France 2011

Wednesday 17th August 2011 : CDG Airport (Paris) France

Paris comes into sight, with our first glimpse of that iconic tower. But wait, there's more. A second. And a third. All joined with cables! Wrong towers. Then we see a faint silhouette through the smog and that is the famous tower.

Charles De Gaul (or CDG for those in the know and those who can't spell (sick)((sic))(((a form of recursion)))) is a sprawling concrete jungle in which I assume people live and die without ever seeing outside. One would think an airport is getting too big when a domestic flight is required to get from the baggage carousel  to the  bus stop.

After getting our bags we ask at information for directions to the bus shuttle area. We are told to walk for 5 minutes in the indicated direction then get a lift to the 5th level. We do that and exit from a 2 metre long lift onto a 1 metre wide footpath which is littered with people and luggage trolleys making it very difficult to exit the lift. But we manage with microns to spare and less than 50 excusez-moi s, which are ignored anyway. We (we being Ro who has a smattering of French) then asks a bus driver for directions to the Pullman shuttle. Her English reply is only  offered after Ro Bonjours, parlez-vous Anglaises and genuflects to be on the safe side. The driver's English response is "Wrong side". Now that's what I call value for money! This is from a real live French person. Oh heart be still. Ro vows not to wash her ears for a week, which also proves portentious. We reenter the lift with another passenger who presses the door close button. The doors close. She presses 1. The doors open. She presses door close and the doors close then 1 and the doors open. This goes on for a few iterations then I try. Same thing. Are we  not pressing in a French way, maybe? I try throwing my hands outward and shrugging my shoulders like a French person being asked for help. I press again. No change. So I say "Just close the ***** doors and go to the ***** first floor" while holding both the door close and the first floor button.  The lift obeys. Perhaps  I had initially been using the wrong sort of French.

We take another lift, ready for battle, but it obeys immediately without our requiring any French at all. Alighting, again with microns to spare we ask another driver, who may not  be French as he is quite helpful. "le petit bus" (or something similar) he answers to our question. He also gives us the option of "le petit train" but we do not discover from where it leavesft nor where it would take us. Le petit bus appears after 10 minutes with a quintessential French gentleman with le petit moustache and le petit  you-poor-people-are- not-French-so-of-course-you-are-lost  expression.

It had been suggested that a quick walk across the carpark would get us to our hotel. The problem is that the carpark over which we should walk is a 10 minute ride away at breakneck speeds.

The driver opens the rear door and allows me to remove the bags; probably because they are taller than he is. We checked in and  go to our room, our baggage to follow by porter.....when it suits him, which is after 10 or 15 minutes. We twiddle our thumbs waiting for clothes to change into for dinner. We have dinner in the restaurant and retire early as we had a TGV journey next morning to Poitiers near Charroux where our van awaits us.

Thursday 18th August 2011 : CDG Paris France

We want to allow plenty of time to get to the TGV as we are not confident help will be forthcoming. We leave the hotel at 6.45 for a 7.40 boarding. The driver this time is as large as the previous one was small. But the attitude is of similar size. The TGV leaves from a few levels below where we had been picked up the night before but the lift must have learnt its lesson not to mess with Aussies as it does exactly as we instruct, although it does try to nip my shoe as I exit.

The platform is entirely deserted. Not a person in sight nor an information board to be seen. A train is loitering at another platform, but the casual way it has a cigarette dangling from its loco, a berret drooped over the driver's door and its casual posture tells us it is not a TGV. We have abandoned our luggage trolley as there seems to only be escalators to get to the cross bridge between platforms. We scale the escalator, luggage precariously balanced on the steps. There are people on the cross bridge which  opens out to a level with crowds of people. We ask a passerby what platform our TGV leaves from using sign language and assorted other devices. Not much help. Ro goes off to find someone official and I stay with the bags. I am approached by a young woman. Finally someone who senses our situation and wants to help. Well, no. She wants a flame for her cigarette, a request made in broken english after I indicate I speak no french. This time  I don't even have to beg for english.

Eventually an official tells us that the platform number is displayed 15 minutes before departure. Ro asks where the platforms are. "You don't need to know that because the platform number has not been displayed yet" is the response. No amount of cajoling will persuade the official to describe where the platforms are. Maybe he is right because when the number is displayed, it only takes 5 minutes of guessing to find the platform. But then we have to find the carriage number and that is not entirely evident.

We board the train and drag our luggage upstairs and as close to us as possible as we had been warned to keep bags near to prevent theft. We have brought a bicycle lock to lock the bags together and to the rack. Maybe overkill but as it happened a seedy character (who presents remarkably similarly to the aforementioned non TGV train) spends the 2 1/2 hour trip standing in the toilet next to the bags.Anyone who wants to use the toilet has to evict the character who returns as soon as the toilet is free. We spend a not insignificant amount of time glancing back at our bags.

The trip in the train is quite an experience, racing along at breakneck speeds. the carriage tilting on corners and the unexpected and loud "twack" as any train come the other way. Through  long tunnels, a pressure wave assults the ears, prompting some passengers to block ears as the train enters a tunnel.

We arrive at Poitiers with our bags unlocked and ready for a hasty exit. As it happened the seedy character also alights at the same stop. This time there are no elevators so I lug each bag up 30 or so steps, puffing at the top after the second trip and just in time to see the lift, which I had not previously noticed,  arrive and disgorge  the seedy character SANS LUGGAGE!! (without luggage for you non french speakers)
Not to be caught again, we take the rather grubby lift down to platform level to await Mavis and Terry with whom we were staying at Charroux.  We see the van almost immediately, recognising it from the external photographs, which have been rather kind to it. Mavis had said they might pick us up in the van as their Charroux car, a small Citroen, may have been too small. It was, we later discover. Had they brought that, our bags would have to have been lashed to the roof! As it was, they only just fit in the door to the van.
Mavis says we need to go via another villiage named Civray to pay the comprehensive insurance. We do so and discuss the circumstances with the insurance agent. The vehicle has English plates but its English registration has lapsed. The van now has French registration...well almost since the official who needed to sign the final bit of paperwork is on holidays and no one else in the whole wide world can sign the form. Everything stops in France for holidays. But in addition, the van is owned by us, non nationals, but registered in Terry's name who is an English resident although a french property owner. Apart from those details, everything is tickety boo, a term which the french don't understand. The final bit of paper will be signed about 5th September. Fine. We can get the insurance. Good. But a minor problem is that the van cannot be taken out of France. Oops. Can we get around that? Impossible. But the van has to have insurance even if not driven so we have to accept the insurance for 472 euro. How then do we to get to Croatia? Hire a car? Go by train? We will go and think about it over lunch.

We continue onto Charroux to Mavis and Terry's house which is out of  something you might read in a book. Now for you, dear reader, it is indeed something you are reading about but not for us. For us it is all happening right before our eyes but not just that building. Amost all the buildings in Charroux date back hundreds of years, including a church which dates back to the 1100s. Our eyes have been used to Australia where European settlement dates back less than 300 years so buildings of any significant age are many years younger than most of the buildings we see in Charroux. The sense of history is palpable.

We remove our bags from the van and placed them in our dwelling, a refurbished barn again 100s of years old. But beautifully restored externally and very comfortably remodelled inside.

Time to find out what we have bought. The vehicle is a 1994 motorhome and the odometer shows 17,900 but as it only went to 100,000 before restarting at 0, the question is how many times has it gone around. We had been told when we purchased it that it had done 117,000 but if it has only gone round once, I am a monkey's uncle. Now those who know me may think the lineage is not in doubt, especially in my believing a 1994 vehicle had only done 117,000, but I am a trusting soul and had assumed the odometer was a 6 digit one and it seemed unlikely that it had done  1,017,000 km. However, apart from having a slightly smokey exhaust when cold, which is not uncommon for diesels, the engine seemed OK and the hoses ,belts and airfilter had all been changed and Terry says that to his knowledge the previous owner had had no problems in 20,000 km of driving. The interior is in good condition but needs a good clean. And I am aware that the fridge and water heater will only work on  mains.

Our plan is to do some basic cleaning and stocking then to take off into the wild blue yonder. If it has to be the wild black yonder until the van warms up, well so be it, although that pricks our environmental consciences somewhat. Diesel is extremely popular in Europe and Terry says that the emissions from the van were normal and I have to say that any odour emitted from our van matches that emitted from other cars passing by.
We start cleaning, Ro in her meticulous way and me in my that-screw-needs-tightening....-now-what-was-I-doing-before-that way. Gradually the van starts to look like we could happily travel in it.

Mavis has made a lovely lunch, with Terry barbequeing some pork chops  acquired from the supermarche where the insurance people were. She calls us from our tasks and we have a lovely meal sitting outside on a hot day on an attractive patio. Mavis and Terry have unfortunately been involved in a lot of work to get the van registered in France rather than take it back to UK for its yearly MOT (equivalent of out roadworthy). This proved to have problems as the French are very pernickety with their MOT tests which are carried out every two years.  I have a few moments of doubt as to whether the vehicle is up to scratch but Mavis assures us that there have been numerous tests so they are confident that everything with regard to safety is perfect, which is comforting. It is a somewhat embarrassing situation as Mavis and Terry have put a lot of effort into the van in which they have no  financial interest to help out the person from whom we had purchased in Australia and here I am expressing doubts. Mavis is upset about the situation, but in talking it through and understanding  one another's perspective we cement our friendship.
During lunch, John, a friend of Mavis and Terry who has also been involved in the registration saga, turns up. He can't stay as he has to mow the grass, but accepts a drink while he updates us on insurance news. The agent in the other town, the name of whom escapes me, is a tennis friend of John. Through some rather remarkable grape vine, John knows of our plight regarding getting to Croatia and informs us that he has a cunning plan. John has a very dry sense of humour and a pronounced Yorkshire accent so over the next hour or so, between comments that he has to go and mow the grass, we have an amusing and enjoyable discussion. The upshot is that he has another acquaintence named Brenda in Charroux who is an insurance agent and who can insure the vehicle so we would be able to leave France. John finally goes to mow the grass and we go to see the agent.
Now business in Charroux is a very laid back affair. We go to Brenda's office but it is not attended so we instead go to look at the medieval church. The stone floor undulates  like an ocean and all is rough hewn. But the towering vaulted ceilings and externa stone culumnar buttresses are impressive, especially considering the lack of any mechanical means of construction. I know this pales into insignificance compared with cathedrals such as Notre Dame and the Cologn cathedral but this was in the 1100s and just amazing. Our marvelling at the engineering will prove to be a common theme throughout our travels.

We return to Brenda's office and check the door which is was unlocked so we enter. There is hammering  comming from a room somewhere and upstairs there are footsteps. We make noises to make indice our presence and a frenchman comes from the direction of the hammering. As Mavis's french is  good , she enquirs as to the whereabouts of Brenda. Things close down from 12 to 2 for lunch in France. Presumably the concept of a long lunch  is measured in terms of extra half days, because Brenda at 3.30  returns from a slightly extended lunch. Brenda is aware of the problem and immediately gets on the phone to an insurance company and has an answer of "no problems" within minutes. The only impediment is that we had already paid the premium and the only thing the french hate more than speaking english is giving refunds on insurance policies. What must  be done is to take a quick trip back to  Civray in the little Citroen. It is 5.30pm but, no matter: the long lunches means that businesses stay open longer.

More discussions are had, all in french between Mavis and Stephanie, the insurance agent's Girl Friday in Civray. But without actually saying so, a refund was not going to happen. After much discussion, it turns out that there is no insurance problem, just a problem of getting the van back into France having left unless we had the plates fitted. However we decide that the problem would only arise if police stop us at the boarder, which does not happen on freeways, and questioned registration on a vehicle with english plates  trying to communicate with people who don't speak french. We hope that in such a case the whole thing would be too difficult and we would be waved on. Surely a foolproof plan. And if all else failed we would get the plates and paperwork sent to whatever  country we are in at the time. Problem solved.

Back to Charroux where Ro and I continue our spring cleaning and discovery until lateish in the evening. Our plan is to leave by lunchtime tomorrow to get to Clarmont Ferrand, about 250 km away by tomorrow evening.

Friday 19th August 2011: Charroux , France

We have a good night's sleep and continue cleaning and packing in the morning.

Unfortunately we are not ready to leave until  about 4.30 pm. But  a small incident prevents us leaving. Having filled the water tank, with Terry's help,  we start the engine and say our goodbyes. The van has performed satisfactorily from Poitiers to Charroux and then from one side of the house to the other to fill the tank. But as we say our goodbyes, the cab fills with smoke. Something which, at the very least,  is likely to be detrimental to our enjoyment of the trip. Terry asks what I have done to the wiring. Reasonable in the circumstances since I had started fitting our much studied burglar alarm. Terry points out that the van has not done this before, which in itself is somewhat reassuring. I  assure Terry that I have not actually fitted the alarm nor altered any wiring.  So he  starts thinking what might be different now from when he had driven it earlier and during the previous weeks of driving to and fro for tests. The french  authorities who did the checking of the van  had run into the holidays of the Grand High Poobah's who  had to sign the final registration document  because they wanted a device fitted which would alert the driver to the steps not being in the up position. So the local garagier had fitted a switch which would be held open if the steps were up. He had fitted  a rocker switch with a light, using only the light and not the switch. The device was less than perfect in that the switch was not effectively activated by the rather rickety steps so the light stayed on whenever the ignition was on. However when he fitted it, he used an extra terminal which had worked its way toward a wrong contact on the switch causing a direct short if the switch is in the wrong position. I may well have tested the switch and left it in the second position. Because there is no fuse, there is smoke. This takes some minutes to diagnose, with testing between suspected but incorrect causes resulting in more smoke in the cab during the diagnosis. Finally the actual cause is determined and the faulty contact removed. We say our final good byes and leave with our useless but glowing non warning lamp forever lit.

My first experience of driving on the right!  Other than frequently hitting right hand tyres on concrete curbs which the french are fond of installing, it is a piece of cake. Although the occasional gesture from other drivers suggests they may  think my driving is a piece of something far less pallatable.

Our first requirement is to get some gazole or diesel. Terry had suggested we go back to Civray for diesel but I am concerned about the time. Instead we continue in the direction of C-F sure we will find gazole. But we end up with the guage hovering on empty and start to get concerned. Without really expecting any success, we consult the Garmin for fuel outlets. The nearest is in a villiage we had just left! We had not seen it because we didn't pass the station. We had done a dogleg which bypassed the pumps. On returning we buy fuel then go in to pay. The 'shop' is ecclectic in the goods it provides. It even has a bar at which locals are drinking. The bar most likely is the main business.

We continue on toward C-F but it is getting late by now so we realize we will not make our intended stopping place. But we chance apon a sign for Le Perle camping so continue on to stay there. We get a site for 22 euro, including power to which we cannot  connect as our lead has a different plug and the adaptors they have do not fit their plugs either!

I have earlier suggested the french are arrogant and unhelpful. That was true of those we encounered at CDG but the reverse is true of those we find in rural areas. Most are helpful, even if they can speak no english (as we can speak so little french). We will  ask questions of dozens of people over the next few days who speak either little or no english and nearly all will made an effort to help or find someone more adept at english. We do introduce ourselves as best we can which may help. We say "Bon jour. Je suis Australien sans  Francais. Parlez-vous Anglais?"  (Good day. I am Australian without French. Do you speak English.....which probably is  bad french and definitely is presented with bad pronunciation). We mention that we are Australian just in case we are mistaken for nationals of another country which speaks English and of whom the french are reputedly not fond.

Saturday 20th August 2011 St Medard la Rochette, France

Next morning we awake early and manage to leave by 9. Ro predicts  we should be there by 8pm. It is only  150 km so I say that is ridiculous; we will be there well before that. I will say no more,  but Garmin is the clue to what proves to be Ro's not unreasonable prediction.

Off we go following the route  Garmin suggests. However we become slightly concerned as Garmin  continually drops out after saying "Recalculating" then "Cannot Recalculate". Also, the purple route we are supposed to follow is frequently different from the road we are actually on  yet the road number listed is correct. After four hours the roads start to look familiar. We pass the sign to Le Perle then Le Perle. Is it time to sy "Bye bye Garmin"?

But we continue  jauntily bouncing along narrow country roads and after a time we arrive at a quaint village called Aubusson. We negotiate a narrow street and come apon a crowded Saturday market. As we do not wish to negotiate a narrow street full of randomly ambulating people we choose to go up a deserted street. We are in luck as there is a relatively open car park of sorts into which we can drive the van. We locked up and set off  to explore the magnificent little village. The buildings either side are all two or three storeys opening directly onto the street and there are even narrower laneways steeply disappearing upward off the main streets. At points along the street, a fork is occupied by a building  tapering to the corner. We buy some croissant from le petit patisserie which is also a boulangerie (cake and bread shop).  After strolling around we return to the van and start back on our journey. We think this is where Garmin became confused. We follow the directions. Somehow we do a huge loop through some interesting country and eventually end up passing passing Le Perle again!! But this is some hours later.

During our travelling, the day is gradually heating up. Europe experienced a cool June and July but August has more than made up for that, with temperatures in the high 30s. Great for not travelling in a non air conditioned van. So we are getting hot and bothered. Adding to this is the fact that the fridge does not work. We  have a cooler with an electronic heat transfer module but that is only marginally effective.

We continue on delightful minor roads through little villages with narrow streets. About 3 pm we decided to stop for a drink but the roads are so narrow that one has to be selective. We decide to go down a small laneway along which is a long dry stone fence. Then to our amavement we see what could only be described as a  castle probably from the 1500s or earlier. It has three or four turrets towering  the equivalent of a 6 or 7 storey building. There are assorted out buildings including an entrance portico. Other buildings are occupied presumably by different families. Absolutely magical!

After passing through more quaint villages and negotiating  more narrow roads we finally reach our camping spot near a village called Nadaillat at about 5.30 pm. 8pm my foot. We have only taken 8 hours to cover a couple of hundred km! There were a couple of hugely memorable diversions on the way, though. We make for the pool immediately, and our hot and bothered personalities  evaporate with the coolness of the water.

Refreshed and much happier Ro conjurs up another delicious dinner in her usual make-something-delicious-out-of-nothing way. While Ro is making dinner, I set up for our first night of power as the park receptical is correct for our plug. I also pull the back of the fridge off to see why it doesn't work on gas. A bit of cleaning of the jet and we have a fridge. Although it will prove to be inadequate on gas alone it will be  much better than the other cooler.

We have been thoughtfully placed next to an english couple with whom we chat, glad  for  easy conversation without confusion. We have an early night in our campervan bed which is above the cabin and thankfully can remain made when not in use.

Sunday 21st August 2011 : Nadaillat , France

In the morning I go to the park shop to get a bagette. Amongst some confusion, we scour a list before the shop attendant indicats to me that we needed to have placed an order yesterday. So no bagette. However a little later, she finds our van  and says we can buy one as they had some spare.  

We set off for Geneva, about 250km away, about 10 am. We have always vowed we would use non freeways so we would see the countryside. However, we get onto a short bit of freeway and the ease of driving and certainty of direction seduces us and we stay on it all the way to Geneva, paying 30 euro in tolls and setting us up for another 40 CHF(Swiss francs) the next day. Compared with the non freeway journey, the freeway way is no adventure at all but it gets us to our destination sooner and with less uncertainty. We decide that we will use freeways until our Croation cruise in 4 days then thereafter we will take the long way home.

Despite Garmin having refused to calculate any routes, as we get closer to Geneva on the A1, periodically trying to get instructions, it finally plots a route from the freeway to where we want to camp. This is fortunate as we would not have found our camping ground otherwise.

We stay in Geneva in a park which is located in almost a suburban street. It has been there forever and the suburbs have crept up on it. It is quaint in the Swiss tradition. There are hedges all around and a lovely new swimming pool which we again need due to the heat. We are met by a Swiss man named Stephan who is very helpful and proves to be quite a character. In being shown the camp facilities he points out an external oven on which he said we can rost a pig or leg of lamb. I have to admit that we have forgotten to pack the pig in the van (called a camping car in Europe).

There are  quaint Swiss style bungalows in brown timber and plenty of grass and trees. And we see our firat squirrel. Just as Europeans ooh and aah about kangaroos and koalas we do so about the squirrel. At Charroux we were warned that there were vipers near the pond, but we were less interested in seeing them despite the exotic name.

Fortunately the nights are cool which makes sleeping possible. Monday morning dawns and we  prepare to leave. Stephan is an interesting man who among other things has been a hotel manager in Afganistan at one time and had spent a year in the jungle by himself on another occasion. He has been a paraglider and motorbike rider also but had a back injury  which now cramps his style a bit. To say he is an adrenalin junkie is like saying the Deli Lama is spiritually inclined.  He offers some help on the Garmin and we spend some time on the net researching our Cannot Calculate problem. We came to the conclusion that it is a common problem with no found solution.

Monday 22th August 2011 Geneva , Switzerland

We leave about 9.00 with instructions from Stephan on where we can buy another GPS. We travel into Geneva and purchase a TomTom which the store attendant said is good. We continue through Geneva, following the Garmin which may  know it's days are numbered because it chooses to calculate a route to the A1 on which we have decided to travel to our camping destination  near Zurich.  We are meeting another Swiss man named Rolf, with whom we have been communicating,  at the Wildegg railway station at 4.30 pm and as  we are again running to a schedule, the freeway is the chosen way. That is where the 40 CHF comes in. After travelling for 50 or so km, we decide that what we are on is a tollway. We have decided we needed provisions so we exit the freeway with the intention of buying some groceries.

We have seen one of the huge lakes which looks like a sea. Where we exit, the lake appears to be just over the hill so we think we will go there for morning tea by the lake. Now one has to be careful in these parts when something is "over the hill" because hills here can be sizable. I am concerned that we not deviate by more than half of Switzerland to find the lake, but having morning tea by water is appealing. However before we reach the lake we come across a medieval town with an original portico with ancient heavy doors through which the van can fit. There seems nothing preventing us from entering so we do. The other side is narrow but there is a delivery vehicle there so we enter. Although it appears narrow, narrow in Europe merely means hugging one side when another vehicle is encountered. In these cases, you can smell the garlick on the breath of the other driver as they pass. You can also hear their mutterings......or occasionally their shouts. We hear the latter, although we do not understand the meaning. But it is obvious that what we are doing is not what the locals  do. I had earlier been blasted at length by a truck due to something with which the driver did not agree. One can either take the approach that one has totally transgressed the road code or ,alternatively,  that one's driving is so indistinguishable from the locals that they toot as they would a local. Generally I assume the latter. but in this current situation that seems unlikely so we decide to perform the tricky  manoeuver of turning in the narrow street. It provides some entertainment for the locals having al fresco coffee in the village.

We retreat to the safety of the supermarket outside the medieval section and buy some provisions and something for morning tea. We find what was probably is a religious establishment to stop and sit on the grass in the absence of any obvious path to the lake.

After morning tea, we ask a local if we have to pay to use the tollway and she said that all roads are free in Switzerland. But  you need a sticker on the car which cost 40 CHF. It would appear that Swiss Free is different from Australian Free. Obviously good marketing by the government. Julia take note. If we do not have one and the police stop us, we will be fined. So we think we better get one. She directs us in broken english to a place we can buy one. However half an hour later we have not found it and it is now 3 pm with time to get to Wildegg running out and our internet not working to communicate with Rolf. In Australia, I had been taking blood pressure tablets which I thought I might not need here due to the relaxed pace. Wrong! Maybe I will up the dose.

We ask at another auto repair facility and they direct us to a post office in the town we have just left. We go back there and are directed back to the freeway where there is an outlet to buy the pass. Maybe this is the back and forth scribbling which Garmin had drawn in Melbourne. We have only scribbled three or four times, but maybe Garmin was being cautious when planning the route in Melbourne. Perhaps we have underrated Garmin.

Back to the freeway with a deal of relief. Garmin says we will arrive in 1 hr 43 mins  and it is 2.45 so we should just make by 4.28 for our 4.30 meeting  if Garmin chooses to actually guide us there without spitting the dummy. This is Swiss precision in action.
Our USB modem again has chosen not to work so we cannot contact Rolf on his mobile as arranged. We are not actually guided to the railway station where we are to meet but a girl who speakes no English gives us directions when we are qute close and  I am pleased that I can use my schoolboy German from 45 years ago. She may have been less pleased.

Finally we  reach Rolf and his wife, Madlin,  by 4.45, only 15 minutes late and Rolf is not concerned.

We follow Rolf in his car along a narrow bitumen road then onto a steep gravel road changing between 1st and 2nd all the way. We climb vertically some hundreds of metres to a lush wooded camping ground with wonderful views of the village far below.

A qwick swim and we are rendered solid again, having been reminiscent of a pair of Dali's molten clocks because of the hot travelling. This is very appropriate as it turns out as Rolf has very kindly organised a traditional dinner of molten cheese on potatoes and before the swim we were not unlike the molten cheese. In return, we have brought an Aussie flag as we are the first Aussie guests who have stayed there.

The dinner consists of boiled potatoes, pickled cucumbers and  a capsicum ratatoui . There are slabs of cheese about 80mm x 80mm x 8mm thick which are placed in small pans and put under a grill element. When molten, the cheese is scraped onto the baked potatoes. This continues until each guest has had his fill. For sweets, pears have  been marinsted in red and white wine and spices. Somewhat similar to gluwine. A light cream is added to the top. It is delicious. We finish up with snapps, an acquired taste which I haven't.

Rolf and Madlin have to return to Wildegg so we return to our van to boot up the TomTom. Without over anthropomorphising the now redundant Garmin GPS, following the purchase of the TomTom, the Garmin has picked up its game. We had warned it that its performance was well below par but it had ignored our warnings, presumably not believing we would indeed replace it. Now that it knows we are serious, it has guided us to Wildegg without incident. But it is too late. All our problems are over now we have the TomTom.......maybe.

We unpack the new GPS and power it up. A few questions first. Language to display: English. Km or miles: Km. Voice to use: French, Italian or Spanish: Pardon em oir? English is grayed out. So are we. We select the grayed out English voice to be greeted with Not Available: Load from CD or the net. The net is not talking and the CD is not in the box. So we choose French thinking we could cope with english with a french accent. They are generated voices so it tested. With half a dozen "'ow  you say"s the voice speaks an english phrase with a french accent and a lot of what sounded like static. Or maybe that is what we interpreted as " 'ow you say". Anyway, after a few words, the system says the voice is incompatible with the display language and it opts to say all spoken directions in French. Nothing we can do now so we decide we will load an english voice from the net when we have the chance.

Tuesday 23th August 2011 Zurich, Switzerland

Next morning, as our hosts are not there, we have to find the resident caretaker, a lady called "Wally". Where's Wally is a catch phrase with which we are familiar so we go in search of her. She is a delight and chats to us in German with me responding in bits of pseudo German. At school we had learned useful things like Rotkapschen (Red Riding Hood) and Swartzwaldkuche (Black forrest cake) but these seemed of little use in conversation. Wally explains she has to go : "Ich muss fahren zu Wildegg apfel und milch zu einkaufen in funf minuten" (I must go to Wildegg to buy milk and apples in 5 minutes) or something similar. As I am struggling so hard to remember the (probably self evident) meaning of "einkaufen"  the conversation rapidly draws to a close.

We are ready to leave about 9.15. when further evidence that the Garmin was upset becomes evident.  I had placed the TomTom on the windscreen above the Garmin the night before and  I now notice that, while the TomTom is still stuck proudly to the windscreen,  the Garmin is lying prostrate on the dashboard. Was that a quiet sob I heard? I place the Garmn back on the windscreen and program both to our destination in Zurich. The Garmin calculates effortlessly and starts chatting away to us. I program the TomTom and decided to compare as we travel. Unfortunately, as the Garmin says its instructions in english, the TomTom  says its instructions almost simultaneously in french. Although both  display instructions in english, the french voice is disconcerting. After a tme we turn the TomTom voice off.
We have some friends, Pat and Dave, who live in Cairns and frequently visit Melbourne. But  they are to be in Zurich when we are passing through so, in true globetrotting fashing, we thought we would meet for coffee. Now the Garmin was pitted against the TomTom and the Garmin was not going to be beaten.

