Tuesday 15 May 2012

Entering the 3rd Reich

It was perfect… I had it all set up…. We crossed the border into Germany and I hit the button to play “The Imperial March” (Darth Vader’s theme song from Star Wars). What perfect comedy! It was met with silence! I turned up the music a few notches in case Mayara had some sort of temporary hearing defect. Still nothing! I then proceeded to plead my case as to the genius of this joke, and she was not having any of it… It must be a Brazilian thing!

Our first destination was Heidelberg, which was perfectly placed on the river Neckar. One of those truly spectacular places, