first glimpses of the very pretty city were only a taste, but the bus drove through a main square which was surrounded by beautiful buildings and which a busy market going on in the middle.
We found the hostel and paid for two nights before going up a wobbly spiral staircase to our dorm room to dump our bags, then we went out to explore Brugge for the day.
Between the 12th and 15th centuries, Brugge was a very active and prosporous town. It once had a huge harbour, was a cloth-making town and also attracted a lot of talented artists. But when the Zwin estuary silted up, trade from the city ceased, and the talented and prosporous people moved away. So Brugge itself has not changed too much since the 15th century, and has one of Europe's best-preserved medieval cities. This, of course, makes it a very popular tourist attraction, but as it is no longer summer, there are less tourists around, so the town was not as busy as it may be in the summer months.
From our hostel, we walked back towards the main square that our bus had driven through, and we crossed over a lovely little canal on the way. There are lots of canals around the town, all of them very pretty, and now because it is autumn, the colourful leaves on the trees reflect off the surface of the water, making the views of the canals even more beautiful.
We came out in the main square - the Markt, and there was indeed a busy market going on in the middle of the square. At the edges of the square were lots of expensive restaurants and above them the many pretty buildings with stepped facades on the top floor at the front. We stood in the square looking around us and enjoying the sunshine.
From there, we looked down a street going off the square, and when we found a stand selling frites, we treated ourselves to a serving and sat under a tree to enjoy them.
We then spent an hour or two just wandering through the pretty streets seeing many of the canals and little bridges crossing over them. We saw lots of chocolate shops, lots of lace shops and lots of other shops selling random tourist items, but we only looked in a few of their windows.
In a small arcade, we found an "Australia" shop, so we looked in there but found nothing of huge interest.
We then found ourselves in a very touristy area, with lots of little pubs and caf�s and shops. There were also some very pretty views of the canals there. From here we walked back towards the middle of town and on the way we went past Onze Lieve Vrouwekerk, a large and impressive church, which appeared to be closed so we kept going.
Back through Markt and along a lace-shop lined street, we came out onto the second big square called Burg. This too was lined with lots of beautiful buildings, including the oldest Stadhuis or Town Hall in Belgium, and Heiligbloed-Basiliek (Basilica of the Holy Blood) a church that has a scrap of cloth that is said to have a few congealed drops of Christ's blood on it.
We went into the tourist office, which was off to one side of the square, and after that we left Burg via a small archway into Blinde Ezelstraat, or blind donkey street. On the other side we found the fish market, which was packing up for the day, and some more beautiful views of the canals and old buildings.
We walked more, enjoying the beautiful weather and pretty views. By the canal was a large flock of swans, geese, ducks and even a seagull or two. We sat here to eat some bread and relax in the sunshine.
Nearby was the Begijnhof, an area where in the 13th century single or widowed women lived. There is also a convent and a beautiful old church. It was really quiet here - all we could here was the wind blowing gently through the trees. We were just walking past the locked church when a nun came and unlocked the door and invited us in. It was so quiet inside and very beautiful.
From there we made our way back past the Onze Lieve Vrouwekerk, which was now open, so we went it. Inside the church is Michaelangelo's Madonna and Child, his only sculpture to leave Italy in his lifetime. We saw the sculpture and the interior of the chruch before heading back outside. We had now covered most of the sites, and seen a lot of very pretty streets, so we decided to do another favourite Belgian thing - drink beer.
Using Lonely Planet, we found a fantastic little bar virtually hidden away in a tiny alley. It was a really cosy little pub called DeGarre, and when we sat down we were handed a menu. Thinking it was for food, we were startled and pleasantly suprised to see that one page was for food, and another ten or twelve pages were all for beer! They had three beers on tap, but another two hundered or so listed with the beer's name, the cost and whether a blonde, brown or amber beer.
To begin with, we each tried a different beer from the tap, and although mine was very different to what I usually drink, I quiet enjoyed it. With our drinks we were given a little dish of cheese to nibble, so we sat eating, drinking and chatting for a long time. Next, we had another beer each, but this time they were bottled beers. Each came to us with it's own glass with the name and symbol of the beer on the glass. It was all very new and different to us, and although my beer was again quite different, I liked this one even more.
Our last drink was a pot of tea for me and a coffee for Tim, and when we did eventually leave, it was almost sad saying goodbye to the charming little pub and the friendly proprietress!
We headed back towards our hostel, and found a supermarket to get some food. We cooked vegetables and rice in the hostel kitchen, and got chatting to lots of other friendly Aussies. After dinner, and a few beers from the hostel bar, Tim, myself, and some of our new Aussie friends headed out to find a pub.
We found a nice little place and spent a few hours drinking and talking, before Tim and I took them back to DeGarre where everyone had some more beer, and I had a very nice glass of wine.
Late at night, we headed back to the hostel to sleep.

Around Brussels

On Tuesday morning, we had a good breakfast at the hostel, and then went out to explore Brussels for the day.
On first impressions, Brussels was probably one of the most un-interesting cities I have seen. It is full of ugly high-rises and a dozen or more cranes building more high-rises. And the cloudy and misty weather didn't really help to improve things. We started out by walking through the botanic gardens, which was really pretty. There was lots of colour from the changing autumn leaves, and statues and fountains scattered here and there. We walked out of the bottom end of the gardens, past a large construction site, and then turned down a wide pedestrian street lined with clothes and shoe shops.
A little further on, we started getting into the older part of town, with nicer buildings and cobble-stone streets. Then we came to the Grand Place. This, as the name suggests, is a very grand looking square surrounded on all sides buil beautiful old buildings topped with golden statues, and these buildings were once the rich craft guild halls.
Next we walked out of one side of the square and here we found a statue of Everard 't Serclaes, a 14th century hero, and we rubbed his shiny torso for good luck. Now we were in the pretty part of town, and the obvious tourist spot too, judging by the number of tourist, Belgian chocolate and Belgian beer shops.
We saw Manneken Pis, a statue of a little boy peeing, and after seeing all the tourist parephanalea based on him, he seemed to be Belgium's biggest tourist attraction!
We made our way back to the Grand Place, and then out the other side into Galeries St Hubert, Europe's oldest glass-covered shopping arcade, and more importantly, the place that contained Neuhaus, one of the oldest chocolate shops. We went in and looked at the huge amount of expensive chocolate, and bought a small taste of chocolate to share between the two of us.
We walked through the arcade and out the other end, and then through a few more of the old streets. From there, we started going up hill, through Mont des Arts, a very pretty little park, and then higher and higher up some steps. The view out over the city from here was actually quite pretty. At the top of the hill was a large square, with trams and cars running through it (a tram driver even tooted and waved at us!) and a large church looking out over the city.
We sat on the church steps eating a snack and enjoying the view, but moved on quickly - it was cold!
We went up the road and around the corner to see the front of Palais Royal, which had a couple of guards marching out the front.
Next, we re-traced our steps a short way back to the Mus�e des Instruments de Musique. It boasts the world's biggest collection of musical instruments, many of which were very interesting. We were given headphones and as we walked around the museum, various songs by instruments in nearby display cases were played through the headsets. It was great to hear so much music and to get an idea of the sounds made by instruments I had never seen before.
We spent a few hours in the museum, and when we got back outside, we walked down to the Mont des Arts park to eat some food and rest our feet. We then went to a train station to find train times and prices for the next day, and then to a supermarket to get some things for dinner and a couple of incredibly cheap beers.
From the supermarket, we walked to Parc de Bruxelles, where we sat on a bench to drink our beers. It was about 3pm and we looked like homeless people, which we thought was quite hilarious! The beer wasn't nice. Mine was a raspberry beer that tasted awful, and Tim's was a 12.5% alcohol beer that tasted worse. We tried to drink them but they both got tipped out!
From the park, we slowly wandered back to our hostel, we bought some frits and mayonnaise and sat in the garden of the hostel to eat them and relax. When it got colder we moved inside.
Dinner was pasta and more cheap beers from the bar, then we sat playing cards before having a game of chess - and I actually beat Tim!! After a quick shower in the lukewarm water we went to bed.

Into Brussels

(Continued from France 2)
We arrived in Brussels, the capital of Belgium about an hour after we had left Paris. We had driven through Belgium earlier in the year when we drove Rosie to London, but we hadn't stopped anywhere then, so it was almost like being in yet another country.
From the train station, we caught the Metro to the other side of the city (and up the hill!) Once here, we spent a little while hunting around the streets for the hostel, and eventually we found it. It was a nice hostel, and we even got to be in the same dorm. Even better, it had a kitchen - the first once we had seen since Barcelona!
We dumped our bags and walked about fifteen minutes to the supermarket. Dinner was a delicious combination of chicken wings, chicken soup mix, rice and veges, and it really filled us up. Accompanied by a few nice cheap beers from the hostel bar, it was very nice meal. We decided to save a night of drinking Belgian beers on the town for another night, and went to bed early.

Back to Paris one last time

On Monday morning, the weather wasn't looking much better, which was disappointing as we had wanted to stay another day and do some walking in the surrounding countryside. Instead, we packed our bags, checked out of the hotel and went in search of a French patisserie breakfast to quieten our growling stomachs. But we had no luck here either - both of the nice-looking patisseries were still shut at 10am, so we gave up waiting and trudged off to the train station, where we bought train tickets to Paris, and sat down to drink coffee while we waited for the train.
Back in Paris, we walked to a different but very close-by train station (Gare du Nord???) and bought tickets that would take us from Paris to Brussles, Belgium later that day.
By now we were both starving, so we walked a short distance from the train station until we found a nice pub. We stuffed ourselves with fresh bread and beer, and then I had a huge cheese omlette and Tim had a steak. Finally we had some proper food in our bellies, and we sat chatting and feeling full for a while.
We walked back to the train station, and boarded the Thalys train that would take us to Belgium. Thalys is basically the same as the TGV, so it goes really fast! Using the GPS, we saw that we reached a whopping 306km/h!!! Even the train conductor was interested to see what speed we were getting up to.
Somewhere we left France far behind and zipped into Belgium.

�pernay

The weather looked pretty awful outside, but we rugged up and went to make our way outside to explore �pernay and maybe even a champagne house.
On our way out of the hotel, the nice owner lady came up to us. We did our best to understand her French, and in the end we worked out that we had ordered breakfast by accident when we had arrived the evening before. It was a bit annoying as the breakfast added more to the room price, and it wasn't exactly the biggest breakfast to pay for. But it was nice to sit in the dining room and enjoy our croissant, baguette and hot drinks.
After breakfast we went outside and found a junk market on a nearby street. We spent a while looking at various bits and pieces, but didn't find anything of real interest.
We walked through the town and made our way to ave de Champagne, the long street lined with impressive old mansions and a number of champagne houses.
The first one we spotted was the famous Mo�t & Chandon, so we chose to go on a tour there. It was actually very interesting, and quite different from wine making. We learnt a lot about the history of the buildings and the champagne making, had a walk through the cellars which were suprisingly large, discovered the whole champagne production process and of course had a glass of the stuff to drink at the end of the tour. We learnt heaps and now we can appreciated what champagne is and know a lot more about the different types and what the names mean. For example, brut champagne has more reserve wine added so it has a stronger flavour which is more appealing to men than to women.
After the tour the weather was bad, so we went back to our hotel.
In the afternoon we went for a walk, first to the train station to try and work out where we would go to next and how much it would cost us. Then we walked a long way along ave de Champagne. We checked out the prices of tours in a couple of other champagne houses, but decided that the one we had done in the morning was enough, so we made our way back to the town and had a walk around the town centre. We found a place to go for dinner after looking at some different menus, but as it was still quite early, we went back to the hotel to be lazy again.
Later on, we went to the little pub we had chosen to have dinner in, only to be told that they didn't serve food on a Sunday night. We had a beer each and then wandered through drizzling rain to find somewhere else to eat.
To cut a long and slightly miserable story short, quite a lot of places didn't serve food on a Sunday evening. Quite a few more were way out of our budget and the remaining ones were unappetising fast-food. So, feeling defeated, we bought a baguette from the bakery (we are sick of eating baguette!) and a couple of small things from the expensive supermarket. Dinner was an un-enthusiastic picnic in our hotel room, but at least we were out of the rain and cold. We finished off the evening watching a DVD.

Eiffel Tower, into �pernay

Saturday was our last day in Paris, and unfortunately it was overcast once again. We had breakfast at the hostel and then checked out, leaving our bags in the storage room.
From our hostel, we walked down to the Seine and along the river bank for quite a while. It was really pretty with all the colourful autumn leaves being reflected in the river.
We had been planning to go to the Eiffel Tower one afternoon so that we could see the sun setting over Paris, but the weather had been so awful that we missed our chance. But, we decided that we at least wanted to see the Eiffel Tower up close once more, so we kept walking all the way along the Seine to the Eiffel Tower. It was actually quite a long walk, and as we walked along the clouds parted and the sun came out! We decided if the sun was out then we would go up the tower and see Paris from the grandest viewpoint.
It took us a while longer to walk all the way to the Eiffel Tower and the clouds kept covering the sun and then parting. The last part of our walk took us through part of the park that the tower sits in, and the autumn leaf colours in the sunlight were beautiful.
At the tower, we had to join a large queue to get tickets, but it moved along quicker than we had expected it to. Once we had our tickets to go up the tower, we joined another queue for the lift. It was a double-level lift and it was quite large, which meant that lots of people fitted into it in one go.
The lift took us to the first level, and then the second level where we had to change lifts, so we had a bit of a look around. Already we seemed very high up and the views were pretty spectacular. We took a few photos and then joined the next queue for the lift to take us to the very top.
This queue seemed to take the longest, but the ride up in the lift and the views from the very top were well worth it all.
We could see a long way into the distance. We picked out the Arc d'Triomphe, the (now very tiny looking) hill with Sacre Coeur on top, and tried to pick out various other places that we had wandered through in Paris. The views of the Seine river stretching away to our left and right were also very pretty.
We stayed up the top for quite a while, walking around and doing our best to ignore the cold wind before queueing twice more to catch the lifts all the way back to the ground. It had been great to go up the Eiffel Tower, even if we didn't get to see a sunset, and it was a nice way to finish off our last day in Paris.
We caught a train from a station nearby back to the Notre Dame area. Once we got there we spent a while finding a pub to watch the World Cup Rugby, only to find out we had missed the game due to the time differences!
Instead we walked to the small park that is behind Notre Dame and sat and ate some food.
Before we left Paris, we decided to go back to the internet place we had bene to earlier in the week and quickly do a few more things. Everything was going well - we finished up, packed up the laptop, paid the guy (a different man to the other day we had been there) and were about to walk out when he asked for another ten euro for plugging the laptop in. He spoke very little English and we had already paid the fee for using the connection, so we were quite confused at first. Then we figured out what he was on about and we told him "No" and that we hadn't had to pay that much the other day when we had come here, and that nowhere on the price list did it say anything about a ten euro fee. But he kept babbling to us in French and saying we had to pay ten euro. So we walked out! We think that he knew we were tourists, so he was just trying to dupe us out of some more money.
Anyway, after all that excitement, we quickly walked back to our hostel to pick up our bags. Along the way we stopped for a kebab as we hadn't eaten much all day and were hungry. The kebab guy was so friendly, and as we were about to leave he gave us some of his home-made mint tea free of charge. So within about thirty minutes, we experienced a not-so-nice Parisian and a lovely friendly Parisian!
We got our bags from the hostel and used our last Metro tickets to get us to the train station we were going to be leaving Paris from.

Our train left about ten minutes after we got on it, and took just over an hour to get us to �pernay in the Champagne region. Our hotel was about ten minutes walk from the train station, but we had no map so it was a bit of guesswork finding the place. It turned out to be a really lovely little hotel, and our double room had a shower which was a nice treat after hostels.
We lazed around for a bit and went out to a town pub for a few beers. For dinner we just bought some yoghurt and biscuits as we weren't feeling too hungry after our kebab.
It started raining outside - not the best looking weather for the coming day.

A Big Wander

No particular plans for the day - the weather was ugly but dry, so we were hoping it would blow over for an afternoon Eiffel Tower ascent.
We started the day just heading up towards Sacre Coeur in Montmarte, about 10km walk from where we are staying. This pleasant stroll was spent chatting, and taking in more of the city's interesting little back streets, watching the locals go about their lives, and noting with interest how we could tell whether we were in an area frequented by tourists just by the prices of coffee.
One of the more interesting diversions on the walk was a stop to watch the lock lift a canal boat up on Canal Saint Martin. It's quite a pretty scene right in the middle of such a large city, and always a worthy diversion and rest for our feet.
But you can't rest too long or you freeze from the inside, so it was soon time to walk further along. Into the Montmarte district itself, which is interesting because the lower-down areas are almost completely populated by immigrants in dense housing, with kebab shops galore and rubbish everywhere. But then you walk up the stairs towards the towering church and it could be a different country - perhaps the wealthy are moving more and more up towards the church as time goes on.
We had been inside the main church the last time we were here, but a fact that our ageing tour guide at Notre-Dame had slipped in is that Paris' oldest church is right next door, missed by almost everyone. �glise Saint Pierre is a little place reached by walking around off the beaten track, a fact which has no doubt saved it from it's neighbour's tacky fate.
After stopping for a little while to ring my parents who are just back from holidaying, we went into the church for a look around. Very spartan, yet nice and extremely quiet for reflection, it is such a pleasant change from the huge famous places that we didn't really know what to do. So, we sat and planned what to do from there, admiring the few old paintings and ancient walls with leaning-out columns. The stained-glass windows were some of the most interesting I've seen also.
By now the weather had turned to drizzle, putting an end to our Eiffel Tour plans, so we had a bit more of a look around up top of the hill at the heavily-touristed place du Tertre where artists displayed their paintings, some wanting up to 1900 euro! That's almost as bad as the Italian mechanics, and the fact that they had visa machines there meant that this was really going beyond what one-man stalls are supposed to be all about.
Liz declined to take up one man's offer of "I can make you beautiful", talking about a drawing but perhaps missing what is implied by that statement when translated into English, and we worked our way back down the hill.
In this whole trip, our feet have held out suprisingly well considering the walking we have been doing, but today mine finally sprouted the beginnings of a blister, so we cheated and jumped on a Metro back to our hostel. The timing worked out quite well to get back into our room at 3pm, which we did to relax for a while after our big walk.
Not much later, I found a bed and crashed asleep with little effort, leaving Liz to write some emails and update some journal - thanks!
We have been content just to spend the evening in, and the weather looks to be getting a bit better, so perhaps tomorrow, our last day in Paris, will be an Eiffel Tower day after all.

Suprise Meet-up

First task for the morning was to move hostels - I came downstairs to find Liz had been up for ages already, thanks to the large noisy single-sex dorms.
We ate, exchanging our breakfast tickets for nasty coffee from the I-hate-my-job-and-I'm-going-to-take-it-out-on-you kitchen helpers, seemingly quite common at hostels in this part of the world.
The move proved little hassle, and we dumped our bags in the far-cheaper Auberge Internationale des Jeunes where we had a room of our own, but couldn't get into it until 3pm (the joys of hostel living).
It was another great day weather-wise, so we picked out Jardin des Plantes just across pont d'Austerlitz (from where we could see the next bridge, pont Charles de Gaulle bears quite a resemblance to a bridge of our own) on the Left Bank for a wander. It was a nice little place, the gardens full of roses being tended at the tax-payer's expense. At the end there was an interesting-looking museum which we couldn't see the price for. We decided to wait the twenty minutes in the sun until opening time (the weather was better, but still no more than six degrees or so), when we learnt that it was quite expensive. Besides, we wanted to make the 12pm tour of Notre-Dame.
It was around then that we got a phone call from Jono and Penny - since we had seen them they had flown to London for a few days and then back to Paris, since that was cheaper than flying direct or train! Or, notably, our fifteen hour bus ride. It pays to be organised in advance, which Liz and I definitely aren't.
We arranged to meet them for the 12pm tour as they weren't staying far from there, and set about our business. In the back streets, we stumbled across a likely-looking internet caf� where we were able to plug the laptop in for the first time in ages and update the website!
Just before the tour, we wandered back up to Notre-Dame and found the guys out the front. We managed to get on a tour run by a retired history professor who really knew his stuff - this was obviously his life and he kept us totally entrhalled for an hour and a half, talking about the facades, history and various parts of the interior. Far better than some of the tours we have paid lots of money for, and hence well worth doing.
But being interesting didn't change the fact that by the end we were freezing cold, so the four of us set off in search of coffee somewhere warm. Our wanderings took us past the bizzare Centre Georges Pompidou where the architect has been given just a little bit too much freedom. It is built mostly out of plastic, and all the pipes, lifts, stairways, etc. are on the outside. Apparently it is the city's most visited attraction (yes, even more than Eiffel Tower and Louvre), and the queue out the front certainly seemed to match that. We had no desire to queue in the cold, so we wandered on.
No caf�s were found in this area of town in our budget, so we ended up in a supermarket grabbing picnic supplies, which we ate at a bus-stop area, much to the entertainment of the locals. One asked us kindly not to feed the pigeons, and a couple of others wished us "Bon Appetite", while everyone else just looked at us kind of weirdly.
They had train tickets to organise, and we had to move into our room (since if we left bags in luggage storage at the hostel past 8pm we couldn't get them, which was better than if we had left them longer than twelve hours total when they would have been taken away and destroyed. Serious.), so we split for a while, Liz and I wandering back to our hostel past Bastille.
This non-existant monumental prison was destroyed in 1789 after being stormed, and the place is now marked by Colonne de Juillet in the centre of yet another crazy traffic intersection.
We met up again just after 5pm at their hostel, wandered to a local pub for some more-expensive-than-expected beers with free tapas thrown on the table to make up for it. Next we decided to do another supermarket run and take the spoils back to Liz and my room. However, this plan was foiled when the rather rude guys on the door wouldn't let them in, even to sit and eat for a while.
So, instead we went back to Penny and Jono's hostel, where we were looked at a little strangely but otherwise left to eat our bread, cheese, ice creams and bits and pieces in peace. After which, they needed to organise train tickets for the next day over west to visit their friends. We walked down to Gare de Lyon, where tickets were purchased, Jono excited that they had tickets on a nice fast TGV in the same way that I was.
We had purchased a six-pack of beer from the supermarket, chosen from its price tag purely on price per litre (a fantastic law that exists in many countries over here is that this has to be displayed, making bargain shopping much easier). However, what we had actually ended up with was a peach-flavoured lemonade and beer drink. Yuk. Liz managed one sip, me three, Penny about half a can and Jono crazily most of the rest of it all, before we decided enough was enough.
So, we needed to get that really nasty taste out of our mouths, wandering to a random back-street caf� for an intensive coffee and 500 (cards) session, before bidding them a farewell. It turns out we may actually cross paths in Utrecht sometime in the next couple of weeks.

Waste then Walk, Musee d'Orsay

After our standard breakfast, yet again missing out on the nice table by the window and being placed with the same French family, we went back up to the room, did some washing, etc.
Coming back down to pay for our remaining two nights with a new receptionist, we were a little taken aback to find out that there was no booking for us for the night. The other day, we had been told that there would be four nights, just pay for two at the time, which we did. So, there appeared to be nothing else for it but to pack up and find somewhere else to stay.
After doing that, we headed down into the cold (weather far worse than yesterday with constant drizzle and cold cold cold), along to a phone box, where I waited with the bags while Liz ran off to get us another phone card, since the first one was used up. Quite a waste just to make one call, but none of the phones take coins, so there wasn't much other choice. There was a room available at another cheap pension further out for too much money, so we rang one of the cheaper hostels which said that there were rooms left but they don't take bookings!
So, fast as we could, we went to a tube, found it was the wrong one, picked another, walked half way across Paris under ground to get to the right platform, went three stops, changed to another line by walking almost as far then went one stop. It would have been quicker in retrospect to just walk it, but with all our gear we had decided not to. We would have covered less ground though.
Upon arriving at the hostel, we heard the people in front being told that there wasn't any rooms left for the night! No matter, the helpful guy was happy to tell us of another hostel just down the road, which was quite a bit more expensive, but this guy could offer us a double room for the following two nights, which we took. That gives us three more nights in Paris.
So, lugging gear again down the road to the larger hostel, which is pretty damn horrible. Not in terms of cleanliness or anything, but the receptionists are rude, we are consigned to single-sex dorms (I thought that finished in the 70s?), security is non-existant, we are a lot further out of town and we are paying through the nose for it! Don't waste any time at the MIJ in Rue Titon, 11e if you can avoid it.
So, dumping our bags, we set about exploring the town. The only good thing about this area is that it is way cheaper than the middle. For example, whereas we would pay about 7 euro for a beer in the middle of town (yes, that's actually worse than London), out here it is more like 2.60. We celebrated finally having moved around with a couple of one euro coffees (about a third the price of the middle!) just down the road. The little guy running the bar was quite amused to see tourist-types around, methinks.

First item on the agenda for the day was to book our way out of here, now that we have paid for our last three nights in Paris and leave on the 1st. We headed down Boulevard Diderot to Gare de Lyon, one of Paris' six main intercity and international train stations.
We first tryed to coerce a computer ticket machine into selling us a ticket, and four goes later, we finally had it organised, but it decided that even though it had a sticker on the front saying "Visa", it no longer wanted to accept Visa cards. Or, it goes without saying, cash.
So, we walked over and waited in a line for ten minutes before a helpful girl sold us two tickets on Saturday's 16:15 train to �pernay, the heart of the French wine region. Should be good fun, but for now we had more of Paris to see.
The day's drizzle didn't deter us from stopping along the south bank of the Seine to munch on yet another baguette-and-fruit lunch. We weren't too far from one of the tourist-boat stops, and when one pulled in, a guy wandered if we wanted to jump on board. He didn't appear to be doing much business on such a day.
But no, we pushed along to the river, noticing out of one eye Australian Dream, best described as an Australian stuff shop. We of course had to go in and have a look around, but it was quite disappointing - not even a chance to stock up on our Vegemite supplies, although we could have paid large sums of cash for Violet Crumbles, VB or of course didjeridoos, boomerangs and kangaroo signs galore. The signs were even in French!
Not much further along was famous Shakespeare & Co. bookshop, positioned just back from the water right in the middle of town. This English-language book shop has been running for fifty years or so, and is the brain-child of one guy who just collected a random assortment of obsolete books. In the end, after an hour or so I had to drag Liz out of the shop - we could have bought half the books in there - every second one one or both of us said "Hey, I've always wanted to read that". For now, books are dead weight that we can best avoid.
More pleasant strolling finally found us at the object of the afternoon's wanderings - Musee d'Orsay. We didn't really know what it housed, but the fact that it was set in an 1900s train station was enough to get our tourist dollars and be our token musem for the city. The queue proceeded much faster than expected, and after the lady actually looked in our backpack (she gave up looking for bombs when she saw our beanies and baguettes!), we checked it into the cloakroom and went wandering.
Having pretty much no idea what to expect turned out to be a good thing. There was plenty of same-ish art, sculpture and the like, but then we found some really interesting things. First was a small collection of Gaudi pieces, fresh in our mind after seeing so much in Barcelona. Next was an amusingly-named artist whom neither of us had ever heard of called Camille Pissarro. We both profess to not really appreciate art much at all, nor know much about it, but his impressionist works had both of us, independently, captivated.
The building itself was suitably impressive, and there were lots of other rooms, too much to take in even if we had have had more than an hour and a half before closing time to look around.
Hunger had come yet again, and we decided to walk back to the dingy part of town we found last night, up on Rue du Faubourg Saint Denis in 10e. The long walk felt almost normal after so much, yet our bodies don't really stop complaining - my knees and Liz's back. We consoled ourself with some cheap Chinese at the far end of the street, but it was no match on the stuff we get at home, had in Singapore or indeed Jono and Penny had in China.
We had originally intended to have a stop in a cheap pub or two, but we were exhausted. Just enough energy (and will to save money and keep fit) remained to propel us on the walk back down to the crappy expensive hostel, where we are spending the evening doing some long-overdue journal catchup.

Fantastic Parisian Weather!

Breakfast went by almost as a replay of the previous day - same seats, same family nearby and same strange woman running the show.
But outside, it was a different matter. Gone were the clouds of the day before - the weather was absolutely fantastic! Not a cloud in the sky, so we put everything else by the wayside and went out to explore.
After an attempted visit to Shakespeare and Co. bookshop (it was closed), and looking for one of the nearby internet caf�s (they and the ones around wanted twelve euro just to connect the laptop to their network!!!), we consulted Lonely Planet for some outdoor things to do around town.
First on the list, and reasonably nearby, was a visit to Jardin du Luxembourg. Everywhere around town, the autumn colours in the trees are gorgeous, leaving amber everywhere (although the street-sweepers are amazingly efficient at cleaning the leaves all away), and the city's gardens are no exception. We wandered through trees, spending time in the sun where possible (still very cold, especially with no clouds about), swapping cameras with some English tourists for a photo shoot, then settling down across the pond from Palais du Luxembourg for some serious relaxing. Here we ate our standard fare (at least it has changed from the standard fare of pasta and sauce a while back, I suppose) and did not much.
Another park was beckoning next, and after a quick trip back to the hotel for some cutlery and supplies, we went to soak up the rays (albeit warmly clothed) in Jardin des Tuileries, next to the Louvre. The hotel strangely provided free copies of The Guardian (English paper similar to The Sydney Morning Herald), or at least we thought they were free, and took one anyway. We read this in parts each for quite some time, enjoying the water, parklands and glorious weather all around us.
After so much lethargy, it was time to get the walking shoes on - this time in a new direction, north. We went through Place de L'Opera, a traffic-choked plaza in front of Paris' impressive Opera House. I've heard it described it as ugly, and perhaps compared to Sydney's it isn't fantastic, but still it is far more attractive than the last piece of property we owned, Rosie the big red bus, so I don't think people can really whinge.
While I remember, Parisian drivers are crazy. They break for pretty much nobody who doesn't have a siren blaring, and few people that do. There are lots of places where there are pedestrian crossings on the road but you'd be pretty foolish to assume that you, as a pedestrian, will actually get braked for. Also, getting from A to B on a map is a slow process here, since there are so many pedestrian crossing lights to navigate - we even have special "Green Man" songs to sing, urging him to appear so we can get somewhere.
Right, back on track, further next we followed the expensive restaurants north along Rue Blanche to arrive at one of the most let-down sights in the city - Moulin Rouge. Sure, we've seen the movie a few times, and obviously didn't expect it to be much like the movie, but we were still dissapointed. Just an ugly building, with an ugly red windmill (hence, of course, Moulin Rouge), and price tags that nobody earning legitimate income could afford. That of course excludes us completely, since we have earnt no income since June.
So, we settled for a few touristy photos, before pushing north in search of a few other interesting-looking things on our tourist map. Up the hill a bit further, there are a couple of other windmills. These at least could actually have been used, since they are not blocked all around by other buildings like Moulin Rouge's one is. Also, I guess, there isn't much need for grinding wheat in that place.
The area from here started to get much more attractive, easily a part of Paris that the tourist buses avoid (actually, they couldn't navigate the windy cobbled streets even if they wanted too), and we spent quite a while looking in pokey little places, walking down the other side of the hill to Paris' last remaining vineard (nothing but vines and signs in French only though), taking a photo or two looking north into the suburbs of Paris, before stumbling back into tourist-land. It was like being woken out of a great dream only to find that actually you are in a really crappy hostel and everyone is snoring and it's only 4am and now you won't get back to sleep. But I digress - it really was sad to get back to the part of town where tourists walked (from the other direction, more on that soon), only to buy truck-loads of Chinese-made garbage and get back on the buses.
Walking past the expensive bars and caf�s, it wasn't hard to see why they were all here - the huge church Sacre Coeur and it's views over the city to the south. On such a day they were really out in droves, so it was amazing to see that when we walked into the church for a look around (on our church-scale, it gets about a 4 out of 10 - we are really fussy now), most people actually followed the instructions, being quiet and not taking photos! That is so rare these days - one of the problems of mass tourism is that people forget that Disneyland and a religeous site are not the same thing, and as such different behavior is expected.
Next we enjoyed the view down over the city, taking it all in, spotting the sights, but noticing that a haze sat over the view, like so many other places. There was a funicular back down but we elected to walk, following pleasant meandering paths down to the bottom, where yet more tourist touts tried to sell us things to put in our hair, barking dogs that run around the ground and of course the ever-present Eiffel Tower keyring.
We walked south-east along the ugly dirty Boulevard de Magenta, turning right randomly into what turned out to be exactly what we had been looking for since we arrived - the cheap part of town! The city is so expensive in the core area (the standard measures are coffee 3 euro, half-litre beer 7 euro and Cornetto Soft 3 euro), that we had pretty much assumed that was the same most places. Instead, it turns out that is just anywhere within say 2km of an open-top tourist bus stop.
Here, we had found where the 'locals' live - dirty, but as multi-cultural as you could imagine, with the food to match. Standard measures dropped to 1 euro coffee, 3 euro beer and 1.50 cornetto! Tempted to drop in and enjoy it all, we restrained ourselves to a cheaper-still baguette to take back with us. On the way we passed a McDonalds which, strangely had been closed - not something you see every day. However, this one had copies of newspaper stories plastered all over it, the gist of which I got was that people had protested about dodgy labour practices and perhaps dodgy food, forcing the place to be closed! If only the rest of the world would follow suit...
Crossing the last few bridges to our hotel, we were presented with one of the most beautiful sunsets we have seen for a long time. Wow. Picture says a thousand words and all that, I'll just shut up on this one.

First Paris Wanderings

After a great night's sleep after the bus the night before, we packed up our things as we needed to move to a cheaper room. But first breakfast came, and we missed our chance to get the nice window seat. There wasn't really enough places for breakfast for the amount of people staying there, but I guess you can't really complain too much for a zero-star hotel!
The breakfast was good enough, plenty of hot drinks and of course the French baguette, to become our staple diet of the next few days. After moving to the smaller, no-view but still clean enough for our needs room, we dumped our things again and went out to explore the city.
About two minutes walk away is one of the city's most famous sites - Cath�dral Notre-Dame. It too is on �le de la Cit�, the other end to our hotel. It wasn't hard to work out what it was when we spotted it thanks to the cameras and bus-loads of tourists around, but I have to admit I expected something more impressive. It is one of those buildings who's front face hides a lot of interesting things inside.
And what an inside it has, as we found out with a great wander around the place. It's huge of course, with plenty of stained glass like most other similar churches, but this has also lots of great frescoes.
To me the interest of places like this is from an architectural point of view, and that is just as well. I think if I were more of a religeous person, I would have been sorely disappointed. They allow free entry (good, it's built for the people after all), photography (wonderful, it doesn't damage anything), flashes (bad, bad, bad - very distracting and also potentially damaging), but worst of all loud talking and mobile phones.
It's all well and good to hope that people will be nice and give the place the respect it deserves, but it will take more than the stares of Liz and I to make people like one Japanese buiseness man doing a loud deal on his phone as we wandered around change their ways. Others didn't really even notice, since they were talking so loudly themselves. A sad state of affairs, really.
After that, we walked outside for a breather, escaping about 98% of the tourists by simply walking around the other side of the building into a rather pleasant park there. Liz pointed out and explained the flying butresses on the building - something I had never heard of but which she told me were hold the higher walls of the building in. Learn something new every day!
At the far-east tip of the island we wandered into M�morial des Martyrs de la D�portation - the city's holocaust memorial. It was different from others in other places we have seen, with strange haunting architecture designed to evoke understanding of the conditions people lived and died in. Reading the names on the walls of the concentration camps we visited in Germany was spooky enough for us, it's almost beyond imagination what the actual experience must have been like.
Even though the weather was so terrible that we could no longer pick out the Eiffel Tower from where we were, we decided that a walk over to that part of town would be worth while, with a few detours.
First through Jardin des Tuileries next to the Louvre, where we admired all the grounds as we wandered along westward - plenty of proper outdoor chairs which no doubt were packed full on better days than this with people all around the fountains and ponds, enjoying living and working in such a beautiful city. At the end of the Jardin, we entered Place de la Concorde. Or I should say cautiously waited for the crossing, as this is one of those amazing French intersections with lots of roads all coming together, governed by very few rules. There is an Ejyptian obelisk in the middle, pilfered like so many others we have seen on our travels - when we ever make it there there will be nothing left of the place. By this stage we could make out the Eiffel Tower, except for the top. Very misty though.
It was still plenty cold as we made our way along Avenue des Champs-�lys�es, the famous wide street leading up towards the Arc de Triomphe. We just kept on walking, waiting for lights to cross, snapping the occasional photo when less than ten million cars were in the frame, and dodging scam-artists who curiously wanted us to buy bags and wallets for them, with cash, since their duty-free allowance had been used up. Steer well clear of that one.
Eventually we were at place Charles de Gaulle. This place is totally crazy - the world's largest roundabout. As earlier, there are no lanes marked out, just thriteen different roads from which drivers attempt to fight their way to another road somewhere on the other side a long way away.
I say a long way because in the middle is the dominating Arc de Triomphe, built by Napoleon to celebrate just how good he was. How modest. It is a very French thing though, with a massive French flag flying underneath leaving you in no doubt where you are.
We would have been stupid to attempt to get to the arch with any other method than the underground passage - a bit sad, but offset by the fact that there were some great panorama photographs underneath. We said no thanks to the lift operators about a ride to the top, instead appearing just next to the arch to have a look around. There is a flame burning in rememberance of unknown soldiers, and of course that truly massive flag. Plenty of nice sculpture too.
Having come this far into tourist-land, there wasn't much left for it but to power on to the Eiffel Tower and get it all over and done with in one go. The weather meant that we didn't want to go up it today, but we still wanted a look.
We wiggled our way through streets, over bridges, then more little streets, taking the shortest path on our weary legs. For most of the last part we couldn't see it due to the high (but not skyscraper) buildings all around, and there it was! Right up there with the Leaning Tower of Pisa, the Colosseum and Big Ben, the most touristy sight in Europe trip was finally in sight.
Clearly we had arrived by a strange path to the place, from the north on the other side of the river - a path yet to be discovered by enterprising tourist-junk sellers, as we didn't see one until we were right near Pont d'I�na, the bridge leading to the tower. Curiously, it was actually quite cheap, and Liz grabbed a scarf since the weather was so chilly and ours are back in, you guessed it, the van.
Just on the other side of the bridge, the real pestering began, but so did the fantastic views - the tower truly is huge, way bigger than we had imagined. Hard to believe it was almost pulled down in 1909, spared only because it was a great place to hang antennae for radio transmissions. With the mind-boggling array of souviners available displaying it and the shere quantity of people queueing for lifts up even in the terrible weather, I'm sure the French are glad it was saved after all. Plus, even given all that, it's still kind of nice to look at.
Walking out the other side, we took more photos of course, but none really that good due to the weather. We set across the city, via a post office where the helpful guy told me that he could either sell me a package for eighteen euros to post my CDs home or I could go to the newsagent ('Library') across the street, buy a package for one euro then he could sell me the stamps. Then, as the French say, Whalla! (Not sure of the spelling, though).
Next came the best news in ages - we finally got through to Donna from the Netherlands to find out when Rosie was being picked up for towing back there, only to hear that all systems are go and she should arrive in the next few days! Didn't expect that, things look to be working well for a change.... (touching plenty of wood on this table here).
We weaved our way back to our hotel via Place Vend�me with its interesting bronze central column and 'fashionable' shops, an Irish pub (hey, we miss the place!) which was hideously expensive and the saving some money by getting dinner from one of the big Monoprix supermarkets, near Pyramides Metro. These places are kind of strange, because they have a K-Mart type shop on the street level, then a supermarket (and maybe restaurant, ...) underneath. This makes getting a large quantity of shopping out difficult, but we managed our small haul just fine.
The trip also passed us through the Louvre - it's very strange having such a famous place as just something we pass through in our travels around town. Opening the doors to the hotel a wave of warmth came over us - it is getting truly chilly outside now, and we are looking forward in earnest to meeting up with our warm gear in the coming weeks.

