fillingthegaps

the last post was from Vancouver. This post comes from a little seaside town in France, and in between there has been about a week of some fairly hectic activity. Let me re-cap, for those who might be vaguely interested.

I arrived back from Canada at Heath Row, England, at about 2.30 in the afternoon. There I grabbed a courtesy shuttle bus which took me to the car rental company on the other side of the airport. (very efficient) At the depot  I picked up my pre-booked car: I had ordered a Ford Fiesta (the cheapest deal I could find) but as with the previous car rental, found myself up-graded into a new Peugeot 207. Who was I to complain? My plan was to visit a few friends and relations before re-joining The Tribe in the two Camper vans, (who were ‘somewhere up North’)

So the first move was to get up to a cousin’s place just north of Derby. I got away from Heath Row by about 3.30pm, which was a bit late in the day to be starting a 250km drive. However this was the plan,  so off I set. The car drove beautifully but the navigator was definitely average, finding himself in a tangle of roundabouts, road signs and general traffic mayhem, trying to get through Leicester. After a hour or so I popped our the other side and regained some momentum, arriving at my pre-booked hostelry at about 8.0pm.

I finally found my cousin’s house at about 9.0 pm and had a most pleasant re-union, but by near-midnight my recent spate of activity started catching up, and I returned for a sound sleep at the pub.

After a good English breakfast, I took off for London again, and had a great run until I reached the  outskirts of that seat of civilization.

I should pause here to try and describe the British motoring scene, in any city in this fair land. Britain is criss-crossed with an infinite number of small roads, connecting all villages and towns. These roads were developed during the hey-days of the horse and carriage, and were a comfortable width for one such vehicle. As time progressed and towns grew into cities, some of these roads developed into highways. Now and again the roads were widened a fraction to make things easier, but by band large they remained almost untouched for nearly a 100 years. When England started to get organized they gave the main highways numbers, and so the ‘A” road numbers arrived.

A long time after the second world war, it was realised that the ‘A’ roads were not coping with the traffic, and so the ‘M” motorway roads were built. These highways took the straightest line between two cities, only occasionally allowing other roads to connect into the system. It is in the connecting of these roads that British roading engineers managed to devise a system of round-abouts that confuse the sharpest of minds, and the most skillful of divers. These ‘roundabouts’ are not round but usually oval in layout. They frequently have 6 or7 junctions spread around the circuit, often having traffic lights. There can be up to 4 lanes of traffic hurtling around the circuit. The trick is to know which lane you are supposed to be in to be able to escape into your desired exit. Your required lane is painted on the road in large letters. The problem is that the letters are obscured (usually) by even larger trucks. Of course there are the signs to help you too. These list the route numbers of the various exits, plus the route numbers of roads they will eventually lead to, plus the names of the next few towns (but not the main city you are looking for) etc etc. A total confusion to the driver with no local knowledge. The result is that invariably you take the wrong exit, leaving you no option but to drive 10-15 km down the road until you can find a turn off, whereupon you can return the the roulette wheel and try your chances again. Add to this mix the fact that every car that was ever made seems to be either driving on the roads or, in any town at all, parked nose-to-tail on the roadside. The final little bit of fiendish thinking is to make all rotes in a town a ‘red  route’. This means no stopping at any time except for busses. So if you are lost, you cannot find anywhere to pull over and get your bearings.

Do you get the impression that driving in the cities and on the main roads is a frustrating and harrowing business? I hope so – because I was a fairly frazzled specimen by the time I finished my rounds and finally ended up in a peaceful haven at my cousin’s place in the south of England. What bliss!

The next day my racing around was over and I made my way at a leisurely pace to a midday rendezvous with the vans in Reading.

The vans had already covered a fair distance that day, but a booking had been made to catch the Dover ferry in a couple of days time – so on they pressed. I sank gratefully back into the passenger’s seat and relaxed and enjoyed. That day we got to Folkstone – just a stone’s throw from Dover, but the intrepid duo really had been driving long enough for one day.

We found a Sainsbury’s, huge super markets with equally huge parking lots. Previous experience had shown that when asked, the Authorities would permit us to park overnight. Which we did (with grateful thanks to the Management)

The next day we were up bright and early, with the rain pouring down. After a quick breakfast we were off to Dover – intending to spend most of the day at the Castle. Our initial momentum quickly came to a grinding halt as we joined the traffic on the motorway to Dover.