We arrive at the given address, intending to call on Dave's the mobile using Skype. But it won't  connect. We park the van in front of another car, just fitting  under an awning and go in  search of the apartment. The address we have been given is obviously a shopping area but there seem to be apartments as part of it. After some questions of people in the shops, we    are directed to some post boxes next to which is  an intercom. We scan the names, not knowing whose name to look for as we only know the person with whom Pat and Dave are staying as Debbie. Fortunately there is a large Australian flag sticker with a name with the initial D. A good bet we think so buz and soon are rewarded by Dave's presence at the door. Pointing to the van we asked Dave if it is OK to park there. Dave thinks so as there are no blue lines. And if not all that can happen is we get a ticket............. My life seems to be full of portent at present but I don't seem to recognise it as such.

We enjoy coffee with them in a very hot apartment without airconditioning. They don't need it as it is never  hot. Our time there  includes loading new TomTom maps as the purchase includes updating of maps. And we want an English capable voice. We use their WiFi and get an  email from abroadband.com saying they have debited our card with 57 euro. For four day's use!!!!! Their site had proudly proclaimed that at 59 euro cents per meg they were an inexpensive way to use mobile broadband. Something like 50 emails or 80 Google searches or 4 minutes of Skype for 1 meg. We have used less than any of these amounts yet have used 100 meg in 4 days! Not what I call cheap. So maybe it is fortunate that the broadband didn't work about half the time.

About 1 1/2 hours later we leave, returning to the van to get my Travel Money card to buy some provisions at the supermarket in the bottom of the building. We only have 100 euro and if we pay with that, all the change will be in CHF and we are about to leave Switzerland.

On the van under the windscreen is a ticket for 120 CHF or A$150. What to do? We go to a post office to ask and the girl says we  have to pay it. Not having time to go and dispute it with the police (which would probably have been futile) we decide to pay. I have to go to the ATM to get the 120 CHF. I ask the post office girl what the ticket was for but neither she nor her fellow cashier can help. I comment that if we are not to repeat the infringement, we needed to know what not to do. She suggests we go to the police station, which we don't have time for, having to be in Innsbruck this evening. By the time I get back from the ATM, she has looked up a code and says we were parked on a footpath. It seems the car I parked in front of was illegally parked, the "No Parking" sign was so faded it was unrecognisable and the lack of blue lines indicate no parking, not vice versa as Dave had thought. Expensive coffee.

We use TomTom to guide us onto the freeway and continue toward Austria. Garmin is relegated to the glove box.

Travelling on the motorway is quite an experience in the van. Hills knock it about quite a bit, so it is important to keep the momentum up for any hills. However, with two lanes and the speed limit at 130 kph, passing slower vehicles on the flat takes coordination and a bit of luck. When approaching a truck, it is necessary to keep approach speed high but pull out  when close to the truck to stay in the outer lane the minimum amount of time. If I change to the outer lane  too soon  I hold up other faster vehicles, often incurring their wraith. If I leave the change to the outer lane too late, I  have to brake, loosing momentum for the passing. Then up the hills, the trucks I have just passed may catch up and have to  pass me again, maybe incurring their wraith. A thick skin sometimes is necessary.

Then in Austria, the tunnels are something else. We might think we have tunnels in Australia, but they are mere wormholes compared with those under the Alps here. In two lane tunnels, as trucks thunder by in the opposite direction, the van is rocked and the windows need to be up because of the deafening roar.

Fortunately we had been alerted to the need for toll stickers so we know to visit a service station once in Austria. A 10 day pass is 7.80 euro. There is also a tunnel toll of another 8.50 euro. However, the trip without using the toll roads is 5 1/2 hours compared with 2 1/2 with tolls. In any case, we still have one detour off the tollway of about 10 km as there is some incident on the motorway. But the villages we pass through are very picturesque. Next time without time constraints we will not use the tollways. At one pont along the detour, village children wave and hold up signs wishing us a happy journey. Obviously an unusual occurence for them.

We arrive at our camping place without incident about 6.45 and after a swim, settle in for the night. During a discussion with Dave regarding the fridge's lack of performance, he had suggested I clean the heat exchanger. I use some dental floss to drop a screw through the vertical pipe and then  pull some steel wool through in an effort to clean the heat exchanger to improve its efficiency. But the floss brakes. Bugger! I  get some stiff wire and retrieve most of the wool but overnight the fridge seemed to be worse. Ho hum.

Wednesday 24th August 2011 Innsbruck, Austria.

Our plan is to drive to Villach  near the Italian and  Slovenian borders. We enter the address we want near there into TomTom and get a route which seems to go too far north. We try an alternate route which is shorter but slower by 30 minutes. This seems likely to be more scenic, so we enter that into TomTom.

Abroadband.com has been proving to be far, far more expensive than suggested on the site so we choose to use McDonalds' free wifi to send some emails and make some Skype calls. TomTom takes us there and we spent an hour or so on the net. We then continue onto Villach with TomTom leading the way. All goes well until (were you expecting that?)  I inadvertantly take a wrong turn. I have always been a bit dislexic and have had trouble with left and right. Now, driving a right hand vehicle, I have even more trouble. When TomTom says vere right I start to do that, get confused and vere left over a floppy sort of barrier. Well it may not have been floppy before I ran over it, but it certainly was after. Tom Tom doesn't miss a beat. It leads us up a steep mountain with superlative views and down the other side. We only begin to feel uneasy when we are told to exit the freeway in 67 km and we are not on a freeway. Now TomTom may  know exactly what it was doing but after our prior experiences with the other GPS, we are a bit unnerved. We clear the current route and reprogram, this time using the longer route on the tollway. Less adventurous so safer. Or so it seems.

I have previously commented that nothing interesting happens on tollways other than working gears up and down mountains, negotiating 10 kilometer long tunnels and playing cat and mouse with passing in the outside lane. All rather boring after the initial rush. However our new path takes us inside Germany then back into Austria near Salsburg and as we enter Germany the German Boarder Police add some interest to the journey. Now I cannot be sure if it is me wearing a Tee shirt and small towel with nothing else or the fact that we have different number plates back and front or the fact that we look like Romany Gypsies on the move, but we attract their attention. As we drive past a patrol car, the glazed vision of the car's occupants suddenly becomes fixed on our little van. Ro watches wondering if they will follow. They do. Half a kilometer down the road they gently pull in front of us and we get the impression they want to talk. I started to pull over but they continue and illuminate a sign on their car in German. We consider the sign could either say "Have a nice day" or could be something like "Follow Me" Rather than pull out and cover them in diesel fumes, we decide to follow them. In another half k, the passenger starts to wave a pingpong bat as though he is practising for a tournament. We thint this unlikely so pull into a parking area where there is some type of police party going on and apparently we are to be their guests.

A young female police officer says good day in German then, after my English  response starts speaking very good English. They were boarder police and could we show them our passports and license to drive. Ro, as custodian of those documents, starts getting them out. While she does that, the officer asks if they can inspect inside the van. I say that will be OK then mumble something about getting some pants on first. I climb from the driver's seat into the back to open the rear door and put on some pants. In so doing, the officer is supplied more personal information than she probably requires or  wants. I suspect my attire does little to enhance our image of mature Australians touring Europe, but it may explain the bemused expressions on the seemingly pre -pubescent young recruits they appeared to be. It may also explain the reason  they want to look in the outside locker, the inside bathroom and assorted other cupboards. They must  be looking for illegal immigrants, and small ones at that,  rather than drugs as they do not check thoroughly and sniffer dogs are nowhere in sight, which is good as we don't like doggy odours inside.

After checking the registration papers, insurance, the serial number, proof of ownership, all of which are in assorted languages and from assorted countries, they decide they are in order (phew!) and bid us a cheery "Aufwiedersehen". I mutter under my breath "Not if we sehen you first" but smile, checked that we have all our documents back and continue on our merry way.

We are due to stay in Austria near Villach at a place called Millstadt and maybe a suburb called Pesenthein. Addresses can be somewhat confusing. The camp is by a lovely lake and we are hanging out for a swim, the day having been hot,hot,hot again. Ro has been perfecting her technique of wetting a rag to provide evaporative cooling and it is surprising how quickly the rag dries out.

We arrive at Pesenthein after asking some directions, although our camping ground was in TomTom if we had looked. At reception we chose a site with a view. "FKK area?" says the checkin chick and we shrug our shoulders and agree. We drive up the hill through a low hedge and set up. It is then we notice everyone in the FKK area is without clothes. "FKK" designates a naturist area in Europe! However the old adage "When in Rome do as the Romans do" translates to "When in Pesenthein, do as the Pesents do" or something similar, so we follow suit or more to the point, discard suit.

As mentioned, we are keen to get into the water. But the low hedge  marks the non FKK area, a notional boundary, not a visual one, so we have to don clothes to go to the lake. At the lake, there is also an FKK area so we go there. The freedom of no swimming togs is wonderful and practical.

Thursday 25th August 2011 Villach  Austria

Next morning we leave to head to Ljubljana in Slovenia where we intend staying tonight. However as it is only half the distance we have travelled on previous days  we decide to travel to our next stay and have two nights in one place.  

But our route takes us through Ljubljana and before leaving  we call into Maccas for their free WiFi, still stinging from our 59 euro bill on abroadband.com. We send some emails and pick up some then continue onto Ravinja.

We have purchased  a Slovenian vignette for 15 euro to travel the short distance on their tollroad now have to fork out for Croatian toll roads. Somewhere we had read a sign  "Abandon wealth all ye who embark on these pathways" and we are learning what that means.
In Croatia, we quickly learn how arbitrary their  rules are. A border check, far from the German type, involves showing our passports. A quick glance at the Australian emblem on the cover by the official results in us being waved on without stopping. Does that mean we will be stopped in 50 metres and our state of clothing or whatever checked? No! Just keep going.

It is getting on in the afternoon, as always later than we hoped, so we are dismayed to reach a traffic jam. A sign indicates 4.5 km to a tunnel. Does this mean a 4.5 km jam? Fortunately the 4.5 km referred to the length of the tunnel, not the distance to it. The queue is to pay the 5 euro toll. Still, it takes 10 minutes to  get through the boom gate. As we leave, an old mini gives way to us and we continue through the tunnel. Disturbingly, on our exit, there is no mini behind us. Is this the Bermuda triangle of Croatia? In fact, within the tunnel there were various side tunnels, the reason for which I don't know, unless they were ventilation entrances. Maybe the mini was sucked into one such void.

We get to within 60  km of our destination and TomTom lead us into another toll road. This does not seem correct so we instead head in the direction we think is correct. Deja-vous you might think? Deja-vous  it was. We end up at Umag, at the top end of the coast we want and end up travelling toward Rovinja along narrow streets through tiny ancient villages. Once again our mistake gives us the best experience.

The narrow streets and heat are going to be tiresome if they continue so we apologise to TomTom and continue following her instructions. She takes us back to the tollway and, showing a great deal of magnanimity, does not even display "I told you so". Within an hour we are in Rovinja and travelling to our stopping point, a camping area called Valalta.
We have seen many photos of Valalta with its advertised  natural beauty and it looks impressive, although it looks fairly developed. The natural areas must be a bit further inland. Wrong! The word is naturist not natural.  This is another FKK area, but this time it is the whole area which is FKK! 9000 naked people!

The place is incredible. Wohnwagens (mobile homes ) and tents everywhere. There are supermarkets, markets, restaurants, fruit stalls, gift shops, a marina and more. But better still.......there is a water slide. Even better than that, we are now able to stay in the same place for two nights.

We head immediately for the water slide. After a hot and slightly stressful drive, a water slide is the only thing which could put a smile back on Ro's face. Two or three slides later we are cool, happy and enjoying ourselves. As well as the water slide, there are huge floating 'toys' which includes a 10 metre high 'iceberg', two floating trampolines and assorted other fun things. Climbing the ice berg is not an easy task. There are hand holds into which one can insert a toe with difficulty. Excellent exercise. Then at the top one can slide, dive or jump into the beautifully warm sea water, which is probably 10 metre deep.

Back on the shore there is a cold water rinse shower which is refreshing and cleansing.
I am annoyed that the fridge  still is not doing what it should. Now is the time to fix it as we have a free day tomorrow. I abandon the idea of removing it after seeing the top firmly stuck to a deflection plate. But the wire I had got in Innsbruck eventually coaxes the remaining bit of steel wool out of the heat exchanger. It also coaxes a spiral piece of stainless steel used to circulate the gases. It should be perfect now.

Back to the water slide and rinse shower to cool off as this refrigeration work is hot work.

Evening falls and a very peculiar transition takes place. Whereas during the day, not a person is clothed, after some ill defined time, progressively people cover up until by 8 pm almost no one is unclothed. Yet the night is still very hot. This rather peculiar transition is emphasised when I walked into an area where ice cream is available without any clothes and people stare! Incomprehensible! We ask a few poeple the protocol and it seems there is none but getting dressed in the evening is what they do. But not at their campsites. Furthermore, some people go to the shower blocks dressed and some not. Very confusing. It takes us Aussies to show the Europeans a thing or two. Or to be precise, I show them a thing and Ro two.

Next day we spend water sliding, ice berging and walking. Valalta covers probably 6 or 8 square km and it is easy to get temporarily lost. Heading to the coast and following that until we recognise a land mark seems to be the most successful strategy for finding our van.

Saturday 27th August 2011 Rijeka, Croatia 

Saturday morning dawns and it is time to travel to Opatija for the start of our 7 day cruise. Despite being only 75 km away, TomTom says it will take 1 hour 20 minutes or there abouts. In brackets it says "but double that for idiots". As it happens we need to double it, but I think that is just coincidence.

The trip to Opatjia goes without incident. Finding the boat doesn't. We expected Opatjia to be smaller and the point from which the boat is leaving to be obvious. It isn't. Not only are the streets narrow, but they seem unnamed and parking along them is chaotic. But that does not matter as we don't have a clue where to go. It is 11 am and the boat leaves at 1pm. Surely it will not take two hours to find a boat. Surely not........... We stop in what seems to pass for a parking space. That is if you ignore all the parking spaces which masquerade as road lanes, footpaths, stop sign areas at intersections or anywhere else which is not currently occupied by anything.

First port of call for help is a local. No English. Ro suggests we try a hotel. She stays with the van to persuade any zenophobic police that where we are parked is better than where the locals park. She will have problems if she has to move the van as she has not yet driven it, let alone negotiating the 'wrong' side of the road. Fortunately she does not need to.

The hotel people are very helpful. A minor problem is that our documentation does not say which shipping line, the name of the boat, the departure point or any other minor detail needed to locate the boat. However with a few phone calls, all is revealed. A quick scribble on a map and we are off back the way we came, although on the upper return road.

The lack of road names, traffic directions or anything else means we are not home and hosed as yet, but we are again hanging out for a hosing to cool down.

We find another parking area and manoevre the van into a place. Ro stays again and I walk down to the foreshore to get directions. This involves a long climb down dozens of steps to be told we are about 3 km further up the road than we need to be. Up the steps and back to the van. Manoevre to the parking bay exit. However, now someone has parked in the spot which was masquerading as the exit road. Why would that inconvenience anyone? There is still the other side of the road.... well enough of it anyway....if you are not  driving a motorhome. But there is just enough space and we continue back the way we came. Another false stop or two and there we have what we need. An unmarked road down to an unmarked dock to meet an unmarked cruise line. But there is a marked boat, so what is the fuss about? At this stage the van is parked at a stop sign in a position which we had criticized others for parking in just a few minutes ago. That is because we are not allowed to take the van to the dock.The attendant explains it is OK by him but not the police. But the police don't seem to  mind us being parked at a stop sign.

We had arranged for our van to be securely parked for 12 euro per day. We want to park it ourselves and set the alarm which I  finish installing as we wait for the guy to show us where the parking is. Brinksmanship has become our stock in trade. The guy turns up in an Audi and we are instructed to follow at a fair pace down narrow streets up steep hills, along unmade roads for 15 minutes to the secure area. The most secure part was that no one could find the bloody place. There is a chainwire fence which will keep out all questionable types as long as they are blind, unable to walk and no wind blows the fence down. The guy offers to drive the van back when we return and we accept since I rationalise that an alarm is only of value if someone hears it and does something about it. Since that was not going to happen they might just as well have full access to it. Anyway, is that not what insurance is for?

We get a lift back in a small Saab with  three others who are not customers. The driver takes the short way back which involves hand brake turns, heavy braking and generally creating what seems to us like havoc but which presumably is normal driving in these parts.  

Finally we board the boat. Freedom at last. Someone else is now responsible for where we are to be and when. We can relax.

The boat is a pleasant surprise. We had only known that the boat has about 10 cabins and is a restored Catagory B boat. What that means we don't know. Our pleasant surprise is that the boat is only two years old and is bigger than we expected. It has one lower deck with 6 or 8 cabins, a second deck with a further 8 or 10 cabins, a third deck with an eating area, kitchen and wheelhouse and a sundeck above that. The cabins are spacious (as boat cabins go) each with a spacious  en suite.

After a short welcome speech, we leave port and are immediately served a lunch of pasta and chicken. Our fellow passengers consist of an Australian couple , 7 or 8 English couples and two single English men and 7 or 8 German couples.
Our trip covers islands in the Kvarner Bay area. We head toward Cres on smooth seas with lovely warm breezes. Along the way we stop to swim in the aqua waters which are beautifully clear and tepid. After half an hour or so we continue past cliffs densely vegetated with lush green trees and rocky edges extending into deep waters.

We reach the village of Cres about 5 pm. We are to tie up here for the night and we are responsible for obtaining our own dinner from any of the multitude of eating places. We walk down tiny alleyways 1.5 metres wide with buildings towering either side,  hundreds of years old. At the waterfront, stone areas extend to the sea which laps against numerous little fishing boats, bobbing only 30 cm below the paving, no barrier to prevent the unwary from an unwelcome dunking. The scene is so wonderfully picturesque, with 3 or 4 storey buildings painted in various pastel colours of yellow, blue pink, red and even mauve. The shuttered windows are bordered by stone window frames. All centuries old, with only the occasional modern building, generally obscured or sympathetically integrated into the vista.

As the evening progresses, lights twinkle and pavements became crowded with people but not unpleasantly so. Markets and stalls pop up and waiters cajol passing potential patrons. A busker play guitar as families, couples and individulas pass.
We decide our lunch has been sufficient so we choose to buy an icecream. Some of the locals could do with a little coaching in customer relations. It would seem that more effort is made to entice the customer than is made after the customer has decided to buy. Our ice cream vendor reluctantly describes the flavours available as they are only marked in Croation (if that is the correct term for the text). We select our flavours and he indicates the price of 10 kuna( about 7 kuna to the A$). We fiddle with some change but only have 8 kuna. I open my wallet and only have a 200 kuna note. With some annoyance he asks "Do we have anything smaller?" then reluctantly gives us change as our answer is no.

About 10.30 we return to the boat for an early night. But before that we find a wifi hot spot and checked some emails. We also send an email to Felix in Germany to say our much travelled USB modem is returning to him as we had left it in Zurich.

Our cabin is on the port side which is the side we will always moor. As the nights are hot, we leave our door open. Unfortunately all the noise of the port enters our cabin, slightly attenuated by a red curtain which also attenuates the breeze as well. However the evenings are comfortable and we require only a sheet early in the morning for some additional warmth.

Sunday 28th August 2011 : Cres, Croatia.

We awake at 7am to be ready for breakfast in the dining area at 8 am. As we consum our light meal of cereal, coffee, bread and a hard boiled egg, the boat leaves port and starts toward the island of Losinj and the village of Mali Losinj. Today the wind is quite strong but still warm. The boat heals some degrees under the assault of the crisp breeze.

Although where we stop for a swim is sheltered,  the wind is still crisp and the anchor is only just up to the task of holding the boat.  Over the time we stay in the cove the boat drags anchor  some distance. A strong current is running and most people choose not to swim. However one lady who does  swim is unable to swim back to the boat and a rope is required to help her back. We express some concern to the crew as there are no life rings evident and the zodiac tender is significantly flat. However, apart from a mildly distressed swimmer, no harm has been done and we continue to Mali Losinj, arriving early afternoon.

Earlier in the afternoon, passengers had been asked if they wished to go into port early or stay out on the water. Due to a misunderstanding, the passengers had agreed to go into port early but then when in port ask to go out for a swim from the boat. Unfortunately, before this modified plan was actioned, two passengers had gone off walking and the boat is not able to leave. We are those two passengers.

We spend the afternoon walking around Mali Losenj. It is consierably bigger than Cres although buildings are of similar age, design and similarly varying in colour. We walk  along numerous narrow passages from which dwellings directly opened.
A church spire had taken our interest and we decide to take a closer look. Navigating to the structure involves entering a maze of passages and walking up steps and along zigzag corridores in the general direction of our goal. Here and there we  catch a glimpse of the spire from between the two and three storey buildings either side and adjust our direction. We eventually reach the church built in a relatively large  square with chequered black and white flagstones defining the church grounds.On entering the church, there is a wealth of religious icons, alters and artworks, all masterfully crafted and all centuries old.

We leave the church and find a statue which looks like it has been reclaimd from the sea. It is made of wood with copper cladding. The wood over the centuries has largely rotted from the copper skin and some of the copper itself has been lost through corrosion. It sits on a rough stone base and is prevented from falling over by two loops of rope round the waist and through a corroding iron grille. With so many ancient artifacts, it must be difficult to know what to restore or mount appropriately.

We walk past a derelict building, the doors of which are lightly chained shut but through which a glimpse can be had of the stone interior. We muse on how it would be to buy such a building and restore it. The feeling quickly passes as we consider the logistics of getting building materials to the site via the narrow laneways and steps.

As night falls, the town is again transformed into a bustling, bright market and eatery. Soft street lights create a magical mood and waiters again cajol patrons. We select an appropriate area to eat but are informed, again in that rather off hand fashion, that there is not room for us. No suggestion that we should return in 10 or 15 minutes. We continue to another area where there are tables on the street, however this too is full. This time, thought, the waiter says there  there are some tables available inside if that suits us. In order to round our cultural experience we accept.

Inside there is a slight musty smell and the bench seats are hard despite the cushions. A friendly waitress comes to take our drink orders. There are no dry wines so I agreed to one of the sweet white wines. She returns shortly to say they have none of the first and the second is vermouth. Water will be fine then. But she presses and I instead accepted a beer, which is served in a long stemmed wine glass. Our meals consist of tasty small fish with vegetables and bread. We choose not to have desert and the bill is 170 kuna, about A$35. After a pleasant stroll back to the boat, we enjoy another comfortable sleep.

Monday 29th August 2011 : Mali Losenj , Croatia.

Next morning we go for a short walk, aware that the boat is to leave at 8am for Molat, a tiny town on a tiny island with few facilities. Because of that we have booked in for the Captain's Dinner on board.

We cruise calm waters until midday where we moor for lunch and swimming. We stay there until 6pm. Waters are calm, blue, clear and warm.  This time the zodiac has been inflated and is in the water. There is also a rope from the boat to the rocky edge of the coast, both there to ensure no repeat of the problem of the day before.

I  swim to the shore wearing diving boots as there are sea urchins in the area. Unfortunately, (here we go again) as I climb onto the rocks, I slip and cut my hand. A fair lump of skin is left on the rock, so I return to the boat keeping my hand out of the water, although some blood splashes into the water. Back on board, I explain to disbelieving Europeans that in Oz, land of everything that bites, stings or invenimates, we try not to bleed excessively into sea water as sharks have acute senses of smell. What I had not noticed was a strip of skin neatly excised from my posterior. Although we see no evidence of big fish having been attracted, the poor 20 something girl who is one of the ship's crew and is designated first-aid officer suffers the fate of having to apply antiseptic and sticking plaster to the wound. I suggest she had probably not signed up for that and she readily agrees. Mind you, her embarrassment may  be less than mine as numerous persons offer advice on what should be done for my bleeding posterior.  I can't even offer comment as I cannot see what had happened. After a relaxing afternoon, at 6 we weigh anchor and motor a short distance to Molat.

Dinner is scheduled for 7.30 pm so we have a little over an hour to explore the small town. This is more than adequate as there is little infrastructure. The highlights are a clock tower at whose door one can hear the clock tick and a drawing of two people on a church door indicating that men and women in shorts are not to enter the church. With these as highlights, it should be apparent that there is not a lot to see. In any case,  many of the buildings are quite modern among ruins of old buildings. As it happens there is a number of eating places so we need not have had the Captain's Dinner. However our dinner is served  outside on the aft deck and a thoroughily enjoyable night is had by the 16 passengers who have opted for the dinner. We talk until midnight then retired to our cabins for a peaceful night's sleep.

Tuesday 30th August 2011: Molat , Croatia.

Next morning, the boat leaves at 8 am while we have our breakfast. Zadar is the destination, far larger than anything we have visited on the cruise so far. Along the way we stop for swimming and spend most of the day at anchor in a calm, secluded bay enjoying the water and the warmth.

About 3.30pm we motor for 30 minutes to Zadar, a spralling city with numerous outlying villages and a walled city, old Zadar, near the dock.

Where there are too many boats for the available berths, a common problem, boats raft up along side one another. In Mali Losinj, one boat had rafted up to us, but in Zadar the boats are rafted 4 deep, we being number 3. To get to the dock requires large steps over watery chasms to go from boat to boat. However, this is normal in Croatia and somewhat mirrors what is done for car parking. Fortunately, with cars, there is no requirement to scramble through each to get to the pavement. However, if that were required, I am sure it would happen without a second thought.

The walled city is entered by a tunnel. A slight oversight seems to be that there are only walls on two sides, but maybe foes here are easily confused. The buildings within the walled city date back to a few centuries AD. They are impressive and very aesthetically pleasing.The alleyways are not as narrow and numerous as in Marli Losinj but the buildings tower even higher either side.

There is an archealogical dig which has exposed ruins from Roman times with carved stone blocks, foundations, columns and other relics all accessible to those walking by. A tower with an observation platform and probably hundreds of spiral steps can be climbed. In deference to Ro's floating cartlidge in her knee and the heat of the night we don't but our photos show the magnificence of the structure, especially at night time.

We walk around the old city for some hours deciding what, if anything, we will have for dinner. We eventually settle on some salad rolls mainly because we cannot decide on anything else. Bad choice as it happens.

Near the water on the unwalled side of the city, modernity meets the ancient. One display is an array of solar panels set into the pavement which flash red, blue, yellow and assorted other colours. A little out of keeping with the theme I feel. There is also a set of organ pipes unique in the world which are powered by the waves on the sea. A melodious if somewhat repetitive chorus eminates, somewhat reminescent of whale calls.
As we are starting to experience wifi withdrawal symptoms, we go to a wifi cafe and have some coffee while checking emails and uploading the most recent cerebral meanderings. Once again, the evening is perfect.

Returning to our boat, we clamber over the two inner boats to reach our boat. After a short time on the sun deck enjoying the evening, we retire to our cabin. It is somewhat more claustrophobic due to the proximity of the next boat and air circulation and noise are less than optimal.

Wednesday 31 August 2011 : Zadar, Croatia.

Next morning we discover another downside to being rafted up to another boat. At 5.30am, Princez Diana, an attractive boat of similar size to us, starts to experience severe intestinal problems when her generator is started. The cooling water pipe must be a little too large so she burp and gurgles at quite an elevated volume, rendering further  sleep  impossible. We are thankful that she had not had cabbage the previous night.

After breakfast, another day in paradise begins. Calm waters mark our 4 hour trip to Rab, another walled medieval city. During the trip we stop for two swimming sessions. We have not seen any sharks and assume there are none about. However, one of the crew mentions that they had seem some as we motored along, so they are wary about where we anchor. We can only assume that they share this information with us Aussies in the mistaken belief that we keep them as pets, along with all the other bitey things we have. However, all passengers are accounted for as we left so it is sharks none, boat 26, which is the way we preferr it (if you don't include smokers).  Thern after our second swim stop we enter Rab about 5.30pm.

We have noticed how clean everything is in Croatia. Where ever there are boats, there are people cleaning and polishing. In Rab, we notice cleaners sweeping and removing rubbish early in the morning, working from bicycle powered cleaning carts.

