24 - 28 January

Art.. and more art

Leaving the van behind has made us a little lazy about writing the Blog. Our apartment in Paris has cable TV and broadband WiFi, so we have had diversions not available to us for months!

Our trip on the VFT (Very Fast Train) from Amsterdam was great. Speeds of over 200kms per hour for part of the journey were an interesting experience. What was difficult was negotiating the Metro station, after our arrival at Gare de Nord, on the way to our Montmartre apartment. The only lift was out of order, meaning that bags had to be dragged up 7 flights of stairs at our local Metro station, then more up to the street and two flights up to our apartment – a total of 200+ steps dragging more than 50 kilos between us!.

Having arrived and settled in, the true value of living in this part of Paris became evident. Our afternoon walk took us through the 'arty' quarter of Montmartre, just around the corner from our place, up to Sacre Coeur, always magical, and on Saturday afternoon, humming with people.

After doing the art museums in Amsterdam just before we left for Paris, we have spent most of the past few days roaming the galleries of Paris - the Louvre, of course, the Pompidou Centre of Modern Art and the Musee d'Orsay. The more traditional museums are, frankly, becoming a little boring. Yes, they have 'must see' things like the Venus de Milo and the Mona Lisa, but they just have so much stuff, it starts to overwhelm the senses. The Pompidou Centre is far from boring. Like it or hate it, modern art always keeps you on your toes! You never know what awaits you around the next corner. One of our favourites was the three totally blank white canvases on one wall. We thought it was an empty room being prepared for an exhibition. Oh no. This was “true art.”

Speaking of fun, we took ourselves off to the Moulin Rouge last night. Why not? It was just down the road, less than 5 mins walk. On the positive side, the show was “spectacular.. spectacular”, although not quite up there with the Radio City Rockettes in New York! We scored a table with a very nice French couple and had a great night. On the negative side, the cost was astronomical!

Tomorrow, we drag our bags, down the hill this time, off to Orly Airport. Destination, Valletta, Malta.

22 January

Walked around Amsterdam....

One might detect a certain lack of enthusiasm about Amsterdam. And rightly. The two highlights for us are always the Rijksmuseum and the Van Gogh Museum - Dutch Masters and 19th Century impressionists being included in the artworks that interest us. As it turned out, the Rijksmuseum was a bit disappointing this time. Major renovations are under way and the collection on display is extremely restricted. The entry price, however, is the same!!

The Red Light district is a source of minor interest on a cold and rainy afternoon, but beyond that, or even partly because of that, Amsterdam always seems 'grotty'. Legalization of marijuana has attracted many young people from all over Europe, but for all the wrong reasons. The van next to us had its bong out airing when we arrived!

Tomorrow, we return the van. From the depot, it is a quick (and free) ferry trip to central Amsterdam, where we are staying in the same B&B that we visited before we collected the van 3 months ago. It's a great little hotel and a stone's throw from Centraal Station. So the following morning, we just walk across the road and jump a fast train to Paris.

That will start phase three of our adventure. We now have five city stays of between four and seven nights in, Paris, Valetta, Istanbul, Edinburgh and London.


21 January

Drove to Amsterdam.


20 January

Where is a good reformer when you need one?

Martin Luther took hammer, nails and his treatise and made his concerns clear on the door of the Wittenberg Cathedral in 1517. That was a long time ago and it tore the established Church apart. A millennium and a half earlier, another, far more influential figure, took to the usurers and peddlers in the temple.

Tolerant christians (with a small c) that we are, enough is enough with the commercialization of religion! Entry charges for churches, machines that turn coins into souvenirs of a holy relic are just tolerable. Price lists for blessings and mass offerings are just beyond the pale! Today, in the otherwise fantastic town of Bruges, (yes it IS in F'n Belgium*) we came across the sort of thing that incensed Luther.

Bruges' Basilica claims to have a vial of the blood of Christ. The relic is displayed with great ceremony only between restricted hours every day – extended hours in season. As the faithful approach the altar to pay homage to the relic, they are confronted with placards requesting payment for the privilege. To make all this worse, there is a glass box right beside the holy relic, presided over by a priest, that is stuffed with money. As an aside, one has to wonder why the Church has allowed such an important relic to languish in “F'n Bruges*”.

If this isn't enough, on the way out, one has the option of forking out another 6 euros for an 'intercession'. Five hundred years ago, it was the sale of indulgences. It seems that modern 'spin' has made it ok to sell 'intercessions' and Papal blessings.

It must be said that the price isn't always high. Further down the street today, we paid 2.5 euros to see a piece of the 'true cross' housed in a 16th century church that is a replica of the Holy Sepulchre Church in Jerusalem. For this price, we got to press a button to light up the interior of the church, the tomb of some 16th century noble's wife and the heart of the noble himself (he died elsewhere apparently). There were even individual torches to spot special features. Sadly, the batteries were flat! Not just all this but, there was free entry to the Belgium Lace Museum thrown in. Best ecclesiastical value in Europe!

But back to beautiful Bruges. It was hard to believe it was late January today. Blue sky and sunlight encouraged us to walk from the camp grounds into town this morning. On this, probably the last sight- seeing day of the van phase of our trip, we needed a bit of a walk, mostly because we planned to have a big feed of Belgian frites for lunch. The Belgians don't claim to have invented the 'frit', but they sure have done a lot with it! Our feast was purchased in a student cafe in a back street. Crisp chips, smothered in creamy mayo was pure evil that had to be walked off for the rest of a most pleasant day.

And, oh yes, we did climb the tower.*

(* For those who saw the Movie)

19 January

Not Tuesday – But it is Belgium

You probably have to be older than 40 to understand the above reference. It pertains to a classic 60s movie about group travel in Europe.

