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29/8/09 Last days……

Sunday, August 30th, 2009

There is no doubt about it – the realisation that my Wanderings were soon to come to an end, put a damper on my spirits. So much so that I could not raise the enthusiasm to write my last blogs while still in Italy. So here I am, almost a week later, sitting in my study in Titirangi, Auckland, New Zealand determined to tidy things up, and write my final blog.

Italian is such a poetic language and it’s words seem to have a rhythm quite unlike the rest of Europe. Consider the place-names we’ve encountered over the past day or so: “Masera Rutolo” the name of the farmlet we stayed at; “Alberobello” – the town with the “Trulli” (more of them later), then on to “Bari” . Maybe it’s because so many Italian words seem to end with a vowel, seeming to invite the rolling-on of more lilting words in a cascade of sound that defies separation into individual words. But for the Italians, the expressive language is not enough! No, the words need emphasis and expression through the flamboyant use of hands, arms and indeed the whole body! Watching Italians in conversation is indeed quite a show.

But I digress. Our last restful day at the farmlet was rudely disturbed in the late afternoon by the arrival of a rain storm, accompanied by most unseasonal gale-force wind. We saw it coming, but even so, the wind caught us by surprise and Rob and his team had quite a wrestle to prevent the awning from being wrenched out of the side of the van.

 Once that was under control they took the opportunity to give the vans a wash. As you can surmise, the temperature stayed warm, although the effect of being soaked and in a strong wind did cool the team down to an uncomfortable level. In the evening the storm had cleared, and R and R went to the restaurant for a meal. So overpowered by the quantity of food that Rob had to come and get me to help them finish it off. Needless to say, I was happy to help out.

The next day dawned bright and clear once more, and guided by the trusty GPS we meandered through some bumpy lanes,

 

 past lush vineyards

 

and on to the main road towards Bari. But thanks to the efforts of our researcher, we went via Alberobello, where we were to find the mysterious Trulli. We arrived in the town just in time to encounter the congregation streaming from the town’s cathedral – we were like a pair of cumbersome salmon valiantly struggling to swim upstream against the prevailing traffic.

But our drivers are getting hardened to this sort of situation and so took it more-or-less in their stride, until we reached a parking spot in the lee of of someone’s garden wall. A trullo had first appeared in isolation in a field, as we drove by. We were fascinated and stopped to take pictures.

But our researcher had assured us that there was a whole neighbourhood of Trulli, in the town we were approaching. And she was right. A single dwelling is a Trullo. More than one are Trulli. And we came across a hillside full of them!

 

 All in current use, although reportedly several hundreds of years old. I quote:

“The older dwellings date back in the 13th century although the majority of them are only 200 or 300 years old.”

“According to another theory, the construction style of Trulli is based on the standards of Syrian and Middle East residences; while the first Trulli were built in Apulia as houses or tombs of monks who settled there from the East. Later, the locals adopted the construction method, and adapted these structures to their daily needs. Another similar view claims that Trulli firstly built by soldiers returning to Apulia from the Holy Land Crusades.”

We spent an hour or two wandering around this intriguing township

 

 before driving on to Bari.  We had no set spot for the night, so we ended up in a very large and well-lit car-park next to a super-store for Home Products. Very safe.

 

 We did a quick trial run to the railway station before settling down for the night.

The next day was to be my last day with the family. As far as we could tell, this town had no special ‘must-see- features and so we elected to have a quiet day. Bari is quite a major port – but past experience had taught us that it would be futile trying to find a park for two motor-homes anywhere near the water front, so we drove to the super market instead and did some food shopping. We stayed in the car park for lunch – parked in the shade of the arches of a railway bridge. While the ‘littlies’ had a rest, Rob and I ventured off in the smaller van to look for a Hardware store and a bike shop we had seen on our way in. You could say we are slow learners: it was not until we had fruitlessly driven around for a while that it dawned on us: this was Italy! Siesta time! Nothing would be open until 4.30pm! The sight of a shuttered shopping area in midday is somehow quite depressing. All shops have steel pull-down shutters over their shop fronts – and the shutters are all liberally defaced with graffiti. Rubbish blows loosely along the gutters and not a sole is to be seen.The impression is one of a deserted ghost-town. Oddly enough as we drove past this area later in the evening, all the shops were open, lights were blazing, people were everywhere and the place was quite transformed. But in the harsh light of the noonday sun it had looked very different.

For our last dinner together we went into a Pizzeria next to the supermarket and had a good feast on Pizzas. Two middle-aged couples were intrigued by the sight of so many kids (shades of China) and plucked up courage to ask (by dint of many unintelligible words and much hand-waving) the usual questions: are they all yours? where are you from? etc. They were most friendly.

Coast to Coast (well, almost)

Friday, August 28th, 2009

Today we left the golden sands and emerald sea of Paestum’s beach front van park. 

 

 and headed off to the other side of southern Italy. Across the ankle of Italy’s boot,  one might say.

As usual, the day dawned bright, sunny and hot. Already as we prepared the vans for moving on, we had all worked up a good sweat and we were pleased to be on the move –getting some air movement around hot bodies.