Into Paris - Louvre

(Continued from Espa�a 1)
It's a little confusing due to the fact that daylight savings stopped but the bus clock didn't follow suit, but I think it was around the second 3am that I got sick of the annoying bus seats, rolled over and noted that people on the other side were lying back in considerably more comfort than us.
We had searched in vain when first getting into our seats for the button to make the backs lean back, but now my search started again in earnest. This was so uncomfortable that I just had to find that button! In the end it was in the one place we hadn't looked, and upon pressing it in my sleepy state, a kind of nirvana was entered as the back rest slowly glided back!
I hastily woke Liz, but hers proved even harder to find as she had the window seat. Still, it was managed and we slept much better after that. Our backs never really forgave us for that journey, but that's the price to pay for cheap travel I guess. The guy behind us was a bit disappointed that we finally worked it out also, as he had been enjoying the extra space. Tough luck!
Around 6am we stopped again at a no-name truck stop where people (including myself) heaped in coffees to enable them to face the day - it would be far worse than our situation to have to go to work after a night like that.
A little while back now, when Rosie blew her last puff of smoke, Liz and I sat down and made a list of the things that we would miss most if we flew home directly from Padova, calling it quits. Most of those we have done - Rome, Spainish Food, etc., but first and foremost on the list was Paris.
Some of the places we go to are pretty obscure (although less so now that we don't have the van), but Paris is one that doesn't really need much explaining. Even if you ignore the tourist sites such as the Eiffel Tour and the Louvre, it is still a pretty compelling city. And, as we were to discover, an amazingly beautiful one.
The bus finally trundled into Gare Routi�re Internationale, on the eastern edge of the city. The 15 hours had passed amazingly quickly, even though the first half had been done without the aid of the seat's magic button. We were more than glad to get off at the end, however, and try to learn another city's Metro system to get us into the middle of town.
I really love Metro systems - it's most probably an extension of my childhood fascination with trains. The Paris one is really old, on par with London's, and just as big and confusing, if not more so. We found a really cool old board where you pressed a button next to the name of any of the three-hundered or so stations, and it lit up the path through the Metro system, showing you where to change and so on, helping you to navigate between the 16 Metro lines, 5 RER lines and two tram lines.
We walked to a ticket counter and purchased a carnet of ten tickets, and the girl even voluntarily gave us a map of the system! I think the stories of the nasty-tempered unhelpful French are slowly receeding into myth.
We journeyed from Gallieni smack-bang into the middle of town, emerging top-side once again at pont Neuf. Since pont means bridge, we had found ourselves right on the Seine, the river running through Paris. It divides the city into the Left Bank (south) and the Right Bank (north). However, we had chosen a hotel right on an island in the middle of the city, �le de la Cit�. This place stood out as amazingly cheap and amazingly well placed.
We walked over pont Neuf onto the island, then into place Dauphine, a quiet goregous little square at the western end of the island. H�tel Henry IV shows its 250-year age well, being very run-down, creaky, smelly, yet with the two features we needed - cheap and central. Time Out magazine describes it as a "deluxe dive", and that's pretty apt really.
We hadn't booked, which was pretty brave, but it turned out that we could get ourselves a more expensive (and much better) room for one day, then a cheaper one for two more. Taken.
One of the virtues of being so amazingly central in a city such as Paris is that you have all this cool stuff about five minutes walk away. Just back across pont Neuf and a little west, we found our way into The Louvre.
We had heard so much about how long the queues were that we really hadn't intended to bother, but by some strange miracle the queue was really short and also, being a Sunday, it was cheap day also. We didn't need to be told twice, and quickly passed security, going down under the big glass pyramid into the reception area to grab a couple of tickets.
My plan was to go towards the Mona Lisa as fast as possible, get it out of the way and then go on from there. But this proved a little more challenging than first planned, so we went via quite a few other places, enjoying pretty much everything we saw.
The Mona Lisa itself was surrounded by six security guards and of course behind bullet-proof glass. We were urged to keep moving, giving us about thirty seconds to look at it before being moved on along the one-way traffic system. A bit sad, but I guess now we can say we saw it.
As we have mentioned before, we're no art buffs, so any art gallery inevitably becomes just a wander and work it out affair, going wherever takes our fancy. We saw plenty of Objets d'art, Antiquities, of course Paintings and some sculpture for good measure. The latter was best represented in Cour Marly, a large room which has been made to look like the park where all the sculpture in it used to reside. The natural lighting and space work well. Infact, the whole museum is suprisingly spaced out, nothing ever feels like they have tried to fit everything they possibly can out on display. Which is good, because we still didn't take most of it in.
I particularly liked a couple of pieces from around the place - the Eagle of Abbot Suger which is a shiny relic vase thing no doubt worth more than I'll ever earn and an amazingly ornate chess board, complete with little people under glass all around it in varying poses.
We had a break for lunch in nearby Jardin des Tuileries, where we found it amazingly cold - a theme to be repeated for most of our time in Paris. Sitting under a tree, we watched people go about their business in such a beautiful city, walking under the Arc de Triomphe de Carrousel and through the park grounds. We would get back here more than once, being so handy.
By the end of it all, we were pretty tired from lack of sleep and really needed to go and sleep. It's a shame that the tickets aren't valid for two days or something, because we felt that we could have seen so much more, but that's the common problem with museums. Leaves something for next time anyway.
Back to the hotel for an afternoon nap (funny how we did that after we leave Spain and its famous Siestas!), after which we spent the night in, noting the beautiful place Dauphine out the window.

Leading up to The Big Bus Journey

We awoke with not a good situation on our hands - Liz was not feeling well at all. By this stage we had worked out it must have been some bug or other in her system, as we eat almost identically and I was feeling fine.
I organised us out of the hostel, putting our things in the storage area, before we decided that not much at all was going to get done today. Instead, we rested, taking the opportunity to get some journal done sitting in the hostel. We would have liked to see some more things, but we had infact seen a lot in our days around the city and thought some R&R would be the best thing.
Around 2pm, we jumped on a Metro down to Marty's to pick up our big bag we had left there previously. First we went into the huge supermarket there to grab some supplies for the bus journey, where we bumped into Katherine. She was also leaving shortly, flying out on a plane a couple of hours before us - lucky thing!
We walked up to Marty's, managing somehow to press the right doorbell button and get inside. Since we had to get moving and Liz still wasn't feeling the best, we didn't stay too long, bidding them both farewell until we see them in Sydney over Christmas.
Our next stop was to the EasyEverything internet caf� to use up the credit we had purchased when first arriving, which had lasted us well. It turned out we could use it on two computers at the same time, leaving us both to get through some emails.
We also wanted a wander up and down La Rambla once again, this time with me with digital camera on hand for some snaps around the place, including Monumnent a Colom at the bottom of La Rambla. This done, it was back to the hostel to organise some dinner, and by this stage Liz was feeling much better. Perhaps getting out and on the town a little had fixed her up.
There wasn't much left in the day but to wander slowly to the bus station with all our gear to catch our 8pm bus to Paris. Along the way we found a really cheap barber, so I sat down and let him go more than a little overboard, happy that however bad it looked at least it cost five euros. And even that I had found earlier in the day on the ground :)
After a little bit of a scare (the bus company we had booked with was actually operating under a different name), we located our bus stop and just had to wait until it arrived. Once it did, we chucked our bags in the back, and went through the crowds to get inside. It was a huge double-decker bus, and the bottom level was full, which didn't bode well for our travel sickness concerns. The top level was also pretty full, but we managed to convince a couple to stop hogging two seats each, leaving us together for fifteen hours or so towards Paris.
This couple also had a young baby, which was more than a little concerning, but he behaved himself amazingly well, and was more than a little interested in us strange-looking Aussies.
It turned out that we didn't feel sick at all!! This was an amazing breakthrough, as my parents will no doubt attest to just how sick I used to get just driving around Sydney, let alone on long journeys. We made our first stop around 11pm back in Girona, then we dozed off for the night, lulled to sleep by the dark lighting and people deciding to be quiet around us.
Somewhere along the way, we crossed the border back into France.

Parc G�ell, La Sagrada Familia

On Friday I woke up feeling much better than I had been feeling for the last few days, so we both enjoyed our breakfast's before heading outside to explore more of Barcelona.
Our first stop was at an internet caf� to check our emails, and then we caught the Metro and travelled across the city.
From where we got off the Metro, we climbed steeply uphill, making use of a few escalators that were in the centre of the road going up. At the top of the hill, we entered Parc G�ell, a huge and beautiful park that was designed by Gaudi, the same man who built and designed a lot of La Sagrada Familia.
From the park we had excellent views out over Barcelona, with the sea in the distance and the sun shining brilliantly over everything. We spent quite a while enjoying the view and had a nice walk around the top of the park, before heading downwards.
Further down through the park, we saw the main areas of Gaudi's influence - his own beautiful house, the water fountains and seating areas all decorated with colourful broken tiles, the two 'gingerbread' houses, which I particularly liked, and the very famous 'Drac', a mosaic covered dragon.
We explored all around before exiting out through the bottom end of Parc G�ell.
From there we took a long walk to La Sagrada Familia which took quite a while, but at least it got us off the busy tourist trail for a while. We stopped along the way for a snack from a bakery, and enjoyed looking around a different section of Barcelona's many streets.
After a while, we reached La Sagrada Familia, only we were at the other end of the church to the end we had seen the night before. But first, here is a bit of information about La Sagrada Familia...
La Sagrada Familia is a church that construction started on in 1882, and today, in 2003, it is still not even half-way to being finished. Gaudi had a lot to do with it's design, and he also did most of the work on one end, the Nativity Facade, the end of the church that we had seen on Thursday night. Unfortunately, Gaudi was run over by a tram in 1926, and died a few days later, for a long time construction slowed down or stopped altogether, partly because nobody knew just how Gaudi had planned how to build such a huge and complex building, let alone keep it upright for years and years. Now, they have a tentative finishing date of sometime in the 2020's, but a lot of people feel that the church should be left as it is, as a tribute to Gaudi.
So, Tim and I now stood at the Passion Facade, built long after Gaudi's death, sometime in the 1950's. It is instantly different to Gaudi's end of the church, and I have never seen such contrasting sections of the same church.
The Passion Facade still had biblical scenes, as does the Nativity Facade by Gaudi, but the stone carvings have very straight, severe lines, and it looks very modern, and hardly like a church at all. In comparison, Gaudi's Facade is full of flowing lines, soft curves and a lot more detail. Gaudi's Facade even has a tree carved high up, and the tree is covered in doves to symbolise peace. It's hard to explain....you'll just have to go and see it yourself!
Tim and I bought tickets to go inside, but before we went in, we stood and stared at the newer Passion Facade for quite a while. Then we went into the church.
It is quite strange to follow to line of a pillar, up and up and up, and then it just ends, with no roof, just a patch of blue sky. And only two or three windows, of the ones that have been built, have stained glass in them. There is scaffolding everywhere, and even some drink dispensing machines, which we thought was wrong. It is a church, after all.
You can walk around a little way inside the church, but there is scaffolding or machinery in most places, so once you see a bit of the inside, you pop out at the other end, underneath the Nativity Facade by Gaudi.
Here, Tim and I sat and stared and stared at all the detail. I could go on and on about this facade, because it really is quite amazing, but once again, you'll just have to go and see for yourself :)
Next, we climbed up into one of the incredibly tall towers, nearly to the top, crossed a bridge, and then wound our way down again. We went really high up, so we had great views looking down into the church and also out over Barcelona. We were so high up that I felt dizzy, especially after winding up and down all the stairs! Being up so high gave us a chance to see a lot of Gaudi's work up close, which was fantastic.
Back down on the ground, we had a bit of a rest while still admiring the church, before finding the nearest Metro station and catching the Metro to a station near our hostel.
We spent a while back at the hostel, relaxing and catching up on our journals, before cooking pasta and sauce for dinner.
Once we had eaten and done our washing up, we headed back outside and walked from Barri G�tic up to the Musical Fountain, which sits just below Palau Nacional where we had walked up to the day before. Here, they put on a show similar to, but nowhere near as good as, the Magical Fountain on Sentosa, Singapore. It had lights and music, but the views out over Barcelona were better than the fountain.
We met up with Marty and Katherine there, and after Tim and I had taken a few photos, the four of us headed off on a tapas and bar hopping spree.
We went to three or four different pubs, and at most of them had a plate or two of tapas (olives or potatoes bravis or calamari) and a drink. It was lots of fun, and the last bar we went to was the Wax Museum bar where we had been once before, with all the wax trees and so on, before heading back to our hostel.

Olympic Site, Crazy Caf�

When we woke up on Thursday morning, we had breakfast at the hostel, and then Penny and Jonno checked out and went off to find a place to stay that was closer to the bus station as they had to catch an early bus the next morning to take them to the airport. Tim and I stayed in the hostel we were in, as it was nice and central and was one of the few hostels in Barcelona that had a kitchen. So we spent our morning checking emails and organising a way to get from Barcelona to Paris.
This ended up being a bus to Paris, all the way from Barcelona, 15 hours in total. We booked it for Saturday night, and although it was the cheapest transport option by far, neither of us was too excited about such a long time on a bus.
We met up again with Penny and Jonno at Midday and decided to walk from the main bus terminal where we were to the 1992 Barcelona Olympic site, across the city.
The walk took a long time, but the weather was really nice (our first perfect sunny day in Barcelona), and it gave us a great chance to look around the city.
We stopped at a busy but nice place for lunch, and sat at the bar eating our food and watching all the drinks and food being prepared.
A bit more walking, and then we came to Pla�a d'Espanya, a huge and busy square that lead us up a long wide road, complete with a fountain along it's length (although it wasn't turned on). At the end of this road, we could see the huge and grand Palau Nacional, that contains the Catalunya National art museum. The building looked very impressive up on the hill, and the view out over the city as we climbed up the hill was also very impressive.
Much further up the hill, we walked through a small park, and then came to the Olympic pool. Further up the road was the Olympic Stadium, where we wandered around it's outside for a bit, before going and having a look inside the stadium. It was suprisingly smaller than Stadium Australia, but it was good to see it.
Back outside the stadium, and around the other side, we started going back downhill. There were lots of beautiful views of the city, especially when we came to the Olympic diving pool, with the spectator seats all lined up on one side of the pool, and all looking out across Barcelona and the diving pool. It would have been brilliant to sit there and watch Olympic diving as well as getting to enjoy such a nice view of Barcelona!
On our way down the hill, and guy called out to Penny and Jonno, and it turned out he was an Austrian whom they had met on their travels through Spain. The five of us decided to go for a coffee, so we made our way all the way back down to town and found a small bar/caf� to have a hot drink. The drinks were good, but the barman was a bit mad. He got all excited that we spoke English and spent half an hour explaining an American movie plot to us (in Spanish) and getting us to teach him some of the words from the story-line in English. At least that was what we think he was doing! In the end we had had enough of him, and wandered on a bit further.
We said goodbye to Jonno and Penny's friend, and went to a supermarket where Jonno and Penny bought some supplies. From there we caught a Metro to La Sagrada Familia.
Tim and I went back to La Sagrada Familia the next day for a good look around, so I will say a bit about it in a minute, but to see it that first time was amazing. The spires of Gaudi's uncompleted church towered above us as we came up from the Metro, and we just stood and stared at it for quite a while. Anyway, more about it later, but it was spectacular by night, so we couldn't wait to see it the next day.
The four of us found a small bar and sat playing cards for a while before meeting up with Marty and his girlfriend Katherine. Then all six of us went out for a drink and then dinner.
Dinner was nice, with Tim trying a Spanish speciality - pig's cheek. We all spent many hours talking, drinking and eating.
After saying goodbye to Marty and Katherine, Tim, Penny, Jonno and I caught a taxi back to the Gothic quarter, and there we said goodbye to each other, as Penny and Jonno were leaving for London early the next morning.
Back at our hostel, Tim and I flopped into our beds.

Back to Barcelona

On Wednesday morning I woke up feeling sick, so I didn't eat much of the breakfast that was supplied by the hostel, but Tim, Penny and Jonno seemed to enjoy their breakfast's.
We had decided to find somewhere to stay that was in the middle of town, as although it would cost a little more for the accommodation, we would save on transport costs and perhaps have a kitchen to cook some meals in too. Tim called a few places and found a hostel in the Gothic quarter, about five minutes walk from La Rambla, and they said they would hold beds for the four of us for an hour.
We caught a bus into the city, with me feeling quite sick along the way, and very happy to get off the bus at the end.
After a bit of walking through the Barri G�tic, we found the hostel, Alberg Palau, and claimed our beds in the dorm room with a small balcony overlooking one of the Gothic quarter streets Carrer Palau.
Jonno and Penny went out for a while to collect a package from the post office, while Tim and I went to an internet caf� on La Rambla and then came back to the hostel.
The weather was bad again - lots of cloud and rain, so the four of us sat inside the hostel for a couple of hours, eating lunch and playing cards.
At 3pm, the clouds broke a little and the sun shone through, so we went out for a walk.
From our hostel, we walked through lots of the Gothic streets and up to Esglesia de Santa Maria del Mar, a large and beautiful church, with some gorgeous stained glass windows inside.
We kept walking and made it to Parc de la Ciutadella, a huge park, complete with duck ponds, a very pretty cascade, lots of green trees and a concrete Mammoth! It was very nice to wander around the park and get some fresh air and a bit of sunshine after being cooped up inside for a lot of the day.
It started getting cool, so we headed back to the hostel, stopping for a coffee in a small caf� along the way, and exploring yet more of the Barri G�tic streets.
For our dinner we cooked at the hostel which had a kitchen, and made a big stew with chicken, beans and vegetables, all topped off with some wine and our own version of Sangria. It was all delicious, and it was great to have a kitchen to cook in after not being able to cook for quite a while.
After dinner, we sat around playing cards, chatting and drinking hot chocolate until quite late, and then we all went to bed.

Tarrrrrrragona

For breakfast on Tuesday, the four of us had coffee in the bar downstairs, accompanied by a few of our 'Magdalena' cupcakes that we had bought many of the day before.
We spent a while working out what to do for the day, and decided to go further north to Tarragona, another town right on the coast of Spain, but still a little way south of Barcelona.
Jonno and Tim went for a walk to find out about a bus that might take us there, but without much success, so we all checked out of the hotel and walked up to the train station.
Here we also had troubles. There were no seats available on the train until 4.30pm that afternoon. It was only about 10.30am, and Tim and I were especially un-keen about the wait after all our other hours spent waiting recently, but we decided that getting tickets for the 4.30pm train was better than nothing.
So, after getting our tickets, we shouldered our bags once more, and started the long walk back to the beach, about half an hour away. Along the way we stopped at a supermarket and got some food for a picnic on the beach, and then we spent the day sitting on the beach, eating, drinking, talking and playing cards.
It looked like it was going to rain, so we walked back to the train station and sat on the platform playing cards. We were also entertained by a cute little dog with huge bat-like ears, and an older man that came and stood silently watching our game of cards over our shoulders, looking as though he would give Jonno a tip on how to win the game at any moment!
The train arrived on time and took us to Tarragona in an hour.
Our plan was to find some cheap accommodation for the night, but after ringing around lots of places, and Tim and Penny walking to hotels near the station, we still had not found a place to stay. We even carried all our bags up to the town centre, high on a hill and overlooking the sea, and had a look all around there for somewhere to stay. But we still had no luck finding anywhere that wasn't too expensive.
In the end, we decided to go back down to the train station, passing all the expensive shops along the way, and catch a train to Barcelona. Luckily, there were plenty of seats, and we caught a train that got us to Barcelona not long after 8.30pm.
The place we ended up staying the night at was the HI Alberg Mare de D�u Montserrat, a bit out of central Barcelona, so when we had to catch a Metro to get there and then walk uphill a little way to find the hostel. It turned out to be a nice hostel, set in an old stone building and beautifully decorated inside with mosaics and coloured marble.
We dumped our bags in the dorm room and then went and caught a bus into town to find some dinner.
It was quite last by now, so most places in the Gothic quarter, where we were looking for dinner, had stopped serving food, or were simply out of our budget. We ended up choosing a kebab place where we had some beer as well and then sat playing cards until they dimmed the lights and turned the music up. So we went to another bar and sat playing cards until the wee hours when they kicked us out.
We caught a taxi back to the hostel, and went to bed sometime after 3am.

Vinar�s

We left the pension for a final time and walked strapped to our packs to the station. Trains back north were full, we were told. Not good news for us, and yet another transport annoyance in Spain.
We could get as far as the edge of the Metro system back in Castello, so that we did (at least it was cheap). From there however, there was only one train and that was going to cost us heaps. So, it was back to waiting at the bus station - the same one we had hated with such a passion days before.
This time, a bus turned up almost on time, and we payed the rather cheap fare up north to Vinar�s. However, the limitations of bus transport rapidly became apparent, as it was quite full and we had to put our packs on our laps for the whole journey.
The bus stopped at about a thousand stops through the suburbs of Castello, which didn't bode well for us getting to our destination any time that day. But once outside the city, it stopped only once all the way there, so that was much better. We watched the country roll by, strange to be back on the road again (as opposed to some rails). It's a pretty place to travel through, but hard to do justice to buried under large packs and not able to stop whenever we want. That's for next time.
We stopped in Vinar�s, jumped off and had absolutely no idea where we were. There's not much going for this place besides its rather nice beach and the fact that almost no tourists want to go there, so it is cheap. We followed the only signs we could see, walking through anonymous streets line with similar shops, searching for a sign to the centre.
One eventually made itself found, and we walked past yet more little caf�s, bars, shoe shops, markets, squares and the like until we sighted the beach. There we plonked ourselves and picniced, not having any better plan until we heard from Jono and Penny. The beach was one of the nicest we have seen in recent times, having almost real sand but still a little too polluted. The water was quite a bit colder than Nice a few days earlier, due mostly I guess to the storms.
Jono rang, saying that they were at the train station and would walk down to meet us on the beach. Here, the station is about half an hour inland, which Liz and I had noticed when we came through it on the train a couple of days ago.
I almost fell asleep in the sun, but was awoken by the sight of two very fit people saying hello - Jono and Penny, fresh from several hundered kilometres of walking around Spain. We haven't seen them well and truly since Sydney, so it was great to catch up on the beach for quite a while, trading travel tales. But eventually we needed to find somewhere to sleep for the night.
We had no real opposition to staying in this town, so we set off in search of a cheap pension. They both speak quite good Spanish (one of the reasons they are here is to teach English), so this proved no real problem. We found one back towards the station above a lively little bar filled with locals. It was pretty basic, but very cheap and we were happy enough there.
Dinner was next on the list of requirements, so we headed back to a large supermarket Penny had spotted earlier, stocking up on bread, meat, cheese, amazingly cheap wine and beer, all of which added up to a great meal for not much money at all.
We searched for a little while to find a place to eat it all, settling on an area just near the beach overlooking the port. Here we sat for ages, just chatting yet more, munching, and everyone enjoying the opportunity to talk to other people after so long with nobody really other than each of our partners to blather at.
The sunset over the port was gorgeous, and we stayed until after dark, ducking into the nearby bar when nature called, hoping nobody noticed!
Back to the pension, we retired to our separate rooms for the night.

Valencia

One thing you usually don't get in a pension is a breakfast included, and this was no exception. So, the first mission for the day was to find a cheap breakfast somewhere.
The place was right near Plaza del Ayuntamiento, a triangular-shaped thing with a fountain in the middle, lined with pleasant if a little touristy shops. But on the whole, the city is far from over-touristed. I think we only saw one actual souviner shop the whole time.
Not too far north, we passed a few caf�s before choosing one offering a cheap croissant and coffee deal. We sat down upstairs, with plenty of locals doing the same, just reading papers and doing not much at all. Liz ordered English Breakfast tea, which was actually real leaf tea in a strainer thingy, something very rare here where almost nobody drinks tea at all.
Further north, we passed L'Almonia, the heart of the Roman town of Valentia, where there are on-going excavations. Next door was Plaza de la Virgen, where hundereds of locals were gathering doing whatever it is that locals do on a Sunday morning in a Spanish square. Also, there was an area where people were madly swapping football cards, huge piles of them with about fifty people all wandering around trying to find that elusive player. Mums were even there with a printed list of the cards that little Hos� needs to finish the set off. It was all quite interesting - the Spanidards are truly fanatical about their football.
Next we crossed another interesting feature of Valencia - the old river-bed which once carried plenty of water through the city, now carries local kids playing football and a plethora of great gardens under the banner of Jardines del Turia.
Over one of the bridges which are no longer really required but most people use anyway, we located the tram station for a ride towards the beach. The port and beach area to the east of town are where the locals head in droves every lunchtime. If I had a three hour Siesta each day to sit and eat, I would do the same, so that's exactly what we intended to do this day.
We didn't have change to buy a ticket for the tram, so intended to buy one from the conductor onboard, but one never turned up. Just as well, since the first tram was the wrong direction anyway and we had to come back. We got off and walked a few minutes down to the beach, Playa de la Malvarrosa. Along this was a promenade of restaurants called the Paseo Mar�timo. We took our time picking one, as there were so many all looking great. Eventually we followed our noses, sat down at a table facing the water and soaked in the atmosphere.
Our paella arrived, and we devoured it with great gusto. It's a great dish, so tasty and filling while still remaining quite healthy. Here, where the stuff was invented, was a great place to eat it, washed down with a couple of local beers and just watch the sea do its thing infront of us.
To settle that down, we took a walk out along the headland where some surfers were bravely battling the still-rough waters after the stormy days. Plenty of people were watching these two guys, but the best waves were breaking right onto the rocks infront of us where nobody dared to surf. However, the local cat population had set up house there, with about thirty cats and kittens all sitting on the rocks and occasionally running away from waves. Somebody appeared to have been feeding them, but they all looked pretty mangey.
We decided to walk back to town rather than get another tram, as it appeared to be quite direct. Short it wasn't however, and we spent a couple of hours pushing towards town, stopping only for an ice cream and some water. We crossed back over the Jardines del Turia "river" at Plaza de Zaragoza, where there were lots of gardens both above and below the "water line".
The rest of the afternoon and evening was spent trying to decypher Spanish and strangely enough German TV which was a novelty, not having seen it for so long. No dinner required after a lunch of that magnitude.
Jono and Penny rang us from Morella to find out where we were, and we told them the bad news about the buses. We agreed to meet up the next day back north in Vinar�s, and as such this was as far south as we were going to get in Spain.

NOT to Morella, but Valencia

Our general aim for this day was to get a town called Morella, inland in the Valencia province, where we wanted to meet up with Jono and Penny who have been walking around Spain for a month or so. I went to uni with Jono, and interestingly when we went out for dinner back home a few times, we always ended up at Spanish restaurants. So now we were keen to go one better while we were here with them.
Up early, we left our large blue carry bag at Marty's (a welcome change with all the weight in it), and got the Metro back to Sants, where a ticket guy who spoke little English did a little 'running' mime to indicate that the train we wanted was about to leave and we should be quick. Very helpful, and we got the point and high-tailed it down to one of the platforms.
To get to this little town, we had to get a bus in from either Vinar�s or Castello, both stations on the train line south from Barcelona to Valencia City. Marty had helpfully phoned the bus company and used his Spanish to extract from them that there was no bus from Vinar�s (the closest station to Barcelona) on a Saturday, but there was one from Castello - a bigger town but further away. And none from anywhere on Sunday, which often isn't counted as a day here in Spain at all. For instance, buses run "every day" from some places, but if you ask what time the bus on Sunday is, they say "oh no, not Sunday". Weird.
We spent the hours on the train looking at the citrus trees all around the area, and doing the maths, basically working out that we would probably make it in time for this only bus at 1:30pm by about fifteen minutes. All was going well right up until two stops or so out of Castello, where the train proceeded to stop. We egged it on, knowing that our chances of meeting up rested on this useless slow train getting moving again. Soon a fast train sped past us, but still we didn't move. Something eventually spurred the driver into action, just in time to get us into Castello about three minutes after the bus left.
We ran around like mad things trying to find another way, ask people or just generally get to Morella in anyway possible. Disheartened, we were about to go back inside and get on a train to Valencia City when we noticed on the electronic bus noticeboard that there was another bus to Morella at 3:50pm! All we can guess is that this one is operated by a different company that we didn't know about.
So, we sat and waited, doing some supermarket runs for food, but cursing the fact that carrying books to read would mean more weight, so we don't really do it.
I amused myself for a while playing with my new camera, a Kodak CX6330 (3.1MP, 3x optical zoom) which takes great pictures, weighs not much at all and is tiny. However, it's designed for people who just want the photos and as such is pretty dumbed down. No arguments from me, it's going to be just fine for what we want it for, and it was cheap!
By 4pm, plenty of buses had come and gone, and we had asked all of them if they were going to Morella, but none did. We could have gotten to Romania though. By 5pm, we were part of a growing crowd not happy that there was now no way to get to this little place until Monday. Once most of that crowd got into a car that they had hired or borrowed or something at around 5:45, we decided that we had done enough waiting for the day, went inside and got on a train to Valencia instead.
This was much better, as we were actually at the far northern reach of the city's Metro system, so the journey in, while stopping at every little stop, was nice enough and plenty efficient. Not so the buses around this region.
Valencia City didn't look significantly different to anything else as we walked North from the train station, and to Hostal-Residencia Alicante, a pension (cheap hotel) located above Calle de Ribera, a lively pedestrian street with caf�s and bars. The price was good but not fantastic, so we had a quick look at a few other options before deciding that we had had enough for the day and just taking it.
The room was great - a little double with its own shower and sink, very clean and also convenient. We relaxed, not having to wait for something for a change, except for our stomachs to start rumbling.
When the eventually did, we headed out for a wander around the town, where a cheap tapas run by a lively local turned out to be a great option.

The Rain in Spain, New Camera

On Friday, Tim, Marty and I all had a long sleep in until 10am after our big night our on Thursday. And then we didn't really do much but sit around relaxing, eat a big greasy breakfast complete with bacon and sausages, have hot showers and chat to each other. The weather was still awful outside, so that made it a big incentive to stay warm and dry inside!
At 3pm, the weather cleared a little, so we got off our lazy bums and walked out to the beach. The surf was really rough, and we got sprayed by sea water, but it was really nice to walk along the beach and listen to the waves breaking.
The storm over the last few days had washed away most of the sand on the man-made beaches and the water was very brown and there was quite a lot of rubbish on what was left of the sand, so it wasn't the best looking beach, but we still had a nice long walk all the way to the harbour where we had been the day before.
We stopped there for a late lunch. There were about eight small fast-food places to choose from, so I had fish and chips and Tim and Marty had burgers.
Feeling satisfied, we headed up La Rambla and then we turned off it to find some camera shops. We spent about two hours looking around various shops and exploring through the back streets. The good news is that Tim found a camera that he liked and at not too steep a price. So we bought it. It doesn't have as many features as the camera he lost, but he is much happier now he has a camera again, and we both think it is definitely worth having it for the memories.
It was now dark and raining once more. We made our way through the rain to a movie cinema that showed some movies in English, but finding none we were keen to see, we decided to get a taxi back to Marty's flat and stay out of the rain for the night.
We had some pasta and sausages for dinner and sat around chatting until we went to bed.

Into Barcelona

On Thursday, we had a bit of a lie-in before going downstairs and having breakfast at the hostel. It was quite good - breads, cheese and sliced meat, hot and cold drinks, and delicious lemon cupcakes.
Back upstairs, we packed our bags and then checked out and made our way to the train station. Along the way we got a few photos of the medieval streets of Girona and the residental areas along the river-bank.
At the station, we were on-time for our intended train, and even better, the train itself turned up - only five minutes late!
So we went from Girona down to Barcelona, and at midday we were standing in the central train station - Barcelona Sants.
We put all our bags in a locker, and gave up trying to get a city map from the very slow and busy tourist information.
Our next twenty minutes were spent trying to locate the Metro station near Marty's (Tim's uni mate) house on the station maps. For some reason, we just could not see the station we were looking for. Afterwards we found out that the station we were looking for was quite new, so it obviously hadn't made it to the maps we were looking at. In the end, we asked an assistant where the station was, and he pointed it out on yet another map.
Marty was at work, so Tim and I bought a T-10 (a public transport ticket that gives you ten trips on all transport) and caught the Metro to a station that was close to the first things we wanted to see.
Unfortunately, the weather was very overcast and later on in the day it rained heavily. Walking around Barcelona in bad weather didn't really do the city justice.
We found a large square that had thousands of pidgeons, all keen to get food from all the humans to the point where they kept jumping onto our feet, or even onto the bench next to us. We at some of our bread and peanut butter, and shooed the pidgeons away, and then decided to keep walking as we were getting quite cold sitting there.
Our first adventure was La Rambla. La Rambla is Spain's most famous street and stretches all the way from Catalunya Square to Colom, a huge Colombus monument. Down the middle of La Rambla is a wide pedestrian boulevard and two single road lanes either side, then more footpaths and shops, caf�s and old buildings at the sides. The middle is lined with huge trees all along the length, and looks very pretty. But, it is most famous for the bird stalls, flower stalls and vibrant buskers and beggars.
The first section we walked along had the bird stalls - little stalls packed with cage after cage filled with parrots, pidgeons, chickens, ducks, even rabbis and baby turtles. It was interesting, but a bit sad seeing many birds squashed into small cages, and quite a few of them showing signs of distress. Tim and I also wondered if some of the exotic parrots we saw had maybe been smuggled from their native countries.
Next were the flower stalls with a huge array of brightly coloured flowers and plants. Along the sides were buskers or human statues, people on stilts and even a "Michael Jackson" dancing to music. And of course, lots of other tourists.
We went off to one side and had a look through a few souvaner shops, walked more along the pedestrian bit in the middle, and then crossed to the other side to go into Mercat de la Boqueria, a large and busy food market. We walked all around the market, smelling olives, fruit and seafood, seeing lots of fresh meat - so fresh that poultry was dead and plucked but otherwise whole, and suckling pigs and so on. A bit gross, but I guess that's what we eat most of the time.
We went back out onto La Rambla, and walked all the way down to the Colombus monument looking around us as we went.
The Colombus monument was quite tall, with a statue standing on top, and we had a good look before heading onwards down to the waterfront. We crossed a footbridge going past hundereds of yachts moored at the marina and looked up to the hill on our right, which was the main sight of the 1992 Barcelona Olympics. On the other side of the bridge was Moll d'Espanya, a former wharf which is now a big shopping centre complete with restaurants on the harbourside.
We walked through the shopping centre, then went back across the footbridge and back up La Rambla a little way.
We turned right and headed into Barri G�tic, the Gothic Quarter of Barcelona. It is full of lots of little grubby streets, tapas bars, coffee shops and above all the shops and bars are lots of flats. It is full of rubbish and there are lots of beggars, but it still has a certain charm and was quite fun to explore around the many streets, often getting quite lost!
This was what Tim and I did now, wandering randomly through the streets, occasionaly coming to a small square.
We saw Catedral (not Cathedral), a big church but it was covered in scaffolding and green mesh, which obscured nearly the whole building. In the square outside was a junk market, which we looked through for a bit and then we came to a wide pedestrian street which was lined with expensive shops and department stores.
By now, it was quite cold and windy, so we caught the Metro back to Barcelona Sants, got our bags out of the luggage locker and caught the Metro to the station near Marty's house.
Outside, it was even colder and raining too - not the sort of weather we had expected to have in Spain!
Marty came and met us outside the station, and we went up to his flat where we stayed inside for a few hours and watched the miserable weather through the windows.
Tim and I hadn't had anything to eat for ages, so Marty cooked us some pasta and fried eggs. It was delicious - we hadn't had eggs for ages, and as a bonus Marty was cooking for us!
Later on in the evening, we did go out even though it was still raining heavily. First we checked our email, then we ran through the rain to a huge shopping centre where we got some food for later and where Tim had a look at digital cameras.
We then caught the Metro into the middle of the city and our first stop for the night was the Wax Museum Bar. Incredible - the whole bar was full of waxwork trees, with hidden faces that were really expressive when we finally managed to pick a few out. It was like being in the Enchanted Forest and I loved it. We had a few drinks there, and when it closed at 1am, we did more running through the rain to a wine bar for a few drinks.
We got back to Marty's place about three or four am after catching the night bus and getting soaking wet and freezing cold!