It's actually Monday, but tomorrow we will spend a whole day in Belgium. As the theme of the old movie runs, for us, this will probably be the longest time we have spent here in over 20 years! Let's see what it brings?

Today we made the classic Aussie pilgrimage to Villers-Bretonneux. Not an attractive day weather wise, but one that touched every jingoistic nerve in our bodies. The Mairie, (City Hall) has kangaroos and emus on the doors; the local school was built after the First War with funds from Victorian children and the brothers and sisters of the the troops who had died in France. In the play ground is a banner reading – “Never Forget the Australians.”

Outside this village, liberated by Australian troops in 1918, is the Australian War Memorial, a large and fitting tribute to the tens of thousands of Australians who lie on French and Belgium soil and. particularly, to the 11,000 young men for whom there is no known grave.

18 January

Benoit et Nicole and “Uncle Willie”

Merci beaucoup a Benoit, le frere de mon oncle Pierre, et sa femme Nicole!

On the way to visit Benoit and Nicole yesterday, we stopped off for just 'one last cathedral' – Rouen.
Again, we were enthralled by, not only the cathedral but also the town itself. It was here that Joan of Arc was burned at the stake. Today, a fish market shares the square with the shrine to Saint Joan. How nouveau French!
But the highlight of the last couple of days was the 'Grand Tour' that Benoit gave us of his village and, the next morning, of the small city of Laon, just a few klms from his village. Laon was a significant fortified city in the middle ages, with (yes, another!) large cathedral. The cathedral punched well above its weight for a small city like Laon. It is, in fact, the second oldest cathedral in France. But what was more interesting for us was all the local knowledge Benoit had about the town and the other out of the way places he took us to.

We topped off the morning tour with a magnificent lunch. Merci Benoit et Nicole!

By mid afternoon we had managed to squeeze the campervan back out through the stone archway of Benoit's courtyard and were on our way to find the grave of 'Great Uncle Willie who died in the war'.

William John Armstrong was the great uncle of Janita, the brother of her grand-father. He was killed in action at Mont St Quentin on 31 August 1918, just one day before the AIF effectively dis-engaged from the First World War. Thanks to the National Archives in Canberra, we had William's full military records, including his burial place and grave reference number.

On a beautiful mild sunny afternoon, just over 90 years after his death, his family finally found their 'Uncle Willie who died in the war'. Armed with two small Australian flags and sprigs of eucalyptus, (brought all the way from Morocco!) his great niece found him among the more than 500 graves of him and his mates, who have shared this quiet spot in the Communal Cemetery Extension in the small town of Peronne for almost a century. It was a tearful reunion.

At 'the going down of the sun' we revisited the Second Division AIF memorial on the Ave Des Australiens on the outskirts of Peronne. We had come upon it by accident in 2001 and this chance discovery had started the quest for information about Uncle Willie.

Tomorrow, we will visit the largest of the memorials to the Australians who died in France, the Australian War Memorial at Villers Bretonneux. It is built on Australian territory in the midst of Europe, ceded by France in gratitude for the sacrifice of the more than 50,000 Australians who lie in over 2000 French and Belgian cemeteries like the one where Uncle Willie rests.

16 January

Early reflections

Yesterday wasn't as cold as expected. The morning was clear but relatively warm. As we drove closer to the coast, it got even warmer and the weak winter sun even had some warmth to share.

Our plan had been to drive on to northern France to visit the battle fields of the Somme but, as usual, we had a few days to spare, so we headed to the beaches of Normandy. The tourist focus here is, of course, the D-Day Invasion. Yes, we did some of that, but the small towns and villages of Normandy (those that survived the war) are just beautiful. Half-timbered house, in excellent repair, grace many of the small towns and villages.

Who can ever remember the names of every small town or village that has interested us for one reason or another? And why try? Surely it is the experiences that make a journey like this worthwhile?

So ... to some early reflections.

Of the three legs of our five month trip, the van trip was always going to be the most challenging and exciting. And so it was! It's a bit like running a distance race. You train and prepare for months and look forward to the day. Then, at some point, you wish you had just stayed home in bed! At the finish though, all the negatives evaporate and the exhilaration of finishing overwhelms all.

Close to the finish line, we do feel satisfied with what we have managed. No animals or children have died, except for a couple of slow birds; traffic in most of Europe has not been brought to a halt; we are both fit and well and the van is in one piece (mostly!). Mind you, there are a few Italian villages that will take months to recover from our visit! On top of this, we have had some great experiences, (read rest of blog), been places we have never been before, seen things we will never forget – just to mention a few; the Medinas of Marrakesh and Fes in Morocco, Norwegian Fjords, the back streets of Palermo on market day, Granada in Spain and remnants of 3000 years old civilizations on Sardinia. Oh yes, and the worst hail storm we have ever driven through in Genoa!

14 January

One last cathedral??

Can you ever see too many cathedrals? Absolutely! But...

Who could drive past Chartres and not have a look at its famous cathedral? It rises from the open fields and can be seen five or six klms from town. This part of France is fairly flat, open country that would probably have looked good, even with the bareness of winter upon it. Today we couldn't tell. It was foggy most of the day, but as the early afternoon approached, the sky lifted.

While Chartres Cathedral was well worth the stop, the small city of Chartres itself was an unexpected bonus. Half timbered houses and narrow medieval streets compete with a mill stream.

Over a thousand years ago, some local noble returned from the Holy Land with the Virgin Mary's Veil (or a bit of it!) The year was 876 and there was already a ruined cathedral on the current site. The faithful rallied and somehow, like good simple folk in hundreds of towns and cities all over Europe, managed to build a structure to house the Holy Relic. It stood for five hundred years before fire destroyed it. Undaunted, they started again and with their bare hands and very simple machines, they built the current enormous structure that has stood for more than 800 years and looks as good as the day it was consecrated. Two world wars last century left it unscratched, although some nasty Germans bombed the city gate just 100 metres from the Cathedral!