 We did not know it immediately but we learned that a computer breakdown at bthe ferry terminal was causing huge hold ups as all traffic was manually processed onto the ferries. Memories of our 7hr holdup outside Antwerp came flooding back, but fortunately we inched our way forward to a turn-off, and were able to escape onto a minor road to Dover. We were in no hurry for the ferry –our booking was for 9.30pm but we did want to see the castle.

And see it we did.

It stopped raining, but the gale winds continued to tear at us. The castle is situated on the highest hill in Dover, and even a zephyr breeze would be able to nip at you unhindered on top of that hill.

We had a really interesting time (did I tell you we are still not sick of castles – even if you are sick of hearing about them!?) crawling up, over and under the battlements, and then descended to Castle Street to enjoy a ritualistic Last Dinner on British soil –  Fish’n’Chips!

Being aware of the chaos throughout the day we got down to the wharf fairly early and got ourselves at the front of a queue, waiting for the 9.30 boat.

As good fortune would have it, there was space on an earlier sailing and so we found ourselves steaming out into the Channel at 9.00pm.

We were anticipating a rough ride, due to the gale that was still blowing, but in fact the 1 1/2 hr trip was very smooth, and we were berthed and discharged with amazing speed and efficiency.

A quick drive around the darkened streets and we finally found a park, which was full! a few hundred meters away was an ordinary car park and a  hesitant enquiry to a local gave us the assurance that it was ok to park there. So here we are in France!

Leaving the trans-Canada train after 3 1/2 days

and catching a short hop on the Skytrain

to the YWCA where I am staying, Vancouver has proved to be a marvelous place to relax and stretch the legs. And the weather has certainly helped. I have been here 3 days (I leave tomorrow afternoon) and each day has been a perfect summer’s day. Great for walking and biking and I have been doing quite a bit of both.

Downtown Vancouver is virtually an island, encircled by the sea on all sides except for  a narrow isthmus. Situated on top of a hill, the city slopes down from the center, to the sea no matter which way you walk.

And an attractive city it is. Full of well-designed high-rise blocks of hotels, offices and shopping malls, it could be like any other city, but somehow they have managed to create a feeling of space, orderliness and relaxation which is hard to define. Maybe it is the proximity of the sea, and the profusion of sidewalk cafes that lends to this impression.

I have to say ‘though, that I have been surprised to see many beggars in the city streets: people with a paper cup in hand, asking for money, and quite a few trundling their worldly possession in a trolley of some sort. Canada would be a very expensive place to try and exist on hand-outs. And I was further surprised by what I encountered this morning when I went for a walk after breakfast. I went to have another look at the Steam Clock (and forgot to take my camera!) which is like a grandfather clock whose driving weight is lifted by steam power, and whose ‘chimes’ are blown by steam on a series of whistles. Moving on from there I went in search of China Town and in so doing, wandered through an older part of the city.

This part was from another world: the shops were dingy or boarded up and populating the streets were an assortment of people from ‘the other side’: someone high on something, unsteadily jiving to a tune only he could hear; someone climbing out of a waste bin with an armful of ‘trophies’; a bedraggled old lady pushing a cart of belongings; a brightly painted lady saying hi to anyone who walked past; and all over the place people of all shapes, sizes and ages just sitting on the sidewalk or hanging around, obviously with no purpose in mind for the day. It was depressing. I wondered what sorry set of circumstances would lead to people ending up in this hopeless condition? And who is at fault? And what could be done about it?  To be honest, I was pleased to be out of the area, not having any real answers in my head.

I hired a bike for the day and managed to take in quite a lot of the city and the nearby parks and museums. The city has a great network of bike/walking trails which enable you to get around to most places without fighting the traffic. The views of the city were attractive, as you can see.

I made it to the Vancouver Museum too,

where they were staging an exhibition celebrating Vancouver’s involvement with the Cycling revolution. A good display of bikes of all sorts plus a history of the City’s growing acceptance and promotion of cycling as a means of transport. Interesting.

Canada, more than most countries, has a real need for float planes, because of the endless lakes which cover the country, and Vancouver has a busy float plane airport right next to the main shipping terminal. Fascinating to watch boats and aircraft all seemingly sharing the same space on the harbour!