We Made It!

(Continued from France 1)
Depending on what you chose to believe, Port-Bou was either in Espa�a (Spain) or France, but when we arrived it was clear we had crossed the border. Signs were different, French was now the third language, behind Catalan (the regional dialect) then Espa�ol (Spanish). English was nowhere to be seen - hooray!
Not really being prepared to wait two hours for the next train, I gave up the idea of explaining that we wanted long return tickets all through Espa�a and back again, opting just for two (dos) singles to Girona.
Another town picked for the location of its hostel, and the fact that it lie about half-way between the border and Barcelona, Girona was a little more interesting than we expected. The train station was quite a wander away from anything of interest, but at least the information office woman was able to communicate that the tourist office lay in 'that' general direction, which we set off in search of.
Back pretty much as we crossed the border, the weather had turned quite sour. This was not what we had expected at all from sun-soaked Spain. We zigged and zagged through anonymous streets, crossed the river Riu Onyar and found the tourist office. There a girl who had at least some grasp of English showed me on a map where the hostel was, then proceeded to explain on the list of hotels that this was the "price" and these are "hotels" and these are "pensions". She seemed so excited to be able to communicate in English, something she was only fairly new at. Good on her - our Espa�ol thus far stretches to "Non hablos Espa�ol" and "�Hablos English?", which is of course "I don't speak Spanish" and "Do you speak English?". The most important phrases in any new country! Oh, and love the upside-down question marks at the beginning of sentences!
The HI hostel Alberg de Joventut proved to be not far from the tourist office, through into the far more attractive old section of town. We checked into the hostel, which unfortunately is always a bit of a let-down, because it's pretty much all in English, so we could have been anywhere.
We dumped our stuff then set out to explore the city a bit. We had heard of the legendary cheap and excellent Spanish food long long ago, and were keen to check it out after so much pasta-and-sauce. The reception girl drew a few places on our map, and we set off out into the rain in search of a couple of them.
First stop was a nice wine bar overlooking the river off Plaza Independ�ncia and a few of its cute bridges, where we sat for an hour or so before going a few shops away to an empty but cheap and reliable looking tapas restaurant.
For those who don't know, tapas is a concept where you get lots of small servings of food, so that you eat about seven courses, each quite different. We had chicken, spicy potatoes, ham croquetes and all sorts of yummy goodies, finished off great with desserts that we couldn't quite fit in after all that.
We wandered back to the hostel, glad that for a while at least the French regional rail system was behind us, and we could make some progress with our trip.

Waiting for Trains II

Getting up the earliest we had for a long time, we easily beat the sun out into the world, heading straight for the station and the 8:07 train.
Only it didn't exist. That's not a huge problem, except that there were two other options to get us to Port-Bou. Firstly, we could pay up 44 euros extra on top of the ticket price we had already paid and get on some ultra super-dooper fast train at 8:46. No thanks, these tickets cost us enough already.
That left us with option number two - the 13:29 slow cheap train. Pausing briefly to wonder just how useless and out of date the timetable at the hostel which mentioned the 8:07 train must have been, we trudged out of the station to get some breakfast and begin a long wait in the town Perpignan with seemingly nothing whatsoever to do.
We sat for a couple of hours at the first caf� we found, having a hearty breakfast of croissants, juice and coffee as we generally sat and planned all the things we want to do should we ever get anywhere via train.
Upon leaving, we asked for an Internet caf� and were directed further down the main road of town (there's only one of note) to Hotel Meditteranian. There we fought with silly French keyboards for a while, tapping away and reading mails. Not much chance of plugging the laptop there, we thought.
But we were wrong - as we were leaving, a guy was sitting at the bar with a laptop, wireless card hanging conspicuously out the side! How silly, one of the few places we didn't bother to check, and there was free wireless net access in this crappy little town! A few clicks and we were away, updating the website and doing other things we haven't done for ages. The girl didn't even charge us for the wireless bit because she didn't know she had the system there! No arguments from us.
It was finally time to go back towards the train station, where we sat for another eternity before the train appeared on the boards and went to wait for it on the platform.
The poor old run-down thing rattled into the station, and clattered us towards Port-Bou. Remember we still haven't made it to Spain yet, which has been our goal for two days or so now.
Just before Port-Bou station, we crossed the border into Espa�a.

Waiting for Trains

This was a day where not a huge amount was achieved, mostly due to the poor connections between trains across the south of France.
First we waited in Nice for a train which would take us to Marseille, then we waited outside the station there. I did a run down to the cheap food shops, returning with a couple of huge kebabs and some pasta sauce.
We plotted a route towards the famous yet hard-to-reach border station with Spain, Port-Bou. But by the time we had managed the changes in trains, we decided that a good place to rest for the evening was a few stops short in Perpignan. The main reason for this was there was a HI hostel only 400m from the station.
Arriving there, we found the town really didn't amount to much. A helpful woman at the station pointed us towards the hostel, where we trudged along for a while (notably further than 400m, though). In the dark this ugly town looked even worse, so we weren't expecting much. It turned out to be alright though, in a nice old Catalan-style house where everything was clean and functional, if far from new.
After waiting while the rather rude guy talked to his mates for twenty minutes as we just sat there with the bags waiting to check in, we did so. He seemed a bit apologetic and gave us a cheaper deal.
The kitchen was outside, where we had to elbow in for some space on the two burner stove (Campingaz, no less!), to cook guess what. Liz attended to that while I went for a walk with a Canadian guy called Mark, returning with some refreshments for the night.
We took note of the trains for the next morning, setting alarms to get up early for the 8:07 train to Port-Bou.

Beaches - Monaco, Nice

The weather was excellent as we awoke, so I dragged my shorts out from the bottom of our pack, we ate the great included breakfast and then it was time to head off to soak up some sun.
Getting from Nice to Monaco on the train again was less hassle this time, rolling into the station and out the far exit, we found ourselves at a little fruit market in place d'Armes. That such a thing could exist in a place of such oppulence was at first suprising, but the more we looked around, the more it was apparent that not just the ultra-rich lived here, but more 'average' people called this place home also.
It took a while to work out how to pay for the apple we selected for consumption, but that done, it was off in search of touristy shops. We were running low on cash, which turned out to be a very good thing - not much could be afforded at all! Even our fridge magnet for the collection had to wait until we could find an ATM - something which was far harder than we expected in such a place. Perhaps if you are rich you just have accounts everywhere and don't need cash.
We walked down the quay on the south side of Port de Monaco, past billions of dollars worth of yachts, hyper-expensive restaurants, and generally feeling quite out of place. That's a feeling that didn't really leave us - nobody was actively rude to us, but there is an atmosphere of exclusiveness, something backpackers aren't really all about.
Next around the Port to the northern side, where we had the general aim of exploring Monte Carlo and finding an ATM for some cash. There are lots of streets going the same way here, but each is terraced higher than the next, so as to provide a way of getting around on such a steep landscape. We chose one of the lower ones, which still wound fairly high through the side of the mountain, with great views of the water out of the one open side.
There was a lift up into the famous casino here, which I guess explains the presence of a tourist shop. They have the standard stuff available, with an emphasis on Formula 1, due of course to the fact that one of the races is run here in late May. We had tried to pick pieces of the course out during our walks (it's all run on the streets), but settled for the fact that driving anywhere around this place at 300km/h is going to be pretty nuts. With fantastic views, however.
Out the other side of the mountain, and past an amazing piece of architecture in the Jardin Japonais towards our holy grail - Monte Carlo Beach.
It has been so long since we saw a piece of coastline, let alone in fantastic weather, with huge fish swimming right up to the water's edge and in a place as famous as this. The stones were even much smaller than in Nice (perhaps the rich employ people to break them in to smaller pieces?) In no time at all, we were lazing around, soaking up the rays and cursing the fact that our swimming costumes are back in Rosie. Who would have thought that mid-October in Europe would be swimming weather. Plenty of people, I guess, since there were others around too. Most of these, however, were so over-tanned that their skin was sagging middle-aged women, obviously living here while hubby was away earning millions, with nothing better to do than laze on the beach all day.
It wasn't such a bad plan, and it was quite a task to tear us away from the place, but there was more to see, and a beach, although not as pretty, was awaiting us in Nice also. We looked pretty silly there anyway, being the youngest there by about thirty years, and the whitest since we tan incedentally to our travels only, not as an occupation.
We found our way up a couple of tiers, and walked back past the famous Casino de Monte Carlo where so much rich people's money has been moved to other rich people that we felt it deserved a photo, but not our patronage. Besides, I don't think we quite fit the desired clientele profile.
Almost back to the train station to hitch a ride out of there, we remembered that we didn't have a magnet yet. The fastest way back due to the fact we were now a long way up from the water and hence the cheapy tourist shop was to go back in the station, down a huge long lift into the mountain where the station is, then walk down some more steps and ramps, arriving at place Ste-D�vote. The return journey to the touristy place was eased by the fact that we also grabbed a couple of ice creams, our first in weeks and quite justified in the heat of the day.
The last of our little coastal trains was waiting for us, which pulled out eventually and chugged back to Nice, stopping again at all of these tiny little stations, which I imagine only a month or so ago were totally clogged with rich tourists staying places where the poor dare not to tread.

The beach in Monte Carlo had given us a taste, and now there was only one thing for it - get a picnic and spent the afternoon and evening doing pretty close to nothing on Nice beach. We spent five hours there in total, doing nothing but chatting, munching, drinking, and looking forward in no small terms to doing exactly the same back on Cronulla beach in a month or two. And there, there is actually sand, which our bums would have loved after five hours of sitting on large stones.
The sun went down early, which coupled with the fact that it doesn't get light until about 8am now (very strange after our travels to North Cape) means that daylight savings must be on the way, which we look forward to.

Marseille, across C�te d'Azur to Nice

Shunning the not-included-at-HI-hostels breakfast, we shouldered packs early, having learnt that the bus we had taken to get there the day before didn't run on Sundays, and hence we would have to take another one.
We walked around the local soccer field where plenty of morning action was going on, interestingly with the spectators outside the fences. This bus-stop proved a little tricky to locate, but we did so on a side-street. Reading and understanding the maps and timetables proved to be almost impossible, so we just sat back and waited for a bus to arrive with the correct destination on the board.
Two more tickets got us back into the centre of town, and then it was back to the train station. After dumping our bags at the station for a ridiculous sum of money, we were quite naughty and fell for a Sunday morning McDonalds breakfast, tasting pretty much the same as it does back home.
Being France's second largest city doesn't really do much to change the fact that it is grotty and doesn't do much to hide that. We set off in search of the soul of the city, buried under kebab wrappers and all the rest of the rubbish. We headed first west along la Canebi�re, down directly towards the water. Strangely, as we did so, the city cleaned up its act just a little. I guess it is similar to leaving some parts of Redfern in Sydney.
Along quai des Belges at the end of Vieux Port, there was a fish market which paled in comparison to others we have spent time in such as Bergen. The fish were all fresh enough though, most being in buckets out the back, and prodded on the stands to show that they were still kicking. Not quite what we wanted to see to entice us into a purchase.
So, instead, we headed north to see a few interesting places with little time to do so before our annoyingly 'booked' train. We walked west along the north of Vieux Port, along quai du Port. Randomly choosing a side street, we turned north in search of adventure. I'm not sure we really found that, but this whole area, the Panier Quarter, was certainly quite different. Steep narrow streets were the order of the day, and although not quite immaculate, the area was much cleaner than we expected it to be.
Prices were high at most of the little shops, but at least they were open. We didn't grab anything to cook with there, instead just pushing through towards the station. We eventually hit boulevard des Dames, and followed this back east towards the station Gare St. Charles.
Massive roadworks made our progress slow and frequently we had to dodge into the middle of the road to get around. At least the French drivers try not to hit you, unlike the Italians did!
It was almost time for our train, so we trudged back up the huge staircase to the train station, where I went back to get our bags out of the lockers. In the second incident in recent times, there were four Australians giving us bad names in the locker room. If you insist in swearing your head off in foreign countries, at least do it without an Australian flag on your pack.

The much-slower-than-the-TGV train took us along the pretty coastline, weaving our way towards Monaco, the main famous part of which is Monte Carlo. First we had to change in Nice though, and we had an hour or two with nothing to do. We were hungry again, so split a pizza at a place near the station, one of the cheapest reliable eats we can find around the place.
We boarded the local train towards Monaco, which sits on a blurry line between a country and state of France. Technically its a Principality, but it's only 1.95km square so for most practical reasons it's part of France.
Whatever the case was, we got off the train there in the spiffy new train station, picked a random exit and set off in search of our hostel. The change from Marseille was absolute. Since the residents of Monaco pay no taxes, you can imagine that the rich all feature quite prominently. Ferraris and BMWs were all in evidence parked under/around the huge high-rise buildings with views over the sea.
Our exit from the station had been through a lift which took us high up the hill, so at least our search for the hostel was all downhill from there. After a few wrong turns, we found ourselves outside the right building. Only the demolition company's sign, the huge crane overhead and the rubble all around did not bode well. Checking the sign above the building confirmed that we had infact found Centre de la Jeunesse Princesse St�phanie, but it appeared that the Princess had long since deserted the place.
We threw our bags down to have a think about this. Here we were, in one of the world's most expensive cities, with the only cheap place to stay boarded up. We checked a couple of times, but it seems that the entry in our February 2003 Lonely Planet is somewhat out of date. Infact, for the city, they show the train station in the right place, but the hostel description is relative to the old train station, now nothing but a shell!
So, we did what any budget travellers not prepared to pay 85 euros for the next cheapest option would do - we trudged back to the train to get back to Nice. We could have asked the Tourist Information if there were any other places, but they were all closed - both offices.

All this finding accommodation stuff was getting to us, so we rang ahead and booked a room in Nice in what was actually a hotel, although which strangely had a double bed in a dorm room, H�tel Belle Meuni�re. We laughed away the hour or so we had to wait for a train back thinking that the place we were about to travel through might sound like a pile of manure, but at least they answered the phone.
It turned out to be right near the station, and a great little place too. France and Spain seem to have a number of hotels where they do dorm rooms, or even proper double rooms for very cheap prices. Just not so in Monaco.
One thing the place didn't have was a kitchen, so it was off to our third take-away meal for the day, not very good at all really. At least we push for cheap stuff, which in some cases is less than the cost of cooking. We located a kebab shop (a bit harder task than it was in Marseille, but not much) and grabbed some food, which we wanted to eat on the beach washed down with a beer. Three of the local lads thought it would be amusing to throw their pistachio nut shells at us as we waited for our food - we glared and said 'Pardon' but only got laughs in return.
When I went into a shop to grab a beer to take with us, it turned out that one of the shell-throwers was running the store. I made it quite clear that he wasn't going to get any money off me, put the beer back and off we went. Stupid idiot.
We found a drink somewhere else (cheaper!), and capped off our dinner with a nice long walk along the beach front. The beach was only about 1km from our hotel, and was covered in 1-3 inch stones, not quite the sand we have back home! Still, they were rounded and quite easy to walk along. Our walk back went via some of the centre of town, blundering our way along but generally having a ball exploring the city.
Arriving not too late, we didn't wake up our room-mate in the single bed (we had a double, remember), Hayley from the US.

Into Marseille

Being in separate dorms which we aren't quite prepared for, we only have one alarm clock. We had chosen quite an early time to meet downstairs, breakfast and get on the rails, but Liz didn't show! She wandered in quite a while later, having had not the best night's sleep. Happens now and again, unfortunately.
After our breakfast, we decided to leave Lyon, and hence headed back to the main train station. Discussions the night before had meant that we wanted to spend little time in the middle of France, instead heading for the famous "South of France", on the French Riviera, or C�te d'Azur, to spend quite a bit of time there.
Our journey was through the scenic Rh�ne Valley, to change trains at a previously-unheard of place called Nimes, where we intended to buy an extra return ticket to Monaco. Most of this went fairly well, although we had to get another train through to Marseille before we could head further east. The annoying thing about having tickets on the French train system is that you have to specify specific times you wish to travel, and in many cases pay suppliments.
We had happily paid the suppliment to travel from Lyon down to Nimes, on one of the trains I had wanted to get on ever since I was a little kid and learnt all about trains of the world. The pride of the French train fleet is the TGV, an ultra-fast way to get across the country. The GPS proved to us that we were infact screaming along at 295km/h, easily the fastest we have ever travelled while still having something joining us to the earth.
By the time the connecting train got us late into Marseille, we only just made it to the next train, where we found other people sitting in our reserved seats and a train number that didn't quite match up. Confused, we chose to break our journey there and changed our reservations to the next morning.
Looking into the great little French Youth Hostel Association guide book, we found that we could get to a HI hostel there with just a simple bus ride. Lonely Planet describes the city as "not in the least bit beautified for the sake of tourists". What an apt description. There was rubbish everywhere, beggars, and generally not much to bring a traveller there at all, except maybe as a stop if you were passing through. It did manage to have such a concentration of kebab shops that at one stage we saw three right next to each other - a feat not achieved even in Istanbul.
After waiting for a while on the busy arterial la Canebi�re, the bus arrived, and we somehow managed to get a ticket from the driver, and it wound its way towards Auberge de Jeunesse Ch�teau de Bois Luzy, in a neighbourhood about 5km out of town. The place itself is rather interesting, being in an old castle, rather run down, but that is part of its character. We had to lug our bags there quite a way from the bus stop, but it was all worked out in the end.
We couldn't quite check in yet, so I went for a wander back down to the shops to gather some foodstuffs for dinner, communicating with the shop-staff how I do not know, and coming away with a couple of cake things, some pasta sauce and a two euro bottle of wine. Not a bad haul really.
Paying up the tiny suppliment for a double room (far better than being split apart, although when they say double room here, they mean twin), we dumped our bags and set about dinner.
Saying that the place had a kitchen was a little over-kind. Infact it had gas burners that wouldn't have passed safety standards in 1950 (which at least boiled the water in about two minutes flat), and a set of cutlery, crockery and pots and pans that were extremely close to useless. We salvaged one glass to drink out of, pulled a handle off one of the pots (which actually made it better), and enjoyed a good meal.
We weren't sure where to sit at first because there was a huge conference of people all getting together and speaking rapid French (not suprising, I guess). We have no idea what it was all about, but after a while we did notice that there was not one male among them, a fact I found a little dis-concerting as I ate my dinner, the only male in the room of a hundered or so.
That all done, we continued our habit of retiring early to wake and get on the move as soon as possible.

Goodbye to Switzerland

We showered then organised ourselves for check-out, then transported the getting-rather-heavy packs down the road to the train station.
After sitting for a while at a caf� typing up some emails, we tried to use up our Swiss phone card (most of them only work in one country here :( ) to phone people back in Oz, but it seems that there was something wrong with the international lines. We talked to a few people in the UK and checked in with the progress of the Rosie transportation to Netherlands, but could not get through to friends and family back home.
Next we went up to the helpful internet caf� while where there was one, where the guy wanted to see my "Laptop Virus-Free Pass". Tune out about now unless you think you will chuckle at something nerdy. It seems that they have had quite a bit of trouble with viruses there, which they have tracked back to people with laptops coming in. I replied to him that "It's a Mac". He said "Oh, OK - you can plug in over there then". And that was that!
Internet done, we set about finding a train to France. We had heard that reservations were needed, but this turned out not to be the case. There were actually special platforms for trains going to France, complete with their own customs and passport control. Since the reason for this is that Switzerland is not part of the EU or Shengen and France is, I was a little worried that I would have a repeat of the Estonia/Helsinki incident. I needn't have worried, as the guy there didn't even look at our passports. Nor did he give me a stamp when I asked for one.
Up on the platform, we had about twenty minutes to kill, but there was no phone around to use up the phonecard. So, we boarded the first train to Lyon in France. Immediately different sounds for announcements and door opening and closing could be heard - we were on our way to another new country!
About ten kilometres later, we crossed the border into France.

Into Lyon

(Continued from Schweiz)
No dramatic changes as we crossed the border. Infact, we had technically been in France some months back, when we drove Rosie (R.I.P.) back to London from the Netherlands. The changes you see on the road as you drive around the place are far more pronounced than those on the trains.
On maps Lyon doesn't look all that far from the Swiss border, but it took quite a while to get there, proving the fact that France is the largest country in Europe. We hadn't chosen Lyon for any particular reason, other than it sounded interesting, was about the right distance for a day's travel, and Meaghan and Dave had been there a week or so earlier.
Alighting at the Gare de Perrache train station, we headed off in search of the HI hostel. This proved quite a hike away, across River Sa�ne and up some amazingly steep streets to the hostel on the hill. The hike with the packs was quite strenuous, and we stopped a few times just to admire the cobbled old streets down below us and catch our breath.
Finally making it to the top, we followed the road down towards the hostel - as luck would have it, we had chosen the steepest path up (not knowing otherwise), and we had a bit of a run back down hill a way to where the hostel actually was. The bulding was huge, and admittedly had great views across the city, which has two separate World Heritage listed areas in its old towns. It seemed to take as long as the walk from the station for the girl to check us in, people jumping infront of us in the 'queue' all seemed to not have Youth Hostel cards and hence took ages to check in.
We were put in separate dorms which is most annoying with only one set of gear, so we stashed our stuff, waited twenty minutes or so to give our keys back to the receptionist, grabbed a town map and set off for a look around.
Our busy day hadn't left much time to eat, so we set off to the recommended Caf� 203, taking a walk through town to get there along the pedestrianised rue de la R�publique. We ate the set menu, which was quite interesting to say the least, the 'highlight' being my dessert which was like a tart with carrot in it - very strange but edible. Sitting there was marred a little bit by the group of eight or so Australians sitting near us who decided that burping and farting would be a great way to pass the time. I think they were several under each, but that doesn't really excuse the bad wrap they are giving us to everyone else.
Looking for nothing in particular, we wandered back through the town, taking in the central square place Bellecour and then crossing back over one of the footbridges to take the shorter path back to the hostel.
We spent the evening getting our journals up to date in the communal area of the hostel, which, being a Friday night, was unfortunately doubling as a disco. The effect of the lighting was annoying enough, but the noise was just getting silly. We gave up after a while and went our separate ways to our rooms, where I had a great view out over the town from my window. All things considered, we slept quite well.

Gen�ve

No included breakfast at this place, so we got on the road fairly early, grabbing a croissant at the station where we had wandered to plug in the laptop. This proved to be easy, and we emailed and chatted for a while.
Just on the side of the station, a bike company called Gen�ve Roule does a very strange thing - it lets you have bikes for free. They get kick-backs from the advertising on the bikes, which turned out to be less in-your-face than we had expected.
We left a deposit, and set out to explore a bit of the city on the rather impressive bikes. Heading firstly north, dodging traffic in the infernal mess that the city is due to roadworks, back past the non-existant hostel of the previous day, we made our first stop at the Musee International De La Croix-Rouge Et Du Croissant-Rouge. For you and me, that's the Red Cross Museum, right here in the city where it was founded and is based.
As part of a deal which we were only too happy to accept, we got half price by showing our room keys. The wander around the place for a couple of hours was quite enlightening - we didn't realise what a major part the organisation had played in getting prisoners of war repatriated and organised, for one. As a museum, it was quite old by modern standards, even using a bewildering array of twelve slide projectors for one show, the effect of which was admittedly very good.
We learnt all about the history of the organisation, and saw videos and the like on more modern work, such as training young people in developing countries to look after other young people, often on the streets.
After a quick morning tea in the canteen there, we headed just across the road to the second big thing we wanted to see - the Palais des Nations, which is the international headquarters of the United Nations. We had to show our passports and have our bags scanned to get in, then we found ourselves on an hour-long tour through the building's old and new wings.
The tour guide seemed a little in-experienced, but the subject matter was worth the effort - some amazing paintings around the place, and everywhere gifts from various countries adorning the walls, floors, and even used in the construction in the form of marble and the like. We went into three different conference rooms (the building is the world's busiest conference centre, with up to 4000 per year), ranging from horrible 1970s through to fantastic 1930s.
One interesting fact is that the land on which the complex is built was gifted from the city, which in turn was bequeathed from a private land owner. This land owner made only two stipulations on the city when he handed over the land - one was that there should always be peacocks roaming in the impressive parkland, and there is - about thirty we were told. The second was that the parkland should always remain open to the public. It is sad where we live in a world where the wishes of a dying man can no longer be obeyed, citing "security concerns" as the reason for the fact that the public can no longer wander around and enjoy the treasures the park has to offer. I guess incidents like the recent UN headquarters in Iraq bombing are not going to reverse this decision any time soon. My sincere sarcastic thanks to those involved.
Next we rode back through the train station, and out the other side towards the centre of town. We had to dodge trolley-buses and buses all through the area towards Pont du Mont-Blanc, one of the bridges over the Rh�ne river. Liz nearly got sandwiched, but they seemed rather accommodating really for such obvious tourists as us.
First stop was the famous Jet d'Eau, a 140m high water spout spraying out of the lake, Lake Burley-Griffin in Canberra-style. We elected not to walk out and get covered in water, although plenty of other tourists weren't quite a wise. Some dodgy-looking lads prompted us to move onwards a bit, happily cycling in the sunshine east along the south bank of the lake.
Once past the city limit signs, we decided it was time to turn back in search of the old town of the city. This involved doubling back, then a pleasant detour through the nice city park Parc La Grange. Liz had a habit of changing gears in the wrong direction when she started on a hill, resulting in a few get-off-and-push moments! Out the other side, we headed into town along Route de Frontenex.
We stopped at a tram stop to eat some newly purchased grapes and chips, watching the world and one stinky old man go by. Further into the old town, we picked some random streets and tackled the traffic. This was done with a mixture of riding on the road and riding on the footpath - the latter didn't go down too well with a kindly old police man just like the one in the old Yoplait ads. He gesticulated for a while, but it was quite clear what we had done wrong. A quick 'pardon' and we were on our way, on the roads.
Not really knowing our way around very well, we ended up in a bit of pickle - we had picked a street which ended in a rather steep set of stairs. We could back track for a few minutes or push on up the stairs, pushing the bikes. We chose the latter, but by the top it was apparent that we would not be making that choice again for a long time. These bikes were heavy, much more so than our mountain bikes back home (actually, they're called "city bikes" most places over here, and are indeed much more practical in cities such as this one. Except when you choose to lug them up stairs).
At the top, we rode along into Cour de Saint-Pierre, a bustle-free but gorgeous square right infront of Cath�drale Saint-Pierre. Liz sat and rested from the exertion for a while, as I wandered down to check out Jazz House. A great little jazz-only record store run by an old guy who obviously was living out his hobby, I managed to keep my money in my pocket, looked lustfully at the baritone saxophone in the window and went back to see Liz.
We'd seen enough of the city for this trip, and as with so many others, we hadn't seen the half of it. It's a shame to be rushing through things now, but we can always come back next time!
We rode down the both-brakes-on very steep Rue de la Cit�, scattering pedestrians and loving the wind in our hair! Then back north across the strange bridge-island-bridge combination of Ponts del L'�le, through the traffic again back to the train station. Being peak hour, we had to walk the bikes a reasonable part of the way, not being 'local' enough to ride like manics through the traffic as the other bike-riders were doing. Perhaps we spent too much time in Italy to trust the drivers even a little bit.
No hassles getting our deposit back from the rather strange bike shop, I also handed over one part of the advertising that had fallen off and had to be carried in our pack. We walked up to the hostel, stopping to get some bits and pieces for a pasta and sauce dinner (what else?!!), which we ate conversing with an American father and son. Again we were suprised because the son had been away for such a long time (almost three months!) that the dad had come over to visit him! Weird Americans.
There was no strange sort-of-there-but-not people in our room that night, we had the place to ourselves for less than half the price of a double room.

Lausanne, into Gen�ve

We got down to breakfast a bit later than initially planned, but so had Matt and Meisha, as we discussed plans for the day. Leaving our bags at the hostel, Matt came with Liz and I as we walked down towards massive Lake Geneva.
The town actually has a "Metro" (railway) system, although it's not much like those of other cities. There are only two or three cars, running up one track climbing the steep hills upon which the town is built. We elected to walk instead.
Once down to the waterfront, the impressive setting of the town became even clearer - across the lake were huge snow-capped peaks, all reflecting in the sunshine that was abound on this much better day.
Our destination for the morning was Mus�e Olympique Lausanne, aka the Olympic Museum in the town which is the home of the modern Olympic movement.
When we got there, Matt rightly decided that he didn't have enough time to look through it properly before he had to catch his train to Paris, and as such we bed him farewell.
We hadn't been to keen to make the effort to go there - it was Matt's suggestion actually, but we were very glad it was one he made. First thing on the agenda was reliving the memories of the Sydney 2000 Opening Cemremony in the 3D theatre! Dispite the film being horribly produced and directed, it was quite entertaining to see Victa lawnmowers and the girl in the pink suit everyone said would have a huge career but now seems forgotten (?) coming right at you in 3D. We even wore the silly glasses. Liz reported being very home-sick after that, and I have to admit I probably felt a touch also.
A further couple of hours was spent wandering from exhibit to exhibit, taking in plenty of Olympic history, medals, equipment, and scandals, all presented wonderfully and easy to navigate. They seem genuinely wrapped in the Sydney 2000 Olympics - we feature highly, and even got chills up our spine as we read about Kathy Freeman in the 400m - Liz and I were both there and remember it well.
Only small criticisms can be made - the main one being that the museum is totally dominated by the Summer Olympics. Plenty is given over to the Winter Olympics, though you get the feeling the organising committee almost thinks it a token effort. Even worse is the coverage for the Special Olympics - only one tiny stand about it, compressed in the middle of the room where most people would have walked around the walls, missing it totally. The three should be on even footing, in my humble opinion.
That was enough museum-ing for a while, so we headed back up the steep streets, watching the Metro buzz back and forth under us, taunting us for not wanting to pay the fare. We stopped in the station to grab something to cook for lunch, and ended up cooking a pasta and sauce all-in-one thingy because it was going to be cheap and easy back at the hostel. Fed up for a while, we shouldered the pack and headed back to the station.
We had considered for a while heading up to a chalet hostel in the vaud Alps at Gryon, which there was a poster for in the hostel. The Swiss Alp Retreat boasted friendly Aussie hosts, lots of skiing and cheap prices. However, the train fare there and back was not quite so cheap. We'll put it on the 'next time' list.
Instead, we boarded the next train to Gen�ve. This passed rather un-eventfully, as most transport in Europe seems to do. At least when we had Rosie every day was an adventure of things not working.
Gen�ve (Geneva in English) turned out to be a lovely city. Situated, funnily enough, at the end of Lake Geneva, there are lots of alpine views all around. Plus, the city just has a 'nice' feel to it, something you can't explain, but doesn't exist in every city by a long shot.
We picked a hostel called Centre Masaryk, a little way north of town (and hence not central at all), but within walking distance (just). The building itself was not difficult to locate, but as we arrived half an hour's walk or so later we looked and looked but could not find evidence of a hostel there at all. Once past the denial stage, we looked up another hostel and headed back towards town.
A little lady could tell what were after, and pointed us the last distance towards City Hostel Geneva, an ugly but functional and well-located place. We checked in and dumped our stuff in the three-bed room, quite a let-down after the amazing place in Lausanne.
Totally exhausted after our long walk, we managed to summon the leg-power to walk down the road to an English Pub. These places are funny, because I walk in expecting someone to speak English quite well, but ordering a pint of Kilkenny (which I know is actually Irish) proved a little challenging. Besides, they don't serve pints, you get a half litre. Somehow, that 85mL missing makes a difference and it's just not quite right.
The drink didn't increase our enthusiasm for cooking, so instead we wandered in search of something cheap to eat - quite a challenge in what we worked out was a very expensive city. I've heard Gen�ve described as more belonging to the world than to Switzerland, and this was certainly evident in the variety of food available. We settled for Lebanese kebab and felafel plates for a rather high price in Swiss Francs (which is a mental barrier, because they are worth quite a bit less than Euros, almost the same as the Aussie dollar, actually).
We were waiting until 9pm when we had read that one of the internet caf�s near the station had cheap internet access, but by the time we got there, the signs on the wall told us that we could plug the laptop in, no hassles! This has become so rare, that we decided to come back the next day instead with the laptop and communicate with the world.
As such, it was back to the hostel for the evening, where we noted that a third person had joined our room, but she didn't actually sleep there at all. We saw her a couple of times and by the morning, there was no trace of her at all. Very strange.

Bern, Into Lausanne

Another reasonable breakfast to start the day, and the weather also could be described as reasonable. Your standards get lower when you have horrible days - this day was just ok - no rain, but overcast and hopeless for spotting the mountains we had had such a great time at doing the day previously.
We saddled up and walked back into town, stopping for a few more small errands before finding ourselves a train towards Gen�ve (Geneva in English, Graf in German). It's quite confusing, because Switzerland has three official languages - German on the east, French on the west and a little bit of Italian down south.
Pushing in to Bern (which is still, but just, in the German-speaking region) to change trains, we had a bit of a read about what attractions it had. To put it lightly, not really much. We decided that as we were going through there anyway, we would have a look around to say we had and get on a later connecting train south-west.
We locked our bags into the station lockers, helping some British people who were there also, but seemed completely incapable of reading the signs, even in English. Once outside, the weather was putting a dull note on what was already a dull city. It's the capital, but only the fourth-largest. Pushing on because we had come this far, we battled rain and wind to take in the place's most famous sights - a fountain of a giant eating small children and a large clock that dings and clangs like so many others.
Also we made a supermarket trip, but didn't have enough bag space so we were carrying a triple-pack of pasta all around the city with us! We went down into the bowels of a building chasing an internet caf� which would let us plug the laptop in. We had to push a huge red button to summon someone to help us in the silent basement, the style of button that they use in cartoons with a huge "do not press" sign next to it. She eventually came out and told us no show with the laptop.
Further on, we looked through a few markets before getting back to the station. Sure, we could have seen more, but the city is very low on Lonely Planet's recommended things to do when in Switzerland, and the only other thing at all we could find of interest is the city is where the official mascot comes from - the bear pits. Apparently there is a bear show where they perform tricks and the like in horrible concrete surroundings - hardly the sort of place we wanted to patronise with our limited tourist dollars.
So, we got back on a train and headed across the invisible border that marks the end of our travels speaking German. The effort we put in to pick a little of it up was worth it, but now we might as well be in China. We pulled out our European Phrase Book and started to learn a bit of basic French to get by. As always, the first thing we need is "I don't speak French", which we are both quite fluent at now!

As the train approached Lausanne, we decided to break the journey to Gen�ve just a little more, and spend a night there. The train announcements by now had changed to be French first, then German, and also the conductor spoke with a heavy French accent. Amazing how quickly things change across this invisible border.
Lausanne is quite a small place, and has one backpacker's place only. As such, we headed there, quite close to the train station (lucky, as the rain was back). Lausanne GuestHouse & Backpacker turned out to be one of the best places we have yet stayed in. All newly renovated to the highest environmental standards, everything is non-allergenic and spotlessly clean.
Since we had gotten there before the reception was open due to the horrible weather, we sat and played as Swiss version of Memory (you know, lots of cards face down and you have to make a pair), which was interesting as the scenes were of some places we had seen, others not. Enough to remind us that we need to return someday.
The reception opened, and two of those amazing European girls who can speak about a thousand different languages checked us in, except now with a French accent. The room was gorgeous, all wooden beds and floors, with clean, fresh paint on the walls. Quite unlike most hostels around the place!
We sat down in the cosy living area to read, there being little point in being outside in the horrible weather. After a while, I heard a voice checking in at reception that sounded familiar - it turns out it was our Canadian lawyer friend Matt from the hostel in Interlaken. Bumping into people again is quite common - there a fewer around at this time of year, either going one way or the other.
We ended up spending the evening in with a few bottles of wine and some communal pasta, being joined by another Canadian Meisha staying there. She had spent some time working off a boat going around Africa helping out developing nations - there's so many great ways to travel these days.