We did not really know what to expect in today’s journey: we knew we had to cross over the end of the mountain chain that extends, spine-like, down the length of Italy. But how rigourous that would be, we were ignorant. We were hopeful of doing the journey in one day, but were quite prepared to pull off the road at any suitable spot, had either the vans or drivers had enough for the day. (we had in earlier encounters with mountains, learned that sometimes 50km in 2 hrs is good going)

The early part of the journey was on fairly flat terrain, and the road was surprisingly quiet and of a good width. Pleasant driving for our captains. We found a small town with a supermarket after about 90km and made a strategic stop for a bit of shopping, and lunch. It was very hot, so before lunch we cooled off with an ice-cream.

I should digress for a moment, about Italian ice-cream. I used to be of the opinion, having sampled ice-creams from many parts of the world, that there was nothing to touch NZ ice-cream for quality. Wel I am afraid to have to admit that the Italians are the master-makers. Their gelato is rich, creamy and comes in an astonishing variety of flavours. And their sorbet-style tartufi is really refreshing and again comes in a bewildering range of flavours. Finally, the supermarkets sell boxes of mini ice-creams for a very reasonable price, so we have taken to grabbing one of these when we see one, as a bit of a treat.

After luncch the terrain changed and we began to wind through valleys with the high hills pressing in on all sides and with mountains filling the horizon ahead. And so we started climbing.

 

 The temperature on the van’s indicator started rising significantly as we laboured our way ever-upward. We found ourselves driving through an optical illusion: the narrow, winding road did not look particularly steep, but suddenly we found that the only way to keep going was in bottom gear – and then the vans were protesting. It was steep!

 

Fortunately, justb as we were contemplating calling a halt to let the motors cool off, we crested the summit – and found a roadside fountain. So we pulled over and as usual found a plentiful supply of cool refreshing water gushing endlessly from the spout. Water bottles were refilled, the motors cooled, and we were on our way again.

Almost immediately we became aware of a change in the countryside. We had left behind thickly-wooded hills, masses of olive groves and vineyards

 

and now stretched out before us was a landscape not unlike the bleak desolation of Mongolia. The landscape was an endless vista of rolling brown hillss for as far as the eye could see. Almost no trees, barely a blade of grass (and what there was was  burned brown) just an unrelenting bronze sun and brown earth.

After a while it dawned on us: as we crested the mountain range, we had left the watershed side of the mountains behind, and here we were on the rainless side of the range. We reminded ourselves that the same contrast can be seen in the South Island of NZ – moving from the wet rain-forest type vegetation of the West Coast. onto the often-arid McKenzie country, or the Canterbury plains. But the heat of the sun, the clear blue sky and the brown-ness of earth and vegetation made this seem a very desolate region.

 

 To add to the impression, we saw no signs of life. Many abandoned buildings and many ploughed fields, but nobody actually working the fields. It was rather weird

But the going was good, and we were making good time, so we finally reached our planned destination late in the afternoon.

And a very pleasant destination it is (because we are still here) We are staying at a sort of agricultural park set on the top of a hill with wide vistas of the surrounding countryside all around. There is a complex of old barn-like buildings which house a restaurant and accommodation blocks. There is a mini-farm, with horses, reindeer, peacocks, chickens etc etc, and our van-parking space is next to this area. We have power (for our ‘fridges) and our own toilet block with hot showers etc so we are really enjoying the facilities. We have the option to pay a fee for our stay or eat at the restaurant. Being Italian, the restaurant did not start serving dinners until 8.30pm – too late for our hungry kids – but just right for Rob and I to go and sample.

The food was really excellent and we have got some ideas for some nifty dishes when we get home.

There is a cool breeze blowing,, I am sitting in the shade of an old gnarled olive tree, and life is very pleasant! It is a bit of a ‘downer’ to think that in 4 days time I will be winging my way back to NZ, my wanderings over and done with, but all good things have to come to an end. So I am savouring the moment!

Southern trek continues…

Wednesday, August 26th, 2009

Well, Rome, in all it’s glory, is behind us, and for the next few days we have continued our trek more-or-less down the western coastline of Italy.

As usual we have shunned the Autostradas. They have the advantages of being (no doubt) smooth and quick for travelling, but since we are not in a great hurry we elect to go the more interesting way, winding along Italy’s secondary roads. Reading one American writer’s advice on getting around in Italy, this is what the writer had to say: ’The Autostrada is the fastest way to get around Italy. We use it whenever it is practical. The winding and slow country roads will drive you crazy eventually, especially if you really need to get somewhere quickly.’ The Autostradas are also Toll roads, being privately run, so they cost you money! Mind you the economy of choosing the secondary roads is very debatable since you travel further and slower and get shaken to bits in the process! However the secondary roads are invariably interesting, passing through villages and small towns, farming and horticultural areas at close hand.

So we left Rome intending to find a spot near Naples, hoping to take a look at the port the next day and then to perhaps have a look around Pompeii. But first we needed  a Supermarket to replenish supplies.  (this tribe takes some feeding!)  We had the names of two major supermarkets: Carrefour and Co op. As we drove along we found signposts pointing to both, and followed many red herrings into labyrinths of roads, but not one supermarket did we find. It was highly frustrating, not to mention time-wasting. Finally we came upon one (not one of the two we had been looking for) and thankfully trooped into the comfort of the air-conditioning.

The end of the day was coming up fast as we finally found our park for the night in a place called Barcoli.

Van parks are seldom sign-posted very clearly and so often we find ourselves chasing around in a town looking for a sign which we know should be there. Then, having found the first sign, we head off in the direction indicated, only to find ourselves in a wilderness of small roads, with not a sign in sight, nor a van park for that matter.