Vancouver has been quite a treat to visit – a very pleasant end to my ‘Canadian Experience’. But I have to confess I am quite keen to re-join the Camper vans and resume our wanderings across the UK and Europe

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.

in recent weeks we had become accustomed to moving seamlessly from country to  country: Germany, Switzerland, France, Holland, Belgium, England etc. with barely a pause in our perambulations. But a few days ago daughter L and I made a giant leap across a very big ditch and ended up in Ottawa, Canada. (reason for the visit: for daughter – to visit an old school friend. For me ; because I wanted to do the trans-Canadian rail trip)

We are being looked after by Linda’s long-time college friend, and in turn by the friend’s parents. Such a gracious, hospitable family – we are being overwhelmed with kindness. And I find myself allocated to a huge bedroom with en suite all to myself!

The arrival in Canada was routine until I went to pass through Customs. “excuse me sir, would you mind taking the left lane please?” I was happy to oblige, thinking that would be the ‘nothing to declare’ lane. Wrong! I had been ‘randomly selected’ for the full customs search procedure. Half an hour later I was declared clean and allowed to trail out to a deserted arrival lounge! Well it is all Experience I suppose, but I am beginning to think I must have a criminal appearance.

Back in Bangkok I was apprehended by the USA military after I took an innocent picture of  their Embassy. On that occasion I was detained while they checked out my passport and made sure I deleted the picture from my digital camera. Now here in Ottawa I am again treated as an undesirable. But wait-there’s more. The following day, after the airport incident I was again pounced on by security in Ottawa’s Art Museum.

My crime this time was to be carrying a small plastic bag into the gallery. This had to be deposited in the secure locker section. (as it happened, daughter came to the rescue and offered to carry the offending bag in her capacious handbag, which was apparently acceptable. Logic???)

So what is it about me? The beetling eyebrows? the scruffy clothes? the worried look as I try to decipher noises around me and turn them into sentences? Who knows = the fact is I am a marked man.

But as usual, I digress. Here we are in Ottawa Canada and ready to see and taste another country, another culture. Canada is rather similar to NZ in that it was populated by an indigenous people many hundreds of years ago, and subsequently ‘settled’ by Westerners much later – with all the accompanying historic baggage that goes with the process. And like NZ they are still dealing with grievances. But the settling of Canada happened a few hundred years earlier than NZ and so the Capital does not have the raw  edge that NZ has. There are many gracious old buildings and the city has many fine buildings to give it an air of permanence and prosperity.

The city was a delight to discover with majestic parliament buildings,

character-filled streets, a beautiful river with impressive bridges

and an intriguing mix of French and English cultures.

Across the river lies the province of Quebec – that fiercely independent region that insists on observing its French heritage.

Here we saw toffee-apples de-luxe,

 and sampled ‘beaver tails’ – an elongated pancake with an endless variety of fillings and flavours.

 We also had Frittes (chips) French style – mixed with clotted cheese and topped with brown gravy. An interesting blend, but I confess to preferring my chips ‘straight’ with plenty of salt.

The Museum of Canadian Civilization was a magnificent structure, and the displays and artifacts it contained, equally impressive.

I found the Art Gallery of equal interest and was rather surprised to find myself really enjoying the experience, ( however, my host and I found that we shared the saame attention span disorder: after about 2 hours in a museum the eyes start to get a glazed-over appearance, and it becomes more and more difficult to discreetly hide a jaw-cracking yawn)

We are being hosted by my daughter’s friend’s family and again I am struck by the good fortune that keeps following us. We have been hosted by some incredibly generous people and have been fortunate to stay in some superb places. The generosity of people continues to amaze me, and fills me with a desire to return the good favours we have received. I feel a little guilty in this respect because I am aware that not too many people will be dashing off to NZ and even if they do, our part of West Auckland is not the easiest area to reach.

Our hosts then left the parents home and took us on to an Aunts ‘sea-side cottage’ which turned out to be a genuine mansion set in rolling countryside overlooking Lake Huron. But more of that in a later blog. On the way to the cottage (about a 250km drive, I suspect) we drove through magniicent countryside – woods laced with hundreds of lakes. We stopped  off to stretch legs and take in the peace and tranquility of this enormous country.