Around Interlaken Region

After a night's sleep which was better than we had expected due to our colds, we were awoken to the sound of what sounded like an over-enthusiastic radio announcer. We knew there was piped music in the place, but this was something else. It turns out that the American voice was actually someone on a microphone, drumming people into enthusiasm for the day! Not quite what we expected from a hostel, but perhaps we should have guessed from the 'summer camp' billing this place gets.
We had our included breakfast, then got on the road suprisingly early, in through the middle of town to have a look around and get a few things organised. In common with weather-announcers world-wide, the Swiss ones got today very wrong - the prediction for horrible weather to continue was proved wrong as the blue skies let the sun shine through - we were in the real Interlaken at last.
The first and most important thing, now that it was a Monday, was to get some warmer clothes organised. The lady at the tourist office pointed us at a supermarket with a clothing section, but in the end we got a beanie each from there and gloves and a jacket for me from a sports store nearby. A marked improvement over what we have been wearing up until now.
Next, we needed to get some things organised for the tow of Rosie back to the Netherlands - notably payment and sending through the registration documents to the towing company. Both were handled quite well by the Post Office, and should be through to the recipients in a few days. From there, let the towing commence.
We had a stop in at Interlaken West Bahnhof to see if there was any news on my camera. They couldn't help much, and suggested that I call the report number again, which I did, but they couldn't help either. The general idea seems to be that they will get through to me if they find anything, which I guess is reasonable, but doesn't settle me down any.
So, warm clothes in hand, on head and around body, we set out to do some cheaper sight-seeing than we had really wanted to do (the hyper-expensive Junfraujoch railway that goes up 3500m, the highest in Europe), instead taking a bus up a windy road to a little village called Beatenburg. It was strangely nice to be on windy roads again, although weird to not be the ones doing the driving.
Nethertheless, we enjoyed the trip a great deal, soon passing up into where huge quantities of snow had fallen. Roofs, cars and pretty much everything were coated in snow, yet the place moved on, unlike what happens when the same thing occurs in London.
At the end of the windy mostly one-track road, we pulled in at the railway station. Only, not in the traditonal sense - you could either get the funicular railway back down the hill to another village, or a cable car another 1000m up. Figuring this was going to be our Swiss Alps experience for the time being, we forked over the money and jumped in the cable car.
We hadn't expected it to go for quite so long - it just kept climbing and climbing, up through the clouds and amazingly beautiful snow-covered trees, over mountain chalets, and past yet more people going about their business as if nothing strange had happened at all. Which I guess it hadn't.
The end of the ride was not terribly far from the peak of Niederhorn, 1950m high, which makes it about 1400m up from Interlaken, which looked amazingly small down below.
We set of trudging through the foot-deep snow, our sneakers being the one thing we haven't replaced, getting soaked almost instantly. Yet it was a huge deal of fun, each step an adventure of will we fall over, strike ice or just have our foot sink at times up to two feet straight down through the soft powdery snow? We completed all three with a great deal of style.
We threw plenty of snowballs before climbing right to the peak, not far but a long journey due to the incline and our lack of co-ordination and equipment. The views no matter where we turned were jaw-dropping. The weather was still fantastic, and we could see clearly for hundereds of kilometres in each direction, until our views were interrupted by the many snow covered peaks. From the top, we could see down into a valley on the other side, where a car driving along a road was like a tiny spec, and the houses even harder to spot due to the deluge of snow surrounding them.
It would be a truly amazing place to live, you wouldn't have to convince people particularly hard to stay here, although we just kept remembering the weather of the previous day. Given clear days, this is one of the most naturally beautiful places we have seen.
Eventually having our fill, we got back on the return cable-car for the trip down. We had considered walking part of it, but really that would only have been sensible with the right equipment and two replacement knees for me.
Back down at Beatenberg, we decided to walk for a while, winding our way back through the gorgeous chalets, all resplendent with flower boxes and animals nearby. The whole area seems to speak a strange mix of German and French almost interchangebly, with "Gr�ssie" for hello (presumably shortening of Gr�ss Gott, a German hello) and "Merci" for thanks/goodbye. After about an hour walking down the mountainside-road, we picked a bus stop to hitch a ride for the remaining trip down.
Once back in Interlaken, Liz went on a bit more clothes shopping to replace her jeans (which are about six months overdue in need of replacement, and now they are the only pants she has with us), while I stayed on the bus in the vain hope that Interlaken Ost train station had some news on my camera. No joy.
We met back in the centre of town (it's quite hard to get lost in), then returned to the hostel to cook some dinner, have a happy-hour beer, and catch up on some journal.

I think travelling fatigue is finally catching up with us, although the colds aren't helping much either. We are looking forward to pushing through back to London and then on our way home again, although we still have such a great time each day. I think we have just had too many stresses to deal with recently, so we both crave normality for a while.
Soon we will have plenty, and I'm sure we will be itching to travel again.

Luzern, Into Interlaken

After another stuffy night with colds, we awoke to throw together ourselves a nice cheap breakfast. We organised our packs and left them at the hostel for a final look around Luzern.
Walking back into town, we again detoured into the fairground for a bit of a look, although we managed to hold onto our purse-strings well. We had no particular place to wander, other than generally get the feel of the town on what was infact a very quiet Sunday morning.
Not long after this, we noticed that there was quite a bit of snow on the peaks that we were sure wasn't there the day before. The weather was once again very cold, although the sun was trying to break through here and there. We were missing our warm clothes back in Rosie, and thinking that perhaps we had to spend yet more money on getting some more.
That being the case, we turned down the expensive yet recommended cruises on the lake, which would have been rather nice, but frightfully cold. Instead, we settled for a walk around the far side for a while, until we turned inland in search of warmth.
After Liz called to have a chat to her Dad, we went into a Starbucks and hence had a nice warming American coffee in Switzerland. Well, the place was convenient and we just wanted to rest. Not quite as bad as McDonalds, which we have stayed away from for quite a while now.
From there, it was time to get back to the hostel to get our bags, and head onwards to a new place of interest. There were a few sights we would have liked to have seen in Luzern, but perhaps next time, when the weather is better and we are better prepared.

Packs shouldered, we walked to the train station and grabbed a few snacks for the journey on the train westwards to Interlaken. As we are travelling on big complicated tickets, we just hopped on the first train we found, which the conductor failed to appreciate as our tickets went a different way. No matter, he gave us alteration tickets (in German and French, neither of which we understood), and smiled once again.
The train travelled an extremely scenic route over the Br�nig pass, along mountain valleys, past inland seas and other places of huge attraction. We had a great look, swapping seats as the most scenic places popped into view to get the best look at it all.
To get over the pass, the train had to do something neither of us had ever seen before - it actually went on a rack. Trains typically have a problem with going up hills (must be something to do with metal on metal not gripping too well), so what they did here was have a little ratchet wheel actually climbing up a ladder of sorts in between the tracks. In this fashion, we climbed up slopes that would have had most cars back in first or second gear, all in a 'normal' passenger train!
We passed through tiny mountain villages where people got on and off, and plenty where nobody did - perhaps nobody lived there anymore and noone had told the railway company. Why they would have left would have been a mystery however, as the huts tucked away in mountain passes, with no roads in were a sight to behold. Add plenty of cows with loud bells (they're everywhere here), and the snowline which even now was only about another 100m higher, and you have a very beautiful place to live indeed.
Back down the other wide, we followed the beautiful lake Brienzersee into the city of Interlaken. The setting is really something else. Described as 'the real Switzerland' by plenty of different places, the city has it all - huge green fields with tinlking cows in the middle, towering mountains all around (the largest is Jungfrau, at 4100m or so), and the two blue-green lakes on either side. However, this day it was not at its best. The weather was absolutely appalling, rain being thrown down hard.
It was in this horrible weather that we made the fifteen minute treck or so from Interlaken Ost (there is also a West) station to our hostel Balmers. By the time we got there we would have accepted any room at any price, but there were enough cheap ones left in mixed dorms, so we were happy. It is a highly American place that has been running since 1945 and is more like a summer camp than a hostel. They cook plenty of meals, there are two bars, and of course so many Americans here. No major problem, us Aussies are putting in a good show also.
The place is two big old houses with massive jumbles of rooms throughout, making it quite difficult to navigate. Luckily, we had prepared for it being a Sunday with all the shops closed, plus there was not much chance of us going out in the terrible weather anyway, so we stayed in and got chatting to some interesting people.
It is very strange by this time of our trip when we ask people "Have you been travelling long?", and they reply "Yes, about five weeks". We let them rattle along for a while about what they have seen, and when the return question comes to us, they are absolutely floored when we say that our travels are approaching fifteen months. Americans especially do their travel in one or two month blocks, then go home again. This means they have more money for each thing they want to do (they bought dinners while we cooked pasta), but we get it all over and done with. Well, for a while anyway.

DISASTER! And Luzern

(Continued from Liechtenstein)
Unfortunately, crossing the border didn't mean that the weather got better, so we continued onwards in the rain until we came to Buchs central train station.
At the train station, Tim went and got us some train tickets, while I sat and waited with our bags. When he came back, he had tickets that would take us all the way to Port-Bou, a stop on the France/Spain border. I wasn't expecting to get tickets for so far already, but it actually will work out a lot cheaper in the long run. And we can still get on and off the train as much as we want. The ticket expires long after we will be home in Sydney.
At Buchs, our train was delayed, but we got one about twenty minutes later. We then changed trains twice at Sargens first, and then at Thalwil. Our destination was Luzern (Lucerne in English).
But, along the way we had a disaster - poor Tim left his camera on one of the trains. We realised too late when we were on another train arriving in Luzern. We repored it immediately to the Swiss train system's lost and found, but we have heard nothing yet, which probably means noone has handed the camera in. We are both really dissapointed, Tim much more so, although I really admire how well he is dealing with the fact that he probably won't get his camera back. It is good that we have my camera to make sure we still get lots of photos, but loosing the expensive digital camera is a huge loss.
So that all kind of left us feeling quite flat and down in the dumps. We walked from the station to our hostel Backpackers Lucerne, hoping that someone would be honest and hand our camera in.
At the hostel, we waited a while for reception to open, and then were put in a four-bed dorm with another couple. The great thing about this hostel was that it had a kitchen we could. So many hostels before then had had no cooking facilities, which meant we were having to go out and buy lots of meals from restaurants and fast food places. And on a tight budget, that takes up a lot of money. So being able to cook was great, and we made heaps of pasta and sauce which was delicious.
After dinner we went for a walk through the town. Luzern is set at the end of a huge lake, the Nierwaldst�ttersee, which has huge mountains all around it, and the whole place is really beautiful. From our hostel, we walked along the lake's edge through the town fair, having a look at a few of the stalls and up to Kapellbr�cke (Chapel Bridge). This was really beautiful with the bridge, nearby tower and buildings all being reflected in the water. The bridge is old, first build in 1333, but in 1993, a lot of it burnt down, destroying many of the old and fascinating painted panels on the bridge. Even though much of it has had to be re-built, it still seems very old and you can also still see much of the fire damage.
We walked around many of the backstreets, peeking in closed shop windows and enjoyed wandering around. Eventually we slowly made our way back to the hostel, stopping at the train station along the way to get some food supplies.
We both have annoying colds at the moment, and because of this we did not sleep too well.

Leaving Liechtenstein

On Saturday morning the weather was still awful - lots of cloud obscuring a lot of the mountains, and it was raining constantly.
We didn't feel too bad from all the bike riding the previous day, just sore bottoms! We had breakfast at the hostel and packed up all our stuff and headed out into the rain. From the hostel, we walked up towards the Rhine and then walked alongside the river until we came to a bridge, where we could cross over into Switzerland. So, we waved Liechtenstein goodbye and crossed over the borderline into our new country.

Around Liechtenstein (almost completely)

When we woke up on Friday morning, the weather wasn't looking too good. The sky was very overcast and it was raining on and off. We had breakfast at the hostel and also decided to stay another night at the hostel. But instead of staying on the double room, we decided to switch to the dorm rooms to save some money. However, the guy at the desk said it was too much trouble, so he let us stay in a double room for the dorm bed price! Bargain.
From the hostel, we hired a couple of bikes as this seemed like quite a good way to see most of the country. The brakes and gears all worked, and the bikes even had a lock-up system to leave them outside and so on, and lights for night-time.
We rode a short way down the road to Vaduz first. Vaduz is the capital of Liechtenstein, but is still just a tiny town. We looked in a few of the shops, and that was about it.
The whole of Liechtenstein seems to fit quite neatly in a long valley with Austria on one side and Switzerland on the other. And because it is in the valley, there are huge towering and very beautiful mountains all around. Even though the weather was pretty awful, the mountains looked so tall and it was nice to see clouds floating across and covering up the little hillside villages.
From Vaduz, we could see the Royal Castle nestled in between the hills up on the mountainside. We kept riding south, stopping at a Tourist Information to get Liechtenstein stamps in our passports, riding part of the way up a steep hillside and then giving up, and stopping to get a loaf of bread and jar of jam from a small supermarket. We also stopped quite regularly to dodge the frequent rain showers. At some stage we went and found a bike track going right along side the Rhine River, which is also the border with Switzerland. We came to a bridge and crossed over to Switzerland - a new country! Unfortunately it was still raining in Switzerland, so we crossed back over into Liechtenstein.
We ended up riding all the way down to the southern tip of the country, and came to another border with Switzerland. We rode into the little town of Balzers and got really wet from heavy rainfall. From then on the rain was almost constant, and it got colder too, but we were still keen to see lots more.
We just kept riding and riding, accidentally got lost in someone's farm, stopped under trees to try to shelter from the rain and got very wet! We also went back out to the Rhine and rode alongside it. The sun came out for about ten minutes, which warmed us up quite a bit, but then the clouds closed in again.
After a really long day of riding, lots of kilometres, wet clothes and sore bums we made it back to the hostel where we had nice hot showers and relaxed for a few hours.
We were going to get some food from the local supermarket for dinner as the hostel didn't have a kitchen, but the supermarket didn't really have much food, so our last resort took us to a nice restaurant just near the hostel. It wasn't as cheap as cooking for ourselves, but the food was delicious and for fifteen euro we each a huge bowl of soup, bread, salad, and a beautiful main with sliced beef and cheese noodles. It was all really rich and tasty food, and we really enjoyed it all.
We went back to the hostel going past the cows in the field with the tinkling cowbells, and had a good night's sleep.

Quickly Through �sterreich

(Continued from Deutschland 3)
Near Lindau, the train went alongside Bodensee (Lake Constance), which was really beautiful, especially with the huge mountains on the horizon, and the sun setting behind the mountains, making the lake and the sky so many different colours.
Our last part of the journey was in the dark. The train stopped at Feldkirch, and from there we caught a bus into Liechtenstein.

Into Liechtenstein

(Continued from �sterreich 3)
Liechtenstein is so tiny that it is ridiculous. From north to south it streches 25km, and from east to west just 6km. It is kind of amazing that such a small scrap of land can actually be deemed a country. They even have their own stamps and bus system, although they use the Swiss franc, and the Swiss postal system.
We drove into the country on the bus, and we were even pulled over and a border guard got on to check everyone's passports - that must get annoying for the locals.
We passed the border and the bus took us into Schaan, one of Liechtenstein's towns. The incredibly helpful bus driver told us which bus to get next, and where from, and even came and told our new bus driver where we wanted to get off! How's that for great service?!
So, we were told where to get off our new bus, and even given directions to The Hostel (the only one in the country!) by yet another friendly and helpful bus driver. It took me a while to understand the German instructions (the German sounds quite different down south), but we found the hostel easily.
We treated ourselves to a double room for a slightly extra cost - we had had enough of dorms after our thirty bed dorm in Munich, and we just wanted a good night's sleep. Our room was small but nice, and we soon went to bed.

Leaving Munich

On Thursday, the day after our big Oktoberfest day, I didn't feel too bad - just tired. I would love to go to Oktoberfest all over again, just perhaps another year!
We had our breakfast at the hostel, and packed up our bags. We chatted to some of our Aussie dorm mates for a while, and after leaving our bags in the hostel storage room, we went out for one last wander around Munich.
We made a quick stop at the internet caf� to check our emails and to sort out a few details to do with getting Rosie towed. From there, we walked towards Marienplatz although not quite as far as the square itself, bought some tourist junk, and then headed back in the other direction to Oktoberfest.
It was about 11am, and the place was starting to get busy and fill up. We walked through the showground again, bought a nice souvenir for ourselves, and even came across two Aussies we had met in the beer hall the day before and had a quick chat.
Tim and I couldn't quite face any more beer, but we did go back into our Hofbr�u tent and sat with two half-litre Cokes, and shared half a bbq chicken, which was very tasty. It was tempting to get one last beer, but we had had plenty the day before, so we reluctantly said goodbye to our beer tent, the huge lion that bellowed "L�wenbr�u", the wooden pecking chickens at the pecking chicken stall, the big wooden cow being turned on a spitroast over the top of one of the beer halls, the wonderful smells and the colourful atmosphere of Oktoberfest.
On the way back to the hostel to pick up our bags, we stopped at a hairdressers where I had a quick haircut. Then we went and got our bags, and walked up to the train station.
We were at the station for quite a while, waiting for a privately-run (but incredibly helpful) tourist office and ticket-seller to open. I stayed with the bags (we have bought a cheap carry bag to cart around our extra stuff), and Tim went off to organise the tickets. When he came back, we had train tickets that would take us to Liechtenstein that afternoon, so we went to our platform and boarded the first of three trains.
A lot of the journey was quite scenic. Just out of Munich, we went through beautiful rolling farmland and small German villages. We changed to our second train in Kempton, and then our third in Lindau, near the Germany/Austrian border.
This took us across the border south into �sterreich once again.

Oktoberfest!

On Wednesday morning, we got up early. We were keen to get to the beer halls early, as people had told us that there had been no seats left at 9am. But that had been on a weekend.
We at breakfast at the hostel, and then walked up to Oktoberfest. It was about 8:30am and the place was much emptier than it had been the night before. It turned out that the beerhalls only opened at 10am on a weekday, but we didn't mind being there early. It gave us a good chance to look around at the whole showground and watch the Oktoberfest come to life.
We had planned to go to one of the L�wenbr�u beer halls, but as we were about to go inside, a guy popped out of the kitchen and in an Aussie voice said "Are you guys looking for the Australian tent?" We didn't know how he knew we were Aussies, but we said yes and he told us to go to the HB tent. So off we went. We found the right tent - Hofbr�u and went inside to a very big, fairly empty, and very nice looking tent.
We got ourselves a seat and started the say with half a litre of Coke each! Many people were already on their first beer, but we decided to wait just a bit.
At about 11:30am, we ordered our first litre of beer each - huge big glasses so heavy it was hard to lift them up to drink, but the beer was very very nice.
And so, we spent a whole day at Oktoberfest drinking many beers (Liz = 4, Tim = 5, we think!), meeting many nice people (Aussies and Germans), eating big bread pretzels, listening to the fantastic band, singing German beer songs, laughing, talking, and drinking. I had so much fun and would love to go back there again another year. We even forgot to eat for most of the day because we were having such a fantastic time. We made heaps of new friends and chatted to so many people and of course drank many beers!
At about 9pm, we decided we had drunk plenty, said goodbye to everyone, and slowly made our way back to the hostel.

Looking around M�nchen

(Continued from �sterreich 2).
At about midday, we arrived in M�nchen (Munich). We had two nights' stay booked at a hostel, which was conveniently close to the station, so we went there first and checked in, but had to leave our bags in a storage room.
From the hostel, we stopped quickly at an internet caf� and then wandered up to the centre of town.
We didn't actually do a lot of sight-seeing as such, but just spent hours and hours walking around the city. We came to a big fountain and then wandered along a busy pedestrian shopping street until we came to Marienplatz, a square dominated by a huge neo-gothic building, the Neues Rathaus. We stood and just enjoyed the busy square for a while, before heading onwards.
From Marienplatz, we walked through lots of streets, some busy, some quiet. We saw market stalls, caf�s and restaurants, with lots of people drinking beer. We walked over a bridge crossing the Isar River and went into a large and very beautiful park - Maximilian Anlagn. There were lots of green trees, with some of the leaves changing colour, and the sound of running water from the river. It was really relaxing and peaceful just strolling along.
We crossed back over the river and went into Englischer Garten, a huge park filled with woods, streams and wide open grassy areas. We kept walking past a large beer hall, and we sat on a patch of grass to eat some fruit and watch all the people and dogs walk by.
We came out of the park and made our way back through the city to the Internet caf�, where we got all our good news about having the van towed. From there, we went back to our hostel, found our beds (in a thirty bed dorm! but nice and clean, split up into groups of ten), and met the other newly-arrived Aussies around us.
Of course, everyone was in Munich for Oktoberfest, so after a while Tim and I went to see what it was all about. It was ten minutes walk from the hostel, which was very convenient and made it easy to get to.
The whole place was really cool - a bit like the Easter show, with lots of rides and stalls selling yummy food and soft toys. And there is beer! There about twelve beer 'tents', which are actually huge buildings that fit about ten thousand people in each one. Each tent comes from a particular beer company, so if you want a certain beer, you go to that tent. We walked into the showground, bought some delicious showgrounds covered in mustard, and just wandered around trying to soak everything in. The delicious smells of roasting nuts, sausage, chicken, popcorn were all around us. There were flashing lights and loud music, and crowds of people, then we wandered into one of the beer halls. I don't think I have ever seen so many noisy happy people all at once! Lots more yummy smells, so many people, and so much beer! We went into four or five different tents, just standing still or having a bit of a walk around. Each tent had a great band playing, and everyone was singing, drinking, clapping, cheering, eating, and standing on the tables. Everyone was having such a good time - I couldn't wait for the next day when were going to spend a whole day at Oktoberfest!
After a good look around, we decided to go back towards the hostel and get a bit more food there where it would be cheaper. Along the way, we stopped at a bar and had a small beer each (well, we had just seen so much of the stuff!!).
We grabbed a bit of food, and then went back to the hostel where I slept fairly well, but Tim was kept awake by lots of noisy, drunk people coming in.

North into Deutschland

On Tuesday, we again had a lovely breakfast at the hostel, packed our bags and headed up to the train station.
Austrians are obviously much more efficent that Italians - the train arrived and left on time, and was even on the right platform.
The countryside was beautiful - huge forest-covered mountains, and little farms with cows and fruit-trees on the valley floor.
We crossed the border north into Deutschland.

Innsbruck

On Monday morning, we had a delicious buffet breakfast at the hostel and then we headed out to explore Innsbruck.
We crossed the River Inn and went into the old part of town. The tall and narrow houses looked beautiful and we saw the Goldenes Dachl (Golden Roof), a beautiful little building with a roof made of 2657 gilded copper tiles, which would have glinted beautifully had the sun been shining, but still looked very nice as we wandered along.
We looked through a few touristy shops and wandered around a lot of the small streets before heading out towards Markthalle, a large indoor market with lots of fresh fruit, vegetables, bread and meats. We bought some fruit and a pastry snack to eat during the day. From there we walked a short distance to an internet cafe to check our e-mails and so on.
After that we decided to see some of Innsbruck's past Olympic sites. Innsbruck hosted the Winter Olympics in 1964 and 1976, and the city is certainly in a great position for winter sports, with lots of snow during the cold months and mountains all around it.
We could see the Bergisel Stadion from where we stood, but it was at the edge of the city and it took us quite a while to walk to it. The last bit we had to walk up to get to the bottom of the Stadion was very steep, but then we were there, and the bottom of Bergisel Stadion, and Olympic ski jump stadium.
I had no idea how steep these things were, but I guess if you want to launch yourself into the air, you have to be going pretty fast downhill first.
We caught a little cable car to the lookout tower at the top, and even just going up in that made me dizzy! In the tower, we caught the lift to the very top and walked out onto a viewing platform where we could look down the length of the ski jump out over Innsbruck and across to the huge mountains opposite. We could see the big central train station, the line of the river, and we guessed the spot where we were staying, and saw the graveyard at the bottom of the jump where people who missed must end up. A rainbow even came out over Innsbruck and it all looked very pretty.
We caught the cable car back down, getting out about half way down for a bit more of a look around at the very bottom, Tim sat down and I climbed up to the other side to see a good view of the whole ski jump, and the place where the Olympic flame had been lit.
From the ski jump, we made our way back down the hill and walked to the old stadium, which turned out to be run-down and closed. Along the way, we stopped at a bell-makers and looked in the shop at the many different bells of all different shapes and sizes.
We stopped to have a bit of lunch and just sat and relaxed for a while. By now it was about 3pm, and Tim and I decided to phone the Italian garage to see how Rosie was going. We had phoned our insurance company the week before to see how it was all going, and were assured we would get a call when everything was ready, or if there where any problems. So when we called the garage in Italy on mondy afternoon to see how it was all going, we had a huge shock - they hadn't even ordered the part yet, let alone started the job!!! They said some rubbish about waiting for authorization from our insurance company which is crazy because they got authorization the day we were in Padova and approved the go-ahead for the repair.
So we had just spent a week and a half travelling around and waiting for nothing. Seeing everything we have seen has been great, but we were both very frustrated and angry about this, as we were hoping to get the van back at the end of the week. Also, the garage was now going to increase their fee from 2500 euro to maybe 3000 euro, maybe more, as well as taking weeks or months to repair it.
To cut a long story short, we contacted our insurance company and we phoned our contact in the Netherlands, and we have now decided not to go ahead with the repair in Italy, but for a much cheaper price to have the van towed from northern Italy to the Netherlands. Once in the Netherlands, the van will have a whole re-conditioned engine put in for about a third of the cost of half a brand-new Volkswagen dealership engine.
So at the end of Monday afternoon, we were feeling lots of emotions that we shouldn't be feeling when we are on holidays. But at least now it is all sorted out, we are saving heaps, and we can continue the last bit of our travels by train. The only unfortunate side is that because we were expecting to get back to the van after two weeks, all of our warm clothes, shoes and so on are in the van while we are here getting colder and colder. But still, we are very happy.
After that we went back to the hostel, had sandwiches for dinner and went to bed early.

Into Innsbruck

(Continued from Italia)
At the border station Brenaro/Brenner, the train stopped for quite some time, with plenty of armed Austrian police wandering up and down the train. It turns out this was just routine, and also that the driver seems to get out and is replaced by an Austrian one. We had thought that maybe we would need to change trains, but this was not the case.
We travelled the remaining distance to Innsbruck in no time at all, arriving at the presently being upgraded Hauptbahnhof. Being a little more organised than usual, we had rung ahead from Italia to see if there were rooms available at one of the hostels on the other side of town (but still the closest in), Jugendherberge St Nikolaus.
Walking there, it became readily apparent that we were in another country - no vespas, taxis were Mercedes instead of FIATs, we crossed roads without fear of death, and everything was calm and serene. We were going to like Innsbruck, we could tell already.
We crossed the river Inn (since bridge in Deutsch is br�cke, Innsbruck is named after the main bridge) at a small footbridge Inn Steg, finding our hostel/pub/restaurant combination just on the other side. It was a pleasant, lively place, filled to the brim with Aussies. Almost everyone was either going to or coming from Oktoberfest, thinking the same as us that this was quite a pleasant convenient place to stop over.
We were once again in separate dorms, which we don't really mind but all our stuff is packed into the one pack, which makes showering and finding clothes a little difficult. My dorm was the strangest yet I have seen. Picture a bunk bed, one up down. Got that? Now picture a double bunk bed, so that there is a double-sized bed on both the top and the bottom. Still with me? Well, this room was completely filled with a quintuple bunk bed - five up, five down. I was more than a little concered about finding myself sleeping next to a large blubbering drunk Aussie, but I needn't have worried. They cleverly fill up the positions with spaces in between, only filling the other ones when they are really full.

Verona

We awoke to a darkness that foretold bad things to come. The power was out. Getting organised for the breakfast, we noted the reception was lit by a candle. After being totally impressed by the way that the kitchen was run with no power as if it made no difference, we chatted to the receptionist about the power outage. She said that she had been talking to someone about 300km away and they had no power either! Oh dear, not good for the electric rail system we had planned to travel on.
There were only three buses running into town that morning being a Sunday (at least they weren't electric too like some of the others around), and we got on one of these, rode for a while and alighted at our stop by the markets once again. Arriving at the train station, we observed that things weren't going well at all.
Trains were over three hours late, but we picked one supposedly going to Verona and went to sit on what we thought was the right platform. However, the station signs told otherwise. It turns out that the platform numbers go 1-8, but then there is a separate set of platforms numbered 1-3. Pointing and extremely basic Italian found the right platform eventually, and we wandered across the tracks (when in Rome... all the locals were doing this despite signs advising to the contrary) to the other set of platforms.
The train was there, but it took a walk to the front to speak with the driver to find out if it was the correct one. I asked when it was leaving, and he replied in broken English "One hour. Maybe?" This train by now was about four hours late, but it was the only one going our way, so we just sat there for a while. Eventually without warning it just started moving away from the platform, heading off north to Verona.
The journey was another pleasant one, as all in Italia have been - the seats are comfortable and it is a good way to travel for not much money at all.

Pulling into Verona, we checked our big pack into left luggage for a few hours, intending to have a brief look around the city and then get a train to Innsbruck in the evening.
The extremely helpful information office gave us a great map with a walk around the town, and we limped the twenty minutes or so into the centre.
It lived up to its billing as one of Italy's most beautiful towns, with ornate marble pavements everywhere, great caf�s and a medium-sized Roman Arena smack-bang in the middle. We had quite a good walk around the town which was overall quite pleasant, but with no amazing highlights.
Following our budget theme, we didn't go into any sights, just looked, sat, walked and walked, past the many 1st century BC and AD bridges, theatres and probably the most famous place here, "Juliet's House". Yes, the city is famous for Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, and we looked in the place where the heroine supposedly "lived", now with lover's graffiti over the walls under the famous balcony. All a bit blown out of proportion for a work of fiction really.
We'd had our fill, and decided to try and make it back for the 3pm train to Innsbruck. We made it with quite a bit of time to spare, but we needn't have bothered. Once again, the trains were in chaos, as we sat on platform six where it was supposed to leave from. Plenty of other trains came and went, but the Munich (or Monaco as the Italians inexplicably call it, much to our confusion) via Innsbruck train was not to be seen.
I limped yet again down to the station information office, waited in the queue and spoke to a guy who didn't speak English. I resported to my paintented One-Word-and-Hope technique, saying "Munich?" This did the trick, as he pointed to a piece of paper saying nothing but "17:00". This was the time of the next train we had first been going to catch - I gathered the 15:00 one was cancelled.
The joys of travelling! Luckily, the Italians seem to be prepared for the total lack of efficiency and organisation inherent in their systems, providing an excellent waiting room where we sat for an our or so, and could have even watched a movie in a small cinema there had we understood Italian.
Up to platform 7, our train finally arrived. We were powered across the landscape, further and further north as the darkness surrounded us. The train crossed into �sterreich at the Brenner Pass, where it occurred to us that we had left Rosie and a sizeable proportion of our belongings in another country.

Around Bologna

We got up and ate the included breakfast at the hostel - again a nice touch at this HI hostel.
Slowly limping and all the while cursing my near-useless knees, we walked over to the bus stop. Today the drivers seemed to be more happy, and a bus turned up soon after. At the far end of the ride, we found ourselves near some markets. We slowly had a look around at all the things available, pondering the fact that no matter where you are in the world, the same Chinese-made odds and ends can be purchased at the local markets. There was quite a lot of the market stalls on two sides of the road, and we spent a while just wandering around the place.
We had no set plans for the city, as none of the major attractions were free enough to warrant our attention. In the central square Piazza del Nettuno, we first had a look at the interesting fountain of Neptune. However, it wasn't long before a better sampling of Italian culture made itself known to us with some loud growly sounds - a judging event of the Italian Ferrari Owners Club.
All manner of old and new Ferraris were on display, with the owners' level of care varying from extreme to fanatical. Most were being pushed into place rather than driven, and all of them seemed to have arrived on a truck. Feather-dusters and plenty of polish were all being used to clean them up for judging. There must have been about fifty there, ranging from 1948 through to 2003.
Liz's enthusiasm for boys and their toys didn't quite match mine, so we set off to explore a bit more of the town. Bologna is apparently famous for lots of red buildings, but to be honest you wouldn't have really known it just from looking. Pretty for sure, and as Italian towns go it had a good vibe to it. We wandered fairly aimlessly, looking for places to sit, making some phone calls, ducking in and out of back alley-ways, getting lost and then finding ourselves again.
Not far up the road we found Piazza di Porta Ravegna, where there had originally been forty-two towers. In the great tradition of Italian buildings, they had all developed horrible leans. Now only two remain, and we took the photo which we wanted to get in Pisa but weren't allowed - Liz pushing one of the towers back up.
We bought a loaf of bread and found ourselves back in Piazza del Nettuno, sitting in the seats which had presumably been set up for people to watch the final judging of the cars on the podium with ramps in the middle of the square to eat it.
Liz sat for a while while I ran around taking some photos of the cars, keeping us both happy. After a trip to an internet caf� where we booked two nights in a hostel in M�nchen/Munich (very lucky to get them as it is Oktoberfest after all), we decided to go to the train station to find out about train tickets to there via Verona and Innsbruck to continue our trip. This turned out to be quite a task.
I went to the automatic ticket machine while Liz waited in the human queue, the result of which was that we could easily get trains to Verona, but for international travel we needed to go to ticket window 17. We waited in a queue for quite a while only to learn that it wasn't infact the queue for window 17 - that was a separate queue.
So, into the next queue, which was very very slow progress. There was one person running it, capable only of extreme slow progress, looking everything up in books. There was a British guy in front of us we got chatting to who was putting his car on a train to Belgium, but this took the best part of forty five minutes to explain and pay for.
We weren't expecting much when our turn came to explain our multi-part journey, but in the end a combination of English, Italian and what we had written on a piece of paper got the explanation across fairly quickly. It was organising the tickets which took an eternity. He had to look the fares up in books and then write out manual tickets. Fair enough, it must be quite difficult to book tickets across international borders, but I would have thought they could have organised a more efficient system after so many years of the trains running.
Once again in a chatty relaxed mood, we spent the evening in a cheap recommended restaurant Trattoria da Danio, where we ate a fixed price menu which was great value. Of course, we just had to try the Spaghetti Bolognaise in Bologna, which turned out to be quite different to what we had expected - far less tomato-ey, but very full of flavour.
We had intended to get a bus back to the other bus stop where the bus leaves for the hostel, but our knees and backs and everything else which is wearing out seemed to be much better after sitting down for a while. When we got back to where the bus left for the hostel, it turned out that we had missed it for the day, no more were running!
Instead we got on another bus which went about 1km away from the hostel, and through a combination of Liz's excellent directional memory and a hint from the bus driver, we found our way back after a twenty minute walk or so in the dark.
We just made it back before the 11pm lock-out, and slept soundly in our twin room.

Into Bologna

On Friday morning we left the hostel (yay!) and after a quick stop at the internet caf�, we headed towards Duomo. As we had all our bags with us, we took it in turns to go inside and have a look around while the other waited outside with the bags.
Wow. It was enormous and it looked so enormous inside because it was fairly plainly decorated, and had little furniture and so on to clutter it. Just huge soaring marble columns and a ceiling that seemed a long way away.
I had a bit of a look around, and admired the frescoes and the size of the cathedral and I was almost about to walk out of the exit when I spotted the inside of the huge dome. It was beautiful - covered in brightly coloured frescoes.
Back outside, we shouldered our bags and made our way to the train station, where we tried to get tickets to Bologna. Due to a transport strike, there was a sign saying we could purchase tickets on the train, so we went to our platform and boarded a train from Florence to Bologna.
The journey took about an hour and a half and maybe due to the strike, no conductor turned up so in the end we got our journey for free!
In Bologna there was chaos due to the strike, and people were standing around everywhere. We got out of the station and sat outside in the gardens to eat some of our bread. From there, we walked five or ten minutes up the road where we could catch a bus that would take us to the hostel, 4km away. Unfortunately, the buses were also affected by the strike, so we ended up waiting at the bus stop for an hour and a half. Finally buses started turning up, but not the one we needed. Feeling frustrated, we got on one that went vaguely in our direction. A few stops later, we saw the bus we needed infront of us. So we rushed off our bus to catch it. Poor Tim - his knees gave out and he nearly fell down the bus step. We missed our bus, but another one came soon after and took us right to the hostel.
So we made it to the hostel where we got beds and got chatting to a bloke from Leichardt.
We had planned to go into the city for dinner, but due to Tim's sore knee, we decided to have food at the hostel and then we watched a movie.

Quick Updates

Just a quick news flash as we haven't quite got the website fully up to date.
We are in Florence/Firenze right now, have been for two nights and are now leaving on a train, heading to Bolognia.
Longer term plans include heading up to Munich/M�nchen for Oktoberfest, then down through Switzerland, all via train.
We have had no more news on the van, only "we will call you when we hear something". As such, we aren't going to hang around, just do things as we see fit, trying to holiday without our home.
Big thanks to the many people who replied interested in our plight of head-gasket problems, with suggestions. The big thing we have learnt since is that it is a new head, not just the gasket. As such, we are basically paying for an entire new engine. It comes with a two year warranty on parts and labour, but yes it is costing us a lot.