The park at Barcoli was such a place and the sign led us  off down a narrow lane, which then came to a fork: straight on was a narrow dusty lane squeezed between a ditch and a stone wall. To the right, a narrow semi-sealed road led down through the bushes. Which to take? On the basis of keep straight unless directed otherwise’ we pushed on down the narrow lane. We radio-ed back to van no.1  (who had missed the original sign) and suggested he try the right fork since we appeared to be running into a dead end. As we ground to an impasse, back came the news that they had found the park. Great! All we had to do was turn around in the space of a 2-Euro piece. Fortunately there was a minute lane squeezed between vineyards which our intrepid driver reversed into. At this stage another  car came trundling up the lane. It stopped, and out stepped a rotund gentleman gesticulating wildly and talking 90 to the dozen (as all Italians seem to do) I thought he was upset at having his lane blocked, but no – he was actually telling us how to get the maneuver done without ending up in the ditch. Realising that we did not understand a word, he resorted to very clear hand signals and safely guided the driver through the operation.

We ended up in the van park which was set in the hollow of a natural amphitheatre: a terraced hillside olive-grove on one side, a flat field below and trees off to the other side. It looked great but what we very quickly discovered was that it was a muggy, windless hollow, absolutely infested with mosquitoes! It was like being back in Malaysia with the thermometer in the mid-30’s and the humidity up in the 80’s. We sweated! And we decided not to linger on in that spot but to press on to Naples, hoping to find a park in the city for a look around, before going on to a park on the outskirts.

The awful truth dawned that in Italy, during the summer months, any seaside area within 50km of a major town is just a solid mass of cars and people.

 

 Also, since the traveller is now OFF the Autostrada, he is now driving on roads that were laid probably 100 years ago and have not seen much maintenance since! The jolting, cobbled roads continued as did the masses of cars and people.

We were lucky to find a temporary spot to park in Naples. Not a beach area but close to a street that the Leaders had earmarked as worth a look. This was a street in an old part of town, dedicated to workers of figurines in terra cotta.

 

 Originally manned by monks, producing religious models (particularly the nativity scene) in this street there were some real artists and the work they produced was quite exquisite.

 

There was some cheap shoddy stuff as well, which was to be expected.

But the detailing and colouring on these figures and other items was really something to see.

We had a good look at all the craft shops, and I wandered off and found a pastry shop making an exotic muffin-y thing called a Baba. This was rather like a tall muffin, made moist and spongy by being drenched (it seems) in some sort of liqueur. (I didn’t know this until I had bought them!) So we had a quick semi-lunch before moving on to find an overnight spot.

Not finding anywhere to over-night park anywhere near Naples or Pompeii, we drove on towards Sorrento. Finally we admitted defeat and decided to move on southwards to where we were fairly certain of finding a spot.

Ah, but there was no road heading  in our desired direction (the mountains backing onto the coastline limited the number of roads heading inland.) So back we went, re-tracing our path almost into Naples once more before heading off to a van park in Battipaglia

The only plus in all this to-ing and fro-ing was that we took a double-take at the Bay of Naples. The road wound up over high bluffs, affording us great views of this fabulous area.

 

 As we said to each other, the best way to see this area would be by Cruise Ship: cruise into port, go ashore and join an air-conditioned tour, bus back to the ship and enjoy a sumptuous meal in the comfort of the ship’s restaurant!

 

 As it was,we jolted and jumped and twisted and wriggled and climbed and plunged our way along the coast, snatching hungry glimpses of the lovely scenery as we evaded suicidal Italian drivers.

By he way, we did a rough check on ‘dinged’ cars today and came to the astonishing conclusion that well over half the cars on the road bear evidence of a more-than-close encounter with another vehicle. In fact today we experienced a close encounter first-hand. A car zoomed out of a side street and poked his nose slightly in front of us. We had the right of way so swerving a bit to give him room, kept going. But the driver decided to keep going also. We felt this judder as he made contact with our side. Rach had a glimpse of the driver waving his hands in frustration and saying something which thankfully we could not hear. ‘What shall I do? she asked. ‘ Keep going’ I said – the complications of arguing with an irate Italian too fraught to consider. Later inspection revealed that we had rubbed all along the side of the van, with no damage. Also there was no paint left on our van, so we assumed that his bumper must have just nudged into our van. But not a good experience. The lead van had its share of fun, squeezing past a tour coach, too…

 

Once again, the sign-posting in Battipaglia let us down,  and we failed to find the van park. So we pulled wearily into a large parking space surrounded by apartment  blocks with  some shops on the ground floor. We intended to have dinner there before resuming the search. However circumstances dictated that we should stay put for the night: first it was getting too late to start searching again, and just a few hundred meters up the road from where we had parked, a truck had vaulted over a safety barrier beside a bridge and had landed upside-down on the railway lines below. This created a massive traffic jam, which we could see no profit in joining. So there we were for the night!

Italian observations

Monday, August 17th, 2009

In the past few days we have left the mountains more-or-less behind and now are moving through undulating hills. Some of the hills still show their affinity to the Alps, (or the Dolomites), and suddenly start spiraling upwards in fairly spectacular fashion.

The hills are dressed in a variety of garb – this is rural Italy and so the only towns we come across are old towns sitting atop a high vantage point or clinging precariously to the  side of a hill. The hills themselves are either heavily forested, or where the land has been cleared, the ubiquitous vineyards are set out in orderly rows – the vines producing bunches of luscious grapes out  of a bed of impossibly-dry soil.

        

The earth is scorched by this sun which beats down from a deep blue sky – temperatures hovering in the sub-40’s. It is hot  and dry!

Other fields are filled with acres of sunflowers waiting to be harvested. They are a sad sight. From the glorious blaze of yellow that they were a week ago, now all are blackened drooping heads, bent away from the sun as if admitting defeat. Other fields are full of sun-dried maize or sweet corn. Completely dried: stalk, leaves and cob. Acres of what looks like a disaster. We presume they are harvested for some purpose, but it escapes us.

As we pass through small hill-top towns there is rarely a soul to be seen. We often remark that it looks as if the Plague has struck an area; houses are shuttered tight against the heat of the day and the streets are usually deserted.

Signs of life are more evident early in the morning or after dark, when small cafes spill out into the streets and alleys with tables and chairs for their late-to-bed customers.We have yet to fully understand the Italian way of life, particularly in these hot summer months. Shops close from 12.30 to 3.30pm, and then close again at 6.0pm. We are not sure what hours the ordinary working man keeps, but we have yet to see any road maintenance going on during these hallowed hours. Plenty of equipment fills blocked-off lanes, but we have yet to see anybody operating it. When we arrived at this little town today, Rach went off in search of a supermarket and ice – for an ailing refrigerator. She came back later with the news that in this place the supermarket closes from 12.30 to 4.45pm for lunch! In fairness, it will be open until 8.0pm! It is evident that the siesta is taken very seriously in Italy.

But the countryside and towns still hold our interest. The towns all have  a rather ‘scruffy’ look to them. New or old, maintenance seems to be low on the list of priorities, and the roads, apart from the splendid (tolled) motor-ways, suffer from the same lack of TLC. So we bump, jostle, wind and climb our way through this land, trying not to make judgmental comparisons with France, Holland and Germany. And the towns continue to be interesting, and the van parks continue to very adequate – and cheap.

Seeing these old towns up close is still holds my interest, and the countryside with its bounty of fruit will  stay in my memory for all time.

What is more, some of these old towns have great pizzaarinas!

The kids continue to have a ball no matter where we are. Recently we were parked next to a small memorial park which had many large pine trees – which dropped impressively large pine cones. It did not take them long before discovering the pine nuts inside, and not long after, a local advised them as to which trees had the best nuts. Imagine the hive of activity as all hunted down the cones and then extracted the nuts.

 

Lightly sautéed, they later made a delicious topping for our dinner salad;

At a later park, pine trees again provided the means to a good activity. The kids made rakes from tree branches (already dead!) and gathered up large piles of needles. These they first fashioned into the walls of a house with bedrooms for all. Tiring of this they then raked all the needles into a circular wall. Then they dumped our tarpaulin in the middle and with a frenzy of activity, poured water into their swimming pool. It worked really well and all were able to have a good cooling dip in it.

 

Of such things are good memories made.

La Belle France

Friday, July 31st, 2009

There is a myth that abounds, that the French are a proud and rather ‘snooty’ race, disdaining to speak English and despising anyone who cannot speak their language. In fact I am sure that I contributed to this myth in days past, having received less-than-cordial treatment from some French people when visiting France some 30 years ago, on business. But I have to explode the myth: since we have been in this country (all of 5 days!) we have received courteous and friendly treatment – from strangers in the street to shopkeepers to fellow-campers. And wherever you meet someone, they will greet you with a friendly ‘bon jour’. The averted eyes and the silent passage of two strangers as in NZ is unthinkable in this country. To not greet another person with a ‘bon jour’ on meeting, and a parting ‘au‘voir’ if you have had a brief conversation with them, would be decidedly boorish. I like it.

I said we have only been in France for 5 days but we have covered a fair few miles  (approx. 800km) and have seen a fair bit of the countryside – and we are captivated by it. We left England, having been almost driven out by persistent heavy rain, gale-force winds and cold temperatures over the last 2 weeks. (typical English summer some would say!) We awoke in France to clear blue skies and warmer temperatures. The wind persisted for a couple of days, but as we pressed on southwards, the wind dropped, the sky got bluer and the thermometer continued to rise. What a happy combination. The flat golden wheat-fields of the north have given way to  rolling wooded hillsides, which seem to be heralding the onset of the Pyrenees.

Now we are resting up in an historic village named Uzerche: another idyllic spot found, yet again, almost by accident. Our ‘chefs de mission’ pick our destinations based on facilities available and possible interest in the locality. These two factors are given various weighting depending on where we are in the course of our journey. This place was chosen because it had the facilities and it was on our proposed route and it was about the right distance from the previous spot. We had no idea it would prove to be such a gem.

We arrived here at the end of a marathon 500km hike. We do not normally choose to do such a distance in one day, but our planners reasoned  that the roads would be good, the weather was fine and the further we headed south the better the weather would be. They were right on all counts and here we are, basking under an impossibly-blue sky, thankful for the shade the trees above us are providing and enjoying the mid- to high-20’s temperature.

I must admit that we were not so happy when we first drove into the village: we had followed the gps directions and it had led us into the village, under a very picturesque arched bridge and up a steep hill. THEN we swung right, into an impossibly narrow street, still going upwards.

                           

The street led us through a narrow stone archway

 

– the ancient gateway to the old fortified town, But we were not thinking about that at the time. Squeezing through the gateway, we followed the big van ever upwards, the streets getting even narrower and more twisty. Finally we crested the top – surrounded by chateaux, ancient houses and an old church. Down past a group of elderly dames enjoying the sun

 

No sign of a van park up here! We certainly could not go back, so on we went, plunging down the other side of this steep hill, road narrow and twisty until with relief we found ourselves coming out onto a normal width road once more. It only took a moment to realise that we had just completed ‘le grand tor’ coming out exactly where we had started! The big van swung abruptly into an opportune carpark and we scrambled in after them. Time to re-group and consult book and GPS. All seemed in order, except that there was obviously no van park in the middle of an ancient town on top of a steep hill! It was then that we realised that we were parked in the carpark reserved for customers of a pharmacy, adjacent to the park. With a courage born of desperation, we entered the pharmacy armed with the camp-site book, and haltingly asked if the person could help us to find this place. Ah! here was another of our friendly French people. Yes she knew the place and proceeded to give us rapid directions in perfectly good French, as to how to find the place. After struggling for some time – we to understand her, and she to understand the tortured French, she smiled and took pity on us, and told us how to find the place in very nice English! And the park was actually just around the corner.

The van park is actually the forecourt of an old, long-defunct, railway station. But it has all the facilities we need, and is absolutely free.

The rail tracks that led into and out of the station are now delightful, shaded walking/biking tracks.

At the edge of the park the bank drops steeply down to the river, and on the other side of the river, on an equally steep hillside sits the township that we drove through with such skill and courage a little earlier on.

We have since been on a walking exploration of the town and  have loved it. The cobbled streets, the narrow staircases,

 

the old buildings,

 

the intriguing door-knocker,

 

the old church,

 

 and the marvelous views

 

Ahhhh.. la Belle France!

un autre jour, un autre train (le ‘Canada’)

Wednesday, July 15th, 2009

Well, here I am in Vancouver, 3 1/2 days after boarding ‘The Canada’ in  Toronto.

And a most enjoyable train journey it was. The wonder is, that I am not 10 kilos heavier than when I set out! I have never been on a Cruise Ship but from what I hear there are opportunities to keep eating all day, should you so desire. And the ‘Canada’ seems to attempt to emulate the Cruise ships. Included  in the ticket price were 3 meals a day, plus tea,coffee, juices, muffins biscuits etc. available more or less continuously. The meals were sumptuous, beautifully prepared and nicely presented, in the dining car. In a way it was fortunate that the train was a very long train and so the hike to and from the dining car certainly represented a significant walk!

So here I am in Vancouver: an attractive, compact city which I shall be exploring very soon.

But first  a report on the train journey. Three and a half days travelling through lush forests, pristine lakes, green prairies and soaring mountains. An abundant land indeed. When I think back to the desolate landscape of Mongolia and the Gobi, I can’t help wondering about the contrasts on this earth, and more significantly, the chance  that places a family in any particular spot on the earth. No doubt each country has its own particular challenges, and the human spirit being what it is, people learn to adapt and overcome and even go on to love the country of their birth. Some of course, if they are able, move on to new challenges in another country.

Suffice to say that Canada appears to be a land full of promise and potential. It’s a vast country (and many a Canadian has pointed out to me that Canada is the third largest country in the world) carrying a relatively small population. And like Australia and and New Zealand, most of the population is concentrated in just a few cities. So in Canada there are vast stretches with nary a soul in sight.

Starting out from Ontario the train meandered slowly through the usual endless suburban/industrial sprawl:not pretty and not particularly interesting. I discovered that Canada’s rail tracks have been around for quite a long time – and it shows. The train jolts and jiggles its way along and writing when in motion is impossible. I told a few passengers about the smooth-as-silk Chinese trains and they looked at me in dis-belief. Obviously thought I was exaggerating!

The train was pulled by a couple  of huge diesel/electric  motors

(unlike the the steam engines of yesteryear, seen at a stop-off in Jaspeer)

The carriages had  an intriguing mix of  layouts. I was in a short section of single-berth cabins: each had a fold-down bed set in one end

        

a wash-stand and a WC.

                                      

When the bed was up, a double bench seat was available. When the bed was down, it covered the seat and the WC, so it was time for bed! It was a compact and quite efficient use of the space. The cabins opened out onto a narrow corridor-only just one  person in width. In the same carriage there was a non-sleeper section: Two rows of double seats with a passage-way down the middle. Consequently the passage-way dodged from side to middle and back again in the strangest manner. At the ends of the carriage were toilets and a very well set up shower room. This had lots of space and abundant hot water-quite a luxury on a train.

There was also a section set up as a games room with board games, books, jig-saw puzzles etc, with coffee, tea and snacks nearby. And above the games room was what they called ‘the dome’ – an observation lounge with a glass roof and comfortable air-line type seats. There were 3 or 4 of these domes along the train so usually it was easy enough to find a seat for a change of perspective.

Getting a photo record was not easy with all shots having to be taken through dirty glass with the inevitable reflection and focus challenges.

I was amazed at the amount of water laying around in Canada: we travelled for hundreds of kilometers through a seemingly endless lake district.

And at the edges of the lakes, the terrain looked like swamp country. Amazingly, trees and shrubs seem to flourish in these conditions and frequently large stands of trees seemed to be standing in water.  It was evident too, that mosquitoes and midges loved this environment too. We passed a clearing (in the middle of nowhere) where a bunch of teenagers were playing baseball. We were parked for a few minutes and I noticed that the most exercise the kids were getting was swatting insects off themselves.

The only time the water more or less disappeared was on the prairies, yet even here water seemed to be laying in large puddles here and there. There was certainly no sign of a drought! But gone were the hills that had been with us for much of the time,

 

and we were not to see them again until we approached the Rocky Mountains. Grassland and vast areas of Canola plants, shining gold in the sunlight were a real sight to behold.

 

Stops were few and far between, the first one  being Winnipeg (where I had time to walk a brisk circuit taking in some bridges and the cathedral.)

The houses reminded me of NZ with a lot of single-story weatherboard dwellings. No doubt these are suitably proofed against the winter (Double-glazing, heavy insulation and central heating driven by ‘furnaces’ seem to be the norm.)  which can be really severe in this country. Winnipeg was an attractive looking city.

The next real stop was Jasper which is promoted as the gateway to the Rockies. A very tourist-oriented little town, but attractive for all of that.

A quick stretch of the legs and it was time to get going again. Heaeding for the Rockies!

The final run in to Vancouver was very pretty with the rail track following (yet another) river/lake system with high hills as a backdrop, for many kilometers. 

 

But Vancouver has yet to be discovered so that will be another story.

Paradise re-gained and on the (rail)road again

Sunday, July 12th, 2009

After the inevitable strictures placed on space, quietude, and diet consistent with living with a family of 10 in two motor homes, the past week in Canada has been almost surreal. In the most pleasant of ways!

Pre-conditioning for the time in Canada was achieved by spending 2 days alone with Eldest Daughter, zipping up to York (UK) and back to Heath Row, using a very swish hire car and staying in very comfortable accommodation. Then we flew to Ottawa and were met there by L’s old school friend, & whisked away to her parent’s spacious home in a delightful, tranquil, wooded and rather exclusive part of that city.

There I was given the exclusive use of a large bedroom complete with sauna and en suite and a large library to dip into! What luxury! Our hosts were erudite and entertaining; their hospitality gracious; their conversation wide-ranging and enlightening. It was a really relaxing and enjoyable time. And I even managed to get in a short bike ride, alongside a quiet bike path beside the river.

But that was just the beginning. From Ottawa we drove several hundred kms to the Grandparent’s  “seaside cottage”. We had been warned that this was not exactly a cottage in the British sense of the word – but the reality still hit us smack between the eyes and left us reeling in semi-dis-belief.  This ‘cottage’ turned out to be a beautiful mansion, part Mediterranean-Italian, part art-deco in appearance, set at the upper end of  gracefully sloping farm and woodlands.

Well-manicured lawns, shrubs and flower beds gave the grounds a park-like appearance and the croaking of frogs from the nearby swimming swimming pond provided a rural soundtrack as a backdrop to this little corner of Paradise. We did not see them but we were told that the local wild life often drops by to keep an eye on things: fox, wolves, deer, an occasional moose, not to mention squirrel, chipmunk and moles.

And again I found I was assigned a large bedroom all to myself with a balcony overlooking the garden, the woodlands and stretching out to the Georgian Bay part of Lake Huron. This area is prime Vacation Land in this part of Canada, and it is easy to why. In the summer, sailing, windsurfing, fishing, golf, tramping and cycling are all available within a short distance. The facilities are superb and the people warm and welcoming.

Good coffee is to be had in cosy coffee shops and superb ice cream is also available!

Nearby orchards provide a plentiful supply of fruit in season: apples, pears, nectarines, cherries, strawberries  and blueberries. Local entrepreneurs bake these up into the most delectable pies. If I wax rather lyrical it is because this really is a blessed corner of the world and it was a joy to be immersed in it for a while.

And again our hosts showered us with blessings. I have been quite happy to sleep on the floor of a Mongolian Yert, a Kowloon couch, the hard bunk of a train in China, the seat of an all-night bus to Berlin, the floor of an attic in Estonia and so on – but who can deny the pleasure of having a large comfortable bed all to yourself and to be woken by sun streaming in across the walls of a large, beautifully-decorated room, with the prospect of descending to a sunny breakfast room replete with anything your taste-buds could desire? Yes we have really been blessed by this marvelous interval.

Now I have left Daughter: I am on the Trans-Canada train

heading for Vancouver (in 3 days time) and D is spending another week with OSF and then heading back to NZ (and WORK) I am just a day into this trip and am having a great time. I have a little one-man cabin – most ingeniously designed and very comfortable.

      

I have 3 meals provided – good meals too, I might add. And  as much tea or coffee and muffins as I may care to eat in the interim! I have already met such interesting people at the dining table – what extra-orrdinary tales the most ordinary-looking people have to tell!

And so the journey continues. I am looking forward to the rest of this train trip, then a  few days in Vancouver, and then back to the UK to take up where I left off, with the Intrepid Travelers, back to the Motor Homes. Bye-bye luxury – hello more adventures!

Cologne – the ultimate cathedral?

Monday, June 8th, 2009

-well we have yet to take a look at St.Paul’s in London, but if my dimming memory serves me right, that is but a shadow compared to this simply magnificent building. Actually ‘building’ is a completely in-appropriate term for such a breath-taking, awe-inspiring example of man’s desire to honour God through architecture.