Earlier we had stopped off at a church serving a Polish community – again an oasis of tranquility , seemingly in the middle of nowhere. Set high on rolling hills, it had a commanding view over the surrounding countryside.

more later……..

the locals say ‘-good job you are  not touring in the holiday season – you just can’t move down there at that time’: talking about Devon and Cornwall. And I am sure they are right. Even now, all the places we visit have a good supply of tourists. Fairly crowded by NZ standards but very comfortable by UK ones. And you can understand why. I am obviously not the only one to be fascinated by this ancient part of England – the over-powering sense of history and the sheer charm of the small villages, country lanes and green and golden fields. It really is lovely. But navigating these cumbersome camper-vans down narrow country roads is no joke – and the thought of doing it at a time when the lanes are chock-full of touring cars is pure nightmare.

These thoughts occurred as we were driving down narrow lanes to visit the legendary Tintagel castle. The home of King Arthur and his knights of the Round Table.

We were quickly educated by an introductory film, that Arthur was most likely npure legend. But it makes for a great story, and the castle itself is most certainly no figment of the imagination.

The setting is magnificent. Awe-inspiring on this calm blue day, but it would look even more magnificent if  the Atlantic were venting its fury against the rocky shores far below.

It was a good work-out too. Climbing many uneven rocky steps and hiking across the heath at the top, not to mention the long upward climb back to the village. But it was well worth the effort.

Then back in the village we saw the making of  the local delicacy – Cornish Pasties and decided to indulge once more!

Fortunately we discovered that we were allowed to park overnight in the village car-park and so we had no more driving to do that day.

The next day we had three objectives: to cover a fair distance to get to Weston-Super-Mare; visit the old fishing village of Clovelly  and to find a Caravan dealer to purchase some needed spares for the vans.

We achieved all three objectives.I thought that the visit to Clovelly might just be for a quick look of passing interest, but I was wrong! Of course the approach to the village is now a commercial enterprise, geared to handle coach-loads of visitors, but the village itself, which tumbles down a steep cobble-stoned drive (too narrow and steep to call a road) remains much as I remember it from 60 years ago. In fact I found it more fascinating now, than I did in those days of yore.

And this is where Christine comes into the story. It seems that Clovelly has been in the hands of just two families for the past 3-400 hundreds  years. Christine Hamlyn, who inherited the village back in the late 1800’s, decided to smarten the place up and invested a heap of time and money in bringing the village back up to scratch again. She did a good job, and today there is obviously a lot of time and effort put into maintaining the village in pristine condition.

 Not that it is a dead display village – it is very much a lived-in and operating fishing village.

The massive quay was built in the 15th century and makes for a tranquil haven on a forbidding coastline.

We spent a long time discovering every nook and cranny

and everyone really enjoyed it!

After ‘flirting’ with the borders of various countries while travelling through Germany, we have finally said goodbye to the Reich. Although yesterday’s stopover was actually right on the border between Germany  and Holland– it ran smack through the middle of the little town of Dinxsperlo. (the yellow markers are the border)

Dinxperlo gave me my first real taste of a Dutch town. It was not a big place; small and  cute. It was impossibly neat and tidy. Not just the odd street, but every street we walked down or drove past: neatly clipped hedges, immaculately groomed shrubs and mass-plantings in pocket-handkerchief front gardens; large picture-windows in every house, looking out on to the street, and each one displaying a precise arrangement of flowers or pottery or lace-work etc.

We saw  interesting signs of spring here too, with new growth glowing bright green against the previous season’s more mature shades. We  saw pine-cones looking like Christmas decorations on one of the garden shrubs.

Every home looked as if it were expecting a visit from the Queen, and I came to the conclusion that this tidiness must be built in to the national psyche.

We were fortunate in Dinxperlo: when we arrived we discovered that the designated parking area was closed and so we cautiously nosed our way down the street and found another parking area, attached to the same large sports complex. It had been raining most of the day, and as we edged our way back into dripping trees a man on a bike, wearing size 15 clogs, came along and told us we were not allowed to park there. Our hearts were sinking when he advised us, ‘but you can park just out there’ What a relief. And the timing turned out to be just in  time: no sooner had we got ourselves wriggled into position than this quiet parking lot suddenly became inundated with cars. The reason soon became apparent: group after group of young kids and youths came marching down the street, chanting slogans and carrying banners. It was obviously a festival/rally of some sort and it seemed that the whole town had turned up to  cheer them on.