What drove them - all of them - the many thousands who designed and built these incredible places all over Europe? Faith, superstition, lust for power or fear? Whatever it was, when aggregated, the great Cathedrals of Europe far eclipse the pyramids and any other ancient constructions on the planet.

As an extra bonus, we were also rewarded in our search for 'bits' of the saints. Chartres Cathedral also displays the bones (or some of them) of Saint Piat, a local lad made good!

The afternoon has cleared to a beautiful clear night, stars aplenty and visibility almost unlimited. Sounds great, but we know what this will mean tomorrow morning - temperatures well below freezing. The cold is already coming up through the floor!

13 January

Every day has something

After almost 4 months of writing these blogs, we wonder sometimes if there is anything new to say.
But, yes, there is. Not a lot today, mind you, but there is always something different and interesting when you are travelling - like the ruins of old Poitiers. On a whim, we followed a highway sign off N10 today to its ruins.

The things you know nothing about are sometimes the most interesting. Not on the wow scale like a 12th Century Cathedral, or a walled medieval town, but interesting for the fact that you are probably the only people in months to bother to roll on up the country road to a little visited site. All the more fun in the snow with narrow roads just visible through a carpet of white. At the back of a small village, well off the tourist path, we found “Old Poitiers”. Among the ruins of a Roman town that once had a population of 10000 people, there was the remnants of a Roman theatre and some houses. Not much, but it was all ours and we had gone to the trouble to find it.

We also found the Chateau of Chenonceau and the house in Amboise where Leonardo Da Vinci spent his last years and the room in which he died. But lots of other people found these as well.

12 January

France's Route 66

After we crossed the Spanish-French frontier yesterday, we drove mostly on French National Route 10. (N10). National Routes in Europe are the poor travellers' Motorways because they are toll free. In Portugal, Spain and France, they are often dual carriage roads that are of motorway standard. The only difference is that every now and then they don't by-pass towns, so you hit some traffic, as we did this morning getting through Bordeaux. Slow, but still an interesting drive through the inner 'burbs.

At a bit of a loss as to what to do for the next week or so in France, we decided to do a practice run for our planned trip in August/September down Route 66 in the USA between LA and Chicago. N10 is not anything like the scale of Route 66, but what it does offer in common is a slice of the 'heartland' of France, passing through Bordeaux, Poitiers, Tours, Chartres and Versailles. What we plan is to stick as close to the N10 as we can, all the way to its end at the Paris ring road; the Peripherique (the 'Horrorpherique' as we call it!) and, on the way, potter about in small towns and villages.

Today was mostly driving and the usual shopping. France is great for shopping! Hypermarkets are on almost every corner, even in rural France. We did divert from the N10 to the small village of Brux south of Poitiers, because we saw a highway sign indicating that it had an XI Century Church. As it turned out, an “I” had fallen off the highway sign and it was, in fact, a XII Century Church. Never mind, it was a nice little village and the church was interesting as it was in a fairly original state.

Continuing our theme, we sought out another small village to camp in tonight. Nieuil l'Espoir is not even on our map. We found it while searching for a free Aire de Service to spend the night. It doesn't have a XII C church, but it is a good example of what is left of rural villages in France. There is a butcher, baker, pharmacy, small supermarket and a bar. The centre of the village has one grand house (in fair repair) that was probably the local manor house. Around it, there is a cluster of old houses and ex-shops. On the outskirts are the new estates of late 20C and early 21C. Not many, but a sign of the changes to come.

10 January

How to drive in the snow

It might seem like a silly subject but, as what we mostly did today was drive in the snow, it may be appropriate. And it will be something to remember for next time.

Coming from the sub-tropics as we do, driving in severe winter conditions is not our forte. Having said this, we have done a lot of driving in winter in Europe, the US and New Zealand. So we know enough to be absolutely sure that we are novices!

Snow is frozen water. Yes, we know – obvious. Sometimes it can build up to the point that a vehicle can't push through it. In heavy snow, it accumulates on the windscreen and freezes the wipers. Other times, it turns to slush and freezes on the road surface. Always, it is tricky for the uninitiated.

What we have learned was put to good use today. We awoke to even more snow than we had last night, when we had decided it was too dangerous to continue. The windscreen was frozen on the inside as well as the outside; it was -1C inside the van and the gas heater wouldn't light because the chimney was covered with snow. Disaster you might think. No, not just then. Later, when the window to the small bathroom in the van cracked off in the cold, potentially leaving a metre square opening - that was disaster!

Short of some minor cuts and abrasions and a lot of bad language, all was well. The window was finally closed up – not fixed, but at least sealed - leaving most of the snow on the outside!. The engine finally started after a few sad, hard churns, and we were off.

Back to the fact that snow is water. Freezing point for water in any state is 0C, a fact that should never be forgotten when driving in severe winter conditions. What might look like a nice smooth, recently snow-ploughed stretch of road, could in fact be the dreaded 'black ice' - re-frozen snow slush that is almost invisible against the black of the road surface. We have seen enough of the results of black ice, to be overly cautious of it. Today we passed several victims of this phenomena in ditches beside the highway. At one place there were four in a row, all half tipped over, off the side of the road. Steep gradients like on and off ramps are particularly dangerous. Even the usually speedy Spanish drivers show a great deal of respect for icy roads.

The cold weather has had some minor impact on us aside from the driving difficulties. Our grey water tank has been frozen for a couple of days and it has been very cold getting up and dressed in the mornings. On the positive side, we have no worries getting the beer cold. It doesn't even get to the fridge now, but goes straight from the locker under the van to the table!