Firenze

After getting up, scrathing our itchy selves, a cup of tea for breakfast, and getting journals up to date for most of the morning, we set off to wander around the city and see if we could find some redeeming features.
First stop was the impressive sculpture collection on display in Piazza della Signoria at Loggia della Signoria. The most famous, of course is Michelangelo's David. Sure, it is only a copy of the original (housed behind expensive doors at nearby Galleria dell'Accademia), and it was surrounded by horrible scaffolding, but it was good enough for us. We're here to take in a smattering of things cheaply, not attempt to appreciate every last detail. The rest of the sculpture there was also great to look at, and we sat right inside the veranda where it was all housed, looking over the square through these priceless pieces of art.
At the risk of duplicating information easily found elsewhere (notably once again our friend Bill Bryson's writings), Italy doesn't do a particularly good job of maintaining its amazing array of history. The budget to do so is tiny, and the amount of important historical things we could easily have attacked with a knife or some such has bewildered us all over the country. Artifacts just "dissapear", and countless volumes of history could have been written from what has just been pulled apart or built over.
We mulled around for a while, not quite sure exactly what to do. After some research, we decided to wait in the hour-long queue to enter the Galleria degli Uffizi. It contains "some of the most recognisable Renaissance artworks", which sounded like a good way for us to reach our museum quota for a week or two.
After the first hour queue, made all the worse by listening to some Texans behind us read out every last detail of the museum from their guidebook they had bought in advance (what's wrong with just working it out when you get in there??), we got inside past the metal detector (a token effort at looking secure - they guy supposed to be watching the TV for offending items in the X-ray machine was infact reading the paper), paid our huge sum of cash (no discount for me, EU people under 26 magically have less money than everyone else in the world under 26 and hence are allowed discounts though) and joined another queue to be let in.
We stopped and paid yet more to get an audioguide, allowing us a self-paced tour around the place, looking at what we did and didn't want to. We elected to save a bit of money with one audiomachine and two sets of headphones. This had the curious side effect of making the person holding the audiomachine effectively leading the other around the museum like a little dog. As such, we took turns.
The collections that the museum houses were interesting enough to make us forget the hassle and cost involved in getting in, which is quite a lot of praise. A lot of the art (almost entirely paintings, with a little sculpture for good measure) was religeous in nature, but the audioguide was quite good in that the little man in the box told us all about how the art styles developed, as we were looking at the priceless works infront of us. It could have gotten too bogged down in details, but we found the pace excellent.
Apparently there is plenty more art not on public display owned by the gallery, including some that the budget hasn't yet been allocated for cleaning since a flood back in the 1950s. That's a shame, but we have to admit that there was plenty to keep us entertained for this visit.
Outside the gallery, we went back to our favourite supermarket for some things to make ourselves a picnic up on the hill to watch the sunset. This done, we picked the rest up at the hostel and walked again up the challenging hill, determined to get to the top before the sun dipped.
We had no problems with this, neither did the hundereds of tourist buses dropping their loads to walk around for five minutes before continuing. We had a more leisurely pace planned - some bread rolls, salami, tomato, cheese and of course the rest of the bottle of Chianti to get through, drunk out of plastic cups one of the drink-vendors gave me with a smile.
And so our second silly dinner of our trip proceeded (the first being, of course, at North Cape), cutting away at bread, sipping wine from plastic cups and watching the sun leave its last tendrils draped across Firenze as people walked past and stared. Off to hundered-euro dinners in five-star restaurants wearing cocktail dresses, they weren't going to have nearly as much fun as we did.
The tripod gave us some nice night-time shots along the river once the sun had faded, and we got a few more as we walked back down the hill, our silly picnic over.
Back to the hostel for what was to be our final flea-infested night, we slept much better as Liz took the other free top bunk rather than the dog-bed bottom one of the night before.

Pisa, Into Firenze

Getting up, we had to shuffle back and forth a bit as we were in separate dorm rooms to have a shower and we share lots of toiletries. Liz jumped the queues for the girls showers by getting in the empty boys one (perhaps my room was so stinky because the boys don't shower here?).
All done and organised, we headed into town on the bus once again. Wandering back past the tower, we booked ourselves into the slightly later tower tour, forked over thirty euros for the entrance (AUD $60. Ouch.), and had some breakfast at a little caf� which for the closest one to the tower was suprisingly good and cheap.
Once our tour was ready to go, we joined in the queue, ready to work out how our tour guide was going to give us a guided tour, given that everyone in the group spoke different languages. They solve that problem quite easily. They don't say a word. Instead we were escorted by two armed guards up to the top of the tower and back down again. Ingeneous, and a wonderful way to take vast sums of cash of hapless tourists for very little in return.
The ascent was fun, sometimes the steps are very steep, and at other times it is almost like you are walking on the flat ground. We were suprised that it was far easier a climb than Basilica San Pietro's dome had been, reaching the top in no time at all despite having climbed over three hundered steps.
They appear to be doing quite a lot of restoration work on it - people were chisleing away with hammers at strategic places around the middle levels under the belfry. Yes, there are actually bells up there, although we couldn't really see them very well through the scaffolding. It is quite amusing to watch from the ground as a massive crane was in place moving pieces of scaffolding around, but it looks like it is holding the tower up!
At the top, we saw the high end of the crane, heightening the fact that we were infact a long way up in the air. No suprises then that the view was awesome, the weather was great and walking around the circle that is the top of the building is fun whether going uphill or down.
After a good look and a few photos, we had had our fill and descended the staircase, which only seemed like it took a minute or so. We walked back towards the bus stop, stopping only to grab a very cheap and even more tacky little leaning tower model thing. The lady smiled as she handed it over, knowing that no matter how crappy these things are, people like us are still going to shell out for them, keeping her in business.
We jumped quickly onto a train to Firenze (Florence). After another un-eventful ride, we found ourselves at Firenze Stazione di Santa Maria Novella, reading our guidebooks and attempting to work out where to dump our bags. After the completely un-helpful tourist office told us that they couldn't even answer our questions about where to find a hostel, we head off randomly to see what we could find.
Not even out of the station gates, we had been approached by plenty of people trying to get us hotel rooms. Out of our budget, one finally called over his mate who ran a hostel. Sure, we were a little un-sure about whether to go with him as he took us to a private hostel, but his story all matched up and he didn't ask for money, saying we could take a look at the room and then decide.
He lead us across to the other side of the city, passing the huge and impressive Duomo church in the middle, which we intended to explore at a later date. The hostel turned out to be conveniently located, other people were there as well, but we took all of our valuables with us when wandering anyway, locking up the bags tightly.
The guide helpfully pointed out lots of interesting sights on a map of the city, including importantly things we could do for free. After a stop at the post office, we investigated one of these first - the supermarket.
We grabbed a BBQ chook, some just-baked bread and milk and headed off to find somewhere to eat it all. We settled for a spot right on the bank of River Arno which divides the city in half, relaxing in the sun for a while. We intended to do quite a lot of what the Italians do best in Firenze - nothing at all.
Over to the south side of the river thanks to Ponte alle Grazie bridge, we walked east in search of a way up the hill to a look-out point that the hostel guy had recommended. Eventually discovering the zig-zagging sets of stairs which climbed at quite a rapid rate, we were exhausted as we made it to the top, Piazzale Michelangelo. It was a little disapointing to see so many tourist buses and of course their accompanying tourist garbage shops had made it it, but this was more than offset by the fantastic view north over the river, looking at the city with its protruding buildings (note the dominating dome of Duomo).
Having had our fill of the view, but intending to return again for a sunset, we walked back down the hill, in a very chatty mood. We stopped at another litle park to continue our planning conversation, and attempted to work out how to operate the water fountain to re-fill our by now almost empty water bottles.
We settled on a walk to the famous Ponte Vecchio, a bridge across the Arno which by law is filled with silver- and gold-smiths. Being so famous, we had to wind our way past the people, catching glimpses of price tags which were more than a little on the inflated side. Rowers on the river made a nice shot towards Ponte alle Grazie.
Happy just to wander a little through various squares, markets and winding back streets which make up the centre of town, we were however a little dissolusioned by the whole place. It is interesting to note a few different opinions we have heard of the city. Travel writer Bill Bryson has been here (at least) twice - once in the early seventies, and again in about 1990. His first visit he thought was amazing, just getting into museums, palaces, and generally gaping at the beauty of the place. My parent's recommendation to come here echoes this, infact it was their favourite Italian city, even including Venice, from their trip also during the seventies.
However, on Bill's second visit, he just couldn't warm to the place. Almost nobody was speaking Italian, no locals were to be found anywhere - just camera after camera, tacky junk following yet more tacky junk. From our perspective, the last thirteen years since Bill wrote of his visit have certainly not seen things improve. Sure, it is a pretty city, but it seems to have lost its soul.
Another trip to the supermarket found us suitably stocked on pasta, sauce and the local specialty wine Chianti (cheap and comes in huge bottles with cane/wicker around the bottom), and we headed back to prepare our staple dinner. We hadn't been in bed long when Liz thought she felt something crawling on her body. Our best thought on that, and the resulting marks that we both had is that the cute dog of the house, Key, had fleas. He also had a habit of sleeping on the dorm beds. Uncomfortable, yes, but things could have worked out much worse.

Roma IV - Pantheon then Pisa

There were just a few things remaining for us to look at in Roma, then it was time to head onwards.
We had to get our bags out of our rooms, so saddling up the big pack, we walked a little way down the road to a place where we could store it for the day, a pokey little back room underneath a very dodgy internet caf�.
As you have to do with these places, I inquired whether we could plug our laptop in there. The answer we got back was a little confusing - yes, but only after 4pm when his boss was there to supervise.
Not too worried by that, we chose to push on to see our site for the morning - the Pantheon. This strange round building hidden in the wonderful way of ancient monuments tucked away in the middle of busy urban streets, we were suprised to find actually didn't have an entrance charge. In fact, there's not a lot to it at all. It's just one massive room, the top half of which is a large dome with a hole in the top. I read that you could fit a perfect sphere with a diameter of the height of the building inside.
The Christian church have chosen a different path, turning it into a religeos building by the addition of small chapels and frescoes around the sides, but it is amazing the way that your eyes almost skip over them. The focus of it all is surely looking ever upward at that hole. There is a couple of big signs in many languages saying "Yes, there is a big hole in the middle of the roof. Yes, rain does come in. No, it doesn't flood because there is a drainage system in the floor". I guess that answers those questions then.
We sat in the entrance veranda part on the bases of some of the massive marble columns, overlooking Piazza della Rotonda. Continuing our trick of picnicing our way around the world, we munched away and watched the drunks with dogs trade beer and chicken for their dogs to eat with each other. More entertaining than looking the other way, which would have let us see the people in period dress trying to sell horribly over-priced Opera tickets to hapless tourists.
Originally we had intended to see a couple more things around the place and then get going, but to be honest our legs were not interested. We managed to convince them to take us back to get our pack via a shop or two in Piazza Santa Maria Maggiore for a couple of last touristy goodies, a caf� for amazingly cheap amazingly good coffee (because it was not where tourists typically walk), and a couple more attempts at internet caf�s.
When we returned to where our pack was, I noted that there was now two people on duty there, surely enough for me to be able to plug the laptop in. But no, the excuse had changed to "It is not possible!" Fine, we walked away to take our business elsewhere.
Finding the ticket office at Roma Termini proved a little challenging, but having learnt from our previous mistakes, we just assumed they spoke English, purchased two singles to Pisa Central and found our platform. We topped up our water bottles with more of that great free Roman water, grabbed an expensive copy of The Times from London and jumped on our train.
Sure, there was more to do in Roma, but there is just so much to do in Roma that there's no way we could have done it all anyway. Besides, now we have a reason to return, as throwing the coin over our shoulders into the fountain means we will. A great city which we are extremely glad to have made it to.

The country-side flew by in a blur as the train got itself moving, for what turned out to be a fairly un-eventful journey. For a while we were following the water, something we hadn't seen for a long time, but then we ducked inland for a bit of a wiggle through some hills before making it back to the coast on the way into Pisa.
The station information office told the story of what this place was all about - huge signs with maps everywhere saying "You are here. Here is the tower. Walk 15 minutes this way or else catch bus number 3". It really is a one-attraction town. Once inside the information office, the lady was happy to show us on a map where the youth hostel was - a bit out of town on the far side. Famous bus number three would get us there also.
After eventually de-cyphering where the bus went from, we stood for quite a while as every other numbered bus stopped then left. Finally bus 3 limped in, and we got on along with a few other backpackers, all obviously doing exactly the same thing we were. We struck up a conversation with one of them, a girl from Nottingham (England) called Katherine. Between the three of us we managed to work out where to get off for the hostel, although to be honest her Italian asking the bus driver was what did it in the end.
The hostel was a strange one - in an old church or maybe covent which had been fitted out quite well with little rooms everywhere, and some extra buildings on the back. Since it was the only place in town within our budget, and we had talked to a guy at the information office who had spent two hours wandering around every hotel in town with no success, we were a bit anxious about whether we would get a room there. It turns out that we were saved by the fact that the hostel only opened at 6pm, a little before we arrived and waited for a long while in the queue.
No problems getting beds, Liz in a big dorm with lots of other girls including Katherine, and me in a four-bed dorm with three other stinky blokes. Note that I did include myself in the stinky bit :)
After settling in a little, we went back out to the road to catch a bus, and luckily there were some Deutsch girls there who pointed out that we had to get the bus from the same side of the road we had been dropped off on - it does a big loop back to town.
So, we got off at the central square of town, and wandered towards probably the most over-marketed tourist attraction in the world. You couldn't miss it if you were deaf, dumb and blind - a really big leaning tower which admittedly leans lots more than we had expected. Just feel your way there past the fifty or so touristy shops in a row all selling exactly the same crap - leaning tower lighters, cups, mugs, statues, lights, t-shirts, you get the idea.
We were actually suprised by the surrounds of the area - there's quite a bit more to see besides the tower itself, including the huge neighboring cathedral, but our time and budget wasn't going to include them.
We grabbed some shots in the ailing light, before turning our attention to our stomachs. We stumbled across Katherine again (it's not a very big place), whos budget was in the very low range with ours. We found a back-street place with no cover charge and small but filling and good portions, washed down with a bottle of that great cheap Italian vino.
It was good to chat to someone else for a change (not just me saying that, Liz also!), especially since Katherine turned out to be a medical student. Liz and her traded horror stories in the way that only those used to doing hideous things to human bodies can, while I just enjoyed the atmosphere of our table on the street.
Eventually time to head home for the night, we managed to just miss a bus. Between the three of us, we picked out the road home and walked it, dodging vespas and cars with no intention of following the speed limit along the road to the hostel.
I resigned myself to falling into a slumber in the stinky room, while Liz and Katherine found people playing board games with no intention of sleeping and chatted awake for quite some time.
A huge lightning storm was right over the building, the first we had heard in a long time. It made me miss the storms you get in Sydney pretty much every night in summer, something we will enjoy seeing again very soon now.

Roma III - Vatican Dome and Musems

Not to upset the trend too much, we jumped on bus number 64 on this morning, heading for our old friend the Vatican City. By now we dreaded getting on it for the packed, sweaty journey across the city. However, in the thrity degree heat it was preferable to an hour or more's walk.
Being a Monday, things were once again open a bit more for us to explore around - first on the list being the dome of San Petro Basilica. Once again we had to dress 'conservatively' to be allowed access, and once again we were approached by several people offering free tours. Very kind, but been there, done that.
This time, we had the quickest of looks around the impressive building on our way down through the crypt and out the other side to the queue for the trip up the dome. It is actually quite interesting - you can either pay four euro and walk the whole way, or pay five euro, get the lift part of the way, but still have over three hundered steps to walk! Call me strange, but on a hot day like this one was, my body really isn't going to understand the difference between three and four hundered steps, plus getting to skip the half an hour queue for the lift and save a euro each in the process was more of a bonus.
However, by the time we had walked up to where the lift ended, we had a nice rest, consoling ourselves that if we had have paid up for the lift we would still be standing down the bottom somewhere. This level was on top of the main part of the building, right behind the facade of the building itself. The statues comprising this impressive facade looked far more massive from this level, and it was a good shock for the system considering how small they look from the ground.
Jolting our bodies into action, we had more climbing to do. A hundered steps later, we were puffed, but had an amazing view down inside the dome at the tiny little people below, where we had been a couple of days earlier. It was amazing to be so close to the mosaics which had looked tiny from floor level, which now seemed to fill our entire view.
Two hundered steps later, we were pouring the water in and stopping for breathers whenever we could make it. Three hundered steps later and we were at the top. What a view.
Thanks to the local law, this was the highest you could get in the city, and as a result there was plenty to see. So many other people had made the trek also, but we were lucky to get a couple of good viewing spots, making the most for some photos and just to stand staring out at the great view. We tried to pick out the Colosseum, but the haze over the city made that only just not possible, despite it being a very bright clear day.
On the other (western) side, we had a great view over the Vatican Gardens, very impressive from this height, but something to save for next trip in terms of actually visiting.
Passing back down through the strange sloping staircase around the dome, we had a quick look in the touristy shops which somehow are permitted around the building. To be honest our main interest was to get inside out of the heat, but their products weren't any less tacky than that available at street-level. At the bottom we made a much-needed refill at the ornate fountain in the courtyard where our tour had ended a couple of days earlier.
Next stop on our wander around this part of town was a trip to the Vatican Museums, and their one main attraction, the Sistine Chapel. Famous for Michelangelo's paintings completely covering the walls and ceiling, we gladly paid the extortinate entry fee, comfortable that it was our only one for a few days and we had saved a lot by walking around. Probably lost a bit of weight too :)
You wouldn't want to be old and just wanting to see the Sistine Chapel, because right from the start, we would have guessed from the signs that it was just the next room. Instead, we were lead on a not un-pleasant two or so hour wander through the amazing collection of gifts and spoils that comprises the Vatican Museums. There were octagonal rooms, circular rooms, tapestry rooms, animal sculpture rooms, a great map room/corridor, and of course countless (seriously) rooms of truly amazing painting and sculpture, all religious in nature. There's no way it can be done justice here, and to be honest it was a case of museum overload by the end.
Which was a shame, because by the time we finally made it to the Sistine Chapel, turned off our cameras and lowered our voices as per the polite signs outside, the noise and brightness of camera flashes inside the chapel was really quite terrible. Add to this the shere volume of great art we had seen thus far and it was a shame that it didn't really look all that amazing to us.
Sure, it was all wonderfully done, but perhaps it was just knowing that the reason we couldn't use cameras was because the recent restoration work had been paid for by one of the American TV networks, which now owns the copyright, or perhaps it was the rukus and people very obviously dis-obeying the requests of what at the end of the day was supposed to be a chapel. In common with some of the previous frescoes we have seen (notably in Padova), it is a shame that the room is now used for something entirely not what the original artist had intended. Its success is its own un-doing.
Once again we found ourselves in our favourite fountain courtyard, before heading out to the colenades for yet another cheap meal of bread and vegemite sitting in the shade and contemplating what a great city Roma is.
We wandered back towards the hostel across the bridge, getting the bus as by now our legs had all but written us letters of demand for rest. Seriously, in all our walking we had done, this day had really slaughtered us in terms of heat and vertical distance covered.
Cooking up another pasta and sauce storm even though we really couldn't find the energy to do so, we originally intended to go for a wander to a couple more places but instead found ourselves collapsing in a new room as our one from the previous nights was booked out. The other occupants eventually went to bed, not really their fault but we had had enough rather early.

Roma II - Roman Forum, Palatine Hill, Colosseum

On Sunday morning, we got up and had breakfast at the hostel, and caught the bus to the Vatican City. The sight of the Vatican City was just as amazing as it had been the day before, but on Sunday we went there for just one thing: to see the Pope! On Sunday mornings, he comes to his study window and looks down on the crowds below and blesses them. On this particular Sunday, however, he didn't appear and we have since found out that he is ill.
But anyway, we spent a very pleasant fourty-five minutes sitting at the side of one of the colonades and gazing up towards the Pope's study room window and looking out at the beautiful square and St. Peter's Basilica.
After a while, we walked out of the Vatican City and started walking towards Piazza Venezia. Along the way, we looked at several Rome tourist books and guids, but didn't end up buying anything.
At Piazza Venezia, we went along the right-hand side of the square and then up some stairs at the side of the huge monument. We crossed the hill and walked down a short way, before getting a marvellous view over the Roman Forum. We took some photos and bought a guide to Rome complete with very interesting pages showing what old ruins like the Colosseum and the Roman Forum look like today and what they probably looked like when newly built and all in one piece. It also has lots of interesting information about each site.
Then we walked down into the Roman Forum, and along its length for the second time. We actually planned to go back a third time and have a really good look at the whole thing, but we ran out of time and probably were too exhausted anyway. So here, I will take a short detour, and go on all about the Roman Forum...
The Roman Forum was the commercial, religeous, political and legal centre of the city in ancient times but until the last two hundered years or so, it had actually become pasture land. So it was pretty amazing to see the huge amount of marble columns, paving, arches and carvings that remain today.
The whole thing is in a valley between the capital Capitoline and Paletine hills and both times we walked through, we went from the Capitoline end to the Paletine end, where we got great views of the Colosseum.
On the left as we walked into the forum was a huge arch - the Tempio di Antonino e Faustina built in 141 BC, and on the right-hand side were the remains of the Basilica Aemilia, built in 179 BC, but then had most of its marble taken away during the Reneissance. From there, we walked down going first to the right hand side, and then to the left, gazing at everything we saw. Here and there lay chunks of marble with beautiful but worn carvings, or a column of coloured, but dull and unpolished marble.
Everywhere were remains of buildings, sections of columns, or ancient paved roads. It feels like you are walking through and abandoned city, which I guess in a way you are. It is quite amazing to imagine ancient Romans living here, walking along the same paths, and looking up at the same impressive buildings - undoubtedly more impressive in ancient times! The Basilica of Maxentius would have been breathtaking to see when it was full of bronze and marble, and it still looks very huge today.
Of course there is more to the whole place than I have mentioned - the two books I am looking at give conflicting names and dates, and because we just enjoued wandering through we didn't really note down names of any of the buildings. I would highly recommend a tour through the Roman Forum.
So, to go back to Sunday, after we had enjoyed the very impressive view of the forum, we again walked along it, seeing new things everywhere we turned. As we came out the opposite end, with old marble columns towering on our left, we again had that great view of the colosseum. But instead of going into the Colosseum just yet, we turned away and headed right, where we got tickets to Palatine Hill.
Palatine Hill overlooks the Roman Forum, the Colosseum and a lot more of Rome too. It was where wealthy Romans built their homes and it is believed to be the site of the founding of Rome - a square furrow ploughed into the ground by Romulus in 754BC or 753BC.
After getting our tickets and before we started climbing up the hill, we sat in the shade drinking lots of cool fresh fountain water and eating some food. It was another incredibly hot day, and we were both feeling sticky and worn out, but the rest did us good.
We made our way to the top of Palatine Hill and then spent an hour or so wandering among heaps of ruins. We saw the Domus Augustana, and internal court with a large motif and fountain - obviously no fountain anymore, and the palace of Domitian, or the House of Augustus (as in the Emperor), the best bit of which was the 'stadium' or hippodrome. We also saw the Domus Flavia, an elliptical fountian, which although is very old, still looks in pretty good condition. And apart from all that, lots of old ruins, arches, carvings and baths.
It was better than I had expected, and most of it was very well preserved.
We even saw the Circus Maximus from the top of the hill, although at the time, we didn't even realise it! It stands beneath Palatine Hill and was once the site of chariot races, up until the 5th century-AD. It was, and probably still is, the biggest building ever built for entertainment purposes (accommodating 300 000 spectators!). Today, all that remains is a sunken oval ditch, but it gives quite an idea of the size that the circus used to be.
So, after lots of nice views out over Rome, and lots more looking around, we crossed to the other side of the hill and began descending. About halfway down, we had another great spot to look down on the Roman Forum, and even better was a view through overhanging trees of the Colosseum. Continuing downwards, we popped out into the Roman Forum and walked out the last section until we were outside the Colosseum.
We decided that we were hungry, so we went in search of a late lunch and found a small and fairly cheap restaurant about five minutes walk from the Colosseum. The food was ok, but the service was really slow and unorganised. At least it gave us a good chance to rest out tired legs and aching feet while we waited for food and drinks. We finally managed to get everything we had ordered, and pay the bill, and then we headed back to the Colosseum.
The tickets we had bought to go up Palatine Hill also gave us entry to the Colosseum, but with the added bonus that we didn't have to wait in a huge long queue at the Colosseum to get our tickets. So we walked straight past the hordes of waiting people and into the cool and dark of the Colosseum.
This place is simply amazing. What stands today is massive, and a lot of it has been pinched and pilfered over the years, so long ago, it was even bigger. I was also expecting it to be quite round, but inside as you look down into the stage area, it is very oval shaped. We could see down into the areas where they used to send lions and so on from their cages, along a ramp and up into the arena., and there was also a section with a 'false floor' to show how it would have looked when the Colosseum was in use. The only seating section that remains is a few meters across and about five or six rows up, but it still gives you an idea of what the seating would have been like all around the Colosseum.
Overall, it was just so fantastic to see such an amazing building and to imagine lions and bears popping up onto the stage floor from the chambers below. We walked all around the upper level, stopping and staring and trying to take everything in at once. We also went along the ground level bit, where you can go about halfway around before exiting. It would have been nice to stay and wander around for days, looking in all the little sections and it would be even better if we could go down into the underground chambers, but, we were worn out and had seen a lot.
From the Colosseum, we walked back to our hostel, going the same way as we had the day before. We cooked pasta for dinner and were happy to have a nice long rest.
After dinner and when it was dark, we ventured out again and caught a bus back up to the Vatican City. We had decided to get some night time photos of St Peter's and the Colonnades, but just as we had set the tripod up, and Tim had taken his first shot, a police car drove up and they told us no tripods were allowed in the Vatican City! We were quite suprised, as we hardly looked like professional photographers, and we weren't doing any harm. So we packed up the tripod and went and sat at the edge of a section of the colonnades. Here, we were sneaky, and used my little tripod to take as many photos as we wanted!
From there, we caught the bus back towards Piazza Venezia, but got off before there and walked along a few back streets until we found ourselves in a beautiful little square. We sat and had some beer and enjoyed relaxing in such a nice setting.
Our last mission at the end of a very long and full day, was to walk to the Tivoli Fountain and take some photos there. It looked very pretty all lit up, so we took some photos and then packed up and dragged our tired bodies back to the hostel where we collapsed into our bunks. What a long but very exciting day!

Roma I - San Pietro, Overview

A couple of days earlier, teetering on the edge of calling the rest of the trip off, two main things emerged that we didn't want to go home not having seen. One was Paris, but top of the list was Roma (Rome). We are amazingly glad we made it here.
The night before stumbling off the train and trapsing around for a hostel could really have been in any city, with the possible exception of the cars and scooters parked literally anywhere they would fit, but there was of course a lot more to be seen.
Still the only ones in our room, we went downstairs for some breakfast, which we were suprised to find out was included in the price. It was nothing amazing, but we weren't complaining.
Since there is so much to see in this city, we had picked a particular chunk to explore for the day - the Vatican City. On the opposite side of the city from where we were staying, we boarded bus 64, worked out how to validate our tickets (lucky as we were inspected twice) and got off at the other side ready to have a look around.
Not quite knowing exactly where the bus went, we got off a couple of stops early and walked up some back streets. After a peek through some buildings, we rounded the corner and there it was. Saint Peter's Basilica - the largest church in the world, the largest basilica in the world, and (by law) the highest building in Roma.
Just as impressive is the Piazza San Pietro in front of the basilica, created as a space where Christians of the world could gather, and surrounded by four rows of colonades, focusing on the central obelisk "borrowed" from ancient Egypt.
You could say we were stunned. After so many streets which looked like Just Another City, here we were, technically in another country (Vatican City is the only country in the world with a stable population), staring at the centre of the Christian world.
We didn't have to stand around for long looking like tourists until we were approched by a guy asking if we spoke English. More than a little defensive, we answered yes, only to be invited on a free tour, no obligation. It turns out this is very common here, they attempt to sell you (low pressure sales) further tours with their company.
We wandered over to join our small tour group, lead by a kiwi girl about our age who had been in Roma for two years - it's quite easy to see how she fell in love with the place and is happily spending so much time here.
After passing the clothing police (they strictly inforce no shorts, no shoulders and no short skirts, leaving both of us in jeans in the thirty degree heat, and Liz having to wear a jumper), we were lead inside, and our jaws dropped once again. The tour guide was right - there is no way that your eyes can understand just how huge this place is, they just sort of give up and allow you think it is smaller.
Walking over hundereds of mosiacs, admiring the marble carvings (one especially where one of the hardest types of red marble had been made to look as soft as cloth), past Michelangelo's Piet� (one of his first pieces of sculpture, from when nobody knew who he was), and just around and around this huge place we walked.
One of the most interesting facts I thought was that this huge bronze altar piece, over twenty-nine metres high and truly massive up close, would fit inside the tiny little bit sticking out from the top of the dome with enough room left over for a small truck to drive around.
As we wandered, my eyes were constantly tricked as they looked up at the dome - things didn't move by at the right speed for the size my brain thought it was. Truly a huge huge place. We walked down into the crypt, where the tombs of many people of significance in the religious world were. Most notably of course was that of Saint Peter himself. His bones were only re-discovered relatively recently, and are now inside a NASA-designed casing just to the side of the obvious place in his rather elaborate tomb.
From the crypt, we exited to the courtyard area where the sell for the paid tour of the Sistine Chapel began. We decided the asking price was a little high for our budgets, instead tipping the girl for her work. We went back inside for another look around to get some more photos of the place and admire specific works up close. You can photograph everything inside, because it is all stone - even the parts which look like paintings have infact been replaced with mosaics - a detail you only notice when you get up close.
With early closing times on Saturdays, we decided to leave the Sistine Chapel, a walk up the dome, and the Vatican Museums for other days. There was no real rush, we wanted to enjoy this city.
So, we elected to explore a bit more of the north-west shore of the Tiber River, heading first towards Castel Sant'Angelo. This place had a turbulent history, starting out first as The Mausoleum of Hadrian, a monumental tomb for Hadrian and his successors from 130AD. By the fifth century however, its usefulness as a defensive structure was noted, and it was converted into a bastion. Five hundered years later and it was a fortress, complete with turrets and an imposing look more than enough to scare any invaders coming from the north.
Across the Ponte Margherita bridge, we entered Piazza del Popolo. The again plundered central tower and fountain were impressive, but no match for the view you got from standing there and looking south at the three roads around/between two identical buildings. You could see for a long way in all the directions, and we chose the left path, leading us down Via del Babuino towards another famous Roman monument we couldn't dare miss, the Spanish Steps.
The French should be seething about this one, as the only real Spanish involvement is the fact that their embassy is nearby - the money came from Paris, and the church at the top is French also!
The funky boat-shaped Barcaccia fountain at the bottom was great to splash our faces with, but by now we had become addicted to the Roman spring water which flows all over the city to drink all day long in the heat, and none was to be found near here.
Wandering south through plenty more piazzas, past horrifically expensive shopping streets lined with Gucci, Armani, et al., we made it ticked off another famous monument at Fontana di Trevi. This is a very ornate fountain, rather attractive if you can find it through the tourists. We indulged in the famous tradition of throwing a (very small) coin over our shoulders, said to mean we will one day return to Roma.
Further we wandered down to Piazza Venezia. This square is totally dominated by the central Monumento Vittorio Emanuele II, an over-blown huge building complete with chariots on top, all to comemorate Italian unification. We sat there for a while on the grass, eating more of our half-loaf of bakery bread with peanut butter (much cheaper than the four euros one vendor tried to charge us for a hot dog, although his price dropped rapidly as we turned and walked away) and watching the poor horses which run carts through the city on such a hot day.
We had a few more things in mind for our overview day of Roma, mostly in the direction of the Colosseum. There were plenty of on-going excavation works, trying to decypher the mess the Romans have created with their still-current policy of building new things right over the ruins of old things.
Stumbling across the Roman Forum, which is the centre of the old Roman world complete with temples and political buildings galore, we had a bit of an overview before ear-marking it for another day. We walked out the bottom end, and there it was, the sight which graces a million picture postcards world-wide, the Colosseum.
Seeing it this way, after so much other history during the day, it was actually quite hard to appreciate that this was actually it. There is a busy enough street running most of the way around it, and the ever-present tacky expensive tourist garbage sellers. Sure it was great to look at, but we would only come to appreciate it fully when we got inside in the coming days.
After a walk around its outskirts, we picked a road up the hill behind and followed our rather useful map back towards the hostel, another reasonable walk after a day of plenty of others.
We passed under the train station, stopping in a supermarket there for some pasta sauce, odds and ends and a bottle of ridiculously cheap Italian wine. This was all thrown together for a cheap satisfying dinner (I think if you want to sell pasta sauce in Italy, the standard is going to have to be pretty high), before we met some new room mates (Chris and Marie from Melbourne) and flaked out, exhaused after our Roman overview.

Getting on With Things

Well, chin up and all that, we have moved on from our set-back.
We set ourselves a target of about 2pm to wander around the industrial area of Padova in search of a better quote. We used Babelfish to get a translation of our problem into Italian, in the hope of showing that to some garages.
After a couple of failures (including one guy who just pretended we didn't exist when he found out we didn't speak Italian), we stumbled across a Fiat dealer who initially gave us a heart-leaping quote of much lower than we had expected, in his rather good English. However, he rang through to the Volkswagen place where the first quote was done, and found out just why the quote was so high. In our translation, we had been told that the head gasket was cracked, however it turns out that it is the whole head itself. Much more expensive, and more in line with our intitial quote.
Second opinion in hand, we resigned ourselves to paying the money and continuing with our travels. It is still a better option than either filing off the identification numbers and dumping it or getting it towed back to the Netherlands.
So, we finally got that translation through to the VW guys and they gave us a rather long estimate of about two weeks for the repair. We were pretty much prepared for that, said ok and caught the bus back into town.
After collecting our bags from the hotel, we looked like real backpackers once again and entered the train station. After waiting in the queue for a while, we arrived at a window and asked the standard polite "parlo inglais?" (do you speak English). After being answered no and then showed to another teller who also replied no, we tried to point at our guide book indicating the type of ticket we wanted. "No" once again came the answer.
We were stumped. How to get a ticket without being able to ask for one? Next option was the automated machine, which at least was in English, but couldn't give us the type of ticket we wanted either. Next to the tourist information office for some advice on our conundrum, but that was closed in the great Italian tradition of the three-and-a-half hour lunchbreak.
Nothing else for it but to get back in line, wait ten minutes again and do what we think is quite rude and assume that the tellers speak English. Suprise, suprise, it worked. I think they get defensive and decide it is best not to say they speak English if they only speak a little. We didn't want to trade Shakespeare with them, we just wanted to buy a ticket! Giving up also on the type of ticket we wanted, we settled for two singles to Roma Termini.
Lugging our bags to the platform, we boarded the late-running train, south bound and finally out of Padova.
It pushed on for an hour and a half before we had to change at Bolognia. Here we grabbed some quick snacks and worked out how to validate our tickets (had got told off for not doing that on the first leg), before boarding another regional train, this time to Roma.
We got quite a shock when, after a ten minute pause at Florence station, the train headed off in the opposite direction! Adding to our confusion was the fact that everyone else in our compartment of six had gotten off! We thought the teller had forgotten to tell us about a change, but after a hurried run through the train to the nearby dining car, it was explained that all was normal.
And arrive in Roma it eventually did, albeit 45 minutes late. The ride had been a fun trip through Italy's country-side, passing through quite a few more tunnels than we had expected, each time making our ears pop with the pressure and the speed.
From the station, we wandered along to the highly-rated Fawlty Towers (!) hostel/hotel, not far at all away. However, after lugging our bags up into the place, cramping into the tiny lift with one poor other Canadian guy and our huge pack (lift only designed for three people and that is quite a squeeze), and dragging ourselves into reception, we found out that it was very very full. No beds the following night either.
No matter, as the helpful Canadian guy Andrew offered to take us to where he was staying, another hostel place. Back down the lift, walked about five blocks then up the lift again (I'm not quite sure why, but Roman hotels and hostels all seem to be built vertically, all inter-mixed across several floors, so that in the space you would normally expect to have one hotel there is actually six), only to find that was full too.
We'd had enough lugging around by now, so Liz and the luggage were left to rest in the foyer of that place while I went out in search of a bed for the night. Luckily I didn't have to look too far, a few streets away I found the Stargate Hostel, and the guy promised me he would hold some beds. Back to get Liz, load up with the packs, back to the hostel and it was well and truly time to relax. We checked in, paid the reasonable sum (for central Rome, anyway) and were the only two people in a dorm room of six. Once again, it was five floors up, with a lift which only holds three people and is exceptionally slow.
We had originally planned to cook to get on the money saving boat as soon as possible, but we didn't have the energy. Instead, a short walk down the street we found a restaurant with tables on the street with suprisingly cheap prices - perhaps we were just used to the Venezian prices. We didn't expect much from the food but it was fantastic.
We enjoyed a beer or two and got chatting to a Norwegian guy sitting next to us, who is travelling all over the place, had only had one day in Rome and was leaving the next day. It was interesting to be able to put memories to the places he was talking about from his home, and also for him to hear that we still regard Norway as the most gorgeous place we have seen.

REALLY BAD NEWS (we're safe though)

Well, we were sailing along quite well on this holiday, and now one of the worst things that could have happened to us has just happened. Rosie's problem is a blown head gasket.
The insurance we have are helpful, but don't provide cover for the entire 2500 euro cost (= AUD $5000) which we have been quoted for repair. We are currently waiting to hear back from them to see if there is any movement on this very high price we have been quoted.
We have been in touch with the person we bought the van off in Netherlands, and she is helping quite a bit also, however would be of most help if the van was back there. She believes, as we do, that the quote we have been given is excessively high.
We have spent the best part of the day trying to work out just how we are going to spend the remainder of our holiday. We certainly don't have that sort of money just to throw around the place, the end result of which is that we will definitely be cutting our travels short.
Our options include towing it back to Netherlands (even more expensive than fixing the problem), travelling the last few countries by train/plane/backpack/hire car, or even flying home now. This last one isn't quite as bad as it might sound - we have seen a huge amount of the continent, but there are still a few things we want to see, most notably Paris, Spain and Rome.
If we can get a cheaper quote, we are leaning towards adding the costs to our mounting pile of debt to deal with later, and doing a "blitz" trip for a month or so of just the main things we want to see.
We would then either go back to England for the remaining month and stay with friends to keep the costs down, or move our flights forward if it won't cost us too much.