Rab has a medieval walled city which is extremely well preserved. Although the buildings show their original character and an appropriate amount of decay, all the now familiar narrow passages are paved with a non slip and even stone which, though contemporary, is completely in keeping with the stone used in the buildings. It makes the area a joy to explore.

The bell tower we had not climbed in Zadar was repeated in design here and we decide to climb that. A sign advises climbing at own risk. And risk there is. I cannot imagine in our protected Australian environment that tourists would get to the first step. The climb consists of narrow, steep ladders between stone floors at about 3 metre separations. On the penultimate floor, we share a cramped space with a set of 3 bells, with electric motors and chain drives to operate the 1 metre diameter bells. We hope that the bells will not operate with us near by as they would  be deafening. The final climb is up two flights of steep steel ladders which exit through a small stone hole onto an open observation platform probably 50 metres above the ground. We hope the stone ballustrade will not  succumb to centures of  ravaging by wind and sea spray. I find it a bit unnerving as I have an uncomfortable urge to jump, an urge I have so far resisted. But the view is magnificent. Climbing down from the observation platform involves reversing through the small hole and tentatively placing one's foot on the top rung before the careful descent to the bell support.

The journey down involves some inexpressable agreement between those below and those above as there is only one staircase per level and room for only one on the stairs. But somehow it works itself out. Perhaps the most difficult protocol is determining how to ascertain the ladder is vacant without looking up the dress of women above. Perhaps for some the protocol is reversed.

We spend another few hours combing the passageways, with unexpected treasures around every twist and turn. The warm evening air and the soft lighting add to the beautiful setting.

Thursday 1st September 2011: Rab , Croatia .

Next morning we leave for the island and town of Krk. Stopping along the way for swimming, we luxuriate in the warm turquoise waters. We walk to an abondoned lighthouse.

After lunch we travel closer to Krk again stopping for a swim. Life is relaxed and peaceful. At 4pm we continue a short way to our destination.

Krk also has the remnants of a medieval wall and similar passages weave between 2 storey buildings. Our impression is that the town is less clean  than others visited. We are slightly medievalled out and the ooh-aah factor is noticably less. Furthermore, along the waterfront, the quaint fishing boats are replaced by inflatable boats for hire. The stalls offer more tourist trivia and their numbers and size are increased. Prices vary considerably, with many goods displayed having no pricetag, presumably to facilitate variation according to how the stall holder  perceives the wealth of the tourist.
Later in the evening, while discussing our experiences with other passengers, we watch a long inflatable boat with two large outboards head out to sea with another load of thrill seekers. We decide to take a ride. Six fellow passengers and one crew member climb  into the vessel. The seats are like saddles with safety harnesses over shoulders and around waists. The boat  slowly leaves the port heading for calm open sea. The engines open to full throttle and we accelerate to full speed. The boat is thrown from side to side and tight circles are executed at high speed. This continues for 15 minutes until the alloted time has expired. There is  some thunder and lightening  while we are thrown about the seas. While the lightening provides a  specticular light show, we are pleased not to be part of its path to earth and it is with some relief that  we return to port.  

Exhilorated by our experience we decide to walk for a while. Although the food stalls have closed, the bars and night life are in full swing. We walk past a girl dancing on a podium at a less than frenetic pace. One of our party climbs onto a vacant podium and gyrates to the wild applause of patrons. Now that's how to table top dance! We continue walking,  returning to the boat by 1 am for a well earned sleep.

Friday 2nd September 2011 : Krk , Croatia.

Our final day dawns slightly overcast. There are even some rain drops during the morning but the temperature remains idyllic. We stop for our last swim and enjoy lunch by a rocky beach, one of the few we have encountered during our trip. Far from the sandy expanses we are used to in Australia, the beach is a short stretch of steeply sloping pebbles not appropriate for comfortable sun bathing.

About 3 pm we motor back to Opatija for our final night. We explore Opatija in the same way we have explored other ports. However Opatija is far bigger than the other ports and the shops, night life and activities are far more varied and widespread. The old hotels and buildings are far more modern, only being one or two hundred tears old. The city is clean, safe and beautiful.

A group of us has lovely dinner served by an attentive and friendly waiter. As we walk back, activities abound, including what looks like a latin american dance competition on the terrace of an elegant century old building. Music booms out from speakers, with all its tango melodrama. Competitors strut and juxtopose their bodies with only the roses in teeth missing. Diners at tables arranged oround the dance floor applaud sedately as each dance concludes.  As we walk from back toward the ship, the booming tango is gradually replaced by two operatic singers belting out their rendition of "Oh Sol o Mio" (pardon the operatic ignorance on many levels on my part).

We board our boat and reminisce our adventures and new friendships of the last week. This is a sad parting as we have made firm friends and shared many wonderful experiences. We retire to bed, except for our last evening's podium dancer who goes clubbing with the young crew members, to their mutual delight.

Saturday 3rd September 2011 : Opatjia , Croatia.

Next morning we pack and go to the dining room for our final breakfast. The relatively quiet and short breakfasts of earlier in the week have been replaced by noisy, laughter filled extended meals. But the time arrives for farewells, which occupy another hour. Finally we are back in our "L'escargot de wheels" ready for what is next in store.  
We head toward Plitvicka Jezera (also called Plitvice), a set of inland lakes in a national park and about 150 km away. By now, we are getting used to narrow roads, getting ready for turns and are generally better prepared for navigation.

Some of the roads have sheer drops down  perhaps 100 metres to the sea and small concrete blocks or at best low stone walls are built to prevent cars leaving the road. Unnervingly, some are broken.

A further problem with the roads is the narrowness combined with the number of motorbikes. At one point we see the result of incautious overtaking by a motorbike. We come apon an accident scene where a motorbike lies crumpled in front of a campervan which has run off the road and itself lies at an odd angle with doors open. It is a distubring scene which affects us for some time. Some hours later, we are nearly involved in a similar incident when a motorbike passes us too close to an oncoming vehicle, just squeezing in front of us with probably 30 metre to spare and narrowly avoiding a 180 kmh collision.

As we travel we spy a petrol station with an LP gas pump. Maybe our chance to get the tank filled, something we have been trying to do without success since we left Charroux. This search has accounted for numerous excursions off our planned (and in many cases unplanned) route. I drive into the station (well not quite into.....that has yet to come) and ask about LP gas. We are directed to a pump well away from the petrol and diesel pumps.
I have driven motorhomes on many occasions and have prided myself on never having done any overhead damage. I can no longer maintain that pride. As I turn toward the pump, there is a noise I would prefer not to  hear as the steel awning over the pump is slightly modified. The station attendent holds his head with both hands and I abruptly stop. Fortunately, as I back away, there is only slight  damage evident on either the awning or the van. Unfortunately, the adaptors I have are not suitable for connection of the gas nozzle so we are still without a refill. When I mention the awning damage, the attandant waves us away with a comment of 'No matter' or something similar.

We continue on to our destination, climbing over the steep mountain range and eventually reach the lakes. We decide to stay at a camping ground with a view to  spending the next day exploring the lakes. A slight impediment is my foot which for some reason has become inflamed and which makes walking difficult. Ro finds what might be a sting from some creature and removes it. Maybe tomorrow the swelling will have gone.

We had asked at the national park what camping was available, so having been told of a campsite by a river, we head 15km toward the camp, hoping for a swim as it is still quite hot. What we have not been told is that the river is dry this time of the year. However it is getting late in the afternoon now, so by the time we set up, we have cooled to a tolerable level.

We settle in for the night, once again enjoying the lack of flies and mosquitoes. This is probably our best sleep for the past two weeks. On the boat, having a cabin port side had always resulted in our receiving all the noise from the nearby revelries. Last night in Opatija, the noise continued until 6am.

Sunday 4th September 2011 Plitvice Lakes , Slovenia.

Our long sleep results in our getting up at 9 am and we do not clear our campsite until 10.30 when we head for the National Park. The entrance fee is 110 kuna each or A$22. That cost includes boat rides, bus rides and the walks within the park.

All the walks are either marked tracks or raised timber boardwalks. The scenery is magnificent with aqua hued lakes fed by many waterfalls, some towering above the water surface. The lakes step down in a fashion reminiscent of Katherine in Northern Territory in Australia. Fish abound and swim in schools of hundreds of varying sizes from 50mm to 400mm. Ducks abound. All seem to live in harmony, untroubled by humans who are not allowed to fish, swim or otherwise interfere with the natural environment. The unfortunate exception is cigarette butts which, as elsewhere, abound, littering the otherwise unspoiled environment.

We walk for over an hour past waterfalls and deep aqua lakes to a point where we will take an electrically powered boat ride across the biggest of the five lakes. At the end of the trip we can take a bus back or walk further to another bus stop. We choose the latter and start trekking. Along the way we see more wonderful waterfalls and beautiful natural scenes. All around, the banks are covered with conifers, silver birches and other deciduous trees, some starting to change to autumn colours. Finally we ask some walkers coming toward us how  far to the next bus station and are informed the path does not lead that way so we retrace our steps. Croatia is clean, modern and its people helpful. But their signage leaves something to be desired.

Along the way, we keep an eye out for aluminium cans and loose nails on the boardwalk. The former to fix a cover on the van's roof and the latter to fix a hinge. We find the can but cannot extract a nail. We don't try too hard with the nails as it would be poor form to have a boardwalk collapse to fix our hinge. As we walk we sing our theme song:

"Overground Underground, Wombeling free
The Wombles of Wimbledon Common are we
Making good use of the things that we find
The things that the everyday folk leave behind......"

Periodically, Ro murmers something about Steptoe and son.
We eventually get back to the bus stop. The bus is a huge Mercedes truck with two carriages filled with timber seats. But it is very high quality and the chairs are comfortable.

By now we are a little footsore, me especially as my foot is still somewhat swollen. Consequently we are pleased to be driven back to the parking area. Or so we think. In actual fact, the bus stops 2 km back from the carpark and we have to trudge back on foot.

But this path is now 50 metre above our original path earlier in the afternoon and the view is spectacular. Despite this, we are pleased to reach our little home of which we have become quite fond even with allowances for her shortcomings.  

We decide to stay at the same camping ground which was quite pleasant. We stop at a supermarket which has a logo very similar to  MacDonalds. I would imagine there were some discussions regarding this. We buy a bottle of Chardonnay, some carrots, some bread and some yoghurt then continue on to our camp. We locate a site and get ready for the night.

Monday 5th September 2011 : Plitvice Lakes , Slovenia.

Fortunately, the weather is a little cooler and the fridge is now working, aided by some ice in the freezer. Unfortunately the electronic igniter has decided to stop working so when we use power at night, relighting the gas requires a bit of disassembly of the bottom of the fridge to light the burner with a match. I will need to look at that soon....along with the hot water service and the heater, should we need it when we go to Germany. These little faults are invaluable to prevent me pining away for something to fix. I just hope our journey finishes before I fix everything. Fortunately there are a lot of little problems so I need not worry too much.  

Didn't fix the jgniter (not a typo.....too much exposure to Croatian where a j is pronounced y). But did waste a morning. About 11 am we drive to where there is some wifi and try uploading some more of this waffle.

Our problem is deciding where to go next. Not such a bad problem to have but still needing resolution. Our plan was to head to Dubrovnik but the round trip is 1000km and we have seen numerous walled cities, for which Dubrovnik is renouned. Maybe we will leave that for the next trip.

Resolved! We will head back to Villach for tonight then go toward Vienna. Maybe. Tom Tom plots a route and we obediently follow directions. It is interesting to look at all the houses which are either abandoned or partly built. Presumably the worldwide move from country to city. Why one would do that I don't know.

About lunchtime we see another sign suggesting availability of gas. But as usual, there is no adaptor. But we take the opportunity to question a local as to how the speed limits work. How does one know after a speed limit has been declared when the general speed limit again applies? I have been reluctant to follow other drivers as they may be breaking the limit. But when there is a long line of cars following, one can assume one is going too slowly. However during the  discussion with the local he states s that they don't know when the limits change either!

We pull into a wifi hotspot we see advertised about 1 pm with a view to calling home. However no one wants to talk except Judy although that is also with some effort. At times the discussion is clear and delay free, at times non existent and at times would seem to be crossed with a line to a whale conversation. But it is lovely to hear a familiar voice.
We continue and eventually see a sign to Plitvice. This is where we left two hours ago. Have we set the GPS to "ever decreasing circles" mode inadvertently? Or are Garmin and TomTom in cahoots? Anyway we are heading to Ljublijana so all is well.

Some hours later we get to the border between Croatia and Slovenia. The crossing out of Croatia takes about 15 minutes for some reason but we breeze through into Slovenia. We need to buy a vignette for use of the toll roads. This is sold from a mobile icecream van type vehicle. It is 15 euro for 7 days which is unfortunate as our previous one only ran out a day or 2 ago. But my travel money card will not talk! Was it skimmed at our last wifi spot when we checked how much was left? A moment or two of mild panic as we have too few notes and coins. I return to another little office and there is an ATM which does provide me some money. Back on the road again.

TomTom says we will arrive in Villach by 7.45 er... 7.46 er... 8.15, the time increasing with each little hold up. Also as we travel, TomTom assumes we will travel at motorway speeds. TomTom is optimistic. At long hills, our speed drops to 70 kmh as we take refuge in the truck lane.

We abandon hopes to reach Villach and instead opt for Camp Smlednik near Ljubljana. This is where we were to stay on out trip to Opatija but had instead continued onto Rovinja.
We are thankful to have a GPS as we drive along narrow roads through small delightful villages. Eventually we turn down a narrow lane into Camp Smlednik. The likelihood of finding this without the GPS would have been close to zero! We checkin and choose a campsite by the river. The camp is lovely and green, quiet, treed and is nestled among quaint buildings.

Dinner is available at 6 euro each. Ro has a deep fried trout and I have pork. A glass of wine is 0.90 euro but a taster is offered first which is almost a full glass. I accept the wine, so the glass is filled again. 13 euro for two dinners and two glasses of wine. Prices in both Croatia and Slovenia are low.

Tuesday 6  August 2011 : Ljubljana , Slovenia.

We sleep well with no noisy neighbours and a cooler night until the local rooster makes up for the lack of noise at 5.30am next morning.

There is nothing we need to do today so we spend a leisurely morning which includes calls to Scot and Jacinta. As it is convenient for Scot to log onto Skype, we can show him some live video of our van and the surrounding area. We had always intended doing that but our lower than expected internet access has meant this is the first time we have used video. Seeing our home in the background is a nice feeling and Scot enjoys the live video from our end.

By lunch time we are ready to sight see again. We travel back through the narrow streets and quaint villages. We intend avoiding the motorway in travelling the 20 km back to Ljubljana so we can see the local area. But a wrong turn sends us back to the motorway. As we intend staying at Camp Smlednik again tonight, we can take the long way home later.

In the city centre of Ljubljana we do as TomTom instructs and travel down a small road lined with taxis and buses  to the dead end where we join taxis in a cramped pas de deux to return up the street. No one seems fussed as we move a bit forward to allow the last turning vehicle to creep past. The fact that we are in a vehicle too big to be there does not seem an issue. Everyone here is used to squeezing past in narrow roads or waiting until the oncoming vehicle can find a space to move over to allow clearance to past.
Next problem is where to leave the van. We wish we had a scooter or bicycles and will consider getting one or other. Eventually we find a spot off road in what seems to be a suburban street. We walk back toward the city centre which TomTom claims is 300 metre away, if you can fly. In between are roads, rivers and buildings.

But we find our way into a quaint old area where we have iced coffee by the river. Although rivers and tributaries cross the old sector back and forth, the high walls make it seem more like Venice (although we have not seen that city yet). We are directed to the centre of the old sector and are captivated by the buildings and ambience. Cars are excluded but bicycles and motorized bicycles abound, with some careering at breakneck speed with little but the high pitched bee like buzz to warn of their approach.

The old city is captivating and we have fallen in love with it. The newer part of the city is like any other, maybe even a bit more shabby than many but the old sector has a blend of rejuvenated buildings with original slightly decrepit but nonetheless charming buildings.

We come upon a train with 6 or 7 carriages which offers rides to Ljubljana Castle, high on the hill which overlooks the city. We buy tickets for 3 euro each and climb aboard. The loco is a diesel vehicle made up to look like a cute steam loco. The carriages are 4 wheel trailers which obediently track behind the loco. We negotiate narrow streets and obstacles then climb to the castle where we get out. We can get any other train back at 20 minutes past the hour.

The castle is an amazing architectural feat which keeps the ancient flavour of the castle but adds eclectic modernisations. It is difficult to describe the effect achieved, but with use of rusted steel columns, exposed original rock and concrete support structures, the effect is amazing. There is a courtyard where a band is playing, with tables and chairs available for food and drinks. We also walk around the castle on boardwalks, one of which passes through the tree canopy on a steel side of the hill. On returning to our train station, we walk up through a surreal space with a large stiral staircase, clear tables and chairs and boxes of clear stone crystals. Once again, the materials are so in keeping with the castle materials.

As we board the train, a local young woman with two children asks us the time in perfect English. We chat as her children play outside the train. I am impressed with how she lets her 3 year old (I guess) boy play on chairs, exploring and exposed to falling but learning his limits. When he reaches a certain point, she goes to prevent him exceeding his capabilities. This seems to be the way in these areas, which is how we were some decades ago before we became a nanny state. I think people are better equipped for life if they have some responsibility for their own actions. Maybe some injuries may occur on the way but life does involve some risks and we are better able to assess the risks if we have had some exposure to them. We noted this in climbing the tower in Rab and with our walking at the  Plitvice Lakes.

The train takes off without warning. The little boy is on his mother's knee, but the 6 year old daughter is still by the chairs. I jump off and scoop her up. But before I can, she dashes to retrieve a favourite toy which is by the chair. By the time I have her in my arms, the train is at walking pace. I place her next to her mother and clamber in the carriage  behind. The train stops because another passenger wants to board. All is well and we continue back to the old city, chatting to the mother who is a mathematician with a physicist husband whom she is picking up from Venice this weekend after a conference. We have a good conversation and after parting we regret not leaving some email address. But that is travel.

We walk a bit further, captivated at every turn. We stop to ask directions, unsure of the way back to the van. Does the person speak English. "Too right" or something similar is the Australian response. With a handful of Ozzies in Ljubljana, we choose two to ask. They are from Perth and have a map which they give to us as they are leaving that night.
We cross the river and below on a motorized barge, a brass band is playing.We return to our van and head back to our camp.

But on the way we have a few goodies to buy at the hardware store. Not having been to a Bunnings store for over three weeks, I am beginning to show signs of the DTs so it is with joy that I discover a store called Merkur which is bigger than Bunnings! One battery drill, one grinder, one extension lead, 2 tubes of sealant, two banana lounges, one hammer etc,etc and 150 euro later and I am feeling much better. The trembling has reduced and I am ready to work. With a few more aluminium cans, some duct tape and some bits of string, I will have the van better than new.  

We return to Smlednik and have a light dinner prepared by Ro in the van. The fridge is now operating well, partly because of the cooler weather. I am now confident that if it were snowing outside, we could create ice in the fridge. This would also be helped by the fact that I have not fixed the heater yet. But we hope to stay clear of snow. And the igniter now works. It had stopped because the house battery was low in voltage. If the engine had been started, the igniter would have worked. There is nothing  better than a problem which does not need to be fixed. Except perhaps for a problem which does not need to be fixed and which one has not spent 1 hour trying to fix.

Wednesday 7th September 2011 : Ljubljana , Slovenia.

Next day we decide to laze about. This is indeed a treat as we have been in the one location for 3 nights. But we still need to go back for a few hardware items and for some food. We also want to try again for gas while we are in Slovenia.

We follow TomTom on a wild goose chase to find an address where we will get some parts for the gas system. We decide to try Garmin again and the two try to outdo one another with one saying turn left here and the other saying turn right here. Neither takes us to the correct place, mainly because a human had given us the wrong address and we end up instead  in an unmade company car park at 4.30 when the employees are trying to leave. Did I mention that there were road works also so we had fun with those too. Finally we get to a place which can sell us the gas. But as before we go back and forth finally finishing at a place which shows us a handfull of fittings, one of which is the one we have. At last! Someone who has our fitting, which we learn is German. Now the bad news. The adaptor which fits the German fitting........ was sold by the guy's colleague to a motorist two weeks ago!!!! Why that was done the guy did not know. Where we could get one he also did not know. It is like the old computer game of Where in the World is Carmen San Diago.  Meanwhile, I have finally worked out which part on the guage is empty and we are approaching it. Maybe some snow would be helpful.

So back to the camp, stopping on the way for groceries and a small vacuum cleaner and another doona. We are starting to become adept at moving items from our path as we move from front to back of the van.

A quick repair or two. Fit an exhaust fan and the flexible duct bought at Merkur. Charge the drill, fix a broken hinge; I can feel the life force returning. Then up to the cafe for another couple of  meals and wine for 13 euro and off to bed.

Thursday 8 September 2011 : Ljubljana , Slovenia .

After a good quiet sleep the next morning dawns. We are off to Graz in Austria. We enter our route on TomTom and answer Yes to Avoid Tollways. We want to see the little villages and countryside.

Our trip is 220 km and TomTom says it will take 4 hours, an average of under 60 kph. That suits us.

We leave Smlednik and start toward the alps over which we have to climb. This is what we had always envisioned. Passing through small villages of typical Slovenian/Austrian construction. As we get closer to the Alps, the road becomes serpentine and narrow.

We pull over frequently to let many motorbikes pass so they can enjoy the magnificent roads.This is a bikies dream and we wish we were on a bike too. We pass through quaint villages and single outlying houses and barns, frequently built right up to the road. We can imagine the snow on the buildings and notice on the rooves that there are metallic protrusions to prevent snow from dislodging at unexpected times. Frequently following rivers which still have clear cold water running, we can imagine the torrents when the snow is starting to melt. It is picture post card country.

At the Austrian border, we pass through now abandoned  border checks. Since the EU, there are no checks on passports within the EU. The Shengen agreement means the first Shengen country stamps the passport and the last but those between don't need to.

We travel down the serpentine road on the Austrian side and stop for lunch by a stream. Just lush green trees, the sound of the water and us. For us, this is really what life is about. Being self contained in our motorhome means we can readily enjoy out of the way places, including tracks only meant for bicycles as was the case on this occasion due to a translation difficulty. Ro prepares a lovely salad lunch. It is much cooler now so she is far happer (and I am less happy....but deleriously happy none the less).

After lunch we continue, driving through village after village and tall fields of maize along narrow roads.

We climb over another mountain range. This is less serpentine but far steeper and we cannot get out of first gear. The views down into the valley are fantastic. All the buildings are those we imagine of Austria. It is like a dream.

Along the way, we stop for afternoon tea in a small forest of native deciduous trees, some just starting to turn to autumn shades.

We continue and eventually travel into Graz. Unfortunately I do mean into Graz. We expected TomTom to skirt around Graz as we are staying about 20 km out of the city. But, no. TomTom takes us through peak hour down laneways, dodging cars, trams, cyclists and pedestrians. Not content with this test, TomTom gets confused and changes her mind half way down the indicated  street. After one loop, we manage to get back on track and arrive at our camp site by 6 pm.

It is quiet, charming and deserted but for the manager. I have an opportunity to use my battery drill to wreak a little havock with the heater and hot water service (which has been of no service to date). I am able to fix the heater, mainly by fiddling and can see a wire off on the hot water. But I need to remove it and this involves being double jointed in most of my joints. The advantage is that I can sleep in the glove box tonight which is handy as every other space is taken by bits I have removed to extract the water heater.
I will be happy when all the gas appliances are working. Pity we won't be able to use them as we can't get gas.

After a delicious dinner we go to bed early to be ready for our adventures in Graz tomorrow. We have learned about taking our van into cities so will leave it at a park and ride and go in by bus. It will be fun to see if we can find the van again on our return.

Friday 9 September 2011 : Graz, Austria .

Next morning we travel toward the Park n Ride. We spend some time finding the Park n Ride which may come as no surprise to readers of our previous escapades. Finally we find it. Hurrah! Followed closely by: Bugger! Our van is too tall. But as is usually the case with our escapades, we come across a cathedral high on a hill called Mariatrost Basilica.  As is also usual, it was at the top of a steep road. But our van  makes it to the top in first gear all the way.

The Basilica is probably the most beautiful man made item I have ever seen. Which is really saying something. There are few people inside as it is not on the tourist route. The condition is superb, through constant attention, and the sense of well being is amazing. The artistry and craftsmanship is amazing. We spend an hour or so just enjoying the solitude. Little disturbs the quiet but for whispered speech by some which is manifested as an etherial deep reverberating tone.

There is an eating place next to the Basilica which seems appropriate for a lunch stop. It is outdoors in summer with tables and chairs on a pebbled terrace. The mittagessen menu is mushroom soup followed by trout in a butter sauce, potatoes and snow peas. It is served piping hot and is truely delicious. And it costs 14 euro for the two of us!

It is too late for Graz city but we have been given a clue as to where we can get gas so we decide continue our quest; but to no avail. At a Maccas, we google LPG and a few servos come up. 50 km away! Next year we will ensure the tank is full and shorten our journey by a week. We return to our campsite, still without a gas refil.

A decision is made that next morning we will travel to Graz on the bus. Some directions from the camp manager and the challenge that an 82 year old resident walks to the stop in 15 minutes and our plans are set.

Saturday 10 September 2011 : Graz, Austria .

Next morning we start on our 15 minute walk. As we walk, Ro sees a sign and jokes that it probably says Beware the Bull! It does. And we don't know how to say "Nice bull" in German. Perhaps walking over that field is not a good idea. In any case, we can see the road we think we need across another field full of harvested pumpkins. Many acres of fields have rows and rows of pumpkins, presumably for livestock in winter. At the far side of the field is a creek which we can't cross. As we walk the perimeter of the field, 15 minutes comes and goes but finally a path becomes to the road becomes evident. But where is the bus stop and which direction do we need to take the bus? A passing cyclist provides the answer to both questions and we walk another km to the bus, which arrives promptly. As we travel toward Graz, we address the tricky problem of what bus we are on and how we will find it for the return journey and where was it we got on. One passenger answers Nien to Sprechen Sie English? She probably does though. Another answers "A little" but doesn't. Between my 45 year old school German and her 45 year old school English we manage to converse, but with a lot of puzzled looks. She kindly points out the hospital which I say to her I hope I will not need. However in hindsite I realise that that may actually have been a threat resulting from frustration. No matter.

At Graz everyone except the driver and us gets off the bus. We only notice after the bus leaves the stop that this is the case. So we ask the driver if the last stop was the one for the "Alt Stadt' (old city). It was. A short walk back and we are where we want to be.   

The Alt Sadt won the UNESCO Best Preserved European City in 1999 and 2003. And it is very impressive with modernity carefully hidden behind old and ancient facades. The main strasse has trams running down it but no cars or trucks. Bicycles (but no scooters), pedestrians and trams interact in harmony with everyone knowing the rules and behaving courteously.

Our exploration will follow a tourist guide of important buildings along a walk within the Alt Stadt which would be  3  or 4 km square. Courtyards abound, some small and functional, some larger with buildings well displayed. The first highlighted square has four buildings of various ages and styles, one of which is an Armoury from medieval times with 30,000 relics of armour and other generally non mechanised  weapons plus rifles, pistols. We understand the store is generally as it has been for centuries with the relics being cleaned annually. Quite a job.

I find viewing weaponry rather soul destroying and it makes me think roll on artificial intellegence as computers would surely do a better job than man has done to fellow men and the planet. However, the opportunity to view such a store of relics was too good to miss. For 6 euro (including a seniors discount which for the first time I remembered to ask for....but that may be my memory going) we visited the exhibition and were dismayed after seeing one room to find we were back at the exit. What a rip off , we thought. But what about the 30,000 relics mentioned in the pamphlet? Mutter mutter. But as we exit, we notice a staircase.... to another 4 floors! There are rows and rows of body armour from chain mail suits with 12,000 rings to full suits with head shields with small slits for eyes. There are racks of lances, swords, rifles and pistols. There are cannon and drums and horse armour. Fascinating but troubling to know all the equipment was intended to kill or protect from being killed. Nevertheless, very interesting from a historical perpsective.