We arrived in Koln on a wet evening (yes it was raining again) but the ‘Vomo’ park still looked just great. Here we are yet again perched on the banks of the mighty Rhine river, at the edge of a beautiful tree-lined park, bounded by a  superb walk-way come cycle path that follows the river right into the heart of the city. It  was probably a 2-3km walk but one which all the kids tackled quite happily.

This twin-spire-ed cathedral is simply enormous, but beautifully proportioned.

The scope and intricacy of the stone-work defies the imagination; how could anyone sit down and plan such an enormous undertaking with its flying buttresses adorned with lace-like carvings,

the hundreds of statues and statuettes that surround the entrance archways,

the sheer size of the building and the mechanics of erecting the vaulted rooflines – it is almost too much to take in.

I was fortunate and managed to slip inside just before they closed the doors, to prepare for a service. So I managed to record a little of the magnificence of the inside.

The stained glass windows were many and varied, here’s just a sample:

Once outside again, the tribe decided to make the climb up to the belfry in one of the towers. Having done this sort of thing in years gone by, and recalling the vertigo-inducing effect of climbing a  seemingly endless spiral staircase, I elected to take a walk around the area instead. It was entertaining as well as being very pleasant. The square in front of the cathedral was buzzing with people of all sorts, busking musicians,

tourists, church-goers,

 

‘statue, figures,

 

 a pavement artist,

 

 young and old and all nationalities. Then there was the surrounding ‘old city’. Cologne was flattened by the RAF during WWII (fortunately leaving the cathedral relatively unscathed) so the ‘old city was re-built with modern buildings, but retaining the old narrow cobbled streets. So the whole area is ‘pedestrians only’ and it makes for an interesting shopping and eating district. The tribe by he way, had a great time climbing the 100’s of steps up the tower – you will have to go to ***** to read about that.

I found a Starbucks and made a note for future reference: in NZ Starbucks offer free wi-fi service to their customers and I was hoping for the same here. Later in the day R and I returned (by bike) to check it out. We should have guessed – E8 per hour! Fortunately a young woman overheard the conversation and gave Rach directions to a cafe that offered free wi-fi. It took quite a while and several more inquiries but finally we found the spot, some distance further on, but no trouble on our trusty steeds. But things seldom seem to go without a hitch with us, and so R & I found ourselves returning on the following morning to complete the mission. (I was not complaining – it gave me an excuse to treat myself to a coffee and muffin)

The mission was completed successfully but on the return disaster struck. We had to pass under a tunnel-like bridge which at the time they were washing with pressure hoses. So the place was awash with water and hoses snaking over the  footpath. Rach struck the hose at an angle that would have been ok in the dry, but with everything wet, her front wheel just went sliding away, leaving Rach sailing through the air without a bike. It was painful to watch. I had seen her thrown off a wild horse, now here she was being thrown off a wild bike. She sailed through the air in a crouched position, ready for a painful landing. But before she hit the pavement, her head hit the side-wall of the tunnel (covered in black wet goo) Then she hit the pavement with a most unpleasant thud. Damage report: one bruised side of face (smeared in black gunk), two  chaffed knees with protective jeans ripped, two sore hands and one thumb nail painfully torn. It was not good. However after a bit of a cleanup and application of plasters, the lass got back on the bike and persuaded the rapidly-stiffening knee to keep turning until we got back to base.

On the positive side, there was no damage to lap-top in the back-pack, or to the bag of ‘Berliner’ jam donuts that were in the basket on the front of the bike.

Some thoughts on a quiet day in Bingen 2 June

Tuesday, June 2nd, 2009

Here  we are in a Womo park virtually on the banks of the Rheine.

  

The sun is shining, there is a gentle breeze and it’s about 25C. Very nice. The owner of this park ( a no-nonsense but pleasant enough lady) runs a very tight ship. The place is well laid out and kept in immaculate condition.

 

We have everything we need here: fresh water; somewhere to dump our toilet tanks and our ‘grey water’ ; a washing machine and the internet available (for a price) on wi-fi. No toilet block or showers but we have those on board, so no worries.

We don’t always have it this good. If it is getting late in the day and we still have not found the park that was supposed to be ‘there’ we head for a parking lay-bye on the autobahn or a quiet free-parking zone by a park somewhere. But even that is not bad – and the cost is a lot less than booking in to a flash holiday park for the night.

But as I said, this place is situated close to the banks of the Rheine so while Rob and Jgirl14 took the bikes , baskets and back-packs for a 4km shopping trip into Bingham,

 

 and while the other kids were either doing math’s, drawing or just playing – I went for a quiet stroll down to the river.

 

The Rheine is one big river. Here we are, several hundred kms inland and the river must be at least 1/2  km wide. Not only wide but deep: some seriously large shipping can be seen cruising up and down. A mixture of touristy sight-seeing boats and some very large barge-like ships carrying all manner of things.

Which prompts a thought: this nation certainly uses every type of transport available – and all seem to be fully patronised. At this camp  we are also close to a rail system – 3 lines pass by – and the frequency of passing  trains is astounding. While I was out on a 1/2 hr stroll by the lines, at least 5 trains went by – 12 coach passenger trains and a series of 2, 4 and 6 coach commuter-type trains. Goods trains we hear going past in the night. All, I might say, gliding smoothly over smooth tracks at great speed. On the river, large boats haul goods and people. On the roads huge truck rigs roar along in a seemingly endless procession. (and at Rest stops it is not unusual to see 20 or more trucks parked). Any gaps the trucks leave on the road are filled with cars – and on the autobahns these can be travelling at up to 130kmph! Motor homes are most prolific – there must be 1000’s of them on the roads. And the road network is really impressive and generally in excellent condition. I don’t doubt that the airlines are busy too. It makes NZ’s pathetic efforts seem ridiculous.

Another significant characteristic we have noticed is the natural tidiness of the German people. Probably some Germans would laugh at the notion, but to a Kiwi it is most noticeable. ALL the houses we have seen, in villages and cities, have been well-kept with neat and tidy gardens, flower-boxes etc. Most seemed to be in good condition and those that are not are being renovated! The streets are clean. The shops are neat and tidy. The people in the street all seem to be in their Sunday-best. The occasional jack-booted tattoo-ed person, or the greasy long-haired youth are a rarity. Body-piercing is not common, but bushy moustaches and beer-pots are ‘in’. All the vans in our park are immaculate (and on average the cost would be in the E45k-E90k range) and people sit around at night in their snazzy outdoor furniture settings. Really this is a picture of an affluent, contented people who like to do everything ‘right’ and have the ‘right’ things to do it with. An example ; I bought some washing powder the other day. It was one of a vast  array of choices in the clothes washing/soap powder aisle. I picked one of the most economical, with pictures of shirts,sheets and a blow-up of a mesh of some sort. Looked ok to me so I bought it. (and have used it for hand washing stuff quite successfully) When I took the packet over to the wash-house today the proprietor would not let me use it in his machine. We eventually established that this was a powder for washing net curtains only. Now why would you need a special-purpose detergent for net curtains? They probably have a special one for socks too, but I did not go looking for that. But the Germans seem to have a love-affair with Rules and Regulations and happily obey them all, VERY different from the Kiwi attitude!

German road signage is a language you must learn as you are learning to walk. There is a sign for every conceivable situation on the road and a sign that tells you when the regulation is applicable and another sign to tell you when it is not, There is a sign to tell you the name of the place when you enter it and another (the name with a red cross through it) to tell you that you have left. They do not like the NZ style use of yellow lines on the road – so simple to install and to observe but have signs for no stopping, no overtaking, no parking this side, or that side, or both sides etc etc. But motorists are incredibly polite and safe drivers. They always seem to give way to pedestrians, cyclists and merging traffic. I haven’t seen a fist  (or finger) raised in anger but have always encountered polite consideration from drivers. It has certainly lessened the stress of our introduction to driving vans in Europe.

Well today I tried out another aspect of German culture-the breakfast. When I set off on a quiet walk this morning I had no intention of having another breakfast. But as I walked past a small cafe right on the banks of the river, and observed how  pleasant it seemed to stop and have a coffee in the sun, I went and checked the menu. I had been told that Germans love their sausage or salami for breakfast and sure enough here on the menu was a variety of sausages on offer, served with roll or chips. I ordered the roll with a beef sausage and a cup of coffee, The coffee came first, with 2 little pots of creamy milk, 2 wrapped lumps of sugar and a small biscuit, also wrapped. Shortly after, my sausage and roll was ready – served with generous dollop of mild mustard. A crisp, crunchy roll and a spicy sausage about 8 inches long! Tucking into that with the sun on my back and the Rheine spread out before me – castles sitting on the hillside across the water – was a really enjoyable experience.

 

The German breakfast met with my approval! But maybe not every morning – or I may start to  get that contented roly-poly look that so many Germans have!

Rothenberg – another Walled city

Thursday, May 21st, 2009

We walked part of The Great Wall in China; we walked right around the Wall surrounding the city of Xi’an and now we have experienced the European counterpart – the walled city of Rothenberg.

Rach had found us a very pleasant Van Park in Rothenberg, and we discovered to our pleasant surprise that it was only 5 minutes walk away from the walled city.

The weather was too threatening for us to start repairs to the van, so we took a walk into the Old Town before starting off on our next leg.

What a formidable sight, is this Walled City. Had I been an invader, I think I would have taken one look at the moat, the massive walls, the solid port-cullissed (?)gateway, the hundreds of arrow slits in the walls, and I would have said”let’s go home lads – this nut will be too tough to crack”

The defences were massive and the architecture impressive. Goodness knows how long these sorts of castles took to build, but one would have thought that the person who designed and commissioned the structure would have been long dead before it was completed. They must have had a real sense of continuity, and a confidence that their ancestors would still be in control to continue the Project.

Inside the wall, (entered through massive gateways)

 

 a thriving township  was built (and no doubt re-built over the ages.) Today a most picturesque town exists,

 

 climbing gracefully up the side of a gentle hill. Old buildings they may be, but they all house people and businesses.

          

Several of the buildings are home to bakeries and all produce a variations on the town’s specialty: a thing called a Schneeball (‘Snowball’ ) These are a cricket-ball-sized ball of twisted pastry strips, deep-fried and then enhanced with a variety of dips, drizzles and flavourings. They  were not cheap, but we had to try such an interesting piece of German culture!

The  Square was towards the high end of the  town, a feature of most European towns that I really like. This one was on a slope being placed on the side of the hill.

As usual, cafes spilled over onto the sidewalks in a profusion of tables and chairs, lending a casual, relaxed air to the township. Very pleasant!