So, a "bad thing" has finally happened, but nothing is stolen, neither of us is hurt, and we remain mostly optimistic about what we are going to do.
Now we are going for a wander back to the internet caf� to get out of the hotel room and clear our minds a bit.

Marking Time in Padova

Not much was done after a late hotel breakfast. We have made good use of the TV with its English movie channel, and had a bit of a random wander around the city here and there.
We had lunch of pizza in Piazza Del Santo, in the shadow of Basilica di Sant'Antonio where the tomb of St. Anthony attracts plenty of visitors for the blessing of the Saint's powers to find lost things. Dispite not knowing exactly where Rosie was, we were comfortable in the fact that the insurance company was handling it, and elected not to visit and pay the hefty entry fees.
One of the tourist offices pointed us to Internet Point, an internet caf� where we were actually able to plug the laptop in, sending emails and getting the website up to date! We read news of the world and chatted to a few people, which was good fun to give us something to do.
We bought some things to read from the train station, and got a call saying that Rosie's diagnosis wouldn't arrive until at least the morning. As such, we checked ourselves back into the same hotel and spent the night watching yet more TV and not doing too much at all.

Padova, and more Rosie problems :(

We got up early to use an alternate means of travel to explore a new city, Padova (Padua), about 30km west of Venezia. The bus we had used to get to and from the caravan park helpfully keeps going all the way to Padova, so we jumped on that heading the opposite way, and had a slow old journey. The trade-off was that we didn't have to worry about parking or anything.
The main attraction of the city is the Capella degli Scrovegni, a chapel housing frescoes Giotto painted between 1303 and 1305. Unfortunately, the bus station had no information on where this was, so we wandered randomly in what turned out to be totally the wrong direction, asked a local University girl how to get back to the centre of town, and walked back past the bus station into town. How about signs for people getting off the bus with directions to the city's major tourist drawcard!!
Anyway, we found the place, paid our entrance fees and had to wait in a queue to get in. The environment inside is so controlled to prevent degredation of the frescoes that you have to sit in a climate-controlled anti-chamber for fifteen minutes for the air to stabilise before you are allowed in, and then only in groups of twenty-five.
It was worth all that rigmorole to see. Places like this I find interesting not at all from the religious perspective (the paintings document the life of Christ and Mary) but due to the technical abilities of the artist, so long ago. The three-dimensional aspect of the work on a two-dimensional surface was I thought the most striking detail, along with the grotesque rendering of hell on the massive end wall.
Overall it was amazing to see this place, but a little dis-heartening to think that the building is now a historical treasure, never used for its original intended purpose as a place of worship. I wonder how Giotto would have felt about that.
We were running late by the time we had been through there, so hot-footed it back to the bus, sat on it again for quite some time and checked out of the caravan park. Our drive was then back through Padova (not needing to stop and look around).
It was as we were driving through the city traffic in Padova that another van pulled along side us, the drive shouting "Fuma, Fuma!!" and pointing to the rear of Rosie. After a split-second just dismissing him as yet another crazy Italian driver, it occured to both of us that the smells we had just put down to city pollution were getting much stronger. A quick look in the rear-view mirror (engine in the back, remember) made it obvious that Rosie was doing her best Thomas the Tank Engine impression, billowing out vast quantities of steam and/or smoke.
We pulled over safely into what was luckily a loading zone on the side of the road, albeit right near a pedestrian crossing. As quick as we could manage, engine was off, battery disconnected and I was moving things around to get access to the engine bay while Liz got out our fire extinguisher - we were well prepared at least.
The white stuff gradually cleared, then we called our insurance to explain that yes, once again, we needed their help. Hours passed in the coffee shop which luckily was right next to us as we waited for a call or assistance. At some stage we attempted some do it yourself diagnosis, noting that the water resivoir was totally empty. Following the pipe, the next one (equivalent of a radiator in this vehicle, I think) was also completely empty.
After waiting for it to cool, we filled both up with some water, only to see it all run out the bottom of the engine bay onto the road! So, there was our major problem. Nothing we could do except wait for a tow.
One did eventually turn up, a nice enough Italian guy who didn't speak any English. As he was attempting to speak Italian to me to work out whether the van was drivable up onto the back of his truck or not, he struck upon an idea. "Finito?", he asked, pointing at the van. "Si", I replied. We pushed her along a few times until she was on the lift at the rear of his truck, then we were away.
Liz and I sat up in the cabin of his truck, getting a tour of Padova's outer areas as he took us first to the arranged Volkswagen mechanic, which it turned out only worked on newer, smaller and possibly far less problematic Volkwagens, not big, old error-prone ones like us. Maybe they were just scared of a challenge!
So, we were towed in the direction of another one, getting stuck in major traffic on the way out of town. He made some calls in rapid Italian, the gist of which we worked out meant that all the garages were closed by now (it was quite late), so what did we want to do? Here the Caravan Club insurance excelled themselves, having an Italian-speaking operator John on hand to help out. He translated for us, the result of which was that our driver was taking Rosie to be locked up somewhere for the night, and us to Padova train station to sort out some accommodation for the night.
We packed a few things into some bags to do us while we were away from the van (it is becoming a more regular occurrance than we had wished for, but staying in a posh hotel every now and then is a nice break). We got to the tourist information just as it was closing for the night and grabbed a city map and a list of hotels. Picking a few in our price-range, we headed off in search of them.
Down the main drag Corso del Popolo, we stumbled upon Hotel Corso pretty much as the first one along the road. We headed in, found their rooms were available and priced right for the insurance to cover it. The room turned out to be just fine, overlooking the river and town walls. The main draw-back is that it is very noisy, but that's the problem with being central I guess.
Wandering into the city for a Lonely Planet recommended dinner at Trattoria al Pero, we ate in style the Italian way, which is a first course of pasta then a main course of meat. They usually add in a few more courses, but our stomachs were full just as our budget was too.
Back to the hotel, we reflected on our broken bus yet again, but at least in a city with transport to the world and insurance sorting everything out for us.

As a couple of asides, some guy jumped off the bell tower to his death in the middle of San Marco Piazza in Venezia the day after we were there as the clock struck midday. Also, late at night in the caravan park there we felt Rosie shake for a while. I thought it was Liz rolling around and she thought it was me. We both agreed it was neither of us, and we read in the Herald Tribune (English-language paper you can get around the place if you are willing to pay through the teeth) yesterday that it was indeed a magnitude-five earthquake, centred further south from here in Bolognia. Nobody hurt, but interesting all the same. We survived an earthquake!

Around Venezia

We got an early start, back on the bus, into Venezia for what was going to turn out to be one of the top three days of our entire trip (the other two being ANZAC Day and North Cape). The weather had turned fantastic, providing blue sky, warmth and much better photo opportunities than the previous day.
Almost the entire day was spent just wandering, sometimes with a general goal in mind, other times just aimlessly. All the time, admiring the little things which combine to make this city different. The uniformity of the round concave doorbells on all the dense houses, the washing lines strung across the streets shared by neighbours, the music in the background, the Carnivale masks everywhere, street caf�s and of course the ever-present water.
We met with a couple from Manly, exchanging cameras for photos on the waterfront. They were staying in a hotel where the management had little care for the fact that they had been kept awake all night by rats - a problem we at least don't have to face with Rosie! Also, the fact that they only had about two weeks left for their Europe trip due to work rammed home the fact that we should view our over two months still remaining as quite a long time, even though it doesn't seem so!
It was fantastic to be in a city where you had to walk everywhere, except for long distances (although we walked those too) which could be covered by boat. No cars, no vespas (the scooters which the Italians invented and weild relentlessly at pedestrians in all other cities here), and suprisingly no hawkers.
We stumbled across an Internet caf� somewhere, where we paid a rather large amount of money to just check our emails. We may not be able to plug the laptop in anywhere in this country, as the government requires even users of the normal computers in the internet caf�s to have their identity logged - we had to give my student card over to be photocopied! Talk about paranoia.
After going back through San Marco Piazza once again, getting some photos in the far better light, we pushed further and further east, to the ends of the island that only the brave tourists seem to tackle. It was suprisingly just how quickly the crowds thin out, replaced by far cheaper places to eat and locals going about their business. This was infinitely preferable to the thousands of shops selling almost identical combinations of tourist junk and over-priced ice cream.
We got to the park at the end of the island, and decided that all our money saved by walking everywhere and cooking ourselves had earned us a bit of a splurge, we found a great little caf� frequented by locals. The friendly people running the place took our order as we sat in the sunshine and just enjoyed being off our feet, which were starting to hurt considerably. The fantastic food was about half the price we would have paid in the touristy sections, and as a bonus I think we saw about four other touristy-looking people wander past the entire time we were there. Nice and quiet relaxing there for an hour or so.
Saying goodbye to the serenity, we pushed back west through areas we hadn't seen, back-tracking a lot to try and get around. We hadn't got a decent map and didn't really care - everywhere you look there were people really worried about which street they were on and where they were going. Not the city to do that in. Just learn which rough direction the bus station is in and enjoy being very very lost.
At one stage, we found a little old man who appeared to be going somewhere interesting. Not having any more firm plans, we elected to follow him around White Rabbit style. He led us through some amazing back streets, at each intersection pausing and looking each way before deciding which way he wanted to go. Perhaps he was just as lost as us, we didn't care. It was another way to see places which even our random decisions probably wouldn't have taken us to.
Somehow we lost him, but he had gotten us back near one of the main drags, where we got a gelati to cool down on such a hot day. Next rough area to explore ws the north-shore, past Campo SS Giovanni e Paolo, an old church and square, parts of which are now the current hospital under restoration, as so much of the city is. We paused somewhere for a tripod shot.
Great view from the north prompted a stop for coffee to recharge our weary legs. Again away from the tourism a little, the prices were very cheap, considering we sat down at the outside tables (prices vary here depending on where you drink).
By now my knees and both our feet were giving us grief, so we considered Venezia thoroughly explored and headed back to the caravan park. It was a city we really didn't want to leave, and we felt that you could make a holiday just on its own. If only these places were a day trip away from Sydney...
A light dinner was cooked before we collapsed very weary from all our wandering.

Into Venezia

Leaving the caravan park, we drove south towards Venezia (Venice), following the slow roads all the way. This means no motorways, leaving us free to watch the scenery roll by - the best here being the flat plains we were driving on looking south contrasting beautifully with the huge ridge of Dolomites mountains to the north.
We once again had to play the "find the caravan park in a big city game", following signs which are good for a while then suddenly the road deviates down into one lane going in the wrong direction and they sort of forget to sign post it. Lots of turning around eventually led us over the bridge to Venezia, which we knew was very very wrong - there are no cars allowed, let alone caravan parks on the island.
A bit more turning around later, and guessing a bit when the signs were forgotten or just completely wrong, we found our way to Camping Serenissima, on the mainland and about 12km to the west. It was quite a nice spot, run by friendly people and quiet enough for a big city camping place.
After setting up, we caught the bus into Venezia from outside the camping place, about a half an hour ride. It was funny to re-trace our steps, finding out where we had turned wrongly earlier in the day, and then to go once again across the 4km bridge to the island, this time intentionally. The weather was not the best, raining intermittently and overcast all day long.
Even from the carpark at the bus terminal, it just looked kind of like any other big city. It wasn't until we walked a little way further and we saw our first canal! That is of course really what sets this city apart from others, so a trip up the Canal Grande was of course in order.
There are a few ways to travel on the water, ranging from the reasonably-priced packed like a cattle-truck ferries through private gondolas (very expensive) and then water taxi (even more expensive). Needless to say, we took the former option. The signage for the public ferries was pretty terrible until you looked long and hard, which resulted in us going on a ferry the wrong way to start with. As it turns out, this was a blessing in disguise. Since we had gone one stop back before the main tourist jumping-on point, our return ferry was almost completely empty, leaving us to take the best seats in the house right up the front.
I'm not sure just how much detail to go into about Venezia. The city is so totally amazing, but pretty much everything we did is what most other people would do, except perhaps the huge amount of walking and heading out to the remotest non-tourist-infested areas we could find.
We had a great ride up the canal, past the leaning old buildings, getting glimpses of bridges, alleyways and all things Venetian. It was a great way to get a feel for the city before intensive exploration.
Getting off the boat at San Zaccaria, we wandered through markets on the waters edge and watched the gondolas drift by. We were both amazed when we saw our first tiny alleyway, unaware just how many we would see following.
We found our way to San Marco Piazza. Wow. There's something about the place which just works so well - the huge old buildings surrounding three sides, the amazing Basilica on the fourth and the bell tower soaring high in one corner. I'm not really sure just how to describe the place. Of all the areas of Venezia, this is truly one you just have to experience for yourself.
From there we started what was a most satisfying way to discover Venezia - just pick a direction, wander for a long time (three or four hours in this case), over bridges, through alleyways, into squares which just pop out here and there, find dead-ends and try to work out how to keep going in your chosen direction. It's just a Choose Your Own Adventure book, where you try to get to some goal, get stuck going the wrong way and have to back-track, and eventually forget your goal anyway. The maze that this city is is probably even more compelling than the fact that its primary means of transport is on the water.
Eventually we wanted to get back to the van to cook some dinner, as Venezia is widely regarded as the most expensive city in Italy, one of Europe's more expensive countries. This in itself was an effort as we actually needed to get back to a certain place! There are signs, but they are approximations at best. An hour or so of being able to see when we got out to the water where we wanted to go but then having to work out how to get there later, we found the bus station and jumped on a waiting bus for the return journey.
The rain was teeming down as we tried to peer out the window for the sign 412 (representing 412km from the start of the road somewhere) which we knew meant we were nearly at our stop. This proved quite difficult, but eventually I caught a glance of it, jumped up and ran through the bendy bus to stab at the button. We didn't even have time to get our umbrellas out, dashing through the pouring rain for cover. Umbrellas out, we got back to the van and cooked up dinner, before sleeping to do it all again the next day.

Descent into Italia

(Continued from �sterreich 1 (Austria)).
We pulled in at the border to attempt to get some stamps in our passports. It was amazing how quickly things changed - there were huge Cinzano signs, those bottles of wine with cane around the bottom all for sale, and accents were completely different.
After taking a photo or two next to the border sign to prove we made it, we went in search of the stamps. The official border post was closed and looked like it had been since about 1972, so the next move was to approach one of the shop keepers.
Despite my primary-school Italian, I couldn't work out what to say! My brain was producing a strange muddle of English, German, Italian and gobbledy gook, so in the end I resported to the universal "stamping the passport" hand-action. She pointed and said "restaurant", so we followed that. Joking that only the Italians could make a restaurant the dispenser of official border crossing stamps, we were soon suprised to see that what we actually got was more a stamp advertising the restaurant, in our official passports! Still, it had the name of the mountain pass if nothing else. We will have to drop in at a police station later on.
Shaking of the hitchikers wanting a ride (luckily the wrong way), Liz started her expert piloting of Rosie down the precarious pass. The first-gear, almost completely stopping hairpin bends as the sun was shining and Italian language radio came into range was truly a great way to enter the country. Forget motorways, this is how it should be done.
Progress in terms of straight-line distance was very slow, but we didn't care, just looking down and around the valley. After we eventually made it down, small villages came and went, with completely different architecture to the Austrian ones only an hour or so earlier.
The game to play rapidly became "spot the Fiat", as the Italian national car overtook at all angles in all conditions, but suprisingly not much worse than the rest of Europe so far (and notably Czech).
We drove further south, with the rough plan that we would make it to Venezia (Venice) the following day. We opted not to use the motorways for now (you pay a toll for each journey you make on them in Italia), instead taking the very scenic back roads towards a little nowhere town called Gemona del Friuli. The tight streets coupled with little cars, old wandering Italian people, great looking restaurants and sunshine all made us feel very happy we had made it to a place we had long wanted to visit.
We pulled into Camping Ai Pioppi, were glad that the reception guy spoke a little English, and pulled up to enjoy the sunshine - a very welcome change after the non-stop rain in �sterreich.
Enjoying having use of the gas, we cooked up some pasta (what else?) and enjoyed the evening sun before it disappeared and the night-time cold came to remind us that the alps were just behind us.

Into the Alps

On the road for what turned out to be a mostly driving, exploring day, we headed back to the motorway the across east towards a couple of mountain roads which we had heard were very spectacular.
We wanted to go up and/or down the Gro�glocknerstra�e, one of the highest mountain roads in the area and supposedly full of spectacular scenery. I picked a different road to take us up north of there so we could drive back down it, heading generally to Italy. However, after winding our way up towards one of the towns on the road (Mallnitz, which was a beautiful little town in its own right nestled into the mountains under snowy peaks), it became apparent that the only way forward was to put Rosie on a train which ran through a tunnel under the mountain!
I'm not quite sure why it couldn't have just been a road tunnel like so many others around the place, but we decided the cost was a bit high and the wait was going to be too long.
So, aborting our first attempt to cross the Alps, we retreated south, then pushed further west, intending to go this time up Gro�glocknerstra�e. It was a great climb up to the start of the pass, through yet more villages nestled around the place, one of which had a huge chicken advertising "Backhenfest", starting the next day. What a shame we wouldn't be around to see that.
Pushing Rosie higher and higher (to about 1500m if I remember correctly), we eventually came to the toll gate for the start of the pass proper. The van infront of us had to reverse out, we were not sure why. However, we had to do the same after asking the little man there if we required snow chains. "Ja" came the simple answer, couple with a bit of laughter at all the stupid tourists around today. A look at the sign up the road with tyres complete with chains should have also given it away!
So, figuring we had plenty of time for mountain passes complete with snow if really wanted to do that, we aborted Alps Crossing Attempt Number Two, grabbed some photos, and decided that the cold and rain were all bit depressing. What better way to cure that than to head south to Italy!
There are plenty of different passes from �sterreich into Italy, so we chose the closest one, Pl�cken Pass/Monte Croce Carnico (in Deutsch and Italiano respectively). To get across you have to cross two separate mountain ranges, both a part of the Dolomites. Singing the 1980s theme from Commonweath Bank's children's bank accounts, we drove out of our last "major" Deutsch-speaking town Oberdrauburg due south, heading for another country.
The interesting thing about Europe is that if we had have pushed about fifty kilometres east instead of south, we would have ended up in Slovenia, speaking yet another language, with different cultures, customs and food. But I don't have visas for there - perhaps next time.
We wound our way up the first ridge of mountains over Gailsbergsattel Pass (982m), then back down the other side into the road and tiny towns built between the two ranges. Still beyond us were the imposing peaks of the second range, jutting like huge sharp teeth into the sky. Slowly we chugged up more mountains, overtaken at speed by fast German-made cars, and increasingly Italian-registered Fiats.
I was reminded of the movie Italian Job by all the fantastic scenery - and interestingly, in a manner reminiscent of driving into and out of Wales, the weather looked far far better on the other side!
Coming out of one of the strange half-open tunnels which are so common here (perhaps just to keep snow off while still giving you a view?), we dodged a couple of sheep who had found their way in, and then we saw the huge EU-compliant "Italia" sign!
There were zero formalities as we pushed across into Italia.

Graz, Pushing West

Waking in the mist and fog of the forested caravan park, we ended up driving over to the amenities block to do our washing up as the rain was so heavy. We paid the guy - the downside to knowing a little German is that people assume you know a lot and can understand it rapidly. It is certainly a good exercise in learning how people who can't speak your language must find it difficult to get by.
We headed south through the mountains, the wind and rain un-ceasing. There were some great views despite this, as we wound our way first up and then down one of the three mountain ranges which run from east-to-west across �sterreich.
We stopped for some morning tea in a little bus stop perched on the edge of a cliff overlooking a valley. We could see our road wind all the way down and then off into the distance.
However pretty this way of travelling is, it is quite slow, so eventually we re-joined the motorway and followed it into Graz. This is one of the towns which are interesting here and there around the place, but which we don't really have days and days to explore. We set ourselves the general task of exploring the World Heritage listed old town and finding the one place Lonely Planet mentioned which tickled our fancy.
We parked in the town (surrounded by plenty of roadworks) next to a tramline, paid a reasonable parking fee and then walked into the old town across the river Mur. Plenty of narrow streets fired out in all directions from the central Rathaus square, and we followed some of these, Murgasse then Hofgasse as the worked their way up hill. There were refreshingly few touristy shops, which for once was not what we wanted - we are yet to procure a fridge magnet from �sterreich and will leave for Italy soon!
At the top of the hill, we found the city had approved, as many have, a weird modern art installation. In this case, a carpark had huge mirrors on walls all in it which we wandered in and around. This had the rather un-nerving effect of making the group of fifty Japanese tourists look more like five hundered, all taking their own photos in the mirrors. We did the same, however, but then hastilly headed off further up the road to our main target. In the Burg complex there is a double-winding staircase which plays tricks with your mind. We had it all to ourselves for a while, running around and generally being confused. However, we heard the Japanese tourist group approaching, covering the only way out. Even if there was only fifty of them, we still needed to get out somehow!
After that battle, we picked another random street to head back down into town. There were quite a lot of buildings and parks of interest, but not really enough to compete with Wien, a city far more worthy of your time.
We wandered up towards the entrances to Schlossberg, the castle on the hill. It is famous as the symbol of Graz for having the hour and minute hands reversed on its clock. You can get up there either by the attractive stairway, funicular railway or lift straight through the rock. We chose none of these options, all castled out recently and needing to get back before our parking ran out.
After a quick photocopying session to claim our insurance from the work on the van (which seems to have worked wonders, as it happens), we tried about four exits from the town before we found one with a signpost to the motorway, or indeed a signpost at all. Some towns really need to send their civil engineers on a tourism course - when you travel all over the place, good signs are important!
Eventually on the A2 motorway, the views were pretty amazing when we weren't in the tunnels along past Klagenfurt, through the outskirts of Villach then Velden to eventually find our selected caravan park (Camping Weisses) on the south side of the W�rther See. This pretty piece of the world is far enough from the motorway to be reasonably quiet, and is quite pretty with an accompanying high price tag (seems to be a very popular tourist destination).
As we drove in there was plenty of mist coming off the See - the weather is changing here fairly rapidly.
There's plenty of snow on the mountain tops around the place now, and it is quite cold overnight and in the mornings. It's only about two weeks out of summer!

Wien Again, Wachau, South up the Mountains

Remembering this time to take my camera, we set into town once again for a bit more of wander. Our time was limited as we had to leave the caravan park.
First was a walk around the north-section of the Ring, starting at Schottenring U-Bahn and walking anti-clockwise past various attractive buildings. This took in Schottentor, then down the most interesting Western section. All the way the incessant rain didn't leave us, but the city still looked passable.
We walked past the University, then the Rathaus and its accompanying leafy Rathasplatz. On from there to the huge Parliament buildnig with statues and flags waving proudly. Perhaps the most pretty part was suprisingly the Museum of Fine Arts and its grounds with sculptured rounded trees, known as Maria Theresien Platz.
We walked around the grounds of the Hofburg before re-tracing some our steps from the previous day for photographs. We had hoped the weather would be a bit better but no matter - some of the best parts were undercover, while others a bit of juggling the umbrella, guidebooks and camera gave the desired results. Yes, we look totally like tourists wherever we go.
Back through Michaelerplatz, into Stephensplatz and then it was time to get back. Wien is a city we could have spent a month in, but that is not to be this trip. There's so much more to see, and you seem to have to have quite a lot of money to spend to do the big things such as Vienna Boys Choir or classical music performances.
Getting on the road, we found our way back out of the city, heading around the A21 and then along the A1. Despite the horrible weather, we decided to detour up one of the most popular sections of the Danube in the Wachau valley between Melk and Krems. We have plans to get back to some sections of �sterreich at a later date (notably Saltzburg), but this would be a bit far and the weather most probably would not be much better anyway.
The drive was nice if not amazingly spectacular (it's going to be tough to match Norway's fjords), and at the end after a little asking around, we found our Holy Grail - a Campingaz 907 cylinder!! For so long we have eaten out, cooked barbeques in silly places, but generally spent too much money, and now we could be self-sufficient again! The excitement was such that Liz was actually jumping up and down in the van when I returned triumphant. We didn't even care that it cost significantly more than it really should have.
Back down the otherside, we were on a much smaller road, all lined with vineards, grape vines and fruit trees everywhere. The tiny villages were all along the banks of the river, bringing the 100km/h traffic down to 30km/h through tiny little gaps in the houses we just fit through.
Not being one to be boring, I picked us a path well and truly off the motorways through to our next target - Graz. Of course this meant much slower going, but we really didn't mind. We heard on the weather report (BBC World Service gets through here and there) that there was going to be snow above 1700 metres, and although we didn't get quite that high, we certainly burrowed through clouds as we wound up and up along the backroads of the 25, 28, 20 and then no number at all roads.
This journey didn't get us far at all towards Graz, but we didn't care - the scenery was amazing with lots of little villages with their old buildings and spires all surrounded by mist and fog. We got thoroughly stared at in a place called St. Anthony - perhaps the locals thought we were lost as they surely don't get much passing trade. Most people are sane and boring and take the motorways.
Probably the best stop was at a village called Puchenstuben, perched atop a ridge, overlooking the misty valley. Magical.
We ended up stopping for the night north of Mariazella at Camping Erlaufsee, in St. Sebastian. The place is surrounded by forest, quite a way even off our un-beaten track we were following. After a fight with the gas fittings (the regulator valve screw fitting was giving me grief), we had a working stove once again!
Dinner followed swiftly, strangely happy to cook boring pasta and sauce which went down well after the long day. I'm sure the novely will wear off pretty quickly.

Into Wien

(Continued from Ceska Republika (Czech Republic)).
Across no-mans land from Ceska, we slowed and stopped at the next border post, Drasenhofen, this one belonging to �sterreich. We were expecting more grief about my Shengen visa status (I'm still all legal, my passport just doesn't quite look that way), but the guy on the desk was more interested in Liz.
We had to find first then produce her driver's licence (an example of which he had obviously never seen before), then the green card (rego papers) for the van. There were no problems in the end, and perhaps it was good that he had all this to distract him from me.
In the end, we waved Ceska goodbye, and stopped at the first service station. Similarly to Ceska and a lot of European countries, �sterreich requires you to buy a vignette (windscreen sticker) if you want to use the motorways. So, we removed our Ceska one for safe-keeping and attached instead a shiny new one. It was quite strange to be back in a country where only 2km north I couldn't understand a word that was going on, but now we could communicate, even on a basic level.
The rain started hounding down, accompanied dramatically by wind as we pushed due south to Wien (Vienna), the capital city. In terms of our luck recently, finding Camping Neue Donau on the east side of town was a walk in the park - only about three wrong turns! Since our caravan club guide book is written mostly by elderly British caravaners who we can imagine probably bicker between themselves over whether they turned left or right to get there, we are not totally suprised when the directions end us up in totally the wrong place. So, Wien was a pleasant suprise.
The guy on the desk put us near two vans full of about eight kiwis - perhaps he thought "they're from your hemisphere, you put up with them". They had all sorts of kiwi slogans and icons painted all over their vans - I suspect their chances of selling the vans when they are finished travelling are somewhat reduced now.
We wasted little time getting organised and getting down to the bus stop for a bus to the U-bahn (underground train) into town. However, we missed the bus by ten seconds or so and had a half an hour wait. We used this time to read up and get ourselves oriented in the city. When the bus did arrive, the guy on-board wouldn't sell us a ticket. Wien has moved to the same system as the vast majority of European cities we have encountered - you need tickets before you get on, and they typically last for 24 hours.
Luckily, he just waved us past and we bought our tickets at the other end. The wait for the U-Bahn at Kaiserm�hlen (Vienna International Centre). This got us to Karlsplatz near the south of the centre, from where we walked down to Naschmarkt. This is an arrangement of little shops and markets in the middle of a wide street, from where we got what we intended to be a snack until we cooked dinner later, but turned out to be huge meals.
It was about here that I worked out I hadn't brought my camera in with me. First time I have forgotten that for a while, but no real matter as we had planned to come in again the next morning and could get some snaps then.
We wandered up K�rntner Stra�e into the centre of town at Stephansplatz, dominated by Stephansdom (St. Stephen's Cathedral). Not a vast open square like many others, this was instead surrounded by plenty of shops build tall and seeming to overhang. The whole time the rain was just annoying enough for us to need umbrellas, but not drenching.
From there we wandered out to Michaelerplatz, which fronts onto the Kaiserappartements and the famous Spanish Riding School. The latter Mum had suggested was worth a visit, however the one-month wait for tickets coupled with the huge sums of money they demanded meant this wasn't going to happen for us this trip.
We walked past some excavations of old buildings which existed here hundereds of years ago through the archways and found ourselves in Heldenplatz. This is surrounded by the massive Hofburg (Imperial Palace), which is so big it plays funny games with your eyes as you walk past it.
Onto Burgring and Opernring, two of the roads which combine to form a ring around the city (well, not quite a ring, but the Danau/Danube river fills the remaining part). We had heard about the famous Viennese coffee houses, and Lonely Planet recommended Caf� Sperl as one of the most un-spoilt. We whole-heartedly agree. The place had an amazing charm, complete with centuries old upholstered bench chairs, billiard tables and of course fantastic coffee. We were a little taken aback at the small size of our supposed gro�er (large) coffees, but this was a case of quality over quantity any day. The waitress even humoured our horrible attempts at Deutsch, and brought us a great mineral water which dissapeared rather quickly - it was hot in there.
Next was a trip back into the heart of the city to have a look at the interesting-sounding Haus Der Musik (Das Klangmuseum). This turned out to be a wonderful way to while away a few hours, with everything from the city's famous sons Mozart, Beethoven, Sch�nberg, etc. through to an interesting (for me anyway) network of computers which automatically made real-time compositions over the Internet. There were rooms where you could push buttons to mix together human voices in strange ways, explorations of the nature of sound, and plenty of ways to do very strange things with sounds.
Done there, it was time to think about "home" and dinner, so we re-traced our steps to the caravan park via the Stephensplatz U-Bahn station. This time a bus was only a couple of minutes wait away, returning us to the caravan park to cook in the kitchen there. It was strange to eat in the van again after so long.

South out of Ceska

After packing up and working out how to pay the old dear running the site of our night's accommodation, we set off around the south-west side of Brno.
We stopped to grab some cheap Ceska fuel and breakfast for ourselves, before heading the 50km or so south to the border with �sterreich (Austria).
Unlike the border crossing into Ceska, this one was split in two. We first drove up to the Ceska side of the border, convincing them to let us out. Once again we had no problems as our paperwork was all in order. Also, it is generally easier for countries to let you out rather than in.
Stamps entered in our passports (Liz got her first in her British passport - the downside to the freedom it gives), I got out and tried to work out how to get a stamp for entering �sterreich. After giving me another Ceska stamp, one of the Ceska guys told me that the �sterreich border crossing was another kilometre further down the road!
So, we drove along in no-mans land, not quite sure what country we were technically in. No matter, as around the corner we saw the next border post. Getting through that was our first experience in �sterreich (Austria).

Telc

Not wanting to brave a breakfast at the camp site, we tried to use the bathrooms we had used the night before, only to find someone had put bricks infront of the doors! I guess it was easier than trying to explain it to us in English.
So, we pushed into the town of Telc. Another World Heritage place, however this one was much more deserving in our humble opinions. Parking on the outskirts, we walked across a bridge and into the huge open square that the town is built around.
There are a few churches here and there with nice steeples, and the famous Ch�teau, but we were content just to sit and have breakfast at one of the restaurants overlooking the square. This was a good thing, as Monday appears to be the one day of the week that every single one of the tourist attractions is closed.
After walking around pretty much every one of the bakeries, caf�s and restaurants in town looking for something to eat, we came to the conclusion that the Czech people just aren't that interested in breakfast.
We eventually settled on an restaurant with an outside terrace, and some interesting almost breakfasty things. Liz got an omlete with asparagus and I had toast with cheese and honey - both interesting, but near enough to breakfast that our bodies didn't complain too much.
After a further wander around the beautiful town and checking our emails in the tourist office, we went back to the van and set off in the direction of Brno. Czech is really two separate parts - Bohemia on the west and Moravia on the east. Praha (Prague) is the capital of Bohemia and Brno is the capital of Moravia.
Things started out badly when the motorway exit from which our directions to caravan parks started was closed. So, we got off at the next one and tried to wind our way back. An hour or so later, we found one of the sites listed, in the outlying village of Ostrovacice. It was a driveway into a house with closed gates. However, there was a sign pointing in and a button to press, which I of course did.
We were about to turn away when a dog came running to the gate, followed much more slowly by a woman in her eighties. After gesturing at the huge red van about two metres away, she got the idea, opened the gates and let us in. We drove through what was basically her backyard into a huge field which was yet more of her backyard. I suspect she found herself with this great big house and all this space and decided to let campers use it. Good idea, I say. She has rabbits, dogs, and was even spotted herding chickens, right before she shook one of the plum trees to get all of its fruit off.
She doesn't speak English or German, but we were able to find out where the toilets and electricity were, and how to get into Brno via bus. We elected not to do this, as we had other cities to see, and there appears to be nothing much special there.
So, we read up on our next challenge (Austria), before walking to the next village and spending the night there eating our last cheap dinner. Being our last night in Czech, I was determined to try an item which has been on the menus every single place we have been. It is listed under the "Warm Drinks" section, and named Grog. I kid you not. So, it was ordered, and Liz captured on film the moment of my first taste, closely followed by complete and utter disgust at the stuff. At least I can say that I have tried the "real" Grog. Won't be doing that again in a hurry.

Kutna Hora

Making the best of the available wireless internet connection, after breakfast at the caravan park we spent the morning getting up to date with various things, even into the early afternoon.
Eventually it was time to give up this luxury and get on the road. The weather was great as we drove ourselves out of Prague. This city was hard enough to get in to, but getting out was not much better. We stumbled along, following the signs for the road we wanted to be on, but as is so common, they just sort of disappeared, leaving us driving along tram tracks, dodging pedestrians and Skodas as we randomly choose roads which might lead us in roughly the right direction.
This finally paid off, as we joined the E59/D1/E50/E65 (couldn't just call it one thing) heading south-east towards Brno. However, this wasn't quite what we wanted, so we deviated a little north towards Kutna Hora.
This was yet another World Heritage town, but after a bit of a drive through, we were less than impressed. The tourist office was well closed and pretty derelict. Compared to other such towns we have seen, this barely rated a mention.
We pushed a little out of town in search of the other attraction this place has to offer - Sedlec Ossuary. Seeming as it is such an attraction, I have no idea why it was almost impossible to find. We drove back and forth a few times, eventually stopping at a large church which had a map on the front of how to get to the ossuary. It seems lots of people do exactly the same thing.
Eventually we found our way there, parked the van and walked in and paid. The history of this place is interesting - some sacred dirt scattered in the church grounds lead to people far and wide wanting to be buried there. This lead to massive overcrowding and hence piles of human remains everywhere. Not wanting this to go to waste, people used the bones as decoration - we saw chandileers, altars, countless decorative strings and four massive pyramids all built out of bones and skulls. Macabre, sure, but not nearly as bad as we were bracing ourselves for. In fact, it was a little underwhelming, perhaps because we have been to lots of places outlining Nazi history recently.
From there, we pushed south for a couple of hours along crazy roads dodging insane drivers, in the direction of Telc. We elected not to go into the town itself, instead heading out again to a quiet campsite in the middle of nowhere. It was very strange, seeming to have no working toilet block and very few patrons. The old Czech reception man told us to drive in and pick a spot, all in German (plenty of the older generation speak that here, rather than English) - he was quite nice and perhaps a little suprised to see anyone turn up at all.
After driving past locals haphazardly parked on the driveway (no tourists expected, I guess), we parked then walked back up to have a dinner at their restaurant. We pointed and gestured for the benefit of the young Czech-only speaking girl, and eventually Liz got a meal which was just average, while my specialty of the house (three meats in four spices) was great.
We slept soundly in the near-total silence - very uncommon for us.