We move on to other buildings and coutryards and up to the Graz Cathedral, built over 25 years in the 1400s. It is probably more impressive than MariaTrost Basilica but, maybe partly because of the tourists, does not have the effect as the Basilica .Maybe also because it is not our first but also my impression is that the Basilica has more natural light as it is in the open at the top of a hill.  Again, the craftsmanship, artistry and design are astounding. Furthermore, an organist is playing the huge pipe organ as we soak up the atmosphere. From the ceiling 30 or 40 metres above  hang chandeliers on long support wires. I observe one rotating about 10 degrees and back again over 3 or 4 minutes and imagined this ever so slow movement has been continuing for centuries.

We continue to a double spiral staircase built in 1499 which is formed in stone and quite remarkable. The steps above form part of the handrail and central column of each spiral below. How it was crafted is amazing and the effect is stunning.

On to a wooden  facaded bakery shop where we have coffee and apple strudel, both exquisite, if coffee can be exquisite. The atmosphere may have helped a bit!

Overlooking Graz is the Graz Schloss (castle) which can be reached by a funicular rail car which has operated for 100 years. However,the current one is very modern. It traverses a 60% incline towed up by cable. We are fortunate  to get a front seat, although the vehicle is such that those sitting behind are well above and will get a similar view, just not of the track. As our car starts its ascent, the other car, which has disgorged its passengers while ours are loaded, passes us on a short length of double track. Having passed one another, each car  continues on the one track.

At the top, we inspect the typical 14th century archway and yer common or garden 10th century ruin. All rather pedestrian now. We continue to where a glass lift lowers through the mountain back to street level. During WW2, 6.5 km of tunnles were dug into the mountain for protection of up to 40,000 people during air raids.There are 20 entrances and we walk through one tunnel segment back to the main street.

It is getting late so we head back to where we think we will find the bus. On the way we are tempted back into  the arcaded inner courtyard of the  Landhaus, a masterpiece of Italian Renaissance, where a brass band is playing. We spend some time listening then walk to the end of the main street. As we have not eaten, we order a schnitzel from a cafe de wheels. Typical Austrian food with a mere hint of Fast Food. The vendor, who is "from the newest country Kosovo" studying civil engineering in Austria,  is able to direct us to our bus stop.

With a bit of wandering, we find our bus stop and luckily a bus arrives to meet us. We show the driver some scribbling from the morning and confirm that it will stop at the town we have written. Ro checks with the driver whether we can eat on the bus and he responds  in a manner indicating he doesn't understand. I go to repeat the question in dreadful German. Meine Frau fragt is essen verboten? (my interpretation of "My wife asked if eating is forbidden") He answers that it is but it will be OK. I wonder if it is extreme bad manners so proceed to eat my schnitzel as surrepticiously as possible.

We had noted on Garmin where we had boarded the bus so are relying on that to tell us when are near our stop. But Garmin cannot see the satelite on the bus, despite my helping by holding it near windows and assorted other places (See, they are not under the seat, or in the top luggage racks).

We instead hope we will recognise the stop in time to actually get the bus to stop. However, as we had shown the driver an approximation to a town name, that is where we stopped. I use some German to tell him we needed one more stop. So we stop there and I use more German to say one more stop. Finally we stop at the stop we need, a mere 3 km walk from our campsite.

Sunday 11 September 2011 : Graz, Austria .

We sleep well tonight. Our plan had been to visit Eggenberg Schloss next day but we intended taking the van. Instread, the camp manager says we can use his car as it will be easier than parking the van. We accept and set off about 9.30 .... and again at 10.00 after we have to return for my driving license in case we are stopped by police.

The castle is huge. Taking 60 years to complete, it was started in 1625 and was built as a sign of power by an influencial prince. With 1 metre thick walls and three storeys, it was no small undertaking. Furthermore, the family did not use it and Prince Hans Ulrich von Eggenberg died at the age of 66 before it was complete.

The castle has expansive gounds which are green and lush and full of ancient trees and a number of purpose built gardens. The castle was built with philosophical concepts to do with time. There are 28 rooms per level and three extra areas to represent days in the month. There are 52 windows to represent the weeks in a year and there are 12 something elses (my terminology, not theirs) to represent the months.There is a dry moat around the castle which serves to philosophically isolate the castle from the rest of the world.
After looking over the gardens, the planetary garden and the rose mound, we walk back to the castle. Externally, the castle is showing its age. Probably understandably after 400 years. I am amazed by the rooves of these old buildings. They look entirely original with dips and valleys due to ravages of time. Yet they don't look to have been patched up at all.

There is a tour in English starting shortly so we wait for that. It is spectacular. We start with the Planetary Room which has various frescos depicting star signs and  the days of the week. There are frescos on every ceiling and wall all carefully restored, each taking up to 1 year to complete. A room takes 3 to 5 years to restore and all those on the top floor are finished. The tour takes 1 hour and allows us to be transported back to those times.

After the tour we go to the first floor where there is an art gallery with 24 rooms all with original paintings and statues. Once again all magnificent.

Then back to the campsite for the night. As a thank you to the manager for use of his car, we offer to wash it. However after doing half, an irate man vehimently berates us in german as "waschen auto ist verboten". How we were expected to know that, especially when informed in german, I don't know. We finish hosing off the suds while he stands and offers a tirade of abuse. Our first less than helpful Austrian. It is unfortunate that his negative interaction is in danger of being more memorable than all the nice Austrians who have helped us. We will dismiss this as a forgettable event.

Monday 12 September 2011 : Graz, Austria .

We have decided that  Today will be a day of non sightseeing. Also it is our darling daughter's birthday so we want to call her, which involves finding some wifi.
I work on verious small problems then by 1 pm we are ready to go wifi searching. We find Maccas and spend some time on the net before heading back to the camp.

We are using Garmin as it seems OK for local trips. However, in Graz, both GPSs get confused and say things like Turn Here then when we do, they recalculate and say do a U turn! So we largely ignore them in Graz, having some landmarks which we now recognise. Once clear of the city (wiich is only five or six km....Graz's population is about 300,000) the GPSs seem to know where they are and generally perform well.

We return via MariaTrost bacilica to see whether they offer dinner. They do, but we need to return to camp to change and we need some provisions. We ultimately decide to stay at the camp for dinner and borrow an electric oven on which to cook to preserve dwindling gas.

Tuesday 13 September 2011 : Graz, Austria .

This morning  the missed opportunity of an authentic Austrian meal plays on our minds and we decide to stay one more day to go to dinner tonight.

Our day is spent relaxing. That is between fitting a reversing camera to the van. It has been somewhat nerve racking reversing and wondering if anything is obscured behind the van. This was increased a day or two ago when a car was behind and I could not see it and its toot was assumed to be from somewhere else. Fortunately the vehicle reversed thus avoiding an unfortunate meeting. The fitting of the camera takes 2 minutes. Routing the cable takes 3 hours! Before the cabling is complete, dinner time has arrived. Final connection can wait until tomorrow.

We dress in our finery. Understand that this is a relative term in my case but an absolute in Ro's case. (Did I get away with that?). Ro is starting to try driving, albeit on a shortish dirt road. It is amusing that I have to mention the side of the road in the same way Ro had to mention the curb to me. Must be a northern hemisphere thng.
I drive to the basilica from the end of the dirt road. Although it is borderline warm, we decide to sit inside for the authentic interia. A waiter arrives with german menus, which he swaps for english ones after we ask what each item is. However when we choose, we have to give names in german as he is not familiar with the english names. Will be interesting to see what we end up with.   Fortunately Big Mac and fries got msinterpreted to be two lovely Austrian meals which were very tasty, if rather too  salty.

The Big Mac thing is not entirely fictitious as we decide to go to Maccas for some wifi for wifee.  It is interesting that we enter Macdonald's into Garmin and she takes us there but finally gives up as we miss another turn. So we enter another Maccas and follow directions, only to end up at the Maccas we  expected to end up at! The ways of GPSs are indeed mysterious.

We return home for another peaceful night's sleep.

Wednesday 14 September 2011 : Graz  , Austria

Next morning it is our intention to finish the reversing camera wiring then to travel to Vienna. A bit of cutting and taping and the camera is powered up. All is perfect except that the image is up side down. A quick twist of the camera and all is well. By 9.30 we are on the road.

Again we choose to take the long way. It is actually 6 km shorter but 90 minutes longer. But we see so much more than on a motorway and get a true feel for the country. We stop on the way to buy some bits and pieces and haver minor problems with our travel card. A trip to the local hole in the wall and back to Lidel and we are back on our way.

By 3 pm we are in what we later realise is outer Vienna. In our ever present quest for gas, we decide to visit an engineering works which does gas conversions. We weave up tiny streets and down narrow laneways and finally down a one way street to the address we have. You can imagine our surprise when there is no engineering works in the centre of commercial Vienna. Ignoring the snide chortle of the two GPSs we decide to head for our camp site. Mind you, we also make snide remarks to the GPSs as they lead us down alleyways which most likely have never seen the likes of a motorhome in their centuries of observation of man’s folley.

After negotiating Vienna at now close to peak hour, we arrive at our camp site. We settle in for the night but choose to dine at the camp café where we have a snitzel and kartoffelsalad for 5 euro.

Thursday 15 September 2011 : Vienna , Austria.

The morning dawns somewhat overcast but not cold. The previous night we had again told our tale of woe regarding searching all europe for camping car gas. The camp manager and numerous others had discussed the problem with a dutch fellow camper having translated for us. The camp manager had assured us he would provide us with an address where we could get gas. True to his word, he provides an address only 50 minutes and 35 km from where we are now. To say we embark on this journey with some skepticism would be an understatement. However, if our gas runs out, we have no refrigeration and we don’t want to contemplate that. Off we go, stopping along the way to look at emails and try to pick up a phone message from Skype, the latter being a total waste of time.

Finally we arrive 10 km past the outskirts of Vienna, too afraid to hope our search for gas will be over. With a feeling of trepidation I approach the door. It is locked! I go back to the van but fortunately a lady who speaks english opens the door. She does not know if they have adaptors. Grrrr! But if we go next door, we can check with the pump operator. We do and he does! Finally we have a full tank of gas. Tonight we kill the fatted pig! Oh, I remember that I forgot the pig and I am learning to be Buddhist anyway. Perhaps we will settle for hot water instead of the feast.

We have also been toying with the idea of buying  bikes or a scooter or something to put on the back of the van. We call in to a store offering bicycles for 210 euro discounted from 300 euro. We don’t want to spend that much but Ro asks at another shop how we might get some second hand bikes and is given an address about 6 km away. Unfortunately it transpires that it is in the middle of Vienna in peak hour. But in the absence of that knowledge we perform  the usual GPS fiasco and eventually end up at the bicycle shop. Unfortunately, relatively junky bikes are 150 euro so the 200 euro looked quite good. Maybe we will just hire for the time being.

We return to our campsite. We are gradually learning when to ignore the GPSs random instructions of ‘turn left no no turn right no no do a u-turn…..’ so we now allow them to adjust their makeup before taking any advise.  On returning, we try our hot water and after a short time we have it ready. The heater also works, but it is not cool enough for that. We have dinner and settle in for an early night, which has been our custom of late.

Friday 16 September 2011: Vienna , Austria.

Today we will hire some bicycles and see how Vienna treats two wheeled travellers. Vienna is very flat and well services by bike tracks. We are still tossing up whether to go by public transport but ultimately settle on bikes. We can rent them from the camp for 5 euros per day so we go to organize that. However, without a word of english, the camp cafe person informs us that their four bikes have not been returned. A disaster, in her words. But she gives us directions to a bike rental shop about 3 km away  so we go off with an address searching for the rental outlet.

An hour and a half later after detours, asking locals directions and the usual meandering we submit to defeat and dejectedly return to camp for morning tea. We decide to go looking for cheaper bikes to purchase and head to the nearest shopping centre. There we see a Toys R Us, a familiar name which has 26” bikes on sale for 130 euro. We check two nearby sports stores which also have bikes on special….for 499 euro. Back to Toys where we purchase two 26”  ladies bikes as the only man’s bike is 24”. I can cope with pink more easily than I can cope with having my kneecaps in my armpits. We proceed to assemble the bikes in the carpark, I suspect to the amusement of the locals. We have a bike rack on the van so attach the bikes to return to the camp, getting air for the tyres along the way. A little trap for new players is the compressed air system in the garages. The hose is very short, requiring some close manoeuvering  to avoid removing the bikes. The silly thing is that you can remove the guage and hose assembly, but then it is not connected to the compressed air. But finally there is a eureka moment when I realize that the guage is sitting on a small air reservoir which is charged when the unit is docked on its home position. One can take the whole assembly to each tyre and adjust its pressure without any trailing hose. Even if  the tyre is  completely flat, leaving the unit docked gives continuous air. A great idea.

We return to camp for lunch and prepare to go on our maiden bike journey.

Armed with Garmin (without knowing if her makeup is in order) and a Radfahren map (map of bike routes) we head out of the safety of our camp. Following the signs, which are unmistakably bicycles, we traverse roads and tracks via bridges with underslung bike paths. Although the direction to Vienna, about 6 km away, is not clear to us (we have been directionally disoriented in Europe) we manage to find the way. The bridge over the Donau (or Danube to us) has a large spiral bike path at either end which elevates us to the underslung bike path via three or four turns of 15 metre diameter. Bikes are very common in Vienna and are seen everywhere, either parked or being riden. There are actually three Donaus. The Alt Donau, little more than a stream, the Neue Donau, quite a large waterway and the Donau, a massive waterway with 100 metre  riverboats including hundreds of cabins for extended voyages on the river.

We ride along the bank, our goal being to reach the KaiserJubileeKirch, a huge cathedral which we had wanted to see. Although gargantuan in proportions, the outside has rubbish accumulated and the inside is unspectacular in adornment although the towering ceilings inspire awe, which presumably is their intent. There is also a large amount of scaffolding which detracts from the effect somewhat.

Returning by retracing our path, we arrive back at our campsite about 4 hours after leaving and just as dark is falling, about 8 pm.

The camp café has some abendessen which is vegetarian and does not look too appetising. Instead we have dinner in the van.

Saturday 17 September 2011:Vienna , Austria.

Our intention had been to drive the van to Vienna and cycle to various points in the city. However, Ro is suffering a severe case of cheap bike bottom and needs a day out of the saddle. Instead we find a parking spot and walk to Schonbrunn Schloss, our main attraction for the day. We have to park some distance from the Schloss, but it turns out that the gardens extend more than a kilometer toward where we have parked so we can walk through the garden. Quite some garden. We first see a hot house built from cast iron and double glazed glass, a recent addition at no doubt huge expense. The building is huge and ornate and indicates all that is to come. The paths in the garden are long and straight, radiating from water features or between buildings. Manicured trees and shrubs border eaxh path.  As we approach the palace, the number of people increases. This is tourism in Europe.

The main feature garden extends from the castle at one end to the Gloriette, another building on a hill probably 1.5 km away. Below is a large fountain. Everything is of huge proportions and hugely ornate. It is all very well maintained and set up for tourist income. There is no charge to enter the gardens but there is a charge to visit the palace. We choose a 1 hour guided tour for 16 euro each. Good value we believe. We see 40 rooms of the 1400 rooms. Mind you, most are not accessible to the public so the 40 is good value.
Like the Eggenberg Schloss, the palace is heated by ceramic stoves which are ornately decorated. The decoration is functional as it increases the radiating surface. However the stoves in the Schonbrunn Schloss are entirely operated from passages which are between all the rooms. This allowed the operations of the palace to be entirely hidden from the privileged occupants and guests. As we exit the tour, there are two passages renovated and occupied by dummies dressed as the servants would have been.

The rooms are similar to those seen at Eggenberg but on a far more grand scale. It is possible to overload on such opulence and I think by the end of the tour we were at that point. While one can muse as to whether or not monarchs should be exhaulted to the level they are or were, there would seem to be little doubt that their legacies in the form of such palaces are of immense value.

We leave Schonbrunn about 5 pm and walk to our van. It is wonderful to be able to make some tea or coffee and relax for a while before heading back to our camp. On the way, a fountain takes Ro’s fancy so we park and walk to it. There is also an interesting sculpture with a sound track. Behind is a monument which looks to be Russian. We decide to walk further and come upon a car park behind which is an impressive building. We ask some others who are walking there and they consult their map. It is the rear of one of the Belvedere Schloss buildings. The Belvedere Schloss was the winter residence of the Hapsburgs. We walk another kilometer to the front of the palace then inside the grounds to the rear of the main building. The grounds are less spectacular than those of the Schonbrunn but none the less spectacular. The scale and grandeour are incomprehensible.
We walk back to the lower end of the gardens and there is an exit close to the fountain we had originally stopped to view. We continue back to our van and return to the campsite.

We had hoped to go to a show of the Lippezaner stallions but learn that they are not particularly frequent and that the next show is Friday, almost a week away. Instead we decide to travel back toward Italy, stopping at Klagenfurt at the bottom of Austria for one night.

Sunday 18 September 2011: Vienna , Austria

We leave the campsite about 10.30am for Klagenfurt. As we want to take the long way, it will take us 6 hours to cover 300 km. Quite a lot of the trip retraces the roads we took to get from Graz to Vienna. However, before we get to Graz, we are taken on backroads and over a long steel mountainous road. We enjoy being out of Vienna’s traffic and back to little villages, forests and green fields. The trip over the mountain involves a long slow haul up one side in second gear, followed by a steep descent down the other side. As we descend, we can smell very hot disc pads and stay in second gear to keep the efficiency of the brakes up to a reasonable level. Failure of the brakes would be disastrous in the extreme.

As we near our camp site by a lake, we experience our first significant rain. After a long drive with the added stress of right hand driving, rain, and the usual narrow roads, it is with some relief that arrive at the camp about 7pm. Fortunately it is still open (some campsites close about now as summer has finished) and we can get someone to brave the wet to let us in.

We discover the reason for the mold we found on the mattress. The front window leaks a bit... quite a bit as it happens. I will need to correct that with some Sika. But tomorrow is supposed to be wet also so a bit of gaffer tape may be an interim fix.
Significant rain is a bit of an understatement. It will rain continually mostly for 36 hours….until we get well into Italy. But in the mean time, we are at a wonderful campsite next to a beautiful lake and it is raining heavily so we see basically nothing! So off to bed.

Monday 19 September 2011: Klagenfurt , Germany.

Still raining, although there were some pauses during the night. We had moved the mattress near the leak but it is still quite wet. The leak we have been mopping up with a towel. Fortunately with the gas tank now full and the heater working, we set up the mattress in front of the heater and create our own sauna in the van. As it is not hot outside, the heat is tolerable and we spend half an hour drying the mattress quite effectively. But as it is still raining, we keep the leak mopped up with the towel and the bedding away from the leak.

The forecast is for rain all day so we decide to travel to Venice and set off about 10.30 after our sauna.

We have seen a translation device at Hofer, an Aldi type store, for 20 euro and have decided that it would be a handy dictionary as it cross translates 12 languages. We call into one store but there is none left so we are directed to another store in Villach, which is on our travel path. Again we are not using motorways so we see the countryside. We find the store and buy the device, which it transpires is a phrase device rather than a dictionary. However we are sure that “I have haemeroids” and other such phrases will be extremely useful in 12 languages.   

Eventually after another (less) mountainous climb, we reach a deserted boarder check and we cross into Italy. Within a short time we notice that the buildings and roads exhibit lower levels of maintenance. But the areas we travel through have soaring mountains either side and roads, bridges and freeways criss crossing frequently. Old bridges lye abandonded, as do numerous buildings and factories. There is an air of neglect. But there are also ancient buildings and ruins, which maybe the factories will be in years to come. The rain continues.

At one point we come to a blockage at an exit of the roundabout which we need to take, probably due to some incident on the road. We take another path that Tom Tom recommends but don’t feel it is the right direction. So back to the roundabout and out the other side. We follow instructions and meet another block which sends us back to the roundabout. We try TomTom’s orginial suggestion…. and after a big loop return to the roundabout. By now, our path looks like Jaques Tati’s Traffic. There are not a lot of vans like ours (thank heaven) so the guy manning the blockage must have been amused to see us visit the roundabout three or four times. We drive sufficiently far west for TomTom not to take us back to the roundabout and continue…. Fortunately not back to the roundabout.

The rain is lessening now, but it is getting on to 6 pm so we decide to stay at a closer camp. We enter one in Points of Interest and follow directions …. to where a camp isn’t. We ask directions and are told in excellent English that campers stay down by the beach. By the beach!! One disadvantage of GPSs is that, although they find places which would otherwise be impossiible to find, sometimes one can be in a place one does not realize. The sea was 100 metre away and we did not realize we were on the coast yet!

The rain has stopped but further over the sky is dark. So I look at the window and can see a hole which looks like the source of the leak. I climb up and put some Sikaflex, happy that the problem is solved. However we do not feel happy ‘wild camping’ so decide to continue to the campsite opposite Venice. This turns out to be a very good choice and we arrive one hour later at our camp site at Punta Sabbioni.

Wifi is available at 5 euro. For how much, I ask. A puzzled expression results. How long or how many gig, I ask. No, no! The 5 euro is as much as we need for as long as we are here. A good deal we think and a luxury as we have had limited access to date. The cost is 23 euro per night which is also quite good. Prices have ranged from 45 euro per night in Switzerland down to 16 euro per night in Slovenia. Most have been around 20 euro per night.

There is a couple of restaurants so we choose one. It is a casual place with friendly staff. I order lasagne and Ro orders calzone, which she has had previously at Echuca, a well known culinary hotshot in Victoria. The lasagne is not like that I am used to in Oz and the calzone is too salty but enormous in size. I am able to help in that department. We think it imprudent to suggest the chef undertake a culinary expedition to Echuca  so instead consume a lot of water to offset the salt.

On returning to the van, I have a window blind to reinstall which I had removed to fix the leak. Unfortunately there is evidence that the leak has not disappeared so I use all purpose gaffer tape to temporarily solve the problem. We reassemble the bedding and get to bed after midnight.

Tuesday 20 September 2011: Punta Sabbioni (near Venice) , Italy.

We awake to find a clouded sky. But the forecast for Venice is dry so we decide to get the ferry to Venice. The only transport available in Venice is water based. All land transport is walking. The public transport system consists of gondolas, a romantic rather than practical means, water taxis and vaparettos, which are the equivalent of buses in a land bases city.

We decide to buy a 36 hour ticket for the ferries and vaparetti for 23 euro each. This gives us unlimited access to these boats which run regular services around Venice and the three main islands from the equivalent of bus stops which are floating shelters to which the boats tie for the 30 or 40 seconds the passengers take to embark and disembark.
Our campsite is across the bay from Venice and we take a 40 minute ferry ride. As we approach Venice, we understand the comments people make about the teaming crowds! People are thick on the promenades, the effect exacerbated by the fact that the frequent canals can only be crossed by bridges which funnel the hordes into tight masses.

The city consists of promenades with buildings either side and a canal down the middle, small alleyways between buildings with frequent courtyards and  canals with buildings either side and no walkways. There are over 400 bridges which cross the canals.
To avoid the crowds, we start walking down the alleyways where others aren’t. They twist and turn, ending in dead ends at canals or bridges over canals. It is easy to avoid the crowds but between oases of empty alleys are alleys teaming with people, especially where shops abound. Shops are small rooms opening off alleys and usually crammed with wares and often room only for two or three people. Most shops include souvenirs particularly of Venecian origin. Most prominent among these are paper mache masks of various size and artistic merrit.  

The promenades are generally crowded but once one leaves the main island for Murano, Burano or Torcello, there are promenades with much less crowding. The building facades are old, quaint and multicoloured.

We take the vaporetto to Murano, famous for glassware since the 13th century where we peruse the shops full of the remarkable glassware. The crowds are markedly less and prices, including food and drinks, are quite reasonable, contrary to the reports one hears. We had two cakes and two espressos for about 12 euro, probably less than one would pay in Melbourne. Presumably in the very popular tourist areas, prices are much higher.
We walk along prominades and down alleyways, soaking up the atmosphere. Having no cars or motorbikes or even pedal bikes is quite an unusual experience. Unfortunately the exhaust fumes are replaced by human exhaust of smoke which is ubiquitous.

It is starting to get dark by the time we board our ferry for home abd we arrive about 8.30pm. We have a 700 metre walk to the campsite and when we arrive we are ready for bed.

Wednesday 21st September 2011: Punta Sabbioni (near Venice) , Italy.

The morning dawns cloudless. It will be a wonderful day. We decide to cycle to the ferry and lock our bikes to a stand, hoping that all bits will be present on our return. The ferry to Venice is packed but there is another which stops at Burano, another island we had intended bisiting.

We board that boat and after a 30 minute trip disembark on the island. As Murino is famous for glass, Burano is famous for lace and its colourful houses. We read an item that said after walking Burano for 30 minutes you could not help but smile. We agree. The colours are pastel mauves, pinks, blues, oranges, yellows and greens. All mixed and with other offsetting highlight colours. The locals frequently have clothes which compliment the house colours. We loves our time on Burano, with a new delight around every corner.

By lunchtime we were ready for a sit down so took a vaporetto to Torcello, another major island whith only about 20 inhabitants and a seventh century cathedral. Unfortunately the boat ride was only 10 minutes so we did not recover much before more walking. The cathedral was built around 640 AD and updated in 1008 AD. The bell tower has scaffolding around it so the authorities must think it is time for a spruce up again. Probably not overindulgent. As we were getting tired, we did not to the 30 minute tour, instead putting it on out to do next time list.

We take a vaporetto back to Venice with the intention of cruising the Grand Canal. Unfortunately we are on the wrong side of Venice so we walk to the other side down alleyways and over canals. Also unfortunately the vaparetto is dreadfully crowded so we do not see much of the canal. But we are amazed by the amount of traffic on the canal. Between varoretti, water taxis, gondolas and commercial vessels, there are vessels going in every direction, but seemingly without incident.  

It is 5 pm and we are footsore. As our 36 hour ticket expires at 11.22 pm we decide to go back to camp for a rest and dinner with the intention of getting the 8pm ferry back to Venice and returning on the 11pm ferry. That means we will board within our time but disembark a bit after 11.30. Hopefully the transit officers, of whom we have seen no sign, will be OK with that, but we intend to check just in case.

Our plan works well and by 8.35 we are back in Venice after a rest and dinner. The crowds have reduced considerably and Venice at night takes on an even more Phantom of the Opera like ambience. The lighting on the buildings is magical  and many buildings have soft tri colour lighting of red white and green, the colours of  Italy. It is interesting that the camera picks up the colours strikingly whereas our eyes only just perceive it.Coincidentally the boats with their markers are all the colours of Italy also.

We take a vaporetto up the Grand Canal, looking at tables by the waterside and into rooms with elegant chandeliers alight. People are a bit on display in apartments, but perhaps no more so than in any city.   

As time is getting on, we disembark to get a vaporetto back to St Mark’s where we want to see the square by night. It is 10.35 when we get there and we have only 15 minutes before we need to walk back to the ferry. The lighting is again magical and there is a number of musical groups playing. The square is big enough and the volume set such that groups do not interfere. One is playing The Blue Danube Waltz and others are playing popular pieces in a classical style. It is time to go. But we will be back.

Venice is without doubt our most enjoyable city. From the water transport to the canals and alleyways to the islands of Murano and Burano, the whole place is like being transported to another place and time. We expected to hate the crowds and ripoff prices, the filth and the smell for which Venice is known. But all these can be avoided and everything else is wonderful. Yes, we will be back.

Thursday 22 September 2011: Punta Sabbioni (near Venice) , Italy.

The day is beautiful and we are off to Tuscany. We leave  Punta Sabbioni by 10 30am following TomTom's instructions. The roads are generally uninspiring with the occasional back road which is narrow and somewhat more interesting. During our travelling, we think that if this is Italy, we can do without it. Hopefully this will prove to be a supremely uninformed comment.