And at least half the town arrived on bikes. I have never seen so many ordinary commuter-style bikes in one place before. We took a walk down the street while the people were milling about and I found it interesting, looking at the Dutch bikes. Being a keen biker myself I am always interested to see what other countries are doing with bikes. The Dutch have the advantage of living in a dead flat country. Boring it may well be, but it sure makes for easy cycling! With  no hills to contend with, the Dutch have developed the ultimate in commuter –biking comfort. Weight is obviously of no concern, although there are many aluminium framed bikes to be seen. All have sturdy mudguards, stylish chain protectors, streamlined built-in headlights, dynamo hubs, sturdy carriers and panniers, elaborate handlebar configurations and often 8-speed hub gears. (electric power-assisted bikes are also popular – but they are not cheap – overE1000)

All riders adopt an extreme upright position with backs ramrod straight and at 90 deg to the road, consequently handlebars are mounted well above saddle height. So cycling is a dignified and sedate business, and one sees all manner of people riding: workers in ordinary garb, bankers in pin-striped suits, mothers with kids in a baby seat at the back, (or in a tow-along carriage), ladies in high heels and snazzy hair-do’s, and everyone in between. The verdict: in Holland cycling is universal.

And the layout of the streets confirm this: a wide clearly-marked bike lane down either side of the street with a narrow strip left in the middle for 2-way traffic! Cyclists cruise with no fear for cars – they know cars will always politely give way to them. Incredible!

Dinxperlo has two features that make it unusual. The first is that the town actually straddles the border between Germany and Holland: it has a foot in each country. Ironically it has two supermarkets, almost opposite each other. Oneisin Germany and the otherin Holland. Although all prices are in Euros, the pricing structures are different. For instance, milk in Germany is almost half the price of milk over the road, in Holland! The border passes down the main street and a row of yellow diamonds on the road, show you which country yoiu happen to be in.

The other claim to fame is Dinxperlo’s ‘Smallest Church in Europe’ This is a really neat little church, about 8×6 metres in size. How or why it was built was not clear, but it appeared that the church was still in use, I imagine a congregation of 6 plus a preacher, would fill it nicely.

The next day we moved further north to a little town called Burgen. (from where  I am writing this) Burgen is ‘Mixture as before’ – tidy streets and houses and neat little garden plots.

We are parked on the side of a marina connected to the canal/dyke system. This is a million-dollar spot: we are right next to the jetty and watch the coming and going of various launches and yachts.

Just around the corner is the canal proper and on it ply the same massive barge-like traders that we saw all the time on the Rhine. Behind us is a large grassed area with a kids playground. The town itself is just 5-10 mins walk away so everything is dandy. Unfortunately the rain is chasing us at the moment and so our activities have been a bit restricted. However the kids have had a good time on the playground and this afternoon we all went for a walk to explore the town.

We found a colourful rack of clogs, which confirmed that we were indeed in Holland.

On our return we made a  close inspection of a couple of 2nd hand folding bikes that were sitting outside the harbour-master’s office. We have found our two old clunkers so handy that we have been keeping an eye open for more bargains to add to the stable. A thorough test-ride on each bike plus a run through on the folding action indicated that these bikes were in fair condition for their age. He wanted E45 for one and E35 for the other. Total E80. Without prompting he said we could have the two for E75. After some discussion among ourselves, and after testing the bikes, Jgirl14 made him an offer of E70 for the two. After about 4 secs hesitation he accepted, so now we have 4 bikes and a baby-carrier in our stable!The older kids are very excited to be getting back on wheels. I can’t see us acquiring any more, but this will mean that the older ones can get further afield in their exploring of an area.

By the way while in the town this morning (on a lone stroll) I got myself a desperately-needed haircut. Due to a slight mis-understanding of meaning, I ended up with a no.2 all over. Talk about ‘lost in translation’! However, the lass that sheared me was very pleasant and took about an hour to perform the operation – much better value than my recent cataract operation! The haircut was so severe that after Tgirl5 inspected me closely, she said to me, “I know you are still Grandpa because I recognise your blue jacket”! (even my son was prompted to comment that I look considerably better with longer hair)

-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.

We have had a really shivery few days, just lately. Temperatures dropped to a frigid 11 degrees today and what added to the discomfort was the rain. It’s rained solidly today and so we have used the day to move further north and  to do some more hunting for small bits and pieces for the vans.  Driving in the rain is never much fun, and today was no exception. However we finished the day with  a brilliant beef curry and rice, which warmed up  everyone’s cockles.