Prague

We had breakfast at the caravan park and then walked down the hill to the little bus stop. From here we caught a bus and then a tram, and found ourselves in central Prague.
Around the corner from where we got off the tram were the municipal house and the Powder Gate, both very beautiful buildings.
We could already see that the city was packed with other tourists - Prague is now one of the most popular destinations in Europe - I can't imagine how busy it would have been at the height of summer.
From the Powder Gate, we walked down a wide street filled with Saturday morning shoppers. We found the tourist information, but it proved to be of little use, so we wandered on. We turned right, had a look in one or two touristy shops and then found ourselves in Staromestk� n�mesti, the old town square. It was a beautiful sunny day and the spot was gorgeous. We just stood and looked all around us, trying to take it all in. One one side was the old town hall with its high tower and a fifteenth century astronomical clock below the tower. Across the square is T�n church (1365), an amazing gothic building with twin steeples soaring across the square. All around the rest of the square are beautiful old buildings and the whole place makes you want to be able to see in all directions at once.
We sat at one of the outdoor caf�s and treated ourselves to a couple of small but expensive beers - you pay for the view at more than five times the cost of beer just outside the square. So we stayed for ages drinking in the sights, listening to a great little jazz band nearby, and watching the thousands of tourists enjoying the square just like us.
At 1pm we joined a huge crowd infront of the Astronomical Clock and watched its little wooden people marching in and out of the clock as it rang out. Then we went inside the building, paid a small fee and began winding our way up through the tower and out to the top where we had 360 degree views of Prague. The square looked even better from this height and if it weren't for the number of tourists up there I would have happily stood up there for a few hours.
But we had lots more to see, so we made our way down and out and walked into the Jewish Quarter. Like everywhere else in this beautiful city, there were so many amazing old buildings. We found ourselves stopping every few steps to look down a small passage way or up at an old building. We kept going like this until we found ourselves at the Vltava river that runs through the city. Across the river from us and up on the hill was a giant metronome ticking back and forth. We have no idea what it was all about - maybe some wacky piece of art?
We walked along the river-side and then across a bridge and up the road until we came to the old castle steps. It was another hot day and a steep climb, but the view from the top was pretty cool. We could see the tower we had climbed up earlier.
A bit further up hill we were rewarded with the breathtaking sight of St Vitus Cathedral. It is a breathtaking building (building started in 1344) and after walking around one side, we went into the cathedral which if possible was even better. It is a huge cathedral and today contains the crown jewels which we had seen a replica of at Karlstejn castle the day before.
Back outside, we walked through the courtyard with St Vitus Cathedral on one side and Prague castle on the other. In the next courtyard was the Basilica of St George, the oldest building in this little section (1142).
Back down the old castle steps, we spent an hour or so just wandering around the streets of Prague, going through the occasional small square or busy tourist spot.
At Mal� Strana we sat in a park for a bit before getting on the funicular railway where there are old castle walls and lots of parkland. We walked halfway back down the hill to get great views out over Prague and then caught the train back down to the bottom.
We made our way back towards the river and walked along the edge, looking across to Karluv Most (Charles Bridge) and the opposite bank. As we walked, we realised we were getting quite hungry and our feet were tired, so it was nice to stumble across a pub/restaurant. We sat in their walled courtyard and enjoyed Pilsener beers and shared a huge serving of pork ribs complete with mustard and pickle all served up on a huge wooden platter. After all that and another beer (it was Prague, after all!) we decided we still had more to see so off we went.
A bit further along the river we came to Karluv Most built in 1357 and complete with thirty statues from the 18th century. It is now a pedestrian bridge, and is lined on each side by people selling tourist knick-knacks and lots of artwork. The view looking up and down the river was so nice - the sun was going down and there were some really good buskers on the bridge. It all made for a great atmosphere.
Back on the other side of the river we were in serious tourist land - shop after shop packed full of anything a tourist could ever want or need (and a lot more besides) and full of lots of tourists, us included. It was actually quite a lot of fun just wandering along a looking in the shops. Before we knew it we were back in the old town square.
We were still keen to see a bit more so we went up another little street and just kept wandering. Eventually when it was quite dark, and we were quite worn out, we found a tram stop, caught our tram and then our bus, and took ourselves back to the caravan park.
It seems like we did heaps, but I think I could have happily looked around Prague for a week, or even just enjoyed the atmosphere in the bars and caf�s, but at least we got to see most things.

Karlstejn and around Prague several times

On Friday morning, we were happy to be able to use the camping ground's gas stoves to heat up some water and then we enjoyed lots of tea and coffee while we could. Our spot by the lake was beautiful in the morning sunshine, with mist drifting over the top of the water.
From Pilsen we drove north-east on the motorway and got stuck in traffic for a while where there had been a bad accident between a few trucks, but we left the motorway soon after. We drove along a very windy little road, complete with big mirrors on the bends to tell you how many crazy drivers were coming at you from the other direction.
We stopped at Karlstejn. A boring little town, until you spotted its highlight - a 14th century castle standing at the very top of a high, forest covered hill.
We had to park right at the bottom of the hill, where we couldn't even see the castle, and from there walk to the top where the castle was. The walk up was actually quite fun - it was a narrow little cobblestone street, and either side most of the way up were lots of little shops selling lots of little tourist goodies. We hurried past them all as we decided to look at the shops on the way down.
The last part of the path up to the castle was very steep. It was a hot day and cobblestones are pretty, but they start to hurt your feet after a while! But we made it to the top just in time for a tour around the castle in English.
The tour was interesting with all the history of the castle, but not much of the inside of the castle is how it was in the 14th century. The whole place used to be full of frescos but none remain and there is only one piece of original furniture. However, the view from the castle looking all the way down the mountain was beautiful, and the outside of the castle was pretty spectacular.
By this stage, we were both very hungry so we stopped at one of the little restaurants on the way back down. For an insanely cheap price (less than $10), we both had big bowls of fresh home-made chicken soup, Pilsener goulash with bread dumplings, delicious apple pie, tea, coffee and half a litre of beer each. And all the food was just so good.
Feeling completely satisfied, we spent an hour or so looking all the little shops. Czech has a 0.0% blood alcohol limit, so after our beers it was good excuse to spend lots of time shopping. Most of the shops had Bohemian crystal and lots of it. Tim found himself a very nice crystal whisky decanter, and we got a few other small things before slowly heading back to the van.
Our afternoon was then spent driving the last short distance to Praha (Prague). We got stuck in a huge traffic jam, and then spent a long time trying to find our chosen caravan park before giving up in frustration, and going to one we had spotted a bit further out of the city (Triocamp). It has turned out to be a very nice little place, and as an added bonus they have a wireless internet connection here so we have been making very good use of that.
We had a nice dinner at the caravan park and shared a very good bottle of local wine, and spent the evening chatting away.

Litomerice, Teraz�n, Plzen

On Thursday we drove into town and spent an hour looking around the town square and a few of the narrow cobblestone streets of Litomerice. There were lots of old buildings, old cars and so on. We had coffee and some biscuits which we thought were shortbread, but which turned out to have sherbet in side. Nice, but a bit weird for breakfast. We found a little town market, where I got a backpack and a few other things.
The thing about the Czech republic is that just about everything is dirt cheap. Food, drink, souviners, even petrol, so all this cheap stuff is very nice after paying lots of money for our airline tickets the other day.
From Litomerice, we drove about two or three kilometres to Teraz�n. The whole village was turned into a ghetto for jews and other "undesirables" before and during World War II. It was run by the Nazis and conditions in the place were appalling. People had just over 1m of living space, hardly any food, hygene was terrible, I could go on and on about how awful the place was, and it was often the last stop-off point before the people were sent to Auschwitz and murdered. Not many people survived - even most of the children at Teraz�n ended up in the gas chambers. It was all very sad and depressing, but it was a really well set out display, and it was very interesting to learn about the history of Teraz�n.
We hit the road and spent an hour or two driving through lots of farmland, winding our way through village after village.
Driving in Czech takes a bit of getting used to - the roads are narrow, bendy and often bumpy, but the drivers here (especially the crazy Skoda drivers) don't really obey speed limits, overtaking zones or for that matter most other road rules. Most cars are full of dents and rust, and we even saw a Skoda that caught fire while it was just driving along the other day. At least with all these mad drivers we are having fun dodging them as they play games of chicken trying to overtake each other.
In the afternoon we came to the outskirts of Plzen (Pilsen), the original brewing place of Pilsener beer. We easily found our caravan park (Autocamp Ostende Plzen) on the outskirts of town, found a nice little spot by the lake and then headed into town. We had a ten minute walk and then a tram ride before we came to the central square, complete with huge towering church. We walked around the town for an hour or so. It is not the most exciting of places, but we still had fun exploring, before finding a busy little pub and enjoying two very big and very frothy pilsener beers.
Dinner was next, at a pizza place with delicious food and more beer. Feeling nice and full, we wandered before a bit more of the town before catching the tram and making our way back to the caravan park for the night.

Into Czech

(Continued from Deutschland 2)
The countryside has been very different - lots more hills and mountains around the place, so it hasn't been quite as flat as most of the parts of Germany that we have been through.
The most startling thing as we drove through the first part of Czech was seeing prostitutes all standing by the side of the road! And there are a lot, all wearing not much and mostly near a hotel or shack. We supposed that with the many truck drivers going through, they must get a fair bit of business!
Our first big town we drove through was Teplice, and we immediately saw lots of ramshackle old buildings, all falling apart. There were lots of nice buildings too, but it was like they just hadn't bothered pulling down the old, unused buildings. We didn't stop there, but drove on to Litomerice where we pulled in to a tiny little caravan park next to a river.
Our first converstation with a Czech person went well - he was quite drunk but spoke some English. We paid for our camping spot and spent the evening at the caravan eating nice food and drinking nice frothy big Czech beers.

Towards the Czech Border

On Wednesday morning, after a bit of catching up with journals and another breakfast at the hotel, we got ourselves packed up and moving fairly early.
On previous days in Berlin, we had done our best to find Internet caf�s where we could plug the laptop in, but all to no avail. So on wednesday we went to a Starbucks where we paid a high price to get a very good and fast wireless internet connection. We had an hour and we certainly used it well. The main thing we did was book our airline tickets to get us back to Sydney. We now have tickets from Amsterdam to London and then on the 24th of November we fly out of London Heathrow and arrive in Sydney on the 26th of November, going via Singapore.
I'm glad we booked the tickets, but also a little sad because it will mean the end of travelling for a while.
Anyway, after the internet stuff was done, we caught a train back to the mechanics and picked Rosie up. They have replaced the fuel filter, and no wonder it needed replacing - it was chock full of dirt. Hopefully that will mean our problems are all fixed for a while. We have done a fair bit of driving since Berlin, and we have had no shaking and stalling trouble since (touch wood).
So, we drove south out of Berlin following the same path we had taken to Dresden a week before. In Dresden we got quite lost and spent a long while looking for the road we wanted. There are huge amounts of busy road work going on in the old East Germany - it seems the Soviets didn't keep the roads in top condition, and everywhere we have been around Eastern Germany has been full of frantic roadwork. This often means roadsigns are missing, and routes have changed to what is on our maps. It certainly makes driving interesting!
After driving right through central Desden, we kept going south towards our border crossing into Czech. Again, we were stuck in traffic jam after traffic jam because there are roadworks everywhere. But, after driving through some beautiful forest areas (Germany has lots of forest and lots of farmland), we made it to our German/Czech border crossing at Zinnwald.
The Czech registered car infront of us took a very long time to passport control, so we were expecting them to keep us for ages, but we actually went through very quickly. I guess because Tim had all his paperwork sorted out, and I was fine with my British passport.
And so we drove into the Cesk� Republika (Czech Republic).

The End of Berlin

After a nice buffet breakfast in the hotel, we got ourselves organised and went out for a wander.
We were looking for an Internet caf� and found plenty, but none who would let us plug in. Very strange indeed for such a large city. We found a Starbucks with wireless but they wanted 7 euros to get online. Ouch. Perhaps we will have more luck in Czech.
Mid afternoon a call came in about Rosie which we decyphered to mean that they had driven her around for a long time and eventually replaced a fuel pump, filter or both. It was ready to collect, but we had already told the hotel we would stay another night, intending to head off early in the morning.
We eventually decided to go check out the Spanish / Portugese restaurant just across the road from the hotel for an early dinner, which turned out to be a good move. I had Paella for the first time ever while Liz enjoyed her trout. We both enjoyed that someone else was paying :)
After dinner, we decided that a visit to Berlin's top tourist attraction was most probably worth it - the re-constructed glass dome on top of the Reichstag building. A bus and a walk got us there, via a huge travelling circle of painted ceraming teddy bears, one from each of 132 countries around the world.
We queued for a long time outside the Reichstag, but apparently less than average. After the metal detector and a big lift, we were up the top and there it was! The original dome was destroyed long ago, and this re-design is proving quite popular. We could see down into the parliament (only one "house" in Deutschland), but there was nothing going on there this late at night - everyone seemed to be a floor or two up, just below us, at a rather swanky looking ball. They may have been having nice food and drink, but they were in the fishbowl and we were looking in!
We wandered up the spiral ramp to the top of the dome, but the central part was closed for renovation, so we had to come down the same way. The views were great, but it's funny how some architectural things just work and others don't. This one did, and the dome itself stole the show.
After returning to the bottom of the dome, we spent half an hour or so wandering around in a circle, viewing the history of the building which is very interestingly displayed all around.
We'd had our fill, so we walked out, looking for a coffee shop. We hadn't gone far when we heard a voice say "are you guys from Australia?" Perhaps the huge aussie flag on my backpack gave it away, but there we were, talking to Jacqui from Aus. After whittling it down, it turns out that she is from Carss Park, Carwar Ave, right opposite the bowling club. Grew up about 200 metres away from me and here we are, meeting for the first time on the other side of the world! Also, her best friend is Pandora Zahar, who lives two doors up from our old house in Erang Street.
We chatted for a while over a coffee on Unter Den Linden, said "It's a small world" a few times, then agreed to try and meet up through Pandora at some stage in a year or two.

Rosie Goes to Meet Her Maker

No, not that sort of maker - she's been taken to a proper Volkswagen dealer and mechanic at the expense of our Travel Insurance.
After speaking to the Melbourne couple, we decided to get ourselves organised while we were still in an interesting city (the capital of the country Volkswagens come from, no less), just in case the repairs take a few days.
First on the agenda was getting into town, back to the Czech embassy and finding out whether my Visa was ready again. Infact, it was, so I handed over a reasonable sum of cash for my one-entry thirty-day Visa. Liz pays nothing for her much greater freedom (on a British passport), the trade-off being that she doesn't get a pretty little sticker thing in her passport.
We then rang the insurance company to set some wheels in motion, before heading back to the caravan park to drive rosie a couple of suburbs in to the VW dealer at Zehlendorf, Auto Mann. Luckily there was someone there who spoke English, and poked and prodded at her as if he had worked on these old things since he could walk. We'll call back soon to find out what the situation is.
So, this left us without somewhere to stay for the night, and yet again our insurance has proved it was worth the expense. Since the British pound is so strong at the moment, when we are given a fixed number of pounds for hotel and dinner, that means plenty of Euros. We elected to find our own hotel, which we pay for and then claim back.
A room-finding service (hey, why not? We're not paying for it) at Berlin-Zooligischer Garten station pointed us to a very central hotel, quoting a price which he expected us to balk at. "No worries" we said, for it was still quite a way under our allowance. We tottered off to dump our stuff at the Hotel Remter, about thirty seconds off the main drag in this part of town in Marburger Stra�e. The place is nice, quite old but spotless and with good service.
We dumped our things, before heading off to an Internet Caf� where we had no chance of plugging the laptop in, instead just checking our emails (we will reply soon!) and doing a bit of research into some flights from Amsterdam to London.
Next, we needed to look more into flights so went in search of an STA Travel office. Eventually finding it, we waited for quite a while before being told that they can only book Air New Zealand from London to Sydney (but anything from Hamburg to Sydney), which is fine, but there are very limited seats available. Prices aren't bad, but we are going to look around a bit more first.
Now it was dinner time, and with someone else still paying, we ate in style at the very nice Joe's Mirtshaus Zum L�wen, a branch of the big L�wenbrau chain (there's one in The Rocks in Sydney called L�wenbrau Keller). A couple of nice steaks washed down with a couple of great beers and it was time to head back to the hotel.
We originally planned to head back out for coffee, but the lure of big beds we didn't have to fold out, mind-numbing TV and hot showers put rest to that plan.

Goslar, Quedlinburg

It wasn't far from the campsite north to Goslar, the second town on the Heritage Loop, and what a great town it was.
Seemingly endless rows of well-preserved half-timbered houses lead in to the central Markt square, adorned with even more ornate versions of the same.
You might just be able to pick out Liz in that photo on one of the chairs at the far right - that's where we ate our breakfast of cheese, salami, eggs, bread, toast, juice and coffee. Our treat to ourselves after making do with bread for one or two meals a day for quite some time.
We just wandered around town for a while, looking in craft shops (including a set which were in an old church with low entrance doors padded with pillows), touristy shops and many buildings with really old dates on their plaques out the front. On the way out of town, I saw a sign saying that the town celebrated its millenium in 1994, and some of these buildings wouldn't have been much younger than that.
We had come as far west as we intended for the time being, and now it was time to head back towards Berlin - but first, one more World Heritage town on the way - Quedlinburg.
We parked quite close to town, followed our noses into and around the place almost devoid of life. It is strange how so much of Europe seems to shut down on a Sunday, which makes it a great time to avoid the crowds.
By far and away the most pretty place here was the Markt square once again, containing probably the most gorgeous Rathaus (Town Hall) we have seen to date.
However, we chose not to dally for long, and pushed along the roads back to Berlin. The drive took longer than it should, because of the amount of road-work and hence detours around the place (a bridge was totally closed at one point which would have added about an hour, but Liz sniffed us out another one nearby), and also Rosie's bad behaviour.
We drove back into the same caravan park as before, located at the corner we were entering the city. Tonight we met and got speaking to Heather and Steve from Melbourne, who are doing almost the exact same thing we are doing except in the other direction. She's a Nurse, he's in IT, and they have been living in London also. Strange.
Amongst our conversation, we got as all combi-drivers do to the topic of mechanical problems - they have had plenty more than us so far. The interesting thing for us is that Steve has suggested that the problem we are having is the same as he had with a previous Combi - the valves need grinding as they sometimes don't close properly, letting fuel in to flood the engine.
At least it is a labour job so the insurance should cover the cost, but we aren't sure where we want to stop for that long yet.
Tomorrow we head back into Berlin hoping that my Czech visa is ready, and that we can find an internet caf� somewhere.

Erfurt

After managing to checkout and get a couple of coffees from the guy running the place with only a few bits of laughter at my German, we were on the road.
It wasn't far from our overnight stop into the town of Erfurt. The first of three towns forming the western part of our loop back to Berlin which are listed on the World Heritage List, it did not dissapoint.
We parked on the outskirts and caught the Park-and-Ride tram into town, after the driver attempted to explain how to buy a ticket. If there's one thing that the Deutsch do well it is to make things complicated. We ended up with five tickets, each worth a Euro, and no idea what to do with them. After a little bit of observation of fellow travellers, I discovered that by sticking one into a little box on the tram, it came back with a stamp on it. There was no indication as to how many we needed per journey, so I settled for one each, leaving us with one un-stamped one. No, there was no mechanism to buy four.
Through the town we amused ourselves for quite a while stopping in a bakery, dodging the rain, buying umbrellas (lost ours somewhere), looking into the Rathaus, around the Fishmarkt, Domplatz and just generally admiring the handsome buildings which somehow dodged the bombs.
There was a display in the Rathaus about the composer Pachabel which we didn't understand (it is not uncommon to find nothing at all in anything other than Deutsch this far away from the standard tourist sites), so we moved on to a couple of huge bookshops, just browsing around.
We jumped on a return tram to the Park and Ride and drove north through the town. After quite a bit of progress, Rosie decided to show us that all is not well mechanically. Although it has been much better, she got up to her old tricks yet again. We know how to handle it, so all is safe, but it is a little dis-concerting when it happens.
We made it into Camping Okertalsperre, just north of Altenau. To get there we had wound our way up through the mountains, not huge tall ones but quite different to the flat landscapes of our previous few weeks. The weather has become quite a bit cooler of late, and the rain seems more constant. We also see lots of places where the wind is so persistent that the trees on both sides of the road lean to the side.
We had a look around the park itself, playing in the playground like kids before noting on the way out the sign saying "Under 12 only". Whoops. A snacky dinner followed yet again, paving the way for something better in the morning.

Leipzig, Buchenwald

Liz and I got ourselves organised reasonably early, and decided that driving into town would be less hassle than getting the tram, probably cost about the same and anyway, it was raining cats and dogs!
After parking in roughly the same place as the previous day, we had a coffee in one of the stylish arcades the city has on offer.
From there we headed to the Rathaus and the markets out the front to meet up with Baz, but in the end he was running a little late and had to go straight to the train station instead.
The rain had subsided for a while, so we turned our attention across the square to the dominant Thomaskirche, which houses the tomb of one Johann Sebastian Bach in front of the altar, one of Leipzig's most famous exports. There were also some instruments from his time on display, catching our musical minds' attention.
From there we wandered to the edge of the town to the Stasi Museum. The Stasi were the East German Secret Police in the time before the fall of the wall, and hence part of the Soviet Empire. The museum documented the total distrust of everyone everywhere, as they had collected everything from intercepted mail to scent and saliva samples in jars of pretty much everyone in Leipzig. The place has been kept pretty much as it was when it was invaded by citizens in 1989, stopping the destruction of the evidence that had been in process. It was fascinating to wander around, looking at lots of rooms full of tools of the trade, but would have been better if either our German was better or there was a more comprehensive English translation of much of the material.
We had just enough time before our parking ticket ran out to visit the temporary exhibition site of the Musical Instruments Museum of the University of Leipzig. The universal language of music helped us out here, especially when the helpful attendant threw a barrage of Deutsch at us, as we could see by her demonstrating the very interesting square organ complete with bird whistle, spinny flower things and of course lots of pipes. They had some really old clavichords, harpsichords and weird thirty-stringed lutes and even violas which we just about took in with the little time we had.

From there, it was out of town, heading west further on our "Old East Germany Ring Trip". Next stop was the Buchenwald concentration camp. From the outset we had a reasonable idea what we were in for - you don't visit places like this for an easy-going enjoyable afternoon. Once again we were a little let down, this time by the fact that we couldn't get an audio-guide despite the place not closing for many hours to come. We had to just wander and read a bit, not quite a way to do the horrific memories justice but still interesting to see the place where something like 56,000 people lost their lives.
There was a museum on the outskirts which was actually about the building of the memorial (getting the Allies and Soviets to agree on anything almost always involved enough to-ing and fro-ing to fill an entire museum), which contained an audio recording that an American reporter broadcast a day after the camp had first been discovered at the end of the war. That pretty much said it all for us, and coupled with the fact that the rain had come back we decided not to venture much further around the place.
Instead, we headed back to the motorway and a little way back east toward Weimar, where we checked ourselves into a nice little caravan park in forest land a long way from anywhere.

Into Leipzig

The morning was spent lazing around Mei�en, making full use of the electricity (or "energy") we had paid for by doing some work on the journal, before we got ourselves on the road in the direction of Leipzig.
This would be a continuation of our loop designed to take up a few days while we awaited my Czech visa back in Berlin. Also, it would get Dave one step closer to his next destination.
Off the motorway, I spotted a gas specialist and, in my deranged state still held the belief that maybe, just maybe they would have the right type of gas. Not the case at all, but they directed us to a large Hardware House type place up the road to look there. Not suprisingly, they didn't either, although Baz was in his element, and we found a 240v lamp to use when we are plugged into the mains which cost us slightly more than the price of a bulb to go in it.
From there into the centre of town (another place with no caravan parks central), we parked just off the funnily-named Martin-Luther-Ring (the city's ring road) and wandered into the town proper.
A girl Dave had met on the bus on the way over here had issued a formal invitation for him to go and stay for a while, at a little town called Aschaffenburg East of Frankfurt am Main. Much of this afternoon was spent trying to work out how to get him there - we eventually booked a hotel for the night here (sleeping on the front seat, floor and outside was taking its toll!) and a train to said town for the following day (at the Hauptbahnhof, which is Europe's biggest train station).
After dinner, we wandered back through town to Rosie as her parking was running out, then drove Baz to his hotel. After saying our goodbyes, then negotiating for Rosie's release from the car park, Liz and I drove a little way north of town along one of the tram lines to the closest caravan park.
Campingplatz Auensee turned out to be quite a nice place, where the guy running it and I had a couple of interesting conversations, he speaking English and me German, both attempting quite humorously no doubt to get our points across.
Having decided to do our city sight-seeing the following day, sleep soon followed. We assume Baz slept better as well.

Dresden, Mei�en

With the assistance of some helpful locals amused at our attempts to decypher the highly complicated Dresden local transport map, we found ourselves on a bendy bus heading to the Hauptbahnhof (main train station).
From there, we walked into Dresden itself, finding ourselves first at the tourist office. Here, for the sum of 26 euro cents (apparently 25 cents wasn't quite covering the costs), we purchased an English guide to the city, complete with self-guided walking tour. Great!
We needed coffee, and the efficent-as-a-robot girl at the first-floor caf� in a shoe store helped us out no end. Although the tea that David and Liz managed to acquire was of unknown type - certainly not English Breakfast or similar like they thought they were getting. It seems that unless they get used to drinking coffee (which is universal), this sort of thing is going to become very common.
I bought some cheap tacky thongs (the ones that go on your feet, British people!) as my other pair which had come over from Sydney with us had fallen apart a while back. You need them for the showers in the caravan parks, which can be a bit grubby.
Next, we headed to the start of our tour at the Rathaus. We almost walked past it, as it isn't in a square as most others are. There were some great brass statues out the front which looked like they could use a bit of a polish - Baz suggested a school group should be given a few bottles of Brasso and told to keep themselves busy for the afternoon.
Inside, there was a photographic exhibition, some of the entries of which were quite humorous, but most of the rest of the building was off limits. Or at least that's what we thought the signs said - the Deutsch language has a habit of making really nice things sound really nasty!
From there, we wandered in and around quite a lot of the Altstat (Old Town), which, curiously enough, is mostly newer than the Neustat (New Town), due to almost total destruction during World War II. We ducked our heads into the Kreuzkirche which was undergoing renovation, then into the Altmarkt, the city's oldest and largest square.
Fairly random wandering (it was difficult to follow our tour) then brought us to the breath-taking F�rstenzug, on Augustusstra�e. This is a huge long mosaic of 24,000 tiles shows all the rulers of Sachsen from 1124 to 1904, made of Mei�en china (more on that later).
From here, Baz decided to wander across the bridge to Neustadt, eventually finding an Internet caf� to organise some flights and things, while Liz and I first turned our attention to more of Altstadt.
The square right on the south side of Augustus-br�cke (bridge) was quite a sight to behold. On all sides were huge old buildings - a Cathedral (which we ducked our heads inside - less ornate but still more beautiful than most we have seen), old towers, walkways and bridges all around us. It is really quite difficult to imagine that most of it is less than fifty years old, you wouldn't know to look at it.
We wandered west, taking in the also-amazing but strangely named Zwinger. This "outer bailey" is a vast couryard surrounded by old buildings and a wall. The Police Orchestra was playing at one end, which we sat and watched for a while, missing our Georges River Band quite a lot. We spent quite a while just taking photos and soaking up the atmosphere of the area - the city is famous for its music and there were little combos, buskers and here a full band everywhere you look.
The nearby Semperoper (Opera House) also had a large sign promising Jazz, but there appeared to be no way in other than for a concert at night or via German-language-only tour.
Now it was time for Liz and I to turn our attention north of Augustus-br�cke to the Neustadt. Here we walked along the banks of the Elbe river (it gets around, flowing through at least Hamburg and Mei�en also, and I'm sure quite a lot more) to the strangely-located Japanese Palace. Then on to K�nigstra�e, a potent symbol of how Dresden used to look (you hear that quite a lot here). A few churches and interesting streets later, we were on Haupt-Stra�e. This long pedestrianised street is the focus of this part of town, lined with eateries, caf�s and poky little shops.
It was here that we ate a snacky lunch, before delving into a book shop to see what it offered. What we ended up purchasing was an album designed to store all the different Euro coins. If you didn't know, all the Euro notes are the same everywhere, but the countries are allowed to produce coins with their own designs on one side, hence providing good grounds for a collection.
It hasn't taken long to gather the entire Deutschland set, of course, but other countries are proving significantly more difficult. It's a shame we didn't start earlier, having travelled already through Ireland, Finland and Netherlands which are on the Euro, but I'm sure we will work it out.
At the south end of the street (and hence the north end of Augustus-br�cke), there is probably the most glittering gold statue I have ever seen - the Goldener Reiter (Golden Rider). This is of Augustus the strong, and was hidden away in safety during the war, before being un-veiled again in 1956 for the city's 750 year anniversary.
We spent a few minutes resting our legs and quenching our thirst in a caf� on Albert-platz, before heading back across the bridge. We met up with Baz once again, and wandered our way back in turn to the bus stop then Rosie, whom we had parked outside the camping place.

Not too much of a drive away was the fantastically-preserved little old town of Mei�en. Famous for its china / porcelan (see earlier), there were refreshingly few places attempting to sell it to us. However, the ones which were were breathtakingly expensive - AUD $2000 for a tea service!
Perhaps it is because this is old East Germany which tourists have avoided for so many years, but the place was great. We wandered aimlessly amongst the entirely cobbled streets, and then up the hill to the Dom (cathedral) and Schlo� (castle) perched right on top. There was a great view across the valley to the other parts of town.
By now it was dinner time, and we found a restaurant which promised great views according to the sign on the front. They weren't lying - we sat on the balcony of a restaurant which has been operating since the fifteenth century, looked out over the town and just tried to take it all in.
Something else we tried to take in was the menus. This proved rather difficult, however, as they weren't even (for the most part) written in Deutsch (which we can kind of fudge our way through now) - they appeared to be an old Saxon languange! The waitress obviously saw our distress, and offered us some English menus - much better!
We sat there and ate some great traditional meals, drank a couple of local beers, and were suprised (well, relatively) at the reasonable prices - methinks the fact that tourism hasn't quite discovered this place is a blessing in more ways than one.
From there, we walked back down through town to Rosie parked by the Elbe, and located a caravan park some way north of the town in Niederau. The intriguingly-named Campingganmeldung (careful how you pronounce that one) came complete with the most amusing English-speaking Deutschlander we have found. It was definitely a you-have-to-be-there sort of thing, but his phrases and vocabularly obviously learnt from American movies made for much amusement for us. Examples included when he came to "give us energy" (plug in the electricity cable), and the instruction to "follow with me into the meadow" (a word almost nobody uses in day-to-day English). For all that, he spoke far better English than any of us did Deutsch, so we were grateful.
The caravan park had a "pool", which actually turned out to be a small lake complete with ducks, and hence completely filled with duck-muck. Swimming out of the question, we elected to feed the ducks for a while, before doing very little and eventually sleeping, tired from our first day with two separate places in quite a while.

South to Dresden

We got up bright and early, and again made our way into Berlin. We went back to the Visa department of the Czech Republic, where Tim filled out forms to get a visa. Unfortunately it takes three to five working days for the visa to become valid, so we are now waiting for it to come through and travelling around this part of Germany for a few days.
We found a small caf� and had tea and coffee, then decided to go back to the caravan park and get on the road. Back at the caravan park we packed up, paid the grumpy staff member who had a dummy spit about Tim disturbing his lunch to give him money, and drove south out of Berlin.
It was not a big drive - about 180km to Dresden, but we stopped for some lunch about half way.
In Dresden, finding the caravan park we had chosen proved to be very difficult, especially as, like all the old Communist areas of Germany, most of Dresden was undergoing major roadworks so many signposts were missing. In the end we found Campingplatz Dresden-Mockritz, and it was quite a nice one. We got some food from the local supermarket and spent the afternoon relaxing with Tim cooking up a storm on the barbie.

Berlin on Foot

First task this morning was to organise some hot water for a coffee (still no gas). I amused myself and a helpful woman running the caravan park's caf� by asking in German whether I could have some hot water. She helfully provided a thermos full, and we enjoyed the change of our own brewed hot drinks.
Back into town via bus 620 to Wansee then fast-train RE1 to Friedrichstra�e (we were getting the hang of this by now), we wandered down Wilhelmstra�e to the Czech embassy. I'm not sure what John Howard or his predecessors have said to the Czech people, but Australians are amongst the few remaining people who need a visa to enter the country. The embassy was open five days a week (better than most), however only from 8:30-11am - we had arrived too late.
So, from there we set about finding a late breakfast / early lunch - and the tour guide's suggestion that the huge, visible from everywhere TV tower (Fernsehturm) was cheaper than you might think was sounding good.
After walking along there along Unter den Linden, standing in the queue for a while, taking a reasonably fast lift up to the top and then standing in another queue for a table at the restaurant, we were there!
The tower itself has an interesting history - concieved by the Soviets as a display of their engineering talent, they infact had to sub-contract to the Swedes about half-way through when it was clear that they didn't know how to build the rest. Knowing that were were in safe Swedish hands, we enjoyed the fantastic views from the restaurant all over the city, rotating twice an hour which is much faster than in Centerpoint / AMP tower in Sydney.
Back down on the ground, there was a couple of museums we wanted to look at we had passed at speed on bikes the day before - firstly the Mauermuseum Haus am Checkpoint Charlie, back at Allied Checkpoint Charlie. This museum was first started just a couple of years after the wall went up, and has been in a constant state of change ever since. It documents the terrible history surrounding the wall, escape stories (home-built submarines, tunnels, hot air balloons, smuggling people in cars) and the ever more deadly technology to stop said escapes. We spent a few hours slowly wandering around taking it all in - a truly great place to do so.
Our next stop was a little way away, back into the former Soviet sector then along the wall's previous path (the bottom bricks of the wall have been left in the tarmac, showing the path it used to follow). A few sections still remain, amongst them a part housing the Topography of Terror exhibition in the former Gestapo Headquarters.
This was quite a chilling place to be, complete with audio-guide explanations of the otherwise German-only descriptions of orders surrounding the holocaust, all inside the place most of them were ordered from. Pictures completed the explanation.
It was quite interesting to see just how the entire population was swayed with propoganda, and that the hatred often directed at the German people in general for past wrongs really only stems back to a few nasty people, far from the entire 80 or so million living here today. Those who stood up against it (and there were plenty of them discussed here) were all sent to pretty much the same fate - one of the many concentration camps.
By now it was dinner time, and some random wandering landed us at a Chinese Bistro off Friedrichstra�e. The menu was quite difficult to navigate, so in the end we resorted to "pick a number between 40 and 80", and ordered the dish with that number. The worst that resulted was that Liz's choice had some seaweed (we think), but otherwise it was all quite good and cheaper than expected.
Waiting for our train, we went back to a bar for a coffee, but eventually caught another fast train home with no problems.

Berlin by Bike

In the morning Tim and I caught the bus from just outside of the caravan park to the nearby S-Bahn station, Wansee. From there, after a bit of confusion about which platform we had to catch the train from, we eventually got on an express train to Berlin (geez, that thing went fast!). It didn't stop at any stations until Charlottenberg where we got off, and it really zipped along at a speedy pace.
At Charlottenberg, we bought tea and coffee and then walked up the road to the Kaiser-Wilhelm-Ged�chtnis-Kirche (memorial church). This was quite amazing - a huge church that had been bombed in World War Two and so it still had most of its spire missing, and ornamental stone-work blown out of the windows.
Just here by the fountain was where we met Dave. We sat and chatted for quite a while before going into the nearby tourist information to find out where we could store Dave's suitcase for the day. This could be done at one of the nearby train stations, which seemed to be three stations in one - an S-Bahn, a U-Bahn and a big Central Station. Anyway, after asking lots of non-english speaking Germans how to store the suitcase by pointing wildly at said object and gesticulating excitedly, we finally found our way to the lockers, located a big enough one for the suitcase, and locked Dave's belongings away.
Whilst in the tourist information, Tim had picked up a brochure that had lots of tours around Berlin advertised, and all were in English. The Insider Tour Berlin by Bike tour appealed to us most of all, as it covered most of the sights we wished to see. As an added bonus, seeing Berlin by bike would save a lot of walking - it is a very spread-out city. And bikes are lots of fun too!
So, from the Zoological Gardens train station we were at, we caught two trains out to where our tour would start. This was a big adventure - when Tim (in quite good German) asked the platform attendant which side of the platform we should catch our train from, the guy spoke rapid German and pointed first at one side of the platform and the the other. Dave and I were standing to one side trying not to laugh, and when Tim came over, he smiled and said "he said go here!", pointing to the first platform.
As it turned out we managed to get the right train! Two stops later we had to get out, cross to the other side of the platform, and catch another train to continue our journey. Now it all made sense, and we understood why the platform attendant had pointed at both sides of the platform.
Another two stops later we got off at Friedrichstra�e S-Bahn station, and sat in a caf� and had lunch. We another hour to go until the tour started, so we walked across a bridge over the river Spree and found a small park to sit in a sunny spot and relax before our big ride.
At three pm we were at the meeting point for our Berlin by Bike tour, at, funnily enough, a bike shop. We were each given a bike of suprisingly good quality (the brakes even worked - our last bikes in Singapore didn't even have brakes!) and then asked to hand over a passport or credit card for security.
The tour was four hours long, but we were not on the bikes as much as I thought we would be. At each sight we came to, we stopped and were given a spiel on the building or the area, including lots of history (which Berlin is bursting with). We even stopped for a coffee break after a couple of hours.
We saw heaps of sights - our first stop was the Reichstag - the parliament house, an impressive buiding built in 1894. It was partly gutted by fire probably started by Hitler and his cronies, but has been rebuilt and is a beautiful building. From the Reichstag, we rode to the Brandenburg Gate, once the boundary between East and West Berlin. Further up the road, we stopped at an old remaining section of the Berlin Wall. I found it suprisingly un-impressive - an ugly concrete and steel wall with huge chunks missing out of it. The next stop was a car park. Doesn't sound too impressive, but it was the exact spot where Hitler had his bunker, and where he committed suicide. The whole bunker has been blown up and covered over. There is no plaque or anything there to say what it used to be, because they don't want Neo-Nazis to come there and pay tribute to Hitler.
At each stop, and sometimes in between, our guide Kenny would tell us about the area, the buildings, and most importantly the very interesting history. We learnt more from the guide than we could have from any book. There was certainly a lot of interesting history in and around the area of Hitler's bunker - all about the massive building that once stood here where Hitler ruled from, about Hitler himself and how his staff tried to hide his and his new wife's bodies.
Further up the road we came to Checkpoint Charlie, one of the crossings between East and West Berlin, where there is a replica building of the checkpoint standing in the middle of the road. Just near here was where we stopped for a coffee break.
Back on our bikes, we rode a bit and then stopped in a big open square which had some beautiful old buildings in it. Soon after this we stopped in some old university buildings where a massive book-burning of, among others, Einstein's works took place.
Another stop was at an ugly building in a state of dis-repair. This was where the communists had their headquarters, but it is about to be pulled down. Just up the road was the preserved balcony where the declaration which had effectively started World War I was made. Also visible from here was a beautiful church.
Our last stop was in a park with a statue of Karl Marx, and we were told the last bit of history and war information about the area. The last bit of the tour was riding ten or fifteen minutes back to our starting point. It was a really good tour and we saw so much stuff - a great way to see Berlin.
At the train station we bought some food to cook on the bbq, and made our way slowly back to the caravan park, collecting Dave's baggage along the way. It took us quite a while to get there, as we caught a slow train, so by the time we managed to get the barbie going and some food cooked we were all warn out. At 11pm we fell into bed, Dave sleeping on the passenger seat.