We eventually arrive in Bologna which is close to our chosen camp. We have a bit of problem in negotiating Bologna. After a number of loop the loops, we end up on a motorway which costs us 50 euro cents to be taken 10 km away from where we want. It is no coincidednce that the term spaghetti junction has been coined. The intersections in Italy are more of a culinary feat than a civil one.  

Finally, after an extra half an hour, and fighting of traffic and freeways we climb in first gear to the top of a mountain where our campsite is nestled. This is more like what we enjoy. No cars, plenty of trees and fresh air.

The main buildings  are 18th century. A farm house and a three storey stable were refurbished in 1980. The farmhouse has small apartments to rent and the stable includes an eating area, an amenities room with library and computer and a mini market.

We choose to have dinner there with two other couples, one of whom is Italian with almost no English and a Dutch couple with reasonable English and a little Italian. The dinner conversation consisted of animated discussion in assorted languages with moments of revelation as we half guess what each other is meaning followed by silences as we try to determine what we have a hope of understanding   in our next conversational snippet. For us Australians used to a mono language environment, this is a cultural awakening.

Friday 23 September 2011: Bologna  , Italy.

We intend using our camp in Bologna as a base for exploring Tuscany so today is Florence.

As before we will not use motorways so our journey of 90 km will take us 2 hours.
We are on the road by 9.45, negotiating the now familiar narrow roads and guessed speed limits. We use TomTom a lot to tell us the current speed limit and also to warn of speed cameras, of which there are many. Although it is our intention to follow speed limits, the locals ignore them, as they do double lines, no parking signs, pedestrian crossings and practically anything else written up as a road rule.

Again we pass through small villages where one wonders how they sustain a living. There are road works a plenty and at one point we stop for 5 minutes while a load is lowered from a crane onto a semi trailer which is blocking  a one lane road. In another village we come headlight to headlight with another vehicle and it is obvious that one will have to reverse. A few seconds of unspoken, unsigned negotiation goes on and the other smaller vehicle backs up. Unfortunately, I had mistakenly believed we could turn into a narrow laneway to obviate anyone having to reverse and on exiting heard a crunching as our plastic bumper fouled on something and bent beyond its elastic limit. Thank heavens.....I was running out of things to repair.

Eventually we arrive in Florance. If Rome is worse than Florence as is suggested, I don't want to drive in Rome! Bikes, cars, trucks and large numbers of scooters all vie for their bit of asphalt. Couple that with the spahggetti style of roads and a GPS which finds the system confusing and driving becomes rather more of an art than I am used to or comfortable with.

But our problems of driving are minor compared with our parking problems.  Somehow the parking spaces available are always three lanes of traffic away. Three lanes of fast moving traffic away. And three illedfined lanes away. Finally we find parking spaces on our side. We park and inspect the signs. It seems that this is a  24  hour tow away zone. But there are painted parking places, most of which are occupied. Very confusing. So we move and are just about to cancel any sightseeing in Florance when a meter parking place is in fromt of us. We stop and scan the ticket machine for signs of what its function is. Providing tickets seems a little too obvious but eventually we decide that that is in fact what it is for. We feed it 4 euro, unload our bikes and set off, hoping the van will still be there on our return and that it will not have an infringement notice.

We ride along the river then use Garmin to show where the city centre is. Naturally Garmin  cannot calculate how to get there but we use it to go in the general direction. But too general it seems as we see nothing of interest. It is hot and cycling is not pleasant for Ro. She suggests we ride to a tourist information office and we use TomTom to do that.

The tourist office gives us a couple of maps and we head off toward the old sector. After a short ride we are in Piazza del Grano. We know this is the place to be because of the crowds. Like those in Venice. Again by moving away from the tourist traps, we can get a feel for the city. But avoiding the tourists is not  possible at the Uffizi Gallery where there is a wait of 60 to 90 minutes to get in. We pass. Instead we walk around the square marvelling at the statues, including a replica of David, the buildings and the frescos. We walk over the Ponte Vecchio which is an ancient bridge with rows of shops either side, all selling jewellery!   

Time is running out on the meter and our feet. We ride back to the van and are happy to have a cool drink, and Ro a cold shower, as peak hour passes by. Where else can you have a shower in the middle of dense traffic but in a motor home? Another one of the many benefits.

When we leave, fortunately we are travelling against the outflow so it is not too bad. We retrace our path back to Bolognia, arriving back about 8.30 pm. The return journey is fine until it gets dark when the low cutoff european headlights conspire with the narrow roads and zero street lighting to make our arrival at the camp an absolute pleasure and ensure a deep overnight sleep.

Saturday 24 September 2011: Bologna  , Italy.

Any time we have had a day off sightseeing, we have appreciated the rest. Today was to be such a day. Also, it gives some time to fix some more things on the van. Including the now broken bumper! Included in the 'to be done' list is a cut and polish where I can reach which includes the roof, accessible via the roof rack and ladder. This improves the external look quite a lot. A rattley exhaust, a non functional clearance lamp and an improved bike seat complete my day of rest.

Meanwhile Ro investigates a 2004 Lonley Planet book which makes her realize all we have missed. However this trip is intended as a fact finding mission to determine what we want to do in future trips so all is not lost.

Sunday 25 September 2011: Bologna  , Italy.

We have a long trip today. Our camp at Torino is 7 hours away so we leave relatively early for us and are on the road about 9am. Using non motorway roads is not much more pleasant than using motorways in Italy. Most of the trip is semi urban and the stress of trying to guess speed limits takes its toll. Speed limits are inconsistent in the extreme and largely ignored by the locals so one cannot follow a local and hope not to get pinged by a speed camera. Occasionally we pass through interesting villages but not frequently enough to make the journey memorable.

After a largely uninteresting and fortunatley an uneventful day we arrive at our camp about 7 pm.  Our supplies are running very low and it is Sunday in Italy where shops are not open. There Are some eating places open but they are back in the village and we don't care to drive back or walk or cycle. So we make do with a light dinner.

Monday 26 September 2011: Torino , Italy.

Today we intend travelling to Stresa, about a 4 1/2 hour trip. This allows enough time for us to visit a local castle, Castella de la Mandria. We have been advised it is like Versaille so we go looking for it. We find a park and decide to ride our bikes to explore.

There is a wall which we discover extends kilometres. We follow it for perhaps 2 km until we find a large gate where to our left, in the distance is a large building. We ride toward it and find a castle of huge proportions but in poor repair. It appears that it has started to be developed as a tourist attraction but must have run out of money so is not now open, although we can ride around the buildings. In its time, probably the early 1800s, it would have been a complete city. But overall, it was not very memorable.

By lunchtime, we have returned to the van, loaded the bikes and started toward Stresa. The trip is one again not very attractive. One memorable sight is a huge pair of concrete chimneys which loom on the horizon. They are nuclear power stations. We have not seen such sights before and they are somewhat foreboding.

However following the power stations, the countryside becomes a bit more attractive, including many rice fields and villages with narrow roads. These are attractive but somewhat stressful when large vehicles approach from the opposite direction and cars are parked on our side!

By 6 pm we are close to Stresa where we have not as yet chosen a camp site. We check TomTom and choose a place close to Stresa. But when TomTom declares 'You have reached your destination' there is no camp site in sight. We choose another in tghe next town, Beveno. This time there is a sign which leads us down a very narrow road to a gate which enters the camp site. No wonder we could not find the first one! We prepare the van for the night and go exploring.

A walk along a footpath between buildings leads to a jetty where a boat leaves for two islands in the lake on which Beveno is located. There is also a restaurant with tables on a patio overlooking the lake. We decide this is where we will eat a little later.
Later we ride our bikes to the restaurant and have an inexpensive meal with a priceless view. After dinner we ride a little furthedr on our bikes but mindful of the fact we have no lights and it is quite dark. We return for showers and bed.

Tuesday 27 September 2011 : Beveno , Italy.

The islands we want to visit are serviced by a boat which leaves the jetty , where we had dinner last night, at 8 am. Our plan is to awake early to get the earliest boat, look at the islands then return by 12 or 1 to drive to our next camp site on our way to Fussen, the start of the Romantic Road down the Rhine in Germany.

Plans wall apart when we wake at 7.20 am. But we get the plan back on course by rushing breakfast and me riding ahead to purchase our 10 euro per person all day tickets. We actually have 5 minutes to spare. Our first island is Isola Superiore where we disembark after a 5 minute ride only to find the next boat leaves at 10. There is not enough to occupy us for 2 hours, but we walk round the island several times down small alleyways and up and down stairs. Similar to Venice except for the significant undulations. We get the 10 am boat to Isola Bella which is the island we really want to see because of the palace and gardens which are renouned. It is only 5 minutes also, almost swimming distance, so we have about 1 1/2 hours before getting a boat back.

We purchase two tickets for 12.50 euro each and enter the palace. It takes up 90% of the island and was built in the 1700s. As with all the palaces visited, it is immense, but not as big as the others we have seen. But it makes up in splendour for anything it lacks in size. The most splendid room is a circular chamber with soaring ceilings and internal balconies. It is an architectural delight. Other rooms are impressive and ornate but not so over-the-top as in some other palaces. There are some rooms which were favourites in summer as they were cool and are covered in small round stones in various patterns.

But the most facsinating part are the gardens. These are on multiple levels with a huge range of species of plants and hundreds of statues. They cover 60% of the island and  stairs and fearures abound.  Two circular towers house a bookshop and a cafe. We have coffee and cake at the cafe and encounter a friendly waiter. On mentioning to him that he is more friendly than his fellow countrymen, we discover he is Peruvian  and doesn't find the Italians friendly either.  We spend two hours enjoying the gardens before boarding the boat for our 10 minute trip to  Stresa.

We do not find much to do in Stresa so board the next boat to Braveno, which travels via the two islands we have visited. Arriving back at Baveno we cycle back to the camp and have a quick dip in the lake. Quick because it is quite cold. Then back to our van for dinner. After dinner we ride back into Baveno then walk up to a church before returning for the night.  

Wednesday 28 September 2011: Beveno  , Italy.

Today we have a long drive to the start of the Romantic Road in Germany, near Fussen. We get on the road by 9 am. The drive is as interesting as the Italian drive was dull. However the lovely scenery which starts with a winding road around the lake is not shared by me, the driver, as the roads are as narrow as any I have encountered so far and require a lot of concentration. At one point, a truck approaching us stops as we  inch  the van  past. But it seems this is normal for these parts. Eventually I will become used to these manoeuvers but wider roads are always far easier on the nerves.

We start climbing into the Swiss alps, first gear for a lot of the climb. But the views are rewarding 100 fold. We climb through quaint Swiss villages, the difference between the casual Italian culture and the regimented Swiss culture becoming more evident as we move further into Switzerland. As we descent the mountains, we are rewarded with panoramic views over seemingly mown pastures with no fenced boundaries,  with cows complete with tinkling cow bells and with Swiss villages clinging to the steep slopes. We stop for morning tea and look down on a villages in miniature. It is only when a car drives next to the buildings that we realise they are big buildings far below us. A Swiss train runs quietly along rails below us like a giant model train set framed against towering mountains.  Church bells interspersed with cow bells aurally complete the picture.

We travel on through the day, back in to Austria and eventually into Germany.
Our camp is near Kempten in the south of Germany. By the time we are getting close, it is getting dark.When  TomTom tells us we have reached our destination, we have travelled through tiny German towns, down narrow roads, across lush fields and now it is dark. But our destination is not where we had hoped it would be. We drive down a narrow track. Not that one. We try another fork. That is better; we are at our camp site.

The people are welcoming and we can get a dinner of wiener schnitzel, which is delicious.
Then off to bed, albeit a bit more warmly dressed as the temperature is a few degrees overnight. In the morning, we even choose to light the heater for a while.

Thursday 29 September 2011: Kempten  , Germany.

Today we explore the Romantischen Strasse. But first we want to visit Neuswanstein Schloss, Mad King Ludwid's fairytale castle. Started in mid 1800s, the castle was inclompete at the king's death in 1869. The Royal Chambers were complete and he spent 170 days there before his death. Seven weeks later the castle was opened to the public and has been a drawcard ever since with 6000 visitors per day. The king was not mad, just a bit before his time. The view is said to be the best in Europe and having seen it, I would not dispute the claim.

Having seen the number of vehicles and people in Hohenswangau, the town to which the castle is attached, we decide to park outside the town  and cycle in. We first view it through heavy mist which makes it magically appear and disappear in slow waves. Five minutes later we are back at the base of the mountain on which the castle is built. The castle was used as inspiration for the castle in Sleeping Beauty and is used in the Disney logo.  

Due to the large numbers of visitors, tickets to view the inside are sold some way from the castle and are time stamped. Because of a shortage of time, we do not buy tickets but instead walk the 2 or 3 km up a steep road to view thw outside and inner courtyard for which tickets are not required. As we have become used to, the proportions are immense. The stonework is in excellent condition due to its relatively recent  construction but also because the construction has continued since the king's demise and is still continuing with 30 metre high scaffolding over a significant part of the outside wall.
We walk further to a bridge called Mary's Bridge built in iron in mid 1800s which spams a chasm 100 or 200 metres above  a waterfall. The views of the castle and surrounding towering rocky mountains are spectacular. We walk down another steep path and set of stairs to the bottom of the waterfall and marvel at the beauty.

But we still have a way to travel in order to reach Bonn by Friday so we continue our journey to Kissing near Augsberg where we will spend the night.

The Romantic Road seems to be illusive. We catch glimpses of tantalising signs telling us we are on the road. However motorways with cars whistling by at 180 kph seems less than romantic. The most romantic parts are when TomTom directs us through narrow roads in verdant pastures and through tiny lanes through villages. Maybe the signs have been misplaced or maybe the road is protected from tourists. Anyway we are romanced by the environment.

We continue on to Kissing, being careful to arrive before night falls....fortunately. Because, surprise, surprise, we can't find it. We enter the street name but because there is no number we enter 'Anywhere' for the crossing point. Nothing there. So we enter some lat/long cordinates which are a bit questionable because there are too few decimal points. 6 km later, nothing. But there is a farmer on a little tractor who does not speak a word of English. But with my few words and a lot of enthusiasm on his part we exchange ideas for a while before he indicates to follow him. A four km trip along a tractor path, with stops by our farmer to ask others encountered on the track and shaking of heads does not inspire us to believe we won't be retracing our tracks soon. But our farmer comes through and we are directed on a bitumen road to where the camp should be. A hand shake and hearty thanks and our tractor based hero drives off into the sunset.

We are not quite where we need to be but an enquiry at a restautant directs us to the gate of the camp. The camp is nearly empty but the people who receive us are friendly and speak a moderate amount of English. Unfortunately we are only there a few hours but we would like to return some time.

We settle in for what turns out to be a very cold night. Next day we have a long journey to Bonn.

Friday 30 September 2011: Kissing  , Germany.

We start early on our trip to. It has been suggested that our quickest route is to Wurzberg via the Roma ntic Road then to Bonn on motorways. Our implementation of the suggestion leaves a little to be desired. The Romantic Road continues to be elusive but European traffic jams are not so elusive. When we get onto the motorway, there are significant (and I mean significant) roadworks which redice three lanes to two and result in kilometer long jams. At least we are travelling in the right direction as the opposite side has a 10 or 20 km long bumper to bumper jam. Still moving, but at walking pace. Later we are advised that Friday from 3pm to 8 pm is not the time to travel.

Our traffic jam clears and we are again competing with trucks, cars and low flying missiles on Germany's famous open speed limit motorways. At times we are blessed with a 120 or 130 speed limit but when these end, it is open slather for every boy races and passing involves guessing the approach speed of the pin point headlights half a kilometer behind. At times we are rocked by the bow wave of a a vehicle passing us with a speed differentisl of 80 or 90 kph when we are travelling at 110kph.Couple this with narrowed laneways in the roadwork section where we pass with what seems inches to spare (albeit at the reduced limit of only 100 kph) and the drive becomes quite tiring.

But eventually, after another 30 minute jam, we arrive at our Bonn destination about 6.30pm and find Felix waiting for us on the street. Hopefully he has not been there since 3 pm, our expected arrival time.

Felix was an exchange student from Germany who stayed with us 15 years ago. We also met Mechthild and Ulrich, Felix's parents,  in Australia at that time. They have very kindly invited us to stay with them  in Bonn for a few days so we can see the sights. It is wonderful to have an enlarged living area again having after living in our cramped van for the last four weeks.

We have a delightful meal and quickly renew our friendship. Felix has planned a weekend of sightseeing around Bonn and Cologn. Bonn will swell to well over twice its normal population this weekend as there is a festival which is held in different parts of Germany each year and is in Bonn this year.

Saturday 1 October 2011: Bonn , Germany.

Today we walk through Oberkasssel where we are staying  which has houses dating back to the 17th century and over to the Rhine for our first view of the famous river. Long river boats and coal barges  push their way up the rapid flowing river. The high flow rate make the river unsafe for swimming, although the pollution which was the major problem has been reduced to the point that salmon now inhabit the waters.

Toward lunch time we drive up to the former Bonn  dignatory guest house,   Petersberg, now a hotel then on to Lowenburg the ruins of a medieval fort originally built in the 13th century. The walk through woods is delightful and the view from the top, across to Bonn completes the pleasurable experience. We return late in the afternoon.

We spend another enjoyable evening before a restful night's sleep in our spacious surroundings.

Sunday 2 October 2011:Cologn  , Germany.

One of the must see sights on our list is Cologne Cathedral. Kathrin, Felix's partner has joined us so after  breakfast we walk to the train  station for a 30 minute trip to Cologne

To our surprise, the cathedral unfolds before us as soon as we leave the station. And what an imposing structure it is. Its twin spires rise 160 metre from ground level, the foundations extending another few storeys into the ground. It was started in the 13th century and not completed until the 19th century. I marvel that the technology existed to understand the requirements for foundations for such a massive building. We decide to climb the more than 500 steps to the observation platform at 97 metres. The spires are still 60 metres above us.

The climb is via a stuffy 2 metre diameter spiral stone staircase where two way traffic means that we climb close to the centre column up steps only 100 mm wide while others pass on the outside where the steps are wider. At times, one has to twist ones body against the central column as others squeeze past. Each rotation of the spiral is about 3.5 metres below its equivalent point    above or below so we rotate twenty or more times to reach the top. The steps are well worn by previous climbers over the centuries. There are no stopping points so it is a steady 10 minute climb. By the top, our muscles are announcing their dissatisfaction with the demands. Needless to say, the view is spectacular. Although the rooves immediately below are not very attractive.

The observation platform is a timber walkway between external  minor spires and the large central spire. A secure metal cage prevents people leaning out over the edge but there are some coins sitting at the edge of the stonework. Those which go over the edge must be dangerous missiles once they reach the ground. Some people do not think through their actions. We climb down the same spiral staircase, somewhat dizzy by the time we reach the ground.

Next we venture down ito catecombs below the cathedral to view treasures associated with the cathedral. Challices, gold ornaments and robes of exquisite beauty are on display. The wealth of these items is indefinable in historic terms and they show incredible craftsmanship, the like of which will probably never be repeated.

We spend the morning  looking at the cathedral  then have lunch  at a small street side cafe. After lunch we have the choice of going to the chocolate museum or the perfume museum. Chocolate wins.

The chocolate museum is on a small island on the banks of the Rhine. It is very interesting...... and there is the odd sample, a secondary consideration in our decision, of course.

By 5pm we are ready to return and after our return train journey are pleased to accept Ulrich's offer to pick us up from the station.    

Monday 3 October 2011: Bonn , Germany.

The weather has been unseasonably warm following unseasonably cold and wet weather the last few months prior to our arrival.  Today dawns misty and cool but promises to become another sunny and warm day. Our plan is to visit Bonn during the festivities so we take the local train to the city centre. A ten minute trip, we cross the Rhine and we are in the city.  First we see off Kathrin who is returning to Osnabrueck then we walk into the central area of Bonn.

There are people everywhere and a significant police presence. There are some dignitories in town and there are  demonstrations anticipated. The police have good communications and look quite menacing. But I don't think they  expect us to demonstrate and that must be so as they pay us no attention. The  infrastructure  is quite complex. The two or three sound stages we see are large and well made. Another area ,which Felix says is normally grass, has aluminium flooring and pavillions  which look like permanent fixtures.

We walk around listening to a brass band at one sound stage and an english group at another sound stage. Then we come across the Bonn Cathedral which, although not the size and grandeur of Cologne is nonetheless very impressive with a magnificent pipe organ which unfortunately is not being played. Even if it were being played, the SILENCE notice in 4 languages is ignored by the rock band belting out Queen on a sound stage just outside the door. We walk out to a grassed courtyard which would have been a sanctuary but for the band whose music is all pervasive.

Part of the festival includes foods from 16 regions. We start with a sausage (what else) in a roll and a glass of beer. This is from the Barvarian pavillion, which as well as the food, includes about 20 people of varying ages wearing green Barvarian costumes, complete with shorts and braces (not leather), hats with feathers and antique rifles. Some also have instruments which they soon  start playing. One even plays a glockenspiel which he carries.

Only 14 food types left to go as we skipped number 1. We actually skip 13 of the 14 remaining but keep walking through the stalls.

At one point we come across a number of Segues which are the two wheel devices on which one stands, steering with a handle on a post in front of the rider. After signing an indemnity waiver, we stood in a queue for a ride. After waiting probably 15 minutes and donnong a bike helmet, Felix, Ro and I were next. We in turn stood up on the devices and within a minute were each manouevering the devices around the set course. We each do the course twice all aquitting ourselves quite well. They are surprisingly easy to operate and I think within half an hour we would all be thoroughily proficient. They can travel up to 20 kph and are operated by leaning the post forward or backward to accelerate, stop or go backward. A sideways movement causes the device to rotate on its vertical axis. We all want one! However the sensation after dismounting is interesting. For about 5 minutes it is like walking on land after a rough time in a small boat. Only worse.

Next is a display of nano technology which is in a semi trailer which extends upward to become two storey. Very interesting, but all the information is in German so we exit. Us because we can't read it and Felix because he is sick of translating for us. In the interests of accuracy, and so the participants will recognise the events, I should mention that Felix in fact did not actually go in and Rosemary exited immediately she discovered it had no airconditioning, nano or otherwise. I stayed all of 8 seconds. With the german propensity for long scientific words, I knew I was beaten when a term was hyphenated at the end of a 40 foot trailer and continued on the next line. But why let facts get in the way of a good yarn?

We are ready to go home with the idea of returning later for evening festivities if we feel so inclined. It turns out that we don't, instead opting for a pleasant evening at home with a very enjoyable barbeque.

Tuesday 4 October 2011: Bonn  , Germany.

We have enjoyed our stay and renewing our friendship. In particular, it has been refreshing not being responsible for knowing where we are all the time and not having the concentration of driving in a foreign environment, which over time becomes tiring.

Time to hit the road. We farewell Felix who is returning to Osnabrueck by train and spend the morning loading our things back into the van. Mechthilde  has gone to work early so we decide to leave after her return in the early afternoon. Ulrich makes a scrumptious lunch which we have with them both before departing. All the males in that family are very competent chefs and it will take some time for Ro to stop reminding me  of my poor culinary skills. Domestic deafness has its uses.

We decide a short trip on a south along the Rhine would be a good starting point  with the idea of leaving early next morning  for a day of solid sight seeing. Enough of this rexlaxing in domestic comfort. We came here to do a job.  

Although we don't see much of the Rhine our short trip on the motorway allows us to arrive early at a fairly large campsite about 60 km south of Oberkassel. By  5 pm we are settled, an unusual treat, so we can go for a walk before dinner and one after  across a footbridge spanning the  adjacent river.

Wednesday 5 October 2011: Koblenz ,Germany.

Early leaving seems to be a difficult concept for us. 10 am is not really early but it is the time we get going, at least partially because I want to check the charging of the house battery as the igniter on the fridge is still giving some problems.

Tomasina, as we have now named TomTom due to the female voice, is directing us to Baden-Baden. However, as with the Romantic Road, the trip which was supposed to follow the Rhine  is nowhere near the Rhine. We decide to take matters into our own hands. Among cries of "Turn left, Turn right, do a U turn and go one more kilometer in this direction and I won't speak to you for 3 hours" we turn left toward the Rhine at our first opportunity.

The road we choose, as is usual with our unplanned deviations, is delightful. We had climed up a long steep hill so are well above the Rhine. Because of that, the narrow, deserted road winds downward in a serpentine path through beautiful forest, leaves just starting to turn before falling off their deciduous hosts. We meet one or two cars, but the technique of  moving over and, if necessary, stopping is nearly second nature so there are no moments of concern regarding mirrors, tyres and other assorted extremities.

We arrive at a town which is right on the Rhine and, after getting stuck behind a rubbish truck find a spot by the river for morning tea. It is just near a floating jetty to which is tied a long river boat. As we have morning tea, passengers gradually return to the boat. As they don't have luggage, we assume this was a port of call along their trip.
The good news is that we have a road which follows the Rhine to Bingen after which it has been suggested to us it becomes less interesting.

We travel through villages and see similar ones on the far bank half a kilometer away. Castles and forts cling to the steep rocky shores and dozens of boats ply their various trades on the rapid waters. River islands, some with buildings on them and rocky outcrops provide obstacles for shipping.

By Bingen, we feel we have finally seen the mighty Rhine and are happy to follow a more expeditious path to Baden-Baden, our destination for this evening.

At about 3 pm we decide we would like a pub lunch, or the German equivalent. We see a sign to Worms, a town on the route to B-B. We exit and spend the next ten minutes doing pas de deux on the cloverleaf entrances and exits to the motorways. Eventually we settle for Sud Worms but can find neither a place to eat nor any prospect of parking. We abandon Sud Worms and proceed to Zentral Worms. By now we are getting hungry but it seems those worms are the only ones we are destined to find.

After talking a parking inspector our of giving us a ticket then  going round in circles and seeing nowhere we can leave the van, we abandon any hope of a good German lunch and instead settle for an apple and some pretzels in the van, while keeping a close eye out for parking inspectors.

We continue on to, coincidentally, Wurmberg where we will stay the night. Again we are early so have time to settle in and go for a walk. But before settling in, we return to the village to a shop we have seen which is similar to a  bakery in Australia where we purchase some quiche which unfortunately turns out to be loaded with onion, of which we are not fond. Despite the young shopkeeper having as little English as I have German, we manage to communicate quite well the only minor problem being that we bought 4 breadrolls instead of two.  It could have been worse. I might have accidentally included hundred in the quantity description.  

Thursday 6 October 2011: Wurmberg  , Germany.

It is our 35th anniversary today. Hope it is memorable. Now those astute readers may know that, although I am writing this in present tense, events have actually occured, so I will let you in to a little secret. It is going to be memorable. And so is the next day which at this point we have not experienced. Anyway, more about the tow truck later.

After a bit of netting, we leave our camp for Baden Baden, about 60 km away. We have entered the fastest way so we expect all motorways. However, just as we thought Thomasina had not a romantic chip in her processor, she takes us on the most romantic little road without us even having to make a wrong turn. It is the most beautiful road we could imagine, through green forests just starting to turn. We pass a horse stud with quaint buildings and dozens of healthy looking horses. With only 5 km to our destination in Baden Baden, the Faberge Museum, we are still passing through fields and villages. This is our kind of city. As usual, parking is a problem but we eventually park about 1.5 km from the city centre.

Baden Baden is beautiful and classy. There are pedestrian only precincts which are in some ways reminiscent of Ljubljana. There is a Casino which now is used for  music events and many quality shops tastfully displayed, including an Art Deco shop, the contents of which we are very impressed by. We have quite a long discussion with the shop attendant who is outgoing, friendly and knowledgable.

We have decided to eat a lunch of specialty dishes of the area and find a quaint little bistro with tables outside and small tables, chairs and upholstered benches inside. As it is getting cooler now in Germany we choose to eat inside. A  beautiful pumpkin soup is followed by wiena schnitzel and vegitables for me and a turkey salad for Ro.

After lunch we walk to the Faberge Museum where 700 items are displayed from the craftsmen employed by Karl Faberge. He employed up to 500 artisans in the 1800s and early 1900s and the company provided fabulous art works to the Czars of Russia and other Royal families. The company closed soon after the revolution in Russia.