But in spite of the recent cool temperatures, we have enjoyed exploring some magical spots along the way. We are still hugging the Rheine – a brilliant road follows its course very closely and the last couple of days have been exceptional. Around every bend in the road the eye is greeted with another castle, either perched on a hill, or some remains looming against the road itself.

We passed through many picturesque small townships, and across the river on the other side we saw neat and tidy ‘story-book’ villages nestled on the banks.

Countless vineyards cascaded down the steep slopes of the hills behind the villages – making the scenery almost impossibly beautiful.

As good fortune would have it, we came across a big parking area on the river side, just opposite an interesting-looking town.

We stopped, intending to stretch the legs before moving on, but as it turned out, we stopped and stayed for the night. This gave us the chance to have a really leisurely walk around the town – Bacharach by name. It took us completely by surprise, as if you suddenly strolled onto an historic film set. But there was nothing artificial about this 5-600 years old town and it was buzzing with ordinary life. (we even bought a couple of cheap camp chairs there)

We parked overnight on the banks of the Rheine and got away in the morning to continue our feast of historic buildings.

We finally came across an interesting castle set high on a hill,

and managed to find a spot to park the two vans. (always a bit of a limiting factor when wanting to stop somewhere)

We walked up the steep path and came upon the notice “closed for renovations until 2011.” (believe me at least half of  Germany is being renovated. Heaps of the castles and stately homes are being renovated and countless 100’s of kilometers of autobahn and highway are being ripped up and re-made. Not to mention the bridges that have been closed or partially closed. We know – we have experienced most of it!)) Well we only had an hour or two so could not wait for the Grand re-Opening. Nevertheless the notice advised that you could still get up to the castle terrace – it was the interior that was totally closed.  So on we went. What a fascinating place!

I must apologise if you are getting sick of castles and ancient towns. I thought I would, myself, but surprisingly I continue to be amazed at the creativity of MAN. We may know more today, but we are certainly no smarter than our ancestors!

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!

-place names, not a company of solicitors.

We have been travelling through some delightful German countryside for the past few days and have seen a veritable kaleidoscope of cathedrals, castles, quaint old towns and peaceful parks and gardens.

We have also been tested with our driving skills – taking our ‘Vomos’ into places where none have gone before.

Rach had the toughest test the other day – we were hoping to stay in Gothenburg and were trawling around this ancient city designed for horse and cart, looking for the Van park. We (Rach driving) ended up crawling up and down the side of the hill, winding through impossibly narrow streets, doing hill starts etc and finding absolutely nowhere to park.

Where the streets were wider, they had ripped up half of the road just to keep you on your toes. Rach  (following Rob, driving the bigger vehicle) passed the Stage 4 test in great style. Disappointingly, we had to leave Gothenburg unexplored. The following day I had a ‘grade 3’ test when closed roads forced us to take to some back-country roads through some narrow village streets plus a session of reversing etc. So we are both getting more comfortable with the beast. Meanwhile Rob has been nibbling at the repairs and the damage is getting less evident each day.

All of which has nothing to do with the heading but needed reporting anyway.

Rather than spell out what each picture is, I thought I would just give you a selection of views. We have been inside some incredibly ornate cathedrals and churches.

The carvings, sculptures, statues and murals have been quite mind-blowing.

Although no doubt all done to the glory of God, I have uneasy thoughts about who paid for all this and how the raising of money glorified our God. Certainly a very far cry from the school hall where our church meets. But just looking at the magnificence of the buildings, one cant help but marvel at the workmanship of 3-500 years ago.

The kids found a spidery playground in the cathedral grounds,  

much to their liking and as we relaxed and had our lunch nearby, we listened to the strains of an Organ-grinder duo. Closer inspection of the music-makers led to some of the kids (including Rob) being allowed to have a swing on the handle.

 Also in the cathedral grounds we found a musician playing softly on a set of Vibraphones. Nearby a ‘statue-man’ posed as steady as a rock. All in the dappled sunlight filtering through huge chestnut trees. A tranquil setting that was a real treat.

Also on the fun side we came across a large grill in a town square which was blasting air upwards. An exhaust from who knows what. But it gave the kids some fun, feeling themselves ballooning up in the strong draught as they stood over the grill.

Another interesting few days…….