From here on, our trip is mostly driving until we get to Peronne on the Somme, where we will visit Janita's Great-Uncle's war grave. We'll try to stay close to the coast of France and so avoid the worst of the winter. We might even find the odd nice little village to visit?

But please – no more cathedrals!

9 January

Snowed in

Snow is a wonderful thing. It looks very cool on pine trees. High mountains look great when snow-capped, snowmen are just the thing for a winter front lawn. But try driving in it! It floats towards you in an almost mesmerizing stream of flakes. Roads become slippery. drivers even more unpredictable and the windscreen starts to freeze over.

As predicted, it was very cold this morning in Salamanca, down to -6C. Very light snow could be seen in the morning sunlight as we drove off towards Avila and Segovia. Avila was just as we remembered from our last visit. Spectacular battlements surround the old town centre, just as old European towns should be. The light sprinkle of morning snow added to the scene. We had a long day ahead and the weather wasn't helping. As we approached Segovia, the snow increased. We managed a walk through the town with its Roman aqueduct and beautiful cathedral just as the snow started to pelt down. We took off for our planned camp site about 100kms away about 3:30pm. As usual, we got lost leaving town and by the time we had driven all the way back into town to try to start over again, the roads were white. Even the heavy traffic on the major highways wasn't enough to clear them and it was getting more and more difficult to drive. Not too far out of Segovia, we spotted a carpark in a small village and here we are for the night. The snow has stopped now and it is getting a little warmer. -3C perhaps? The trusty gas heater has it up to 17C inside at the moment, but we'll have to turn it off when we go to bed to conserve gas.

8 January

Feels like winter

What else could we expect in early January? - It finally got cold! After a couple of very mild days in Portugal, it suddenly turned winter on us! Just a few days ago, we were wandering about in T-shirts.

From Lisbon, we have come north to Salamanca in Spain. Coming north and inland was probably not the best call this time of the year! Never mind; on the way, we were rewarded by the beautiful little Portuguese town of Obidos. A gift from Dom Dinis (whoever he might be!) to his wife, the walled town today is a time capsule. No satellite dishes here! Not even TV antennas - indeed there was hardly a soul on the streets this bright and clear, but crisp afternoon.
Instead, from the city walls, which we almost circumnavigated, only stopped by a gate 150m from where we'd begun, we marvelled at twisting, cobbled streets with picture-perfect white houses. Mind you, we did that clinging to the ramparts! Workplace Health and Safety hasn't invaded Portugal yet. At the start of the scramble to the top of the walls, there is a reminder to watch your step – and your children - timely, as the walls are about a metre wide and there are only a couple of (short) barriers to stop you falling many metres down onto those cobbled (read – hard) streets. This proved a bit tricky a couple of times as we came across people going the wrong way, but all good – we are still fairly agile for a couple of old farts!

We spent the night in the carpark just outside the walls. While it boasted the facilities of toilet and waste water dumping, as well as water refill, there was no power, so we were exposed to the sudden onslaught of winter. It was -1C inside the van when we got up to put the little gas heater on. It struggled to pull the temperature inside up to 4C in time for breakfast.

We did some hard driving today to get to Salamanca, only to find that it was winter here as well! -3C the sign said as we drove into town at 4:00pm. After a brief internet session in the foyer of the hotel we are camped behind, we understand we can expect -6C tomorrow with a chance of snow. Cold, but tonight we have power and our electric fan heater is belting out a constant 20C inside.

6 January

The home of Fado

Portugal was powerful once, but those days are long gone. Lisbon, its capital, has been described as the crumbling remnant of this once-powerful nation. Lisbon, today, on the surface at least, is a bit run-down in places, but these areas only add to the character of the city. We roamed through the back streets of Alfama, the old part of the city today, through the very streets where Fado was born.

In the bright sunshine today, new high-rises in the distance mark the boundaries of the new Lisbon and the new Portugal. Still not among the most wealthy of the EU countries, Portugal can be far easier on the pocket than Italy or France. Things are changing quickly though. The EU has ploughed millions into developing Portugal's infrastructure. Roads and ports are modern and well-maintained.

Still none the wiser about Fado?

It was in the narrow, run-down alley-ways and streets of the Alfama district of the city that the often mournful music of the Fado originated. It all seems to have started with the rough, probably drunken songs of depressed sailors around the waterfront of Lisbon in the early part of the 19th Century. There were special Fado houses, but these were probably also the other 'houses' that sailors often frequented.

At about the same time, the 12 string Portuguese Guitar evolved from the more traditional six string version. Eventually, the themes and music of Fado were picked up by Lisbon's bohemian set and so from these humble beginnings, this genre of music rose to become the national music of Portugal. Its exponents are household names in Portugal today, but it is still all a bit of a mystery to us, even after our visit to the Fado Museum. The museum is a bit like the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Nashville but without the Rock, or the Roll. Not to scoff! It was a great museum and an interesting experience. We even bought a Fado CD. If possible we'll attach a sample to the blog.

5 January

Routine

It's almost automatic now; the morning routine.

In a campground, get up, boil the wash water, make the coffee, wash and complete the “toilette” (just one of us), sit and wait (the other one!), check the maps, set up 'Navgirl' for the day's journey, visit the loo (don't forget your toilet paper!), make breakfast, wash up, load the fridge from the beer and wine cellar, empty the chemical toilet and the waste water, fill the water tank, pay the bill, check all hatches, start your engines and off. If we try hard, we can get all this done and be on the road by 9:30am. Hey – we are on holidays!

For free camps on motorways etc, leave out a few of these steps and add 'wander into a cafe, feign interest in eating and duck into the toilet'. (Toilet paper usually provided.)

Today was no exception. Like a well-oiled machine, we were on the road by 9:30 for the short drive to Lisboa (Lisbon).
The area of Portugal we drove through today can be very dry. In 2005, they had a crippling drought here, but this year, the country is beautifully green, oranges and lemons load the trees and the cattle and sheep are all fat. Cork trees are everywhere, easily identified by the bare, stripped trunks that turn red once the cork bark is removed. There is a world-wide shortage of natural cork and it is impacting on the younger trees. Trunks are sometimes stripped of bark before they are more than a couple of hundred millimeters in diameter. The bark doesn't grow back, so it's a long wait until the trees are big enough to produce again.

We hit our camping grounds in Lisbon just before lunch today, so we made an early start on the city with a trip on the bus to the waterfront district of Belem, the location of the famous Discovery Monument celebrating the discovery of the New World. Huge and impressive, it is probably better seen on a good day. The good citizens of Belem also have an excellent Modern and Contemporary Art Museum with a very large and interesting collection of exciting and, of course, bizarre stuff, and free! There was also a large Monastery but, being Monday, it was closed!

It was cold and grey, so we probably didn't see the city at its best this afternoon. Late in the day, the sun broke through, so tomorrow might be a better day.


4 January

Where are we really?

A few days back, when we left Marrakech in Morocco, we started our return to Amsterdam and the end of the Van leg of our trip. We have done some klms in a few days and we are now in the small city of Evora in southern Portugal.
But on the pleasant and mostly sunny drive into Portugal today, we had to keep asking ourselves, 'where are we really?' This part of Portugal, East of Lisbon, is so much like Australia, you could have shot “Australia” here instead of in Darwin and Bowen. The eucalypt, in its many varieties, is dominant here, as it is in most of the Mediterranean. Amongst the forests of gums, wattle and other acacias, some probably southern African in origin, fill in the under growth. The country is open and often rocky and the soil is red.

Portugal is not as densely populated as many of its neighbours and so there are open vistas a-plenty. Small towns with one main street and nothing much else pop up on the road every now and then. Some are railway towns with the line on one side of the street and the town on the other.

This afternoon, just after we set up the van for the night, we watched the sun come down over a group of Brits who were camped beneath a beautiful stand of gums. In the late afternoon sunlight, they could have been on the Murray.
Evora - a UNESCO Heritage-Listed site, was our port of call for today. With easy parking, a close to town camp site, some great things to see, Evora had it all for us. A walled city,with Roman ruins, an interesting Cathedral with ghoulish Chapel of Bones (to remind us all that life is short) and an aqueduct, Evora was soothing to our shattered nerves, after yesterday's drive-through of Seville. If only every city was as easy to negotiate!

3 January

Seville drive past

Ever need to see Seville, we are your people. City centre, suburbs, ring-roads, industrial areas and roads in and out of town in all directions. Just a breeze for us now. That's about all we did today. Not that the city is so difficult. It is compact with a population of about 700,000 people and an excellent road system. Just no parking, that we could find, for large vehicles.

Missed another gem of a city because of lack of parking., or an open campground, or Aire ...... but that's the trade-off. C'est la vie!


2 January 2009

Out of Africa? .. how trite!

On the road again?.... used before?

Border crossings can be a total non-event or they can take hours.

Our return to Spain and the EU today was at the upper end of this scale. Who would have thought it would take almost an hour to get out of Morocco and into Spain? Nobody in this day and age objects to border formalities. They ensure our safety and security. But do they have to be so inefficient?! It may be jingoistic, but crossing the Australian frontier is always 'efficient'. It may take time, but you can see that things are working to a system. Even entering the USA, there is a 'system' - frustratingly slow and poorly managed - but a system.

Again, today, at the Moroccan frontier, it was chaos. We were lucky. For some reason a policeman, controlling the rapidly growing and slow moving line at the border, decided to wave us through to an express lane. Right to the front! Good for us, but what about the unlucky? AND, for the first time this trip, somebody else entered our van! Was he friendly? Yes. If we'd had drugs, would he have been as pleasant? NO! He looked into cupboards and the various “pits” that comprise a camper and tapped away, listening for unusual noises – ie a water tank that didn't have water in it. It was the most thorough check we have ever had in our travels, but we didn't really mind if the end result is less drug-trafficking. It is reassuring to believe that somebody, somewhere, is doing something, so that next time we come, we won't be put off going other places by the potential threat of police raids of the campground in the middle of the night, as was indicated by one of our sources.

Never mind, we made our ferry back to Algeciras by minutes and 50 minutes later, were back in Spain. Tonight, we are camped in a crowded camping ground just outside of Tarifa, south of Cadiz. It was a rainy and miserable day, but the Germans were out on the beach para-sailing. It's warm, even by Australian winter standards, but ... in the Atlantic... in January?

Hundreds of campervans and caravans are still streaming south. We saw many on our way south before Christmas. There seem to be more now. There is hardly a spare plot in this camping ground and there are several this size in the area. Morocco must love it - this lot, all headed their way! And why not? It's about 20C on a good day here and -10C just 1000 km north. By the way, we are heading north.

With more than three quarters of the 3 month van leg of our total 5 month adventure done, it is a good time to reflect on this form of travel. After three previous long trips in Campervans, we consider ourselves experts. That's about 12 months living in vans on the road in Europe!

Firstly, it's cheap, or at least you can control your costs. And it can be flexible. You can go where you like, when you like. But can you? We have had some disappointments trying to park and see sights even in relatively small towns. Driving is becoming increasingly difficult on Europe's ever more crowded roads. The big plus is independence. Even with the difficulties with traffic, finding somewhere to stay and constantly getting lost, it is much more of an adventure than a Kon-Tiki Tour! After all, how many other people do you know who have driven up the main streets of Amsterdam, Budapest, Paris, Rome, Sofia, Athens, and many, many more cities, towns and villages in a campervan?
Would we do it again? Ask us in 12 months time...

Oh. About Morocco. Fantastic experience. Not all that easy travelling the way we did, but not the most difficult country we have visited by a long shot. Fantastic, friendly people. Beautiful scenery. A culture that is new to us, different and enthralling. Very safe and welcoming for westerners. Get there before it becomes even more touristy, but be prepared for a 'culture shock'.

31 December 2008

New Year's Eve in Fes

Breaking with our usual rule, we accepted the offer of a guide today to see Fes, reputed to have the oldest original Arab Medina. We generally shy clear of guides for two reasons: one, we like to have our own adventures and move at our own pace and two, we don't like to be conned! On both accounts we lost out to some extent today, but on the other hand, we did see parts of the city we would never have found and the guide was a pleasant young guy who arrived with his Canadian girlfriend in tow. An extra advantage was that he had a car, so taxis were not going to cost us either.

Fes, on what was a dismal rainy day, our first in a long time, was not as attractive a city as Marrekech. But what it lacked in beauty, it more than made up for in intrigue, adventure and exposure to the raw life of big city Morocco. Our guide was true to his word in not pressuring sales in the places we 'happened across' on our ramble through the back streets of the incredible maze that is old Fes. There is no way we could have found our way around by ourselves.
Somehow we have become hardened to third world living conditions. People survive here amongst rotting garbage, piles of building rubble and suspect sanitation in the middle of a crowded city of more than 2 million people. Some areas we went to in the old city today had no running water. Taps on the streets provided water that kids toted back to their houses along muddy streets. Somehow they all seem to stay clean and happy and that's probably why we didn't 'freak' at meeting donkeys and horses on lane ways so narrow that we had to press ourselves against the wall to avoid being squashed by skins on their way to the tannery, and lord knows what else, strapped to the backs of these sad-looking animals.

This is life for hundreds of millions of people in the developing world. It's rough, but it's not hopeless, at least here in Morocco. As in Vietnam and Cambodia, every street level opening, no matter how small, has some small enterprise. Furniture making, pottery, the making of new cd players out of the bits of old ones – these are all part of the thousand ways of working to survive.

Our visits to carpet makers, ceramic works, tanneries and jewellery shops today were all part of the routine employed to extract the tourist dollar gently and courteously. Despite our resolve not to buy anything, we, of course, did - not a lot, but probably just enough for our guide to get his kickback.

Having contributed, last year, in much the same way, to the economy of Vietnam, today we did the same in Fes. And it was most enjoyable and just one little contribution to hurry along the development of wonderful people in this fantastic country.


30 December

What a road can mean

All we did today was drive – firstly from Marrakech back to the coast at Casablanca, on to Rabat and then east again to Fes.

All but a dozen klms of this almost 600 klm trip was on motorway quality roads, equal to, or even better than, those in Europe, and way better than anything in Australia. But where did these super highways come from, in the midst of this beautiful, but still-developing country, where fields that line the highways are still tilled by horse or donkey-pulled ploughs (some made of wood) and donkey carts are the main form of transport in rural areas? Towns and cities are close to western standards in their core, but roam to the fringes and the shanty towns are pitiful.

The highway seems to be almost a protected tunnel for the developed world to access the wonders and, probably, the resources of Morocco. As we flew along it today, every 3-4 klms there was an overpass that allowed villagers on either side of the highway to continue to travel to their local towns unimpeded. Here and there along the road, locals sit and watch the world they are not yet part of fly past at 120 klms per hour. The privileged, like us and wealthy city Moroccans, might just as well be behind glass.

Shepherds wander with their flocks on the verges of the road, where their charges can access the lush grasses shaded by road cuttings. Despite the obvious chasm that exists between these two worlds, the locals wave and smile as we cruise past.

At the moment they live in a world that most just want to drive through. But will the road make a difference?
European investors aren't stupid. They helped build these roads because they can see the potential of Morocco. Everywhere we have been, we have seen rich agricultural land a plenty; land that can grow food far more efficiently than further north in Europe The trucks that dominate European Motorways aren't here yet, but they are coming. Just up the new motorways and 40 minutes away by ferry is one of the wealthiest concentrations of people on the planet.
For the poor farm kids leaning over the rails on the overpasses with their donkey carts, waving and smiling, while peering into a world that is currently far beyond their reach, the future looks much better just because of these roads.
And hell they deserve a break!


29 December

Watch that African Sun

Our driver suggested an early start today, so we hit the road to the city again at 9:00 am. It was New Year's Day today on the Arabic calendar, so public offices were closed. But that was just about all that was! Traffic was a little lighter to and from the city, but there was still plenty going on in the Souks and squares of this exciting city.
We started the day being conned into a visit to a carpet warehouse by a guy who crossed the road with us after we got out of our mini-bus. These touts are good! He 'had' us until we arrived in the maze of alleys that led to his sponsor's shop. “No pressure to buy, this is just a visit... etc”. We have heard it all in many languages, but we still fall for the initial contact. What we have worked out is how to escape while not offending. So we bid our initial contact 'Happy New Year!' and then were left in the maze of alleyways that make up the old city of Marrakech. This is another part of the game – so we have heard – that, abandoned, the victim needs directions out, which are happily given – for a price! Not this time, Sunshine! We carry a small compass and with that and a bit of luck, we were back in familiar territory in a couple of minutes. No harm done and yet another experience to remember, embellish and bore family and friends with! And, oh! It was good – a very slick operation, but all completed with good humour – all part of the game.

Today we saw the remains of some of the dynasties that have ruled Morocco – the tombs of one dynasty that had been covered over by the next, a palace that had been systematically looted by that same, vengeful, dynasty and another palace, which showed what the first would have looked like; very ornate by modern standards, but you have to admire the skills of the workers who created such incredible buildings.

We also did the “tourist thing” - lunching on tajine and couscous, while overlooking the major square of old Marrakech, where snake charmers, acrobats, water-sellers, musicians, monkey touts, donkey-driven carts, story-tellers, etc all compete for attention – and money!

Wandering through the fascinating souks, with people latching on to you if you so much as pause, can be disturbing but, aware that this is the source of their livelihood, we have found that good humour works well.
Marrakech is not in the desert – to our surprise. But it can be hot. Even on this mid-winter's day, the fairer of our party managed a good dose of sunburn.

It is Africa after all.


28 December

On the Marrakech Express

Not really, but we saw the train to Marrakech and a mighty flash train it was too!

Where do you start to comment on a day like today? Let's start at the end just for fun.

The mini-bus loaded with ourselves, three Swiss adventurers, who were off to Mauritania overland and the Moroccan mini-bus driver, ripping through the dark centre and suburbs of Marrakech, down streets crowded with donkeys, hand-carts, buses, Mercedes, farm utes and thousands of people. We were on our way back to our very reasonable (very good by Moroccan standards) camping grounds on the outskirts of Marrakech. It was only 7:30pm but it had been a long day.

We had made record time on our drive from Casablanca south-east to the once Royal capital of Morocco. Record time was due to the fact that it was all excellent motorway with very light traffic. It is the wet season here and we are probably seeing the countryside at its greenest, and it sure is green, with dark brown stone villages and farm compounds settled in the rich valleys.

Casablanca was far too big for us to deal with in the van and we had read that the only reason people went there was because of the Bogart movie of the same name. So we drove around it and took a photo of the highway exit sign!
While on the subject of highways, it has to be said that, as embarrassing as it may be, there is no question that Morocco has a far better highway infrastructure than Australia. Major cities are linked by European standard Motorways and even the secondary roads are well up to the standards at home.

There is a certain 'unevenness' in the development of Morocco, and probably many other developing nations. Some people here, even many, are doing fairly well, thank you, but others, particularly the rural poor, are still miserably poor.
Former colonial masters, France, Spain and Italy are investing heavily in North African countries like Morocco. Question their motives if you will, but the end result is an increase in general living standards that will eventually flow through to some level, even to the very poor.

While we are in the subject of highways and infrastructure, we stopped at an Aire de Service (Motorway stop) for lunch today and heard Australian accents at the table behind us. Turned out to be Doug Murray (ex-ABC Rural Reporter) and now Channel 9 Extra presenter and his friends. We had a nice chat about our respective travels and were invited for drinks with Doug and company in their hotel in Marrekech - an invitation which we probably won't take up. No disrespect to Doug, but as we found out in the course of our chat, he and his friends had flown into Casablanca with pockets full of Australian dollars and were mortified that the Moroccan banks wouldn't exchange them. When we respectfully pointed out that they could have stuck their Visa cards in an ATM and taken local currency out, they replied that they didn't have debit cards. Faced with this level of naivety and eccentricity, we probably will just pass up the offer of drinks.

So. How did we end up with the Swiss adventurers in a Moroccan mini-bus?

Given the aforementioned excellent state of the highway network, we had arrived in Marrakech just after lunch. The only way into town was by mini-bus so we booked one. Just as we were about to leave, two 4x4s arrived in the dusty camping compound, complete with – you guessed it – three Swiss adventurers. After a short wait for them to park, we all piled into the bus headed for the Medina of Marrakech.

Just over three hours later, we were all together again. In the interim, we spent the time just wandering in the almost hot sun, through the maze of markets (souks) and the squares that are the life blood of this amazing city. In some ways, what we experienced is probably how life has gone on here for hundreds of years. Trade is now partly with tourists from all over Europe and the rest of the developed world. Two or three hundred years ago, these same streets were filled with camel trains from across northern Africa, coming to trade at this ancient cross-road.

All we did this afternoon was roam about and take in the atmosphere. Tomorrow, we'll see the sights. The Swiss boys will be off 'to the right 12 times' to find the desert - as per our mini-bus driver's instructions.


27 December

Back door beer

After our free night in Larache, we took off early for Rabat, the capital of Morocco, planning to camp in the twin city of Sale and catch one of the small local boats across the river to the Medina (old city) of Rabat. Aside from a little, Italian style, driving on the outskirts of Rabat, the trip was most pleasant. Great roads with light traffic and different and unexpected scenes at every turn. Intensive farming under square miles of plastic glasshouses dominated the scene for the first 100 klms. Strawberries, flowers, and vegetables, all out of season for Europe. Very profitable.
People seem to emerge from behind every tree and bush along the road side as we drive by. This is very open country, but you never seem to be out of sight of someone. Women and kids traipse along the edge of the motorway. Kids cross four lanes of motorway with their dogs. Hooded 'Obi Wans' glide from out of nowhere. And then there are the shepherds - sitting under trees or perched on rocks or fences, they gaze out over their scrawny, but obviously precious, flocks. What goes through their minds for all those hours?

Most villages and towns are relatively new and fairly clean, with power, water and, of course, satellite TV. There were exceptions in the poorer areas and on the outskirts of bigger cities like Sale and Rabat. Some of the slums were terrible, but there is much rebuilding going on and things in most areas are looking much better for the future.
There will be no prizes for guessing that our plans to camp just across the river from the Medina in Rabat would be foiled. This time, we actually found the campsite, or where it had been! Seems the camp is a casualty of the development boom in Morocco. It is being turned into a flash marina complex and so no longer exists! On the advice of a security guard on the 'ex-site', we took off for the southern outskirts of Rabat. No go there either, so on to our current spot in the unlikely-named resort town of Mohammedia, on the outskirts of Casablanca, one of the many clusters of condos that line the Mediterranean and now, North African coast. Moroccans can't afford these places. Foreigners are invading, here, mostly the French it seems.