We walk further around Baden Baden, enjoying the beauty of this city. Ro finds some shops to peruse while I listen to a pair of guitar playing buskers who are very good.
At 5 pm we walk back to our van which has not been booked, wheel clamped or towed away. It must be our lucky day, we mistakenly muse. But there is always a cost  in not being wheel clamped.

We decide after a cup of coffee to head toward Freiburg, an hour away,  for the night. Thomasina leads us a merry chase through Baden Baden because of some closed roads. If she had her way, we would circle Baden Baden forever due to the combination of closures. Finally we escape and head toward the motorway.

With 45 minutes to our camp, it is getting dark and starting to rain. As we trundle along at 100 kph in the slow lane, there is a twang which  causes us to ask simultaneously "What was that?". Then the motor dies. You guessed it! This is the memorable event. We roll to a stop by the side of the motorway. Cranking the engine does nothing. A little later I remove a feed pipe from an injector. No fuel. I decide the most likely cause is a broken belt to the injector pump. Where is an airport check in guy when you need him to discuss such things?

Well this can't be fixed by the side of a freeway so we call the emergency number which Thomasina provides on Ro's mobile. Fortunately emergency numbers can be called even if there s no connection with a service provider, so after a discussion in  broken Gerlish (or Engman) we are informed that a tow truck will be sent within 40 minutes.

The tow truck arrives and our van's front wheels are lifted off the road. We sit in the van as it is towed to a small town where we have our first wild camping experience in the yard of a tow operator. Not the location we would have chosen under other circumstances.
As we settle in for a different experience, I peruse the repair manual which had been provided with the van. I had thought replacement of the drive belt would probably be easy and hopefully inexpensive ( although I don't like to think about the tow costs). However the manual points out that the timing belt also operates the camshaft. Failure can and frequently does cause bent valve stems. Oops. We will find out tomorrow.            

Friday 7 October 2011: Offenburg  , Germany.

Happy birthday to you; Happy Birthday to you etc etc. Unusual birthday for Ro. We are in an industrial park with trucks and cars and industrial buildings surrounding us. At 8 am the towies arrive and it is decided we should be towed to a local repairer. We settle the towie bill of 160 euro. Could have been worse. We may be able to claim that back on insurance as breakdown towing is covered.

At the repairer we meet Adalbert or Addie who will look at the damage. When an overhead camshaft stops, the open valves cause damage to valves and pistons. Fortunately the motor in our van does not have an overhead camshaft but has pushrods which operate  rocker arms and the pushrods bend instead. If there is no other damage, the repair bill should be under 700 euros. We hope.

Bent pushrods turns out to be the case with the only other obvious damage a broken rocker. Unfortunately, as it is Friday, we are here for the weekend with a repaired vehicle on Monday hopefully. However Addie has a vehicle  he has offered to loan us so we hope to visit Strassbourg in France only 30 km away to the west on Saturday and the Black Forest, 30 km in the oposite direction on Sunday.

We have morning tea in a bakery in Offenburg which is where we have ended up then go walking. After walking back to the repairer, about 1 km from the town, we have lunch of fish with Addie at a local restaurant which was inexpensive and a bit like a company cafeteria. We met his brother and niece there, a common occurence for them and one of the advantages of living in a township of 60,000 people.

We have found the German people to be extremely helpful. As an example, today we asked directions to a post office at a bakery. The attendants did not know, but  a young customer overhearing us offered to help. As he was not from Offenburg, he asked another local then accompanied us to the shop which sold stamps then to the post box (which are few and far between in Germany) before bidding us farewell. Others have been equally helpful. I have heard complaints that German people get involved in others affairs where they should not. However the other side of the coin is that they help where they have no requirement to.  Life is always a series of positives and negatives. From my point of view, I like the result.

On our trip back before lunch, we had called in to a bike shop to look for a more comfortable seat for Ro. The people there were, as usual, helpful and informative. It was suggested we should return with the bikes to try the seat we thought was most appropriate.

After lunch we removed the bikes from the van, now sitting over a mechanic's pit. We ride to the bike shop and select the saddle we think would be best. However, despite having brought the old seat and mounting tube into the shop, the attendant asks us if we have the bike and fits the saddle and observes Ro test riding it. But, more than that, he suggests she try it for an hour or two and bring it back if it is not perfect. This is how we find Germany in all matters and it is refreshing.

After the bike shop visit, we ride into the centre and look at a church and a few other sights then back to Addie. It is now 5.30 pm and after a cup of coffee with him, we move the van out of the workshop and into the yard where we will sleep for the next three nights. Not a great improvement on last night's venue but we do have power and a vehicle to use.

Our evening meal is in the van and consists of a lovely mix of vegetables. It is not to Ro's personal advantage to make such nice meals as it gives us a reason to not go out.
After dinner we decide to visit the Big Smoke to see the night life. We do and there isn't. But Ro gets a chance to try her left hand driving skills. As in Graz, I am the Curb Alert alarm and I am kept busy. Why the geometry of the car should be different with left hand or right hand driving is a mystery, but both of us have fallen prey to the syndrome. Ro decides she is happy to let me keep driving as I am now a fully fledged lefty. Mind you, for me to be a lefty, I need to move right from my ideology. Perhaps this is not the vehicle for further philosophical discussion along those lines.

Tonight will be rather cold as there is snow predicted above 1000 metres. We will need to rug up. And not even a guard dog to snuggle up to.

Saturday 8 October 2011: Strasbourg  , France.

The night is cold. However we have preveiously purchased a second doona and the cold is not a problem. Next morning, though, the heater is appropriate. When I fixed it some weeks ago it was very hot and I thought we are never likely to use it. But I don't like things not working which are supposed to work, no matter how useless. I now understand that the heater working is not useless.

We get ready and hop into our little VW Golf. I have not driven it before and enjoy the zippiness and small size. No more squeezing between parked cars and oncoming traffic.
We were surprised to learn Strasbourg is only 30 km away and it is in France. I had always  felt superior knowing it was in Austria rather than Germany as most people thought.....so I thought. But is is in France, just over the Rhine, the border between Germany and France. A sobering lesson (says he sagely or stupidly, depending on your viewpoint).

We arrive in Strasbourg and look for a car park. In the process we do battle with guessing what is a one way street and if it is, which way. To add to our confusion, there was a pedestrian and bicycle precinct, which had cars parked against no-parking-tow-away signs. I would like to think that I am not easily confused, but this set of circumstances I found a little challanging. However  pedestrians seem not to be bothered by the close proximity of cars to their rear ends so we follow another car past the left turn only sign  in the pedestrian only precinct avoiding the cars next to  the no parking signs until we  come to what appears to be a vehicular road and continue on our merry way.  The car we we follow disappears who knows where. Maybe it is our guiding angel.

After a bit more negotiation of the streets, we find a place which allows parking with the purchase of a ticket. I am familiar with mechanical meters with a slot for a coin and which goes wrrrrrr when you insert the coin, showing you the time you may park. This meter is not one of those. The clue should  be the solar cells on top, but I ignore them and head straight for the credit card slot. We had checked that the card was loaded the night before so I confidently feed it in, hoping that it will not clear the card and offer me one year's parking. But it is a French speaking meter so it just writes on its display 'non, non, non. c' est  impossible!' and spits my card back with an audible contemptuous sigh. I try again, hoping to appease it with coins but it refuses those too. Eventually I feed the coins in before selecting any time on the meter and it indexes the time it will allow me to leave my car there before calling the gendarmes. Speaking rudely to a parking meter is futile, and possibly borderline insanity, so I accept the token it proffers, put it on the car dash and leave.

We are looking for la Petite France which is the old section of Strasbourg. Fortuitously it is where we have been doing battle with the street signs and we find it within 300 metres over a bridge either end of which are ancient square towers. We walk between  16th century buildings with delightful facades in varying states of repair. Strasbourg has a canal system with a series of locks which allow canal boats to navigate the rapids which  result from the rapid drop of the river.

There is a delightful patisserie/cafe which appeals to us where we have lunch before walking through the Strasbourg Cathedral which is Strasbourg's answer to Notre Dame. It is huge with an impressive interior with towering vaulted ceilings and the obligatory massive pipe organ. In addition, the cathedral has an interesting mechanism which we assume calculates celestial positions of stars.

It is raining and we are feeling a little touristed out so we decide to drive back. On the way we encounter a european traffic jam and spend half an hour in a queue of cars waiting to pass a collection of police vehicles, the reason for their presence not being clear.
After a bit of housekeeping which includes emptying the toilet and waste water, we decide against going out for dinner and instead have a meal in the warmth and now familiar surroundings of our camper, still parked in the yard of the repairer.  No more visual bombardment from new sights for today.

Later, as rain falls outside, we decide some clothes washing would be in order.We can use the bathroom as a drying room  by turning on the heater and closing all ducts except the bathroom. During the drying process, I need to use the toilet at the same time Ro needs to adjust the drying clothes. Privacy is not a big ticket item in our camper. Furthermore, the camper is boiling hot but the clothes are still wet. Still we cope. Coping skills are useful in cramped living space.

Sunday 9 October 2011:Offenburg , Germany.

Sunday morning is cold but mostly clear. We light our heater and get the van cosy as we have breakfast.

Despite being bitten by the abroadband cost, we are seduced by its presence in the absence of any other internet connection and log on to view any emails. Emails are our security blanket as they connect us with home. We keep a close eye on bytes sent and received  and don't spend too much time logged on.

Addie has suggested some towns we should visit in the Schwarzwald (BlackForest) area so we head off for the first, Durbach. It is only 10 minutes away but is reached by a narrow road which winds through wooded countryside. The village itself is lovely with now familiar cottages from the 17th century and later.

In my experience, there is nothing which compares in Australia with the villages in Europe. Although Australian country towns date back to horse and buggy times, European villages date back hundreds of years earlier. The building proximity and layout influences the relationship between the inhabitants. It occurs to me, admittedly as an outsider, that the automobile which had so much negative influence on interaction between neighbours in Australia, could not have had the same influence in Europe due to the lack of space between buildings. Certainly, the drivers appear to be more patient than in Australia since there is a lot of consideration needed just to avoid collisions between approaching  vehicles.

Next stop is Oberkirch and we start a long picturesque climb into the Schwarzwald. But as we go, we see a sign to Schloss Staufenberg which was also recommended to us. We drive up a narrow road for 1.5 km hoping no other car will approach, but thankful that if they do, we have a small car not a motorhome. As it happens, on the descent  later we meet a bus which seems to cause no concern to the bus and not to us either as an upward bound motorist had warned of its approach allowing us to seek shelter.

Although  pretty minor on the scale of those we have seen so far, the schloss looks interesting.  When the sun is out, the temperature is lovely but when clouds oclude the sun, the chill in the air is apparent so we dress warmly.

The schloss is a winery today and the surrounding hills are planted with hectares of vines in neat rows, in a patchwork of ditterent directions. The view from the peak where the schloss is built is panoramic and allows us to see the cathedral in Strazbourg which we visited yesterday.

We continue on to Oberkirch, where we get out and walk.As the sun is shining at present we have coffee and apfel strudel at a small cafe sitting at tables on the street side. The road, despite being small, is the main thououghfare and cars cruise by constantly.

After coffee, we walk through a church then see the cafe where we should have had coffee. Their cakes are out of this world (or is that wald) and the area is much quieter. But the greener grass does not greatly bother us and we move on.  

Next stop is Oppenau. It is built next to a large stream which now forms a canal through part of the town. It is very picturesque and has one building which is cantilevered over the fast flowing stream. Another has water gushing from an adjoining stream from a canal under it. We visit some shops and walk along the stream then see a poster which suggests (or states to the German proficient) that there is a music festival today. We ask directions at a stall which is partly attended by young female students. When we ask if anyone speaks English  the girls answer in the affirmative. Among a lot of giggling they give directions in their best school English, maybe their first serious use of the language.

We follow their directions to a large, recently built hall where a music festival is in progress. It is intended to raise money  Food and wine etc are available so we order a viena schitzel and gemuse mit kartoffelsalat, not really knowing what gemuse included  nor how we would metabolise the kartoffelsalat. The waitress speaks some english and is very helpful and friendly, as are all Germans we meet.During our meal, a brass band plays, with rather too long breaks between pieces, which are all rather similar. As it happens, the meal is a little ordinary but the experience is not.

After leaving Oppenau we drive higher into the Schwartzwald to find the Schwarzwaldhochstrasse, a road at the top of the ridge from which we have been promised more panoramic views.

As we climb we  come across a sign which suggests a waterfall is near. This is deep in the forest and involves a walk through the forest and up many, many stairs, passing the waterfall which is really a series of waterfalls. We climb some 100s of metres as the waterfall cascades next to us. At the top of our climb we are rewarded with a medieval ruins of a monastry and associated gardens and water features originally founded in the 12th century.

We return to our car and continue upward to the Hochstrasse. Another suggested sight is the Mummelsee, a small lake which has attached a shop selling original Schwalduhren. These clocks have varying degrees of animation which include actions such as woodcutting and other tasks performed by tiny models which operate on the hour. A clock can range from 20 euro to 400 euro depending on actions etc.  

We drive back to our van in its industrial surroundings and close ourselves in for the night, imagining we are in rather more aesthetic surroundings. But we have no complaints as we have gained immeasurably through our misadventure with the engine. So many of the highlights of our odessy have been through unplanned events.
The night is not as cold as the last two and we sleep well.  

Monday 10 October 2011: Offenburg , Germany

We wake at 7 am with the alarm as we need to push the van into the repair premises by 7.45 am. We are ready when Addie arrives and with the help of some others push the van into the workshop with Ro steering. The parts should arrive by 10 am and Addie will have the belt on before then. We fiddle around doing not a lot until 10 when the news comes that the parts will not arrive until tomorrow. Nothing we can do so we hop on our bikes and visit the city to look at some statues.

As it happens there is a fish market on today. Although this may conjure up ideas of smelly fish on trays, the reality is a lot of attractively decorated stalls, including an excellent pirate ship stall and a mini Eifel Tower  replica, where we have some beautiful fish and more kartoffel. Kartoffel is ubiquitous and plentiful in Germany. After lunch we ride along a river to a lake then return via an OBI store. In order to balance my waiting around while Ro shops, we spend some time in Bunnings type stores. After not a lot of 'Can I have this. Can I have that' we purchase some essentials, like another screwdriver and some bike lamps and some electrical connectors, then head back to our base.

Addie has recommended we visit a small town about 30 km from Offenburg and when we return he states that he has finished work and would be happy to take us to the town he suggested. It is called Gengenbach and it turns out it is his favourite  town.

We gladly accept and after a short trip spend a spellbound hour or so looking at Addie's favourite village vistas. Words cannot capture the magic of the laneways and squares in this town. There is a working water wheel which powers the grinding mill for a backerei (bakery). Down narrow laneways are houses side by side and separated across the street by three metres. At first floor level they step out to give more room for the occupants but even less room between each and its opposite house. Construction is heavy framing beams with infilled panels of straw, mud and cow dung, which form excellent insulation barriers against the cold.

We leave Gengenbach and return via a schloss which is now a youth hostel. The building is impressive, reminding us of how important ornamentation was in times bygone. The views are panoramic and Addie comments that they are even better from the schloss roof which is open once or twice a year.

Returning to our van which is still inside the repair shop, Addie suggests we leave it there overnight for added warmth. Our relationship has grown to the extent where he feels secure in the knowledge that we will look after the building and contents and we hope that we can offer to  return some of his hospitality if he gets to Australia, which he hopes to do in a year or two.  Our breakdown has turned out to be our good fortune. Perhaps slightly costly good fortune, but good nonetheless.

Tuesday 11 October 2011: Offenburg  ,  Germany.

There is nothing for us to do this morning but sightsee as the van will not be ready before lunchtime at the earliest.

Addie has suggested we visit some medieval ruins about 30 km away. The largest ruin is near a town called Sexau. He says to use the car again and we gratefully accept.
Following Thomasina's instructions, we set off. We have set the path to fastest so we have 30 km of motorway driving. At last, a bit of highish speed driving with a vehicle with some go, instead of the torturous ordeal which the van presents. But our luck is out as there are roadworks and the limit is 80. Here I had ideas of driving at 300 klicks in our loaned 1992 Golf and they have been dashed!

However the motorway roadworks end and I have my open speed limit. At 140 in the Golf, I lower my goal. Close formation flying at 140 is enough for today. Maybe in a Beamer with no traffic I would try 200.

As we drive down a steep road roward Sexau through beautiful countryside and villages, we look at our map. Where are these ruins? Not up that laneway nor behind that house. We do a u-turn in Sexau and start driving back. Then we see it. It is massive and just on this side of the hill we just descended. We actually drove past the entrance on the way down.

Returning to the entrance we walk 300 metres to the ruins. They are extensive and have been made slightly safer for visitors with fences etc. We walk through shells of buildings and under arches then climb to the top walkway. Once again the views are magnificent.
By lunchtime we have seen all we want to so return to the car. In our last hours in Germany Ro is keen to try some of the cakes which we see in abundance at bakeries so we decide to drive back to Gengenbach to have lunch. On arrival, lunch followed by rich cake seems unlikely so we settle for coffee and rich cake and skip lunch. Besides, we were due back at the van by 1.30 pm hoping to leave today and that possibility also seems to be receding.

As it happens, we return at 2.30 and the van is not quite ready as the parts arrived late. By the time the push rods and rocker cover are refitted, the engine warmed to change the oil, a  flat tyre fixed and the exhause system improved, it is too late to leave so we spend our 6th night in Offenburg.

The final bill for the van is 980 euro, significantly more than I had hoped but the original estimate did not include a broken rocker arm, an oil change, a tyre repair and an exhaust repair. Add 160 euro for towing and it has not been inexpensive. However if it had been an overhead cam engine, the bill would have been a lot, lot more.

Wednesday 12 October 2011: offerburg , Germany.

Today we leave, finally. By 9 am we are on the road. But not the road to France as expected but the road to Wolfach where there is a glass manufacturing factory we wish to visit before exiting Germany.

The factory has a nicely laid out shop which has thousands of glass items plus a Weinachten Raum which is full of Christmas trees all decorated in glass and china ornaments and fairy lights in different rooms decorated as German village homes. There are icicles with small lights around the rooves and the odd Santa here and there, one recumbant and snoring. The whole setup is delightful.

We go out to the factory to see glass blowing. Visitors can request a vase be made for 12 euro. The rather remarkable thing is that they may stand by the glass blower as he manipulates the glass at 1000 degrees C. It would seem that fear of litigation has not destroyed German society the way it has in meny ways in Australia.

We watch, fascinated, as the glass artizans heat the glass to 1100 degrees before rotating the glass to form a sphere of about 150mm diameter. They reheat then roll the sphere in various plates of coloured glass so that the glowing ball looks like a peppercorn. As they reheat the glass chips are diffused into the sphere. The most amazing thing is the fact that the colour can change dramatically as it cools. From a colourless white it changes to a vivid blue, red, yellow or green or combinations of colours.

We leave the factory with the intention of having coffee at the restaurant, but as too many others have thought similarly we instead retreat to our van and have coffee and cake there.

Now we are on our way to France. We set Thomasina and begin our journey.
The motor seems to be running well. The additive which Addie recommended is supposed to coat the engine parts, improve compression, reduce fuel and oil consumption  and to make the engine quieter and smoother. I had enquired if I should have a teaspoon with breakfast but that is not suggested on the label. The engine does seem quieter, smoother and more powerful so we set off with high hopes.

Our hopes are dashed when we notice an odour which suddenly turns into a cloud of blue smoke. Furthermore, the engine revs uncontrolled by the accelerator and even stays revving after the ignition is turned off and the key removed. Which is a mistake as the steering then locks and we are still moving. Oh dear!  You might guess that nothing catastrophic happened in the ensuing seconds as we are still posting blogs.

Once the smoke lessens, I open the bonnet to determine the source. There is oil on the exhaust manifold and oil leaking from the rocker cover. When the engine is started again, it roars again out of control then stops. Odd that. A bit later we try again and it is OK. But the oil is still leaking. I decide that the oil on the  manifold was probably sucked into the inlet and provided fuel without any diesel necessary. A bit scary ,that.
Next problem is that we have no phone so cannot ring Addie. Our problem is short lived as a motorcyclist pulls up and asks in perfect english if we need help. He offers his mobile phone and I ring Addie. Even more fortunately, our motorcyclist helper is German and can explain to Addie in German which is good as my Gedrman explanation would be lacking in the extreme.

It happens that we are about 6y0 km from Offenburg so Addie says he can be to us in about 1 hour. We thank our helper and wait for Addie. It is a bit embarrassing to call him out but I do not have the tools to do it myself. When I express my concerns he says he guarantees his work and this is covered by that. He also is thankful we were not well into France.

He spends half an hour removing the rocker cover and finds no fault with the seal or the cover so decides to use a silicone gasket cement to seal the leak. hat he does and refits the parts then runs the motor while looking for leaks. There seem to be none so we all have a hot drink and bid farewell again.

We continue on for another hour and find a camp site near Freiburg. However there is a problem in checking in at the late hour so we instead wild camp yet again, albeit in a rather more aesthetic environment than the last six nights.

Thursday 13 October 2011: Freiburg , Germany.

We wake early as we would like to make up lost time and have a 10 hour trip ahead.
We are on the road by 8.15 am, the earliest ever. Within an hour or so we have crossed the Rhine and are in France again.

We have selected Avoid Freeways again which adds surprisingly little time to the trip over selecting Fastest which would include freeways. In addition, the Fastest route is generally longer despite being quicker. But the roads we get to travel when we avoid freeways   are beautiful. Apart from the occasional blockage which cause some headaches and add time to our trip.

At one such blockage, we decide to have some coffee so drive a little looking for a place to stop. As has been the case probably half a dozen times during our trip, we end up stopping outside a cemetary. We find the parking easy and rarely have any other cars next to us. Furthermore cemetaries are very common due to the elaborate grave markings which are favoured.

As we negotiate the detour which the road repairers hint at with confusing signs, a tractor and large trailer turn into the narrow laneway. Why the driver entered the lane when obviously only one could pass is not clear. This required us to drive up an embankment with two wheels while the top of the van tipped precariously toward the tractor. We inched by and continued. Such events are common in Europe.

A few hours later we stop at a small  village at a Patisserie to buy some quiches, some pasteries and a bagette for lunch. A short while later we pull off the road and drive down a steep laneway looking for a place with a view. These are hard to come by as roads are narrow and pull off points rare. Often a superb view is glimpsed briefly between trees but there is nowhere to stop and savour.

The steep laneway offers no appropriate stopping point so we U turn in a drive and go back up the laneway in first gear, stopping instead at an inauspicious  location behind a small unoccupied car for our lunch.

After a few more hours of driving, I am getting tired and we choose to stay at a campsite out of Lyon. Thomasina's  reprogrammed path takes us through the outskirts of Vienne through an old, delapidated part of the city. The roads are very narrow, especially when cars park one side. It is normal practice to use the other lane in such circumstances and the oncoming traffic waits patiently. On this occasion, an oncoming driver flashes his headlights and generally carries on. I assume he is accustomed  to roads suddenly widening or oncoming traffic evaporating. Or maybe he is just an impatient bastard.

By 6pm we are at our campsite, having negotiated more steep and narrow roads. There is an establishment which provides dinner. Trying to determinbe what this may be is not easy. Little english is spoken and Ro's french is tested. We choose what we believe will be a beef casserole but which turns out to be a rather dried out shepherd's pie of sorts with lettuce and mayonnaise. Dessert is a choice of something or something else. I choose the former.

Friday 14 October 2011: Lyon  , France.

We have been asked whether we require pain (bread) in the morning. The french equivalent of 'What's your poison' is 'What's your pain', but loses a little in translation. The pain we choose is one bagette and two croissants. At 8.30 they are delivered to our door. We enjoy one croissant for breakfast and some bagette, keeping the remainder for later during our day's journey, which will be to a camp site near Avignon, 253km or 4.5 hours when avoiding freeways (but not necessarily cemetaries).

We leave by 10.15 am not realising that Thomasina has planned her most diabolical route so far. We thought we had experienced narrow but those were freeways compared with the roads we will experience today.

As an aperitif we drive down a track which most respecting home owners would take a slasher to. Before the day is out, we will be asking at what point we say NO to Thomasina. This track is getting close to that point.

We persevere and before long we are on a reasonably major road. Continuing on the planned route, our allowing Thomasina her head brings its rewards. We drive along steep winding roads, some we hope carry no other traffic, and get panoramic views over dozens of kilometers of farming land. We travel down long steep serpentine roads between towering rocky mountains either side. Some of these roads are cut into rock and it is a concern that the top of the van will scrape as we hug the wall to let another oncoming car pass. Short tunnels blasted through the rock are wide enough for one vehicle only.

Finally when we get out of the mountainous region, we pass through a small village called Banon wher we negotiate our narrowest street yet. This laneway at the back of houses, presumably a test set by Thomasina, is so narrow that, were we to meet a fieldmouse in a peddlecar, one of us would have to reverse.  Now I am a pretty egalitarian sort of guy, but under these circumstances I would have pulled size rank and it would be the mouse who would be backing up. Perhaps I may reconsider if it were towing a caravan.

Having negotiated this laneway we exit the village via a treed roadway which involves a slalom course with oncoming trafic, a piece of cake after our previous encounter.
Finally we arrive at our campsite, which is deserted. With sunlight running out, we decide we can either wild camp outside or chance continuing on to another campsite 20km away. This we do, arriving at 7.30 pm. It turns out to be a good choice.

We are welcomed by a Dutchman who speaks handsfuls of languages, one of which is English. He is quite enebriated by his own admssion but makes a bee line (the bee may have been  similarly enebriated ) to a golf buggy and asks us to follow. He drives 30 metres and shows us a site we can park our van. He sees to the power cord, somehow managing to avoid electrocuting himself and bids us goodnight in some language we didn't recognise.
Pleased to be tucked in for the night, we have dinner and have an early night.

Saturday 15 October 2011: Banon , France .

The night is cloud free and very cold. Fortunately the van stays reasonably warm now we have realised we must keep the external utiity cupboard cover closed. A mistake we only make once. However we need the heater in the morning.

The day is cloudy but the sun breaks through frequently. We have decided to spend a day or two enjoying the great outdoors. We are either in or on the border of a national park and there are enjoyable walks available.

As we climb a steep track, we look down to the campsite which is largely deserted at this time of the year.  The main building is a typical Provence building of stone with light blue shutters. There are dry stone walls peppered about with a pool in a terraced courtyard. Because it is late in the season, a blue cover is in place, which gives it a Greek flavour. Despite being so late in the season, the pool is still 24 degrees.
It is a day of leisure and the walks, a cup of coffee or two and a little reading see out the day.

Another cold night in store, we retreat to our van, light the heater, play some Jaques Loussier music on our quite acceptable audio unit and retire to bed. Before doing so, we brave the cold to look at the northern sky. But there is not enough to enthrall us more than the cold dismays us so we return to the warmth and go to bed.

Sunday 16 October 2011: Banon  ,  France.

The morning dawns colder than yesterday because the sky has remained clear. But that means the sun will warm the air sooner. Despite the promise of a warm day, we need the heater during breakfast.

We had not decided whether we would get back on the tourist trail today or not, but the clear sky tempts us to spend another day of relaxation in the sun.

We walk the paths we enjoyed yeaterday, seeing new things and being re enchanted by sights we have already seen.

It is a good day to polish the van so I do that here and there over some hours, reading  and enjoying the sun between bouts of activity. I borrow a small step ladder to aid the task and by the day's end, we are pleased with the result. Ro has also blackened the bumper with plastic blacking polish so the camping car is looking quite respectable. Were we to meet the German border police now, they may not want to look inside this time.
Some distance before we arrived, Ro expressed dismay after reading about bories that we had not seen one. A borie is a small circular structure built of stones not joined by mortar with a circular domed roof which was used as shelter over many enturies and up until last century. Today we find one, including an old timber door  near a dry stone wall.

By the time we arrive back it is getting late so we have dinner and go to bed early with the idea of leaving next morning for Orange.

Monday 17 October 2011: Banon  , France.

As planned, we leave for Orange, but not as early as we had hoped after doing a few chores.

Our plan is to visit Orange, Avignon and Arles. Thomasina has plotted a course for Orange which avoids Avignon and we think that is a good idea. The only slight impediment is that I set the destination as Avignon instead of Orange. Shame that. We see numerous signs to Avignon but think our route will deviate before the city. When we discover my mistake, we are 6 km from Avignon city centre. Not that  it makes much difference to travel time to reset our destination to Orange.

We do that and soon think that coffee time has arrived. As we have not seem a cemetary for some time, we go off road and find an orchard in which we can park while we have our morning tea. For some reason, no matter how isolated a place we choose, we frequently find that someone on a tractor or similar implement will turn up. Fortunately, this time that does not happen so we enjoy our coffee and cake in solitude.

When we go through a roundabout, which in Europe is dozens of times a day, Thomasina directs 'Cross the roundabout, third exit' in a school marm voice. But there is an unmistakable  subtext of 'but don't cross me'. Whenever we alter Thomasina's course, she endeavours to reset a new course to compensate for our (she assumes) stupidity. When no course exists in the direction we have turned, there are terse directions of 'Turn around when possible' with a just tolerant tone in her voice. We normally have one or two altercations of this type each day. But she does seem to be trying to soften her approach as we can at times detect a slightly lowered volume and a more husky voice when she coos 'Then take the second left'.

We arrive at Orange about 1 pm. We park where we think it is legal and feed 2 euro into the meter to get the maximum of 2 hours and 15 minutes. Non of this easy decimal rubbish. But the time which we need to return is shown as 16:15, 3 hours and 15 minutes hense. Later we find that the parking is free between 12 and 2 because all the shops are shut then. This includes the Tourist Office. We return to the office at 5 to 2. At 2 to 2 a Frenchman enters the office and locks the door. As we inspect a map on the door, at 2 exactly he unlocks the door but does not open it. When we enter, he is behind the counter, and offers a cordial Bon Jour to our greeting. Ro asks him if he speaks English. His abrupt answer is " Of course, that is why I wear this badge." and points to a lapel badge which we assume said something like "I speak English". We were too shocked to explain that we generally look people in their eyes before inspecting their chests. Admittedly some chests warrant checking out before eye contact, but his was not one of them.

His carefully manicured interpersonal skills, obviously well suited to tourism, are further exercised when we ask him if he has any literature in english about sights in Orange. We have almost finished the word 'english' when he whips out a brochure from under the counter, flinging it open in the one gesture and states "We are 'ere.  The Arc de Triumph is there and the Antique Theatre is there." Three rapid circles around our current position and his interaction with us is finished. "Av a good day" are his parting words.

By now we have removed our bikes from the van so we cycle to the Antique Theatre. This is commonly regarded as the best Roman ruin in Europe. It is amazing. It is thought to have been built at the start of the first century AD and was the first permanent theatre built. The proportions are impressive. The stagewall is 103 metres long and 37 metres high and has seating for 10,000 people. The design carefully considered accoustics and to enhance the accoustice, large bronze jars of varying dimensions were placed strategically to allow actors' voices to project. The jars were sized to project appropriate frequencies to appropriate parts of the theatre.

We leave to visit the museum associated with the Antique Theatre, which is also very interesting. We see maps carved in marble which depicted land holdings, each numbered and with varying legal attachments. Fragments of the map have been reassenbled on a wall. On two other floors we see artworks and a history of fabric printing  both of which make the visit well worthwhile.

It is getting late and we need to find a place to stay. Thomasina can find no camping sites near here, the closest being 100km away. But a 'Lonley Planet' book given to us shows one site..... which is now closed. We ride there on our bikes to check whether it is closed, closed and it turns out is is. Totally deserted. However there is a car park outside so that will be our site for the night.

But before that we see a ittle eating place which will suit us for dinner. Fortunately the waitress speaks English. And French. And Estonian. And Russian. And Spanish. And Portugese.  There may be some others, but there is a limit to her memory.
We choose from the menu, pleased that we have some idea this time what we are about to be served. The meal is very tasty, if a little too big.

Now to set ourselves up in our parking area outside the camping ground. It is dark so we hope that we will go unnoticed, that is if anyone cares anyway.  As we are wild camping, we are reliant on our batteries. The unfortunate part is that the voltage is dropped by devices we are using which lowers the speed of the water pump which makes showering more like squirting ones self with a syringe. We had hoped to use the heater but that requires a fan. We had hoped to be able to see but that requires lights. Thus our shower is done by bike headlight  in order to have a reasonable shower. At least it is nice and hot which is more than we can say for many of our camping ground showers which either have 15 second timers, luke warm water or both.

All is quiet as I go to sleep at about 10.00. Unfortunately Ro cannot get to sleep and is alarmed when a dumpmaster type truck turns up to empty a waste bin at 11 or 12 oclock. As the truck roars to feed its hydraulics Ro says she was reminded of an event  in Melbourne recently where we visited a metal recycler and the truck was revaged by an unloading magnet crane whick rocked the vehicle mercilessly while Ro was alone and helpless inside. We assume that the truck is visiting at midnight to make up lost time from the midday siesta here. I keep sleeping like a baby.

Tuesday 18 October 2011: Orange   ,  France.

A less chilly night is followed by a cool rather than cold morning. We leave our illegal (we assume) camping spot and have breakfast along the way. Along the way turns out to be very nearly on the way as we can find no open leafy spot to stop. Instead we have morinng traffic rocking the van as it passes one side and the roar of vehicles on the freeway on the other side.

We continue after breakfast, looking for a MacDonalds for some wifi. We cannot connect so try another. We have trouble there too, but it turns out that some wifi servers want Windows Explorer rather than Mozilla as the browser. That allows us to connect. We have some coffee designed to grow hairs on solid rock then continue to citie des papes which is what we wish to see.

Fortunately a camping ground just over the Rhone River is open and we can leave the van there and ride our bikes to the walled city.

For some 100s of years from 14th century, Avignon was the centre of Christendom because there was political unrest in Rome.  After a ride around part of the city, we have lunch purchased from a boulangerie/patisserie in a small park which is adjacent to a ubiquitous church (or maybe Catholic....I am not sure).

Le Palais des Papes is an outsatandingly well preserved  Gothic palace built by successive popes in the walled city. A short ride  gets us to the palace where we purchase tickets for 10 euro including an audio commentary. It takes over 2 hours to view the 23 rooms on display. As usual, the proportions are gargantuan. There is a number of models, one of which shows scaffolding and winches thought to have been used at that time. I find myself full of admiration at the engineering in the absence of today's technology.

By 5.30 pm we are a bit foot sore. In Germany one gets sclossed out. In France one suffers palais malaise.

We ride across the bridge which connects the river island on which our camp is situated. There is an English couple with whom Ro strikes a conversation and we have a drink and chat with them before they walk to the walled city for dinner and we, suffering palais malaise, have dinner in the van.

After dinner we go for a bike ride along the river bank, testing out the bike lights we purchased in Offenburg. The night is clear but quite warm and we hope it will not be as cold as last night.

Tomorrow we will travel to Arles where we want to walk the van Gough path. However we may visit the walled city again before we leave. One of the many nice things about our camping car is that we can adjust our travel itinery on a day by day basis depending on what we find of interest. If we don't get to Arles tomorrow, it doesn't matter. The only consideration is that Arles is only 40 minutes away but does not seem to have any camping grounds open so we need to travel further or wild camp. If the latter, maybe a saucepan full of warm water will help our shower flow. That or leave the engine running when we shower to boost the voltage. Perhaps the vibration would also loosen the day's grime.

Wednesday 19 October 2011: Avignon   ,   France.

We have revised our plan and now intend to go to the walled city this morning to see the Angladon Museum which has a collection from the coutourier Jaques Doucet  of art, furniture and collectables from the  19th and 20th century. We intend doing that early but somehow the morning slips by  partially because be have to empty waste water and refill our water tank in case we need to wild camp. We  speak with some other English campers who alert us to a lat and long  in Arles where we can wild camp at a spot set up for that. They also mention that the French are very tolerant of wild camping so that alays our concerns.  

We ride to the city and, with some difficulty, find the museum...... which is closed for lunch. With the French penchant for siestas, we marvel that restaurants don't close for lunch and dinner.

When the museum opens a little after 1, we enter and spend an hour or so looking at the beautiful collection. There is an original van Gough from his time in Arles, a Cezanne and numerous other paintings from lesser known (to me) artists. There were also many art objects, chests of draws,  tables and chandelliers spread over two floors. The staircase which joins the two floors, and a third which is not accessible, is a work of art itself with a lovely wrought iron ballustrade and a large light fitting on a long heavy chain.
When we exit, we ride to places in the walled city we did not visit yesterday. Large parts are dirty, seedy and/or delapidated. But there are small pockets we find of quaint and picturesque buildings.

We ride back about 3.30 with the idea of driving to Arles. However we remember we wanted to see Pont du Gard which is more or less on the way.
It is 20 minutes to the Pont and we are directed to the right bank where it seems to be 15 euro to park with no other options. We try the left bank where it is the same. However we discover that the 15 euro includes  a film, museum and a day's entry to the Pont du Gard and surrounding parks. Not much use to us at 4pm but good value none the less.

We walk to the Pont du Gard. By now we are used to the vast stone edifices built by the Romans, but they still have a huge impact. To imagine armies of people building the remarkable engineering feats without the aid of modern technology is awe inspiring. We walk across the bridge with the aquaduct towering above us. Stone blocks of up to 6 tonnes were used in its construction.

Later we see a film, unfortunately all in French, which seems to be more about how the area is used and by whom rather than historical information. However the museum has a huge amount of data on the whole aquaduct system, of which Pont du Gard is only a small section. It also has a full sized replica of some of the tools and machinery used in the construction, including some of the hoisting systems used. It is very interesting.

By 7pm just on closing time, we think we better leave for Arles, 40 minutes away. We are confident in the GPS coordinates given to us which from experience  generally land us exactly where we need to be. Not so this time. Not unless we want to wild camp in someone's kitchen.

I have always thought that unless you nip bad behaviour in the bud, it will get worse. So it would seem to be with Thomasina. Having very nearly forced us to reverse from a narrow laneway, were it not for the absence of a mouse in a peddlecar towing a caravan, Thomasina now directs us to turn into a narrow laneway, with parked cars and, 150 metres up, a truck past which we cannot get. If that were not enough, in the rear vision mirror appear headlights. I start reversing and get an 'I'm here ' toot (in French of course). I leave the van in reverse and the driver after a moment realises the problem and starts reversing. It is nerve racking watching the camera, which fortunately is quite good at night, and the two mirrors and hoping I can see all impediments and am far enough away from them. The car is fortunate in that it can move clear after 100 metres but I have to reverse out onto a busy road. However I have observed that hazard lights are a 'get out of jail free' card in Europe. With hazard flashers on, you can park on pedestrian crossings, block an entire lane or reverse into a busy road.   

That I do, with both busy lanes stopping to allow me a two point turn in reverse. Oh the sense of power....Oh the sense of focus........ Oh the sense of stupidity. But in a puff of diesel smoke we continue, silencing our hazard flashers and becoming just another vehicle doing battle with roads built long before cars and trucks existed.

Houston, we have a problem! Where do we stay tonight? We drive around looking for somewhere appropriate. It isn't that one way street with pedestrians milling around us. It isn't along this seedy street with traffic thundering  by. It isn't in the main street on the footpath. So where?

We understood from our English (mis) advisors that the camping place was by the river so we head there. We pass a railway station and see the river. And lo! There are campers and caravans in a veritable little village. That is our place! We drive in and are immediately bailed up by a youth speaking French. He makes it clear that this is private. We realise they are Gypsies! Even if the German police think we are gypsies, the gypsies know we are not. That's a releif. Unless they think we don't meet the standards of gypsiehood. Hopefully we look too upstanding.

We consult Thomasina, limiting her options to lead us up the garden path, or worse, and decide to get out of town a bit. The green area looks promising so we head in that direction. A sign suggests it is a national park area so we continue. But we want to get off the road so turn down a laneway. If that mouse in the peddlecar comes this way, we are in big trouble as tall reedlike crops tower either side. Finally we come to a turn which becomes a plowed field. This will do us. If any car comes along here, they are probably lost.

We hunker down for the night, one ear open for any lurking axe murderers.
But the axe murderers must be busy elsewhere as we have a quiet uninterrupted sleep.

Thursday 20 October 2011: Arles   ,  France.

Until 8 am that is. That is when the farming community gets going. First off is a tractor which we fear will want to seed the field. But it continues down the laneway, its rear implements only just fitting between the dense reeds. A few minutes later, a ute. Then a car. Then a van. Our near deserted laneway becomes a farmer's freeway. Fortunately none wants to enter the field so we have time for breakfast before vacating our campsite.
We travel back to Arles and park in a tow away zone between two trees, with dozens of other cars. Another camper with French plates parks just in front of us so we feel comfortable that we are breaking the law in a time honoured  manner acceptable to the population.

It is extremely windy, so much so that at times during the day we need to brace ourselves to avoid losing our balance. It is quite a cold wind so we rug up with warm coats. The wind is called the Mistral and is well known in these parts.

First off is the Roman amphitheatre which is largely in tact and which will be rebuilt using traditional materials over the next few years at a cost of 105 million euro, including a few other projects. What has been done so far gives a glimpse of what it will be like when completed. As always, the scale is astounding. It could accommodate 24,000 spectators which at that time was probably more people than lived within the immediate surrounding areas.

Our main reason for visiting Arles was to walk the van Gough trail. vanGough spent the final years of his life in Arles and most of his paintings were done there as he considered the light far superior to that in Paris. The Mistral did not deter van Gough and we read that he used to set up an easel on steel posts driven into the ground or lie across his canvas as he painted. At various points along the walk, there are facsimilies of his paintings with the actual scene directly behind. The paintings displayed are those in which a substantial part of the scene is the same as when he painted it. It gives a very rewarding context to some of his famous works. Remarkably, he only sold one painting during his lifetime. A far cry from the esteem in which his work is held today. But had he been exhaulted then, perhaps his paintings may not be as they are. How selfish that seems.
By 3 pm we are footsore again so return to the van for afternoon tea before driving to look at the bridge he famously painted.

We park the van and start walking in the direction of the bridge. Along the way, next to a small tributary of the Rhone are moored houseboats, many of them converted barges like those we saw in Germany on the Rhine but smaller. After walking a kilometre  it occurs to us  that the bridge may be another kilometer away and we don't want to walk that far plus the return distance. We cut our losses and return to the van and drive what turns out to be another kilometer to the bridge.

It is a pleasant feeling being by the bridge we know so well through van Gough's painting. The brdge itself is interesting as I have not seen one like it before. There is also one pair of gates of a lock but the other pair is absent as is the reason for the lock since there is no difference in height.

Our next port of call is on the Mediterranean coast, about 2 hours away. We want to see how naturism works in France so are heading for a naturist village called Cap d'Adge. It is more than a village actually as in high season there are up to 40,000 people there. It is a complete city where clothes are unnecessary pretty well anywhere within the city!

Our trip is uneventful,  even boring.  Although the route is not built up, open  countryside is almost non existent. The most interesting thing we see is a bridge which opens to let sailing boats through and next to it a railway bridge which does the same, by employing a massive strusture which pivots from one bank. We cannot stop to photograph  the railway bridge  as we are in a 20 minute traffic jam. A shame as it was noteworthy engineering feat.

We arrive at Cap d'Adge and it is quite cool. There are still quite a few cars parked and some moving about. But the camping area has been  closed from 15 October until March next year. The area apart from the camping area is a bit of a concrete jungle. It has hotels, apartments, shops and such. Maybe the impression is different when it is teaming with people.

We have another problem in that we have no place to park again. However, as it is a resort in summer, there is loads of parking so we stop at an appropriate car park  between some apartment blocks and wild camp for the night.

Friday 21 October 2011: Cap d'Adge  , France.

The morning is sunny and wind free but it is cold and will be until the sun warms the air. We farewell our rather bleak surroundings and continue down the coast hoping for warmer weather.

Spain looks good, but we decide it is too far this time so instead stop at a seaside village, which turns out to be quite a development, reminescent of  the development around Port Douglas.

However, as we are increasingly finding, all the camp sites are closed. We search a few places along the coast and eventually end up at a parking lot for campers. For 7.20 euro per 24 hours we can enter the desolate parking lot via a boom gate and credit card reader. The money taking system is the most developed thing about the site. It is at least on the beachfront and the water temperature is not too bad so, depending on the sun, we may chance a swim. As it happens, we don't.

But we do go for a bike ride through an older style beach side area somewhat similar to what we see on the Mornington Penninsula near Melbourne. Two highlights are the structures on the beach which we assume are life saving posts. They are painted in contrasting colours. One is, in the absence of any other description, interesting and the other one is like an oversized beach chair with a roof. They both show the French passion for design, which we have often observed can outweigh the requirement for practicality and functionality.

When we return, we close up the van for the evening. This involves closing curtains over side windows and over the truck cabin area. This provides warmth on these cold evenings but more aesthetically pleasing, provides a cocoon where, despite what may be evident outside, we have our own private world.  We are fortunate that the van is fitted with a half decent  sound system and the positioning of the speakers gives good bass and treble response. We brought with us a number of our favourite CDs including Chopin's piano nocturnes and we play this during dinner and as we relax after dinner bathed in candle light.

Later we go to bed but tonight a little more snug as we purchased a sleeping bag during the day at Lidel, our favourite shopping place in all the countries we have visited, a least partially because of familiarity.

Saturday 22 October 2011: Cap Leucate  , France.

We vacate our park about 10 am via the exit boom gate. A French motorhome has parked across the exit beyond the boom gate and we talk in scathing terms as the driver ambles about with no regard for holding up those about to exit.

We soon understand why he is in no hurry. To exit we have to enter a code printed on our entry ticket. By this means, a camper which has overstayed its paid time can be prevented from leaving until the correct amount is paid. However the touch screen on which one enters the exit code is more of a touchy screen. Pressing a numeral on the screen either does not enter the digit or enters it multiple times. The French driver has pressumably just experienced this so knows he has time for a coffe, cake  and siester  before we actually get throught the boom gate. He is right because, by the time we get through the boom gate, he is well out of sight.

As we start our day's travel, we take a detour toward the beach and find a rocky headland high above the village we had ridden through last night. We walk across the rocks and explore a ruin of a building  which  although possible centuries old, looks like it may nave been used during the Second World War as a lookout post. Further over are numerous  rock fences from earlier times, although we cannot imagine what their function may have been. Further away is a town called Cap Leucate but surprisingly the unmade road accessing  it is not open to public  vehicles.

We are heading inland and have a travel time of 3 hours. The roads which Thomasina takes us on are narrow and picturesque again. There is open countryside interspersed by outcrops of  civilization, albeit at a pleasantly unsophistocated level. We drive through ancient villages with twists and turns in the laneways. Vinyards abound. We have been surprised that vines can grow in such stoney areas. In some vinyards one can see only stones and no soil at all. But here, the density of stones is decreasing and patches of soil are evident.

Continuing on our way, we arrive at our camp site about 4 pm. It is just open but there are no other customers. The female host is welcoming but the male is less than friendly. Presumably for him the season has already finished.

It is a cold night and by the morning we have determined we will seek a  warmer climate, with regard to both the weather and the campsite proprietors.

Sunday 23 October 2011: ?????   , France.

Partly in an effort to avoid the sprawl of Toulouse, we have decided to head north west to see the Cathedral of Saint Marie in Auch. The cathedral here is renouned for its beauty and was complimented by Nepoleon when he said it should be in a museum. Some people have complimented me in the same terms from time to time.

Along the way we stop for morning tea on a ridge with panaoramic views either side. After coffee and cake, a quick walk would be in order. We had been complementing ourselves on having morning tea not in sight of a cemetary, but our walk confirms that there is a cemetary within 150 metres but just out of our sight because of the geography. It is nice to have constants in one's life.

When we arrive in Auch we look for a parking space for our van and pass some perfect places between trees. To reverse our direction of travel, all we need to do is drive the wrong way down a traffic island, the wrong way up a one way street and over a kerb or two. Piece of cake if you have hazard lights. One motorist held up her hands in horror but presumably she had learned to drive befor hazard lights were fitted to cars.

Having reversed the direction of our van, all that remains to do is to drive to the wrong side of the road and into the space which it turns out is a bit short for us. The length of each space is determined by the random spacing of trees planted many decades ago. Unfortunately the perfect length spot for us is taken up by a micro car which fills 1/8 of the allocated space.

We lock the van walk up stairs to the cathedral. There are rather more stairs than were first evident and by the top we think it is time to go back. But we soldier on to the church door. But, of course the cathedral is closed from 12 until 2 and it is now 1.45. e occupy ourselves for 15 minutes, in the mistaken belief that closed 12 to 2 implies open at 2. Not so. 2.10 will do. Thus the tens of people waiting (this is low season) from 2 wait until 2.10.

But the wait is well worth it. The inside is spectacular. The towering vaulted ceiling supported by flying buttresses we saw ourside. Magnificent stained glass windows. Ornate carved timber alters and choir stands. Unusually, the alter is an island within the church around which are alcoves with alters and exquisite stained glass.

This is probably the finest cathedral we have seen. Some others are more spectacular and others more ornate. But the overall effect of this cathedral is in all ways spectacular.
Our camp site is still 1 1/2 hours away so we continue. Our Lonley Planet book has suggested the quaintest medieval village is in this region. Quaint and medieval are not words I would normally put together  and as such we are interested. We set Larressingle, the site of the village, as a through point in Tom Tom, but unfortunately we are past Condom when we realize Thomasina has stuffed up. We have not passed the town at all. We choose to retrace our steps about 15 km and visit the walled city.

It is indeed quaint. The wall is only about 150 metre in diameter but is largely intact. One could imagine the inhabitants closing up the fromt gate when threatened and peering down from their lofty vantage points as invading armies attempted to penetrate the wall. Inside, the village consists of houses, a church and a large building which is externally complete but internally not accessible due to disrepair.

Travelling another 1 1/4 hours we arrive at our camp site where we are welcomed by a small dog who, in his excitement, insists on investigating inside the van. His owner emerges from a restautant/bar and bids us a cheerie Bon Jour and Hello. Unfortunately, Hello is the extent of his English. His wife is the English speaker and will be back in one hour, we come to understand utilizing Ro's limited French. He invites us for a welcome drink and introduces himself and a friend who speaks a little more English.

With a little French understanding on our part and a little English understanding on their part, we have an animated discussion over a glass of wine and a lemon drink. What the conversation was about may deopend on the native language if the participant to whom you speak. When Jean-Mark complements Ro on her pronunciation, the  resultant boost in confidence  helps the conversation further. Before we leave to position our van before dark, Didier's wife Evelyne arrives and we share some laughs and conviviality. We will enjoy this camp site.

Monday 24 October 2011: ??????? (a different ??????) , France .

Today dawns overcast and cool. But there are little wafts of warm air, a bit like warm currents found in water bodies. We have a day of rest planned, which for me includes a bit of van fixing. My engineering background means I can only survive a certain number of days before wanting to fix something. Ro has the same requirement to do something but pianos are few, vegie patches non existent and home making is limited in a small camper van. She does exercise her creativity in meal preparation, which are always scrumptious, no matter how stale the bread she has to work with, and photography, with her eye for colour and composition.

My first task is to fit a new exhaust fan outlet. The old fan was missing but, along with other nic naks, I had brought with me a computer fan with the idea of fitting a bathroom fan. Instead I replaced the kitchen fan. The outlet for the fan had been blocked with a plastic cap so I had removed it. The resutant hole I had replaced with a modified aluminium drink can. Unfortunately trees and other assorted shrubbery had seen fit to remove my addition on two occasions. I had bought a proper vent in Offenburg but some modification with a jigsaw was required. At our last site, the manager had known what a jigsaw was but had not been very forthcoming in loaning it to me. But Didier is as enthusiastic to please as is his little dog. When I suggest I want to borrow something, he is ecstatic about helping. I suspect he does not have a clue about what I want or why, but he is enthusiastic none the less.

I have riden my bike to the reception building and made my request known in some fashion. Didier jumps into his golf cart and beckons me to follow on my bike. We take off at hgh speed toward an out building which serves as a workshop. At the door of the shed, which is a centuries old stone building, Didier motions me to follow. He dramatically picks up a tennon saw. Voila! Non Non says I. Electric. I have been making the motion of a jig saw and an appropriate noise which I think is quite clear. It would seem not. He picks up an electric drill. Voila! Non Non says I as I repeat the jigsaw movement. Voila says Didier excitedly as the penny drops. We move to another room where he shows me an electric pruning saw, more appropriate for dismembering the van rather than cutting a small hole in the roof. Voila! Non Non says I. A perplexed expression comes over his face. A pause. Then he says pointedly "Moi" pointing to himself then points two fingers to his eyes. We will go and inspect the job. He races off in the buggy with me in hot pursuit. I show him the vent and there is some confusion as to what I want to do with the vent. Drill? Non. We decide to go to Evelyne to clarify the requirement. I ditch the bike and join Didier in the cart as we race over to Evelyne.

Evelyne's English is many times better than Didier's but her knowledge of tools is not. Eventually we get across the concept of jigsaw and another Voila results. I have more hope that we will get the correct tool this time because I didn't see any elephants over at the shed.

We do get the right tool but there are no metal cutting baldes. After some discussion  I convince Didier that it is not hugely important so I won't do it today. He seems disappointed and, after returning to Evelyne  for translating, says tomorrow he can get a metal blade.

Instead  Ro and I go for a walk. That is until we see a sign which Ro thinks says this is a shooting range. We find this somewhat unnerving, especially as we had heard from Mavis and Terry that shooting is mixed with alcohol in France, often with fatal consequences .
On our return from our walk we see a dead refrigerator lying forelornley on its back. Nearby is a plastic coated rack which we would like to womble as a drying rack above the cooking hob. But it is too grotty so we forget the idea. As an afterthought we look in the fridge and there is a plated rack which will do splendidly. If I can't fit the fan exhaust, at least I can fit a drying rack. We check with Didier and Evelyne that it is scrap and on receiving an affirmative, my afternoon is decided. As it happens, I decide I can use our grinder to remove the metal and Didier's jigsaw to cut the wood so I am able to fit the exhause vent. Another successful afternoon.

Nearby we have read about a site at Lascaux which has wall paintings dating back to 15,000 BC which was discovered in 1940. Tomorrow we will explore those before camping 2 hours travel from Charroux. We have enjoyed our interactions with Didier and Evelyne who embody all the qualities the hauty French are reputed to lack.

Tonight we will be serenaded first by Chopin and later by the rain which is falling gently as we close up for the night. But before bed, we set up our drying room in the bathroom to dry clothes hand washed by Ro during her day of rest. This will aclimatise us for Singapore in a week and a half.  

Tuesday 25 October 2011 : ??????? (a different ??????) , France .

After an early breakfast, started at 7.30 when it is still dark outside, we are ready to travel by 8.45. However, paying our camping fees and farewells to Didier and Evelyne take another 15 minutes. We hope to return next year as we like both of them a lot.

The sky is clear but cars approaching us have their headlights on. Soon we discover why.....heavy fog. As the roads are narrow, our speed is low so the fog does not impact our time of travel.  But it is very pretty and does not last long.

We have read that this is the prettiest area of France and we think it wins by a country mile over anything we have seen thus far in France. The building style is similar in the villages and we see a number of well restored examples.

Unfortunately we do not have time to linger as we are hoping to see the  cave paintings in Lascaux and we have read conflicting reports on the internet about procurement of tickets. We have come to the rather confused conclusion that we need to purchase tickets at Montignac between 10 and 12 or after 2. Thomasina thinks we will  be there by 11.45 assuming no wrong turns, unplanned detours or the 1001 other things which conspire to make our 2 hour trips into 4 hour ones.

But apart from one detour all goes well and we arrive in Montignac by 11.45. It is a beautiful village and we find parking easily. Something doesn't seem right. On time. Easy parking. There has to be a catch. There is. We can't find the ticket office and when we do, a sign inside suggests it is an employment office and a sign outside says we have to buy tickets as Lascaux, 2 km away.