Drive to Berlin

After loading up the bus, and cleaning the flat, we did one last run around Aldi before heading off.
However, we had one last stop in Hamburg - Liz's father Ingo's old house in Gryphiusstra�e. We hadn't walked here earlier as it was quite a way from where we were staying. Liz took some photos around the area while I parked illegally (very busy area now), before we headed back through town.
It was a little harder than expected to locate the autobahn out of there, but in the end we were on our way to Berlin.
Some of our initial plans had included making it to the Berlin Love Parade, but in the end we didn't quite do that. Here we just drove and drove, through strange dust blowing of freshly-ploughed fields which looked like brown smoke in the distance.
It was interesting driving the bus again - a little more power, quite a bit less wobbly on the roads, but still being blown around in the strong winds like only a top-heavy high-top combi can.
Upon reaching Berlin, we drove down the western side towards one of the camp sites picked at random, the best of a bad bunch. This is the closest, and it is 15km out of town! I guess tourism has only become high on the priority list since 1990 or so, so perhaps this will improve with time.
After our drive, it was quite late in the day, so we decided against finding our way into town, instead opting to relax at our site by the river, and eat some bbq-ed steak cooked at the outdoor restaurant here. When it became apparent to the cook that he couldn't quite get his point across about what type of meat it was we were able to purchase off him, he completed the picture by snorting, making some truly great piggy noises.
Bill Bryson (the travel writer) describes travelling in foreign countries as being like a child once again. You don't know what the signs mean, people are saying, or what meat you are eating. It's nice when someone is willing to jump in and help out like that!

Site Updates

At long last, we have put something of interest on the Rosie page (also linked in the header above). Have a look at our "home" in the big red combi bus.
Also, we have done something right out of the ordinary and made some plans! Read about our current attempts to fit in everything we want to see before going home on the Itinerary / Photos page.

Rosie Returns

After meeting up with Jens early afternoon, we were treated to a guided three-bus tour of Hamburg's suburbs out to the mechanic's place.
This is actually little more than a house with people interested in cars living in it, but they have done a good job for very little money. Contacts come through again, thanks guys.
So we drove Rosie (complete with new antenna, spark plugs, two new rear tires and far less water in the fuel filter) back to Jens' place, where we sat and had a chat over a few beers. We were happy to speak to someone else who spoke English, and he was happy to give his English a work-out.
We then went back towards Seb and Jessi's place, located a parking place and headed inside.
We spent a slow evening packing the place back up, getting organised to pack our lives back into the van again. It's strange missing a "real" house, but we were itching to get back on the road again.

Around Hamburg Again

After spending most of the morning watching yet more videos, we decided by mid-afternoon that walk into and around town was in order.
This took in the Rathusmarkt, where a huge international food and drink festival thing was happening. All manner of international cuisine, local wines and beers were available. Not to suprisingly, the temptation to try a little was strong, and we caved in. Not to badly though, just a cheapish meal and a couple of drinks.
We also took a walk around Binnenalster, the Inner Lake of Hamburg (couldn't quite get across the train tracks and roads to the Aussenalster - Outer Lake). A fairly dull day limited good photo opportunities, but this is a marked change from when we looked around this area in the overpowering heat last time.
Wandering back to the flat, we settled in for another relaxing night, getting to bed early quite tired.

Away one year!

It doesn't seem like it, but today marks three hundred and sixty-five days since we left Sydney!
Wow, we have covered so much, yet still feel we have plenty to see. Every time I look at a world map it seems we have seen so little, yet a quick browse back through the journal shows the contrary.
To honour this amazing feat, we decided to do pretty much nothing. We worked our way through Seb and Jessi's video collection, whiling the day away in a very lazy manner. A bottle of duty-free champers helped the celebrations, before I turned my hand to learning some more Deutsch from the language learning CD we have.

Rosie Goes to the Doctor's

We had until 2pm until we had to meet Kristina to take Rosie for a bit of TLC, and we passed it doing very little.
Liz decided to stay while I went out to battle a strange city with no map (although I found out later that Seb had left us one in plain view which I hadn't seen). Either Jens' directions or my ability to follow them turned out to be lacking (probably the latter), and a few SMSs, phone calls and crossing motorways I wasn't supposed to be crossing later, all while driving a big bus in a small city, I arrived fourty-five minutes late to meet Kristina.
She turned out to be such a friendly and helpful person, claiming not to be worried that I was so late. I followed her to the mechanics, where she explained in Deutsch too rapid for me to follow the problems which needed attending too.
After handing over the keys, I got into her tiny VW Golf (everything is tiny compared to Rosie - I felt like my knees were just under my chin), where she helpfully drove me back to Seb's place in the torrential rain via her own for a quick stop.
Not much happened for the rest of the evening, continuing our trend of relaxing in one place after being in so many different places for so long.

Back to Hamburg

(Continued from Danmark 2)
We fueled up across the border, noting with some anxiety that there was no 98 octane fuel available. Bracing ourselves for a rockier ride, we pushed on towards Hamburg, stopping at a road-side place for some lunch and an ice cream. The weather was quite warm, pushing and perhaps exceeding thirty degrees.
Into Hamburg from the North this time, we had no real problems finding our way to Paul-Rossen Stra�e where Sebastian and Jessi usually live. I say usually because they are currently in Scotland, on a band tour! However, they have kindly allowed us to use their place while they are away.
They left their keys with a friend (vocalist Jens from the band we went to the rehersal for last time we were here), so while waiting for him to finish work we stocked up at ultra-cheap supermarket Aldi and relaxed for a few hours, reading and resting in Rosie.
Jens' address flashed up on the phone, and off I went, walking what turned out to be one of the longest possible ways to his flat on Stresemann Stra�e. Upon arriving and chatting, I told him we were basically here to get the van fixed at any random place we happened upon. Before I knew it, he had recommended a place, and organised his sister Kristina to guide us there and back! Wow, thanks so much to these two for all their help, it has made our life much easier. They even translated what is wrong with the van into Deutsch for us.
Walking back to the van in half the time (and hence appearing from the other direction and confusing Liz), we found our way into Seb and Jessi's flat. Big thanks also to them for leaving their home to people from another country for a while when they themselves are far far away. They left the place spotless, so now we have quite a cleaning job when we leave!
It is good to be back in a "real" house where you don't have to clean up piles of clothes and books to get to the sink, and the bed is there all the time, no un-folding required. As such, we used the oven (how strange!) to cook some dinner, before starting on our long period here of doing very very little.

End of Scandinavia

We drove into town to get some cash to pay for the night's accommodation, and returned to pay like the good people we are.
From there, we drove the remaining thrity or so kilometres to the Deutsch border. Now remember all the trouble I have had with my passport because I don't have stamps to show where I have been? I decided to do the right thing, so we pulled into the border crossing where I fudged my way with some Deutsch and discovered that to get a stamp in my passport I would have to go to the tiny border crossing about ten kilometres west! That's very strange, as surely about 99% of the traffic crossing the border uses the massive fast motorway.
Not wanting to upset Rosie, we got back in the van and drove stamp-less into Deutschland.
And thus endeth our tour of Scandinavia. We had a great time, and stretched our initial time estimate of three weeks to five, without minding a single bit. It was a fantastic place to see, so varied from north to south, country to country. I think we have taken enough ferry rides to last us a good long while, and spent enough cash to require us to keep a tight hold on the purse-strings from now on.
But we wouldn't have done anything different. Fantastic memories, we hope to re-live them at some time in the future, intending to return to brave a Scandinavian winter some day.

Danish Castles

This morning the showers were good and hot, so we enjoyed those while possible (something you have to do while travelling - the next one could be days away).
Driving out of the city and electing not to find the Carlsberg brewery for a tour, we needed breakfast and had little to eat. Another service station fixed this problem with cheapo coffee-and-cake deals while we poured more of Kuwait's finest into Rosie. Which reminds me, they have a service station over here called Q8. Get it?
There are plenty of famous Danish castles, but we had chosen to restrict ourselves to just two. First on the list was Kronborg Slot in Helsing�r, at the top of the island of Zealand, about an hour north from K�benhavn. This is famous as the castle from Shakespeare's Hamlet, and in fact we had by only days missed the "Hamlet in Hamlet's castle" performance of said play. Nevermind, would have been in Danish anyway.
Instead, we wandered around the courtyard and looked in the places we could without shelling out for a ticket. This place was interesting, but not amazingly so. The moat and surroundings certianly were attractive, but we had a bigger fish to fry.
This was Frederiksborg Slot, half an hour or so south-west in Hiller�d. This highly-impressive castle spread across three islands was not only fantastic in its own right, but seemingly every square inch of the walls in the endless series of rooms across four floors are plastered with paintings, forming the Museum of National History.
After wandering down the long approach road, through the beautiful grounds, past the symmetrical Baroque Garden and into the castle proper, we spent hours wandering, attempting to absorb it all but failing miserably. You could honestly spend about a month just in this place, looking at the furniture, maps, books, astronomical equipment (old, working model of the Copernican system).
Highlights included a special chair-lift for the king to be lowered from one level to another, built in 1680 or something and still apparently in working order, and the huge mural paintings in the great hall (and elsewhere), which I could have studied for a day or so each, and the ornate chapel with amazing old organ.
There was just so much to take in, with even the boring rooms having amazing roof murals and furniture worth more than the GDP of most countries.
I was also most impressed with the way visitors were treated - a few simple "please don't touch things", and strings across the chairs were all that came between us and priceless antiques. They also highly impressed me with their photographic policy - a simple "no flashes please". I am constantly amazed at the number of places which won't let you take photos of anything. Why? I'm not damaging anything, merely catching some light through my camera rather than my eyes. If I was planning on selling them then ok, I understand, but I can't afford to buy the offical guide book at every single place we go. Sorry, rant over now :) .
Needing some late lunch, we went back to a caf� in the grounds and had to revert to pointing at what we wanted (very rare here), but it arrived and we ate it happily.
From there, we needed to push south fast while Rosie still wanted to. We drove across the two remaining bridges (yes we had to pay those extortinate tolls on the way back too), before finding another caravan park which claimed to have gas but was conveniently located for a night's stop anyway, in the town of �benr�, imaginatively named �benr� Camping.
The only problem was that we had spent the last of our Danish cash paying the tolls, and had originally intended to get through to Deutschland that night where we could use euros. No matter, as the slightly strange man was happy for us to pay the next day. Very trusting for a caravan park owner. The place was nice enough, and we cooked an improvised meal with what little we had left in our cupboards, before retiring for the night.

K�benhavn

(Continued from Sverige 2).
Getting used to the Danish road signs again, we picked a random entrance into K�benhavn (Copenhagen in English), and stumbled across exactly what we were looking for purely by luck - another Autocamper place, located just as conveniently as the one in Stockholm was, this time near Fisketorvet (old fish market, now modern shopping centre).
After chatting to the amusing attendant at the Autocamper for a while, he showed us where to get the bus into town. But after the walk around Stockholm, this was going to be nothing at all. So, map and GPS again in hand, we wandered off in search of the fabled free bikes you can use in the city for a small deposit. However, the combination of perfect hot weather, summer and Saturday meant that these were well-and-truly spoken for, leaving us on foot. No real problem, but would have been nice for a change.
We walked through an industrial area (in fact, looking back, much of the city has that feel) past the Hovedbaneg�rden Central Station to the interestingly-named Wonderful Copenhagen tourist office. Lonely Planet describes this place as having long and fretful queues, but that didn't quite prepare us to have to push past people just to get in the door. After about thirty seconds, we decided to go it on our own.
Just next door is the famous Tivoli Gardens century-old amusement park, which we later found out has the world's oldest still-operating roller-coaster. Deciding to save our money and see the town instead, we pushed on to R�dhust-pladsen (Town-Hall Square). The R�dhus itself was closed, however.
This amazingly busy square had a noisy concert going on, and we decided that all our walking we were doing meant we were able to be naughty and have some KFC for lunch. After this, we spent most of the afternoon on Lonely Planet's K�benhavn walking tour.
This took us first along Str�get, billed as the world's longest pedestrian mall. It's actually quite a few of them joined together, with roads in between, so I'm not sure if it really counts, but the locals didn't seem to care. There were so many people, so many shops (mostly selling "modern" things), all along these amazingly beautiful old cobbled streets lined with tall old buildings.
One interesting place we stopped in was The Amber Specialist. Amber seems to be a specialty here in the way you associate crystal with Waterford, but we were only interested in the fact that this shop had a huge model of Sydney Opera House made out of the stuff!
We stopped along str�get in between Gammel Torv (Old Square) and Nytorv (New Square) to eat some wonderful peaches bought from a fruit-seller, and admire the surrounding architecture. There is an impressive fountain in Gammel Torv which was drawing the crowds on such a hot day also.
We wandered down through plenty more squares, past plenty of statues and generally overloading the senses. This photo shows the inter-twined dragon's tails spire on top of the B�rsen (Renaissance stock exchange building) on the left, and Christianborg Palace on Slotsholmen on the right.
A couple of hours was spent in the interesting diversion of the Guinness World Records Museum. Not too suprisingly, it focused heavily on Danish entries, but there was plenty enough to keep us entertained. A movie of 1.5 million dominoes being toppled (not actually the record, though) was less worrying than the movie of the fastest oyster eater.
The huge not-really-square square Kongens Nytorv has the interesting Nyhavn canal leading off from the far side. This was dug to allow merchants to bring their goods into the heart of town, but now holds plenty of people on its sidewalk caf�s enjoying the weather. One previous occupant was Hans Christian Andersen, who's house we looked at from the outside. He is now a big tourist drawcard for the city, as is evident in every touristy shop we visited.
Through some back streets and along the docks, we sat down at one caf� where after fifteen minutes of waiting, a waiter actually came and cleared our table without taking our order. Needless to say, we got up quick smart and walked along. Sure, we may not be sixty with greying hair and diamonds hanging from everywhere, but we still have money to spend and it is annoying when people assume otherwise.
Not much further along, we walked past yet another fountain and into the cobbled square Amalienborg Plads, which is surrounded by four mansions forming Amalienborg Palace, home of the royal family. Once again, we had timed it right for the changing of the guard, although this was far less elaborate, you would have missed it if you didn't look hard.
North from there, we felt compelled to go and see the Little Mermaid statue, as it appears on every variant of tourist junk imaginable. It was built in 1918 or so under design from H.C.Anderson, and came to fame with the modern movie based on the same tale (or so I believe). In fact, it was the most disappointing tourist "attraction" we have ever bothered to walk a long way on a hot day for. About a metre high on a rock behind a concrete barrier with an oil refinery or something as a backdrop, we grabbed a snap just to say we had been there, skipped the queues of hundereds of people waiting to have their photo taken with it (geez people, see the real city), and sat down for a while. After resting our legs, we headed into town through Kastellet, an old castle surrounded by a moat in the middle of an attractive park in search of a cheap meal.
We came across a caf� in the right place which looked from the outside to not be too good, but the food was excellent and reasonably priced, so we stayed a while to rest. We noted with interest that the people on both sides of us were also Aussies. What a coincidence.
Looking into our guides for something to do for the night, and noting that K�benhavn is famous for its jazz, we decided to go to the Copenhagen JazzHouse on Niels Hemmingsens Gade just off Str�get. This is the most famous jazz place here, and the night had a cheap cover charge with cheap-ish drinks. Perfect.
It wasn't open for a while when we arrived, so we watched the street musicians and people trying to ride an amusing back-to-front handle bars bike (you turn left, it goes right).
Eventually getting in, we spent a great few hours totally immersed in the great live jazz from some local unknowns, Tao H�jhaard Organgrinder. The four piece had an organ (playing bass with pedals), drums, guitar and tenor sax, and each was a great musician. The drumer was especially entertaining and very good at his chosen "instrument".
When the band had finished at 12:30am or so, we pushed our way out through the crowds that had formed to go to the night-club that the place turned into at 1am, proudly wearing our daggy clothes (me shorts!) amongst all the dolled-up glamor of the clubbers. Pushing the "home, James" button on the GPS, we dragged our weary bodies back to the van. Still no bikes to be seen anywhere.

Through Malm� Again

Awake bright and early, we drove down the road to a servo to put some of the expensive fuel in Rosie and some caffeine in us (still no gas, so we can't make our own).
Next, we drove the remaining hundered or so kilometres to Malm�, finally joining up to the motorway where we had driven a month earlier. I had a recollection that there was Campingaz available in the caravan park we stayed in there, but after a detour there it was apparent my memory was doing strange things.
From there, it was a drive across the �resund Fixed Link and onwards back into Danmark.

South from Stockholm

I was the one to do the manly thing and go and discover that the showers had no hot water this morning. Liz declined to find out for herself, taking my word for it.
Hitting the road, we found our way out of the confusing jumble of roads heading basically south-west towards Malmo along the E04.
By this stage of our trip, we had decided that we weren't going to take any side-trips unless they were really worth it. For one, we had already spent about two weeks longer in Scandy than originally intended (no real problem, but there is plenty more to see before we go home in November), but more worryingly, Rosie was starting to chuck wobblies at the wrong time - literally.
Several times she has started to shudder at speed, sometimes we can save it by pushing the clutch and trying to rev it back, but usually it is a stall. Not good at 100km/h. This is not really too suprising, since we have driven her about 20,000km since we bought her, and done nothing other than add water and a little oil. I suspect the fuel system is at least part of the problem, as the problem is much less apparent when we use high-octane (98) fuel instead of the normal 95 or even 91 stuff. As an aside, last I heard, 91 is the norm in Oz and 95 is the expensive premium unleaded. We don't really want to have to pay for 98 unless we really have to.
Although we pulled in to one small town when it was particularly bad and rang our insurance company, the general feeling was that we didn't want to be stuck in a crappy small town for days again, and would rather push our luck and try to make it to Hamburg.
It was a horrible rainy day, although we had some great views as we drove slong the shores of V�ttern, a big inland lake north of J�nk�ping. It was a little lost on us, however, as we were more worried about the van suddenly deciding to die on us.
We dropped into a service station to gather some sausages, bacon and whatever we could manage to bbq for dinner.
Even though it was relatively early for us, we had come a long way and decided to pull in when Rosie was playing up on a single-lane road with no safe place to pull over should she stall.
We ended up cooking on the bbq and deciding to stay there in the road-side stop for the night, saving ourselves some money and having a reason to get up in the morning (the noise) as a bonus.

Stockholm

(Continued from Finland)
We awoke in a new country - ok, we had been to this one before, but not this part of the country - the capital Stockholm.
Driving off the ferry, our first task was what to do with the van so we could have a look around the city. For this we have typically two options - either find a central and usually expensive caravan park, or park in a parking lot somewhere.
First attempt was stopping at an "i", which we managed to find in Centralstationen, but which was next to useless.
Next option, we pulled out one of our many caravan park guides, and located a very central "Autocamper" park. This is different to a normal caravan park in that it is effectively a big parking lot with a mobile toilet/shower block dumped on the side. In this case, the receptionist even wore a shirt with the name of the parking company - obviously they worked out they could get a bit more money from a not-quite-central car park by turning it into an Autocamper.
It was located under a bridge on one of the 24,000 or so islands which make up Stockholm, L�ngholmen. As you can imagine, that many islands leaves plenty of room for bridges, and plenty of stress when you miss the turn-offs and can't turn around again for several kilometres. Stockholm easily gets the award so far for Most Difficult City to Navigate via Vehicle.
After a quick chat with the helpful attendant, we got out the GPS and started the first of what turned out to be around twenty kilometres of walking that day, heading towards the Old Town of Gamla Stan.
This part is located on its own island (there's plenty of them to go around), and is the oldest part of the city. We had lunch in a nice caf� along the main touristy yet attractive narrow cobbled street, V�sterl�nggatan. This runs almost the length of Gamla Stan, and from it various interesting narrow side streets run, creating a confusing tangle of cute little places.
After a look through some of the shops, we found ourselves at Kungliga Slottet, the 'new' royal palace. In terms of number of rooms (608), it is the largest in the world. We had no real intention of going in there, but happend to be in the right place at the right time to see the highly ceremonious changing of the guard. This consisted of plenty of horseback instrumentalists playing standard pomp music and lots of yelled military commands of the type you don't even expect to understand when they are in English, let alone Swedish.
Wandering a little further, we stumbled across the base of the visible-from-everywhere Tyska kyrkan (German church). It was closed for restoration, but it added fuel to the fire in our minds attempting to understand yet another language!
After not managing to be in northern Sweden at the right time of year (winter) to see the Ice Hotel, we decided that a stop into the summer showroom of the place, the Ice Gallery was worth it. The Hotel is just what it sounds like - an entire hotel built solely out of ice, including bar, cups, beds, everything. They can only keep it going in winter, so we didn't bother taking a side-trip to see it when we were up that way. The gallery attempts to give you a taste of it, with a bar, cups and some general carvings inside what is basically a big fridge (-7 deg C). They provide furry warm coat things which were quite happy to wear, although the room was much smaller than we expected. It completed its task, however, of making us want to go the hotel should we ever make it back at the right time of the year.
From there the rain started tumbling down, so what else to do other than duck into a bar and watch people outside get wet.
After it died down, we wandered across Vasabron bridge into the new part of town, the only part on the mainland (ie. not an island). We found our way to the hideously ugly Sergels Torg (central square - most of the locals hate it too), where there were plenty of people. Most were young kids on school holidays partaking in skating demonstrations with loud music, etc.
Here, we went up to the eleventh floor of one of the buildings (good view!) where the Australian Embassy is located. There we found out some more details about my requirement for a Schengen Visa, and chatted to a girl who had just moved to the city from Sydney to be with her boyfriend. She didn't speak the language much, and we were all happy to hear each other's accents for a change! She had joined a club for the apparently two thousand Aussies and Kiwis who live in the city, centred around the Dancin' Dingo Aussie Pub.
Next to the tourist office to find about internet caf�s, but it was next to useless and full of loud-talking Americans, so we gave that a swerve. The internet caf� near there wouldn't let us plug the laptop in, but pointed us one Metro stop north to H�torget, where we found a dark and dingy place lit only with uv-lighting which was more than happy to take our money and let us plug in.
We spent an hour or so updating the journal, sending emails and chatting to various people from home. I also got in contact with the only person I "know" in the city, Jonas Salling of Salling Software, whos piece of software Clicker has won many awards and I have helped out testing with a little. We carried our converstation on in sms.
Next target was Djurg�rden, a couple of islands to the east which we had read about in various places (Bill Bryson and Lonely Planet) and wanted to see. Basically entirely given over to parklands, museums and a zoo, we walked there along the waterfront Strandv�gen past some amazing monuments which used real-time information on everything from wind speed to air pollution and pollutants in the water to display huge colourful graphs.
The island was great with lots of pretty gardens and the like, and our random wanderings eventually found us at Skansen. This was the world's first open-air museum with old houses and the like, but we had only one thing we wanted to see. When buying our tickets, we asked the guy "Do you have any moose?". We were damned if we were going to leave Scandinavia without seeing one. He said "Is that all you want to see?". We answered basically yes, and he laughed and sold us some tickets.
The enclosures here were amazing - so much space, all interesting shapes and sizes, and the animals were actually mostly visible! We saw bears and foxes in the same enclosure, the bear digging around his den while the foxes got as close as they dared. Fascinating watching just that, could have done so all day. But, we had to find this Moose.
And find we did - a big, huge thing much bigger than we had expected, with huge fuzzy horns. Didn't move much but it was nice to finally see one after all the trouble we had been, and driving close to 10,000km with signs for at least half that distance saying "Watch our for moose"!
On the other side of the enclosure was the female and two babies asleep. She was quite interested in Liz, and the babies were cute enough to want to take one home. Until they grow to eight feet tall, that is. Also notable were the funny boars play-fighting and wolves doing very little.
Finally satisfied, we needed to address our rumbling stomachs. This was done at Djurg�rdsbrons Sj�caf�, on a pontoon floating on the river under the bridge joining to Djurg�rden. We had some great meals and a glass of wine, feeding the inquisitive ducks right next to us what we couldn't fit in ourselves.
Wandering all the way back through town and out the other side at Kungsholmen, it was time for Liz and I to part. From here, Liz wandered back to the Autocamper across V�sterbron bridge, only getting a bit lost in the rain and darkness.
I met up with Jonas, and spent a nerdy few hours discussing various bits and pieces over a few beers (had to buy him something for the great software he has written which he basically gives away for nothing). He has gone from writing things on the side to being able to support himself off it, which is amazing for any independent software developer these days.
We went back to his office, where he showed me the next secret version of his software on his massive monitors (a prize from Apple) and pre-release Ericsson phones. Gadgets galore!
From there, I followed Liz's path back to the van, a little darker and rainer, and a lot longer than it had looked on the map. Still, there we were, safe, sound and thoroughly exhausted, but feeling we had seen Stockholm plenty well enough.

Goodbye Helsinki

Having both run out of our three day tourist ticket and things that we really wanted to do, we spent the morning lazing in for the first time in a while.
Around 3pm we got organised, packed up the bus and drove into town to locate the Viking Line terminal.
During our wait in the queue, where we were kept for a long while as they found a space our unique-height van could best occupy, we took some photos showing the size of our vessel - the Mariella. This was something quite different to all other ferries we have caught, and I was constantly reminded of a trip on the now-defunct Fairstar the Funship I took with my family many years ago.
Eventually aboard, we set out to explore the ship. Numerous bars, several restaurants and caf�s, obligatory duty free and our cosy little cabin were all highlights. We were up on one of the higher decks and to our suprise had our own toilet and shower - the girl had certainly done the right thing by us when she couldn't book exactly what we wanted.
We were up on deck in the fantastic weather as the ship pulled away from the docks, staying there for quite a while just taking in the fabulous vistas, including the Zoo and Suomenlinna where we had visited - we almost felt like locals.
In fact, it felt like we were going somewhere for months, not permanently! There were people waiving and everything, and this was only a sixteen hour ferry ride. There was some on-deck entertainment for a while, but the wind eventually got the better of us, so we headed inside.
We settled on a Grill House for dinner, which was a little more expensive than we would have liked, but the fun of dining in a moving restaurant made up for it.
We had a look through the duty free shop, not wanting to buy anything major after our huge stock-up on the Estonia trip, but instead found some everyday items very cheap - coffee, olives, etc.
The night was spent watching some entertaining (in a laugh-at-them-not-with-them way) Swedish or Finish karaoke - no idea which, it didn't really matter. The sight of people singing along horribly to songs you have never heard with backing videos shot out of someone's car as they drove through a city will stay with me for a while, whether I want it or not.
Declining to join in, even though we would have done better than some of the participants despite not having a clue what we would have been singing about, we headed back to our little cabin, and enjoyed a great night's sleep.
Somewhere during the night, our clocks changed an hour and we crossed back into Swedish waters.

Suomenlinna Sea Fortress

Heading back into town, we had the general task of getting ourselves a ferry from Helsinki to Stockholm.
But first, two main things. One was to satisfy my nerd-knowledge a little for a change, heading to the Department of Computer Science of the University of Helsinki. Some among you many realise that this is the birthplace of Linux. If you don't know or care, skip to the next paragraph. I just wanted to find out if there was anything there as a tribute of sorts to Linus Torvalds' time there, and some fairly helpful and suprised to see me people basically explained that there wasn't. After a bit of a nose around and a coffee in their cafeteria, we caught a tram back into town.
Next was a means to save ourselves some money - an International Youth Travel Card. This is accepted almost everywhere (we have found), entitling us to so-called "student" discounts which are sometimes as much as 50%. Why we didn't find out about this earlier I don't know, but some careful reading of Lonely Planet pointed us at the Student Travel Association, which conveniently have an office smack-bang in central Helsinki.
So, after waiting there for a while (where we noted that travel to Australia and NZ is very heavily promoted - they even have a special information night), we forked over a measly ten euro each for another photo card to prove who we are in our wallets.
This turned out to have been a very good move, as our next stop was the offices of Viking Line, one of the ferry companies sailing to Stockholm. After a bit of negotiation, we managed to score ourselves good cabins on a ferry for the following day, the student cards saving more than ten euro each right away.
So, this left us with a day more to spend in Helsinki. This worked out well, giving us time to get the tram around a little (a couple of embassies which were closed), then get back to the fish market for a ferry across to the Suomenlinna / Sveaborg Sea Fortress.
The fifteen minute, already paid for with our tourist ticket ferry ride across to the set of islands was nice enough, and we soon set about wandering around the place. This is yet another World Heritage Site, a 250-year old sea fortress built by the Swedish into a city with more inhabitants than Helsinki itself. What remains is a series of interconnected islands with museums, parks and plenty of history.
Our wanders were fairly non-specific, taking in plenty of old buildings and lazing in the parkland. One thing of interest was the Submarine Vesikko, the only remaining Finnish submarine (the rest were destroyed). Saving huge sums of cash by waving our shiny new student cards, we got a glimpse into what life must have been like cramped into a tiny tin can under the water for months on end.
After a long wait for a return ferry (no problem, just relax and enjoy the view across the water), we got back to the other side and then the caravan park to pay for another night's accommodation. This bought another nice suprise for the day - the fourth night is free!
We rounded off a cheap day (well, except the ferry tickets) with a home-cooked meal and some duty free beers.

A Quick Evening

(Continued from Eesti)
We located a taxi since the Metro had long stopped running (it was approaching 1am), who drove us rather quickly back to our camp site. More than worn out, we managed to organise the bed and crash asleep.

Estonia - Tallinn

(Continued from Finland)
After a while the ferry (a SuperSeaCat) arrived, and people pressed hard to be the first through the gates. We just watched in amusement, and walked past most of them straggling their way towards the boat. It was almost exactly like getting on a plane - long walkways up to the entrance door, even the seats were almost identical, tray tables and all.
As we glided away so gently I didn't even notice, it soon became apparent what this trip was all about to most of the locals - a huge duty-free booze binge. There was a group of six old biddies just over from us, constantly taking in rounds of whatever spirit or liquer someone brought back, enjoying themselves no end. Like most others on the boat, they had little trolleys especially designed for bringing back the exact customs limit worth of alcohol and perfume.
Given the very high Finnish prices for such things, it came as no real suprise, but was funny all the same. The ninety or so minutes passed quickly, and before we knew it, it was time to get off and explore a new country (ok, city) in about eight hours.
I don't usually go in for such things, but since Eesti (Estonia in English) is such a new country, let me provide a bit of history, blatantly plagerised from Lonely Planet.
Danmark conquered the region in the 12th century, then sold it to Deutschland in 1346. In the great tradition of land trading, various countries such as Sweden had infuence at times, but eventually by 1721 the area fell to Russian power. In World War I, Russia abandoned the area to Deutschland in 1918. World War II brought more confusion, secretly putting Eesti under Soviet control.
Murmurs of discontent started around 1980, and by 1989 enough action had taken place for Moscow to grant economic autonomy. Full independence was announced on 20th August 1991, although Russian troops didn't leave until August 1994. Their strange currency the kroon came in 1992.
And, last I heard, Eesti is poised to join the EU, ready for assimilation into the greater Europe.
All this combines to give a country with an interesting past, quite confused, but with some strong influences apparent - plenty of people speak Russian, and that culture is evident in many places (for example the ubiquitous Russian doll offered to tourists everywhere). Younger people speak English quite well. It is interesting to think that possibly as late as eight or so years ago, there was close to zero chance of us being able to explore the country.
Tallinn itself is obviously a city in the middle of change. Eesti's capital has plenty of amazing old architecture, so much so that the Old Town is World-Heritage Listed. Yet there are areas where the touristy shops are just a little too thick. However, the general feel is that you are not far away from a very un-spoilt place - the alleys in the city lead to much lower living conditions, every thing is very very cheap (won't last long after joining the EU), and not much has been built in say the last four hundered years. There are of course repair works going on here and there, including a horrible cement-rendering of the Oleviste Church in the Lower Town. It is one of the many countries you want to see now before the hand of modernisation/westernisation takes over.

So, back to what we specifically did. Not wanting to miss our already checked-in return ferry at 11pm, we set a waypoint on the GPS and started wandering in a new country. Road signs and brand names were all different, but we are getting used to that now. It didn't feel quite as foreign as Istanbul did when we arrived there.
We wandered to the northern-most corner of the amazingly well preserved town walls, in through the Great Coast Gate which used to be the port exit back in medieval times. Here the modern tarmac gave way to old style ankle-damaging but oh-so-cool cobble stones. Quite a while looking at places on a general wander, absorbing the best preserved Old Town in Eastern Europe. Highlights of the Lower Town included the Fat Margaret Bastion, and the 120m high spire of the Oleviste Church (from which the architect fell to his death).
We headed then down some nice side streets into the centre of town, which is the beautiful Raekoja Plats square, with the amazing Town Hall on one side and plenty of open-air caf�s around most of the others. The Town Hall is the only surviving Gothic one in Europe, with a 1530 weather vane on the top and dragon heads sticking out the side.
Next was a walk up the hill to the focus of the town, Toompea (Upper Town). The walk through the 1380 gate tower and up Pikk jalg where artists were selling paintings to the awesome view of the 19th century Russian Orthodox Alexandr Nevsky Cathedral. The size of this thing was quite amazing, with dome roofs and plenty of ornamentation. Around Toompea we saw some of the original 1219 towers from the Danish castle, which are now part of the Parliament building, and Toomkirik (Dome Church), which we ducked inside and noted the amazing coats of arms and carved tombs.
After a look at the highly-ornamental gilded interior of the Alexandr Nevsky Cathedral, we headed along the south walls of town to search for somewhere to relax. There was a strange shop where a teenage girl was selling fishing and hunting gear, on the phone to a friend as we looked in amazement at the guns on a rack on the wall. Different laws around different countries make for interesting travelling.
Not much wandering later, we found Olde Hansa, an obvious tourist trap of an outdoor pub/restaurant where they were all in costume, the menus were attempted ye-olde-style and the prices were about double everywhere else. We thought a little while about the appeal of drinking beers out of stone mugs, but instead plonked ourselves down across the road at the far cheaper Gildi Kelder, in Suur-Karja. Here we had great meals and two or three hours worth of beer for about $28 Australian. It's been a long time since we last did that.
If you are sitting in Australia thinking "what's so special about that?", then consider that a tank of fuel for Rosie typically costs us about $120, lasts one day, and that a meal out is so rare due to it costing a similar amount.
Next we headed back to the main square for dessert and some different cheap drinks, sitting at one of the many caf�s and noting the sword-fight being played out at the next one in an effort to draw the tourist dollars in. That's the way it should be done, not with flashy neon signs and loud dance music.
Now time to find our way back to the ferry, we walked once again through the pretty town, feeling a little sad that we had spent so little time there, and knowing that perhaps we might not come back to anything quite as we remember it.
No problems with immigration getting back out of Eesti, so we boarded the ferry and spent the trip back grabbing as much amazingly cheap duty free as we could carry, now understanding why the day-trippers brought their little trolleys.
We both got quite a grilling from immigration at the other end, Liz being let off once she got her British (and hence EU) passport out, but me having to explain my lack of stamps yet again. We thought we might not be allowed back in - lights had been turned off in the terminal, and we were the only passengers left! Eventually being allowed to pass, we found ourselves once again in Finland.
Eesti was a wonderful side-trip from Helsinki, we enjoyed ourselves greatly and have another set of memories to last for years to come.

A Quick Morning

After not doing much in the morning, we had some breakfast and made some sandwiches, to keep our costs for the day down.
Back into town on the Metro, we headed once agian to the Tourist Office, stood in a queue for ages to ask about a ferry to Tallinn, only to find out that she couldn't book us on one since they were already boarding. So, we raced down to the docks, located the right office, went in, paid some money and wandered up to customs. We were on our way to another country!
On the way out, the immigration guy was concerned about my passport. It seems that Finland has recently joined the Schengen agreement, which means that if I intend to stay more than three out of any six months in any Schengen countries, I need a visa. Never heard about that before, but you don't argue with immigration people.
Not a problem, as I haven't yet spent three out of six months, and can get a visa in the future. However, at most border crossings you don't get a stamp, so it looks as if I have been in Schengen countries since entering Netherlands the first time back in April.
Luckily, I have been keeping my boarding passes from each international journey we take, so after a while I could convince him to let me out. We will get a visa sorted fairly soon for me, and now start insisting on a stamp at each border.
So, that sorted, we were in a queue with lots of people, headed across to Eesti (Estonia).