The foreign invasion in this area did help us today though! A supermarket. With beer and wine! Oh, and yes, food as well. Terrified that the wrath of Allah might prevent us from buying alcohol, we had almost taken the pledge.
Others must be even more worried about the prophet or his ministers, as there was a discreet entrance from the back of the car-park of the supermarket - for those who wished to partake of the forbidden joys of the demon booze. We ran into some of these sinners during our walk along the rocky Atlantic coast behind our camping area later this afternoon, quietly consuming their purchases away from prying eyes. The good news is that these guys obviously aren't fundamentalists and there seem to be a lot of them!

Another change for us, wrought by Africa. We now flush our van toilet with mineral water. How classy is that? Due to the doubtful nature of Moroccan water, we decided to top up our drinking water tank with store-bought water. The batch we put in tonight was mineral water. The only outlet of this water we can't control is the toilet. It must flush from this tank. So, mineral water flushes!


26 December

Into Africa

From the Mosques of Larache the call to prayer echoes through the streets. For us, it coincides with beer o'clock, so we will look forward to evening prayers.

Our travels over the years have taken us to Europe, Asia, North America and, of course, Australia. Africa is a new adventure for us. Of the inhabited continents, just South America left?

Arriving at the Spanish enclave of Ceuta was really no different to any other of the many ferry ports we have graced with our presence in the fast few months. It wasn't until we got to the Moroccan frontier that we knew we were in Africa, rather than Europe.

Chaos! No signs, no system to anything, nobody really knowing what to do, not even the locals. We were lucky. Having been amongst the first few vehicles off the ferry, we were at the front of the queue at the border. Guide books warn against touts who offer to “help” with the formalities and we are always cautious of anybody wanting to 'assist'. This time we probably did ok out of the deal. Two older locals attached themselves to our van and provided all the forms and even helped fill them in. Yes, they expected a tip. But, for 2 euros, who cares? They were pleasant, welcoming and got us through the maze with fewer problems than we would have had on our own. After a very cursory customs inspection, (drat we could have loaded up with cheap beer!) we were on our way.

Now, everybody's expectations of a place are different. Our expectations of Africa, particularly North Africa, are of rocky dusty plains with palm tree oases dotting the horizon. Rommel and the Africa Corps probably have a lot to do with this image? What a shock! Not a rock in sight. Instead, we saw rolling green hills, with intensive farms and sheep grazing in the valleys and towns and villages not dissimilar to those on the other side of the Straits in Europe. A new freeway greeted us for the first part of the trip, then roads that were mostly well surfaced, if a little narrow. Traffic was so light that it was far easier than driving in Italy.

Not to break with a tradition of always getting lost, we drove right into the middle of the fairly large town of Larache in search of the free camping spot that we had found on the internet. Again, we have been in far worse central town and city streets but, with no idea where we were, we were just driving aimlessly. Then we met a French lady in a camper who was looking for the same van park. She consulted a couple of locals and, eventually, we followed her to our home for the night.

With the van parked and secure, we took off on foot in the mid afternoon sun to experience Morocco.
Interesting!

Goats and sheep in the streets of a large town no longer phase us, nor do donkey carts and unmade side-streets. What was different amongst all this was the housing. Blocks of brand new apartments lined the streets where goats and donkeys roamed and kids played soccer on an impromptu hard dirt pitch in the midst of a building site. The obligatory satellite dishes scanned the heavens and people, well dressed in a mix of traditional and western dress, strolled in the dusty and rubble-littered streets.

Some of the traditional dress is extremely interesting. Remember Obi Wan Kenobi from Star Wars? He was one of the touts who met us at the border! Then they were everywhere. Some in 'traditional' Obi Wan' brown and others in many other colours - purple, red and white being the most favoured. The women's outfits are equally interesting. Younger women wear a scarf but not the full face cover. Along with this, they are likely to sport a pair of tight designer jeans and a form-fitting shirt. And probably heels! Nasty on the dusty paths? What would the prophet think?

At last, our years of studying French has come in handy. It seems most Moroccans understand French to some degree, even our version! This was no help, though, in finding even a small 'supermarket'. Looks like we will have to learn to shop like the locals, in the open markets, unless we want to live on canned tuna for the next week or two!


25 December

Almost Morocco

Tickets in pocket, we are waiting in a dodgy truck stop in the Spanish port of Algeciras to catch the ferry to Ceuta, a small Spanish enclave of 20 sq klm, in Morocco, tomorrow morning.

Spain has been great. Although we have been here before, there were still a lot of new places for us to see, hassle-free (almost) roads and good drivers. The weather has been fantastic for this time of the year, with mild, sunny days, followed by “crisp” nights and mornings.

We have covered some klms in the past few days, but they have all been interesting drives. The mountains of the Sierra del Baza and Sierra Nevada were spectacular, with snow-capped mountains, semi-desert colours and interesting villages, some built into the cliffs.

From Malaga, on the coast south of Granada, down through the Costa del Sol, it is just wall to wall condos for hundreds of klms. Who lives in all these places? We never see anybody. The resorts are spectacular in a way, but a travesty in another. This coastline was once beautiful!

Today, we by-passed the British enclave of Gibraltar. Why the hell can't they decide who owns what bit of what country? Never mind, we got to hear some news in English. It's always a bit of a shock when we happen on English-speak radio, but nice to understand what's going on in the world, or at least what is going on in the UK – AND we heard the Queen's Christmas Message!

It is a 40 minute ferry trip to Ceuta tomorrow, the Moroccan frontier to negotiate, then on to the Atlantic coast. We don't have an enormous amount of information on travelling in Morocco, but what we do have is mostly positive, with warnings to expect a bit of a 'culture shock'. We keep thinking of Vietnam and Cambodia where we also experienced a culture shock and loved every minute of it.