We walk back to the van, buying some lunch from a Boulangerie/Patisserie and eat in the van. We purchase a Croque Monsieur, which is a toasted white bread sandwich with ham cheese and white sauce, a similar croissante and some pastries.

We assume we have two hours to kill so look a a church then travel to Lascoux where we discover we can buy tickets for a tour starting in 5 minutes!

Unfortunately the tour is in French  so I understand nothing and Ro not a geat deal more. The paintings are actually replicas of the originals. The caves opened to the public in the 1950s,  however after 15 years, some degredation was evident due to the number of people passing through. A replica cave and paintings was produced and the original is kept for scholars only.

The paintings are quite sophistocated for what one imagines mankind was like then. Compared with Australian Aboriginal paintings, they appear to be more anatomically accurate but this may be due to different functional or cultural requirements of the paintings.

We leave the site thinking that next time we will only do tours in English.
Our camp site is 1 1/2 hours away and we are not really sure if it is open. We drive back through Montignac and comment that we should return to savour the sights and ambience at leisure.

As the kilometers click by, we relish our choice of non motorways. Next year we will never select motorway because the roads we have experienced have been the true essence of our trip. We continue to be enthralled by the Dordogne area and our belief that this is the prettiest area of France is strengthened with every village and narrow road.
We stop in a lovely little wood for afternoon tea when we are about 30 minutes from our camp site and, having consulted numerous books each of which gives a different opening time, decide it is so pretty that we will wild camp here rather than outside a closed camp. Apart from the odd shotgun blast and the the occasional owl hoot (hopefully the two not linked) it is peaceful and quiet.  As Chopin is played on the CD, we have dinner, shower and go to bed. This may be our last night this year in the van and we are a little sad in some ways. The van has become part of us. With its faults, imperfections and endearing qualities it is a bit like us.

Wednesday 26 October 2011: Yet another ???????  France.

The morning, like the night before, is cold. But the positive is that there is an enchanting mist which sits in the adjacent valley. The sky is clear and the sun rises illuminating the misty valley in beauty.

We contintinue toward Charroux, about 1 3/4 hours away. It feels a bit like going home and we are looking forward to seeing Mavis and Terry at Bois d'amour.

However, as we travel, we check today's date, 26th, in our minds and it occurs to us that 26th may have been the date that Mavis said she would be returning to Britain. Have we confused dates again?

When we arrive, the locked gate confirms we have. A trip down to what we remember is John's house does not help. Neither he nor Carol is there. We go back to Charroux Central (ie 500 metre back) and seek Brenda, the helpful insurance agent, who remembers Ro's face. John, she says, is about but she is not sure of Mavis's whereabouts.

We return to wait for John and start composing an email to Mavis explaining our mistake when John turns up. He was, indeed, taking Mavis and Terry to Poitiers. Damn!

Fortunately he has a key to Mavis and Terry's property so we decide we will stay there in the van and prepare it for the winter. John has very kindly offered to take us to a nearby station where we can get a train to Poiniers Friday morning for our booked TGV trip to Paris at 12.20.

Once again disaster has been snatched from the jaws of smooth sailing. But we are familiar with the ways of disaster and have ways of our own for coping. Sitting in a corner sobbing does wonders to clear the head.

First we need to empty the waste tanks and fill with water. We have been searching for a dump point before Charroux and eventually found one which is signposted as a public WC but should have been marked as a historic medieval site. Although it was almost  acceptable as a dump point, most people would prefer to burst rather than use it as a WC.
Murphy's law being as it is, Charroux  has a mobile home dump facility. By now we don't need to dump anything but we do need water and  ,Murphy's law being as it is, that does not work without 2 euro and the coin slot does not take euros.

We instead go to Civray to buy some groceries and find some water. We find groceries but not water. Finally we call in to a garage/bar (a funny combination which we have seen before in France)  and are able to connect to his tap at the back of the building. We offer to pay but he waves suggesting no payment is necessary. Instead we give him our remaining Australian flag and he is overjoyed, waving it to the bar patrons and receiving cheering and whooping in redturn.

We are ready for the night so we return to Mavis and Terry's property for a quiet night.

Thursday 27 October 2011: Charroux ,  France.

Our penultimate morning in the van is overcast but dry. I take the opportunity to wash it so it look good for our return.

John turns up at close to eleven to tell us that trains to Poitiers are few and far between. Our only choice is an 8.40am service, which is impractical as we are sleeping in the van and have to get it ready for winter. Instead, John may be able to ferry us to Poitiers, a service he offers for a very reasonable price. He needs to check any other committments first so we agree we should visit him at 11.30 for a discussion and tea.
After a bit of packing and tidying, we go to John and enjoy a very nice cup of coffee. John and Carol can take us to Poitiers at 10.30 am tomorrow. This will allow enough time to visit the Prefecture to see what mess the bureaucracy can have made of our paperwork. Assuming the Grand High Poobah signatory has returned from holidays. But that may be part of the mess. Fortunately, our brush with the prepubescent German Border Police was the only encounter with The Plod (European terms for Europe) so we are still driving on expired English plates.

Ro has commented to John that we need to go for a drive to charge the batteries for tonight as we don't have mains power. John and Carol suggest that  the Roman Baths at Chassenon, about 50 km away, are worth seeing.

We set off for the baths, retracing the steps we followed yesterday. Had we turned right at Chassenon instead of left, we would have seen them externally. We arrive about 3pm and spend 2 hours looking at the well presented and very interesting site. It is an ongoing work as more archealogical research is done, both physically with digging and also with investigation of documents.

Returning to Charroux at 6pm, we tidy some more and prepare for our last night in the van. We hear the chime of church bells on the hour, something we will miss in Oz.

Friday 28 October 2011:Charroux  , France.

A hurried bit of final tidying is our first priority. Not quite. Emptying the toilet for the last time is a bit more pressing. We have to visit the Charroux dump point, not a hive of activity in the town, especially at this time of the morning when it is only just light.

We return to Terry and Mavis's property and carefully move the van to its wintering point. It is a close squeeze through the gates. Then the task of putting a 12 x 10 metre tarp over the van. That achieved, at John's suggestion, I place logs on the bottom to prevent flapping. I had intended tying it on but the log solution is better, quicker and easier.
Our bags are loaded into John and Carol's minivan and we are on our way to Poitiers to catch the TGV to Paris.

We arrive with plenty of time and have coffee and a chocolate croissant then go to platform 2 to board the train which is already there. We want to be sure it is the correct train so check with a lady who speaks perfect english, but only when she has to, she says.
Two hours later we are in Paris. We have decided to walk the 3 km from Montparnasse  Gare to our apartment in Beaubourg Les Halles,  Arrondissement 4 rather than take a taxi. It proves to be a good decision, if somewhat tiring, as we get our bearings in Paris. Our first icon is the tower thingy which looms at the end of  one Rue outside the station. We also walk near the odd palace or two, over the Sein and Notre Dame. That just about covers Paris; now what to do with the rest of the week. Hopefully we will find something.

Our apartment is very central; within 200 metre of Notre Dame. And the space! It is almost 2 1/2 times the floor area of the van! We won't know ourselves. But we are warned that if we have wild parties and any damage results, our secutity bond may be forfeited. The only problem with wild parties would be where to put the guests.

A cup of tea is the first item on the agenda. The second is where to put our cases. Everything is compact. Every bit of space used. And the security is remarkable. There are two pin coded doors from the street and the apartment door has a bolt top and bottom plus FIVE pins into the door jamb. We have been told that Paris is very safe. One wonders what security would be used if it were not safe.

We venture down to the street again. It is certainly a vibrant place. The Pompidou Centre is only a short walk away and we spend some time walking around it and the surrounding buildings and squares. While intereting in concept, it is rather dirty and aesthetically somewhat questionable in my humble opinion. But we have not yet seen inside.

A  supermarket on our list of places to visit and in the absence of any Roman or medieval ones, a small shop front one will do. We buy things such as milk, coffee, some breakfast items and some vegetables and eggs in case we want to eat in. By the time we get back, we want to eat in. Our day of travel and lugging of luggage has taken uts toll and we are tired.

It is nice to have a decent sized shower and kitchen and sleep in a queen sized bed.

Saturday 29 October 2011: Paris   , France.

We wake refreshed ready for a day of sight seeing. We stride out in the direction of the Louvre watching where we place every step. Just as Avignon is known for its Palais des Papes, we had heard Paris was known for its Poops des Pooches. However the Parisians, or the hygeine department, have cleaned up their (dogs) act and we hardly saw even a Puddle des Poodle. For that matter we saw very few pooches at all.

Arriving at the Louvre, we walked through the main entrance toward the famous glass pyramid. Once in front of the pyramid, the magnitude of the building can be gauged. It is little wonder that the people revolted. Marie Antoinette's one liner about the cake would not have helped. As one walks toward what was the private gardens of the palace, it is hard to believe to what use the buildings could have been put. They continue in a huge U shape with multiple storeys and vast numbers of statues and ornaments. The lagacy to us is phenominal but at what cost to the people of the time.

As we walk through part of the courtyard we are approached by some African men who ask us to sign a petition for peace. While one works on me, the other works on Ro. Before long our signatures on a petition become a donation for innoculation of African children. They request a 20 euro donation but I offer 5 euro and go to Ro's aid who has offered 10 euro. Eventually we part with 10 euro between us, later realising we have been scammed and that we know nothing of where the money is going. We would like to think it goes to charity, but it could be going to buy guns or more likely is going into their pockets. Later in the day, we are presented with two other petitions and one ring on the ground scam, which we manage to ignor. We had been warned about the ring scam but not the petition one. We should have known better but obviously the scammers are professionals and know how to work their unsuspecting victims, which we were....the first time.

We continue down the Champs  Elysees to the Arc de Triomphe stopping off the beaten track for lunch at a cafe obviously frequented by locals rather than tourists and then walk toward the Tour  Eiffel, which is another incredible experience. As one gets closer the tower looms bigger and bigger until one is under the huge structure. It is remarkable that this structure was to be demolished after the 1889 World Exhibition. The change of heart has been to the considerable advantage of later generations. Later today, in the half light we will see the tower with thousands of flashing lights which look like flash bulbs going off at random all over the structure like a giant firework.  The long snaking queues to ascend the tower convince us to arrive early one morning before the 9.30 opening time to hopefully minimize waiting.

By now, we have six or seven  kilometers and don't fancy the walk back. Instead we go to the Seine and purchase a 5 day hop on hop off boat pass which we use to return to within 200 or so metres of our apartment.

As we return, we note that both our ground floor security doors are open. Hopefully only maintenance people but we feel slight trepidation as we open our door. Our worst fears are realised. The place is trashed. Our cases open and in a mess. The place looks like a bomb has hit. Then we realise it is a we left it. Our 20 square metre apartment suffers from easy mess syndrome. But we can cope.

We have coffee and cake we have bought with the thought to get a 6.25 boat from Hotel De Ville stop and doing a 1 hour 40 minute loop, just catching the last boat from the Tour Eiffel. This will get us back by 8pm when we will have dinner at one of the many cafes around our abode.

Tonight we are far less tired than last so at 6 we walk back to the jetty to catch our boat. It is starting to rain a little but we are protected in the enclosed boat. It has glass sides and roof but the light rain obscures the view slightly. Despite this, when the magical sight of the sparkling tower presents, I cannot help but smile. Ro gets some wonderful images of the tower through the raindrops which we are looking forward to seeing on a bigger screen.

Before we reach our  Hotel De Ville jetty, we decide to alight one stop earlier and walk past Notre Dame, now illuminated. As we do so, we see a sign that it is open at 9pm tonight and we assume the crowds will be absent. A quick trip back to the apartment for some waterproof jackets is in order before choosing one of the many cafes nearby for dinner before walking to Notre Dame.

The cafe we choose is a quaint little shop front one with tables outside under an awning.  It is still drizzling but warm enough to sit outside. However smokers at an adjacent table drive us indoors where the smoke is less although not absent. Our waitress is attentive helpful and friendly and willingly speaks quite good english. We order a main and dessert each and water, as the white wine I had ordered they do not have.

At 9.15 we walk to Notre Dame where we are disappointed to find the inside lighting is quite dim so we do not see all we had hoped. This is partially because a documentary is being shown on a large screen which can be raised on ropes. We watch the last 10 minutes before the open time is over about 9.45.

Walking back to the apartment there are still hundreds of people in the streets. There is also traffic chaos due to a huge police presence the reason for which we don't know. However we have heard sirens since late afternoon and there are dozens of white police vans and many dozens of police.

We finally get to bed at 12.30 am with the intention of getting up at 7.30 maybe to do some queue skipping.

Sunday 30 October 2011: Paris   , France.

Awaking at 7 and immediately turning off the alarm but not getting up, we strike out on both. However we rationalize that after 11 weeks on the move, we can afford to waste some time.

Instead, later in the morning we follow a walking path of the Marais district suggested to us by a friend. There are 30 detailed points taking us to Notre Dame, along the two Seine islands and back toward la Bastille monument. Before we cross the foot bridge from Ile de le Cite on which  Notre Dame is located to Ile St Louis we listen to a jazz band and buy one of their CDs. After crossing the footbridge,  we pass lovely little shops on Ile St Louis then walk back over the Seine where we see more small squares and fascinating old buildings.

Footsore we return to the apartment, having made it only to number 8, for late lunch intending later to go to Notre Dame for an organ recital at 4.30pm. When we walk to Notre Dame, there is a queue 100 metres long and we wonder how we will get to the recital if we have to queue. However, queues in Paris confuse us. It is normal to see people joining the front of the queue or bypassing it all together and no one seems bothered nor does the reason for some people doing this with impunity seem clear. Unsure how it works we go to the end of the queue, which we discover moves at a reasonable speed so we are inside within 10 or 15 minutes. We discover there is no charge to enter Notre Dame, as with most operating cathedrals, although one is free to donate. This was partially why we were confused about the organ recital and whether we entered the queue or not. We are inside by not much after 4.30, the due start time and fortunately the concert has not started. It does not start until 5.30 which we assume is a french thing. As we have decided to take the last boatbus at 6.20, we leave a bit before the end and head to the Hotel de Ville stop, just in time to see the boat leave. Drat! Instead we go home and have some cheese and biscuits, which turn out to be dinner as we cannot be bothered venturing out again. We have an early night intending to get up early tomorrow. Sound familiar?  

Monday 31 October 2011: Paris   , France.

But this time we achieve our goal. We are at the chapel Saint Chapelle by 9.15, 15 minutes before opening time. Things are very quiet for 9.15 on a Monday morning on Melbourne standards. However we are again confused as the queue which has already formed is in front of the Palais de Justice. The Saint Chapelle entrance has a barrier across it. We queue with others and enter an area where we go through a security screen like at the County Court in Melbourne. As we pass through the x-ray machine we ask the gendarmes if this is the entrance to Saint Chapel. He rattles off something in french which we don't understand and we continue. As we exit, we ask a second gendarmes if this is....... He answers in English that we can wait in the courtyard until it opens in about half an hour. It is after 9.30 now so we assume it is just another french thing.

After another half hour and no signs of activity, we are getting tired of the french thing. We are also getting cold so wait in a buliding which appears to be a Childrens Court.

Eventually we ask another gendarmes for the time and although he has no watch (probably the only gendarmes in Paris without one) his partner has and we are informed it is 9 am. Now we discover a Rue de Awakening as the penny drops. Summertime finished on Saturday night so yesterday and today we have been an hour early for everything. The french thing was just the end of summertime. We were early for the organ recital, we did not just miss the last boat, the streets were empty because it was an hour earlier than we thought and the Saint Chapelle will not open for another half hour!

When it does open, it is worth the wait. The lower floor has beautiful gilded low vaulted ceilings with dark blue panels with gilded stars between and there are stone sprial stairs to the upper floor. Climbing the now familiar narrow spiral stairs we are rewarded by 15 magnificent stained glass windows 15 metres high and from 1 to 3 metres wide.

Because we are there early, only a few people dribble in for the first 15 or 20 minutes so it is very peaceful. However after an hour, the chapel is crowded with tourists so we take our leave. After spending a few more minutes in the lower area, we make our way back to the apartment for a bit of shopping and some morning tea with patisseries purchased on the street.

A bit later we make our way back to the bateau bus and travel down to the Eiffel Tower to walk in the park below the tower. It is astounding how one keeps looking back at the structure for another glance. Maybe it is because we have seen the icon so often in films and photos and now we are experiencing the real thing. A picture rarely if ever captures the essence of being there.            

A few gimmick shots, such as leaning on the tower and holding it between two fingers and we head toward  Hotel des Invalides This is a massive hospital and retirement building which once was the home of 6000 soldiers who fought for France in 1700s. The main building has a gilted dome under which Nepoleon's remains are interred, having been moved there 17 years after his death.

There is a cafe where we have lunch before catching the boat to Jardin des Plantes a garden of plants which Ro would like to see as it has many medicinal plants grown there originally for Louis 13th at the instruction of  his physicians in 17th century.

Unfortunately we get the stop wrong so have to get the next boat to the correct stop.
It is getting toward closing time so after 30 minutes we are alerted to the closing by security people blowing whistles. Their whistle blowers are a cross between rap dancers and a group of hunters scaring quail.

The crowds take flight and stream toward the gates. We continue back to the boat and travel the one stop to Hotel de Ville where we walk back to the apartment.
A bit of refreshment and we go out for dinner. There are dozens of cafes and restautants to choose from and we select a small restaurant which has a glass enclosed  area built on the footpath.  A main meal is more than enough for us and we walk the 300 metre back to the apartment in the hope of walking  off dinner before bed time.

Tuesday 1 November 2011: Paris   , France.

Although yesterday's  forecast was for a clear day, today's is for rain. This may dampen our prospects for a full day of activity.

Friday we need to make our way to CDG for our flight to Helsinki and we have decided a metro or RER ride will be acceptable. We still don't know the difference between the two, but we know the line we need, "B", and a discussion with the ticket lady confirms that. We buy two tickets for Friday for 18.80 euro and hope all will be clear when we go to the station on Friday. The trip is about 30 minutes and we are allowing extra time for stuffups. As long as we don't board a train for Poitiers or some other place we should be OK. Later we are further comforted when we discover the train terminates at CDG Terminal 2 which is where we need so what could go wrong? I should point out that that is truely rhetorical at this point as I am writing before the event. What could possibly go wrong?

We emerge from the metro and visit another church which is called St Eustache and is a small version of Notre Dame, although small is not the first word which springs to mind. Why another such massive structure is required less than 1 km from the huge Notre Dame is a mystery. Although it is a fact that Notre Dame was in a very poor state of repair in the 19th century and may well have been considered unusable when little Notre Dame was built. Little Notre Dame is now in a state of disrepair but is very impressive none the less.

Our intention is to visit Musee d' Orsay because of the expected rain, The museum was the  main Paris rail station before the metro was built in the 19th century. We board the boat and travel down to the Tour Eiffel, do the U turn and alight at Musee d' Orsay stop.

Unfortunately by now it is raining heavily and others who have  had the same thought are queuing in the rain. As that does not appeal, we get the next boat and go back to the apartmrnt to dry off and have some lunch.

After lunch and a rest, as the rain has eased  we decide to visit a department store called La Fayette which was started in 1893 and after a successful expansion built a store of 5 floors in 1919 which included a rather magnificent dome built above the fourth floor.  Below the dome of probably 50 metre diameter, the four floors each have a circular cutout of the same diameter providing a sort of atrium to the dome. The walk is about 2.5 km and we see the old Paris Opera House along the way and the huge shopping mall which is built below the courtyard of the Louvre.

Returning to the apartment by 6 pm, we decide to eat at home as tomorrow is expected to be the last clear day before we leave and we hope to make the most of it.

Wednesday 2 November 2011: Paris   , France.

First activity after breakfast is to walk to St Merri, just around the corner then to Place des Vosges. The streets are deserted at this time, despite our having corrected our clock, and the St Merri visit is short because it is not open.

We continue by foot to Place des Vosges, a square surrounded by 36  houses built by Henri IV in 1612 for silkworkers. Who said the kings were self-centred. Never mind that the Louvre was 20 times bigger for the use of a few royals. The houses are remarkably symmetrical about the square but perhaps no more so than those of the kings shack.Today the area is quite an expensive area. For example, we saw a 140 square meter apartment for 2.5 million euro over near les Invalides making the Louvre quite an expensive  piece.
The Picasso museum, a converted mid-17th-century hotel, is nearby so we walk there. Picasso's family used many of his paintings to pay death duties following the death of the famous painter. However when we arrive, there is a sign which says it is closed until 2013 for renovations. The ironical thing is the paintings will tour Sydney from 11th November this year until early next year. Glad we didn't visit France to see them.

From there we walk back to Hotel de Ville to catch the boat to Musee Rodin which is next on our list. A slight problem is that I have misplaced one Batobus ticket. Fortunately the  deck hand, who the other day was the skipper, allows us on and during the journey we have a discussion about boat licenses on rivers in France. Did I mention that after we are sick of the camper we have considered getting a boat and touring the rivers? Poop!  Poop! , as Toad would have said.

We alight at Musee d' Orsay stop and walk back to the Musee Rodin. It has a  two storey 18th century converted hotel as the museum and over 3 hectares of garden. Rodin spent the last 9 years of his life there and gifted his sculptures, art works and letters to the French state.

Although I knew of Rodin as a sculptor, I did not know how talented he was. Lookng at his sculptures, the reality of the faces and bodies is astounding. On submitting one work to an art exhibition, he was accused of casting his sculpture rather than sculpting it.

The gardens have numbers of his sculptures among manicured garden beds and tree lined paths. As the autumn leaves are now falling, the carpet of gold is striking.
We take the boat back to Notre Dame where we intend looking at the church, St Louis, on Ile St Louis. We walk over the bridge to Ile de Cite then over to Ile St Louis. A Dixieland jazz band is busking on the pavement between the merde (yes, we did find some ) and we enjoy listening as we cross the bridge.

The church is the one we passed last Sunday during our Marais walk. This time we enter the church although it is geting dark so we cannot fully appreciate the gilt walls and the stained-glass windows. However we have seen a lot of churches and if we don't fully appreciate this one, we may not be very much worse off.

Walking back to the apartment for cheese and biscuits, we plan where we will eat. However, the comfort of sitting down without shoes is seductive so we end up skipping dinner.
But what to do tomorrow as it is expected to be wet? We will see.

Thursday 3 November 2011: Paris   , France.  

It is wet. We think that a visit to the Pompidou may be the best choice as it is close by and we won't be exposed to rain for too long. We walk there without the need for an umbrella. However there is not anything happening so after circling the building we move further afield down to a section of covered galleries near the Louvre. The galleries are in a state of poor repair but it is like stepping back to 19th century, albeit not in new condition. The most interesting shop we saw was the equivalent of an op shop which had women's clothing from various periods going back to the 1970s. There were outfits by famous names such as YSL, Chanel, Dior and others. As we return to Rue de Rivoli, the main street back to our apartment, we see a shop with many windows devoted to scale model figures of all types. They range from 50 mm high to 200 mm high and with varying degrees of detail, the most intricate being quite exquisite. Along with soldiers, there are mounted medieval nights and footmen, Roman figures, some in Roman baths, and even some half dressed girls, the dressed half of whom suggested they were chorus girls or prostitutes. There were also model buildings etc. The number of models is amazing and how this shop and others earn their keep even more amazing.

By now it is raining quite heavily and our umbrella is all that comes between us and a drenching. This is a task it struggles to fulfil as its ribs are worse for the ware. When folding it up, it is reminescent of a bird with a broken wing. When extended, the similarity becomes greater. Fortunately a significant amount of the way is covered so we get back to our apartment without needing a complete change of clothing. Never the less the  sightseeing is less pleasant and more limited.

In the rain, we are even more taken by the interaction between vehicles, pedestrian and traffic lights. The pedestrian walk/don't walk signs are more in the vein of 'un petit suggestion' which the viewers of the sign may care to consider. A green figure means a pedestrian may cross with impunity. Unless a vehicle would prefer not to give way, in which case the winner is the one who bluffs best. The same occurs if a vehicle has a green light and a pedestrian is crossing against the red. One woman crossed against the red figure and a police car waited patiently until she was clear without any indication that what she did was against any law.

However the seeming impunity which motorists face against being booked when parked across pedestrian crossings, blocking lanes or seemingly parking anywhere does have its limits. I saw a vehicle being booked where a building skip blocked the side of the road and the vehicle did not exacerbate the obstruction. It was a female officer who may have been leaving her name and address for a cute driver she had observed earlier. Ah le French.
We have taken some sandwiches and salad back to our apartment which we appreciate as a place for recouperation after the large amount  of walking which we do each day.  After a break, we decide to visit  the house where Chopin lived.

The rain has decreased to a misty drizzle allowing us to remain dry as we walk back to the Louvre. We plan to eat out as this is our last night in Paris and in fact almost the last night of our odyssey.

We walk back to a square, Place Vendome, where there is a large monument built by Nepoleon from melting down some 100s of cannon captured from his enemies. It is probably 30 metre hign and 1.5 to 2 metre diameter and decorated in a manner similar to  cannon of that period. On top is a statue of Nepoleon. No wilting flower was Nepoleon.

The house in which Chopin lived and died for the last three months of his life is marked but is now a shop selling very expensive jewellery. The Ritz Hotel is just over the way. We spend some time looking in the windows and dodging the rain drops as it is raining again.

After returning to the apartment again to dry off, we venture downstairs to a lovely little restaurant nearby for a good meal at an exceptional price.

After dinner, as it is still drizzling, we take a few night photos and return to the apartment to start packing as we must vacate by 9.30 am tomorrow morning.

Friday 4 November 2011: Paris   , France.

We have set the alarm for 7 am as we have done each morning. The slight difference is that this time we get up.

Since thinking the apartment had been trashed, we have completed the job properly. Now we have to disprove the 1st law of thermodynamics regarding increase in entropy and somehow create order from the disarray. Creating order by stuffing everything into our bags seems achievable. Finding anything until we unpack seems unlikely.

Now is also the time to find out if our remaining euros will be spent on excess baggage. We have brought a digital weigher to maximize our hold luggage while keeping our hand luggage to a level commensurate with the number and strength of hands available, to wit, 4. Our first itteration has the digital scale shutting down. But gradually we get our 24 kg per person correct and our hand luggage to an acceptable level.

We leave by 9.15 and have to walk 600 metre to the place we can leave our bags until 2pm when we will take the RER train to CDG Terminal 2 for our flight to Helsinki.

Our intention via a sunny walk along the Seine was to visit l'Orangerie, a museum in the Tuileries, the gardens attached to the Louvre. Here are exhibited many of Monet's paintings, an artist of whom we are particularly fond. However this does not open until 12.30 which we think we not give us enough time. Instead we visit Musee d'Orsay where there are works by the Impressionists, including Monet, and van Gough, another favourite. This museum opens at 9.30 which will give us a bit extra time. Even so, there are 3 or 4 levels of paintings which we will not be able to cover adequately.

A queue outside the museum clears within 10 or so minutes and we go to level 5 to look at the Impressionists. Just as the Picasso exhibition is going to Australia, the Impressionists were in Canberra a year or two ago while Musee d'Orsay was being renovated. Seems we didn't really need to come to France. But since we did, we will make the most of it.  

The building itself is interesting. It was a railway station until 1939 when it ceased to be used and over time fell into disrepair. At one point it was to be demolished however the French Government decided to renovate it as a museum. The most recent renovation was to update it and that was when the paintings toured various countries.

We  spend a few hours looking at the Impressionists, including Sisley, Degar, Cezan and Monet. Many of the paintings we did not see in Canberra and those we did are good to see again. About 1.45 we dash through the van Gough section as we must leave by 2.15.  Thirty minutes for van Gough is a bit dismissive, but the plane won't wait.

We walk back for our luggage then walk to the RER station. What could go wrong I had rhetorically asked. We could loose the station, that is what could go wrong. And do for a short time mainly because of another little french quirk  that the name of the station below ground is different from that signposted above ground. But we find the platform with relatively little fuss, board the correct train and get out at the correct stop.

Admittedly our stop is the last place the train stops so we would have had problems getting that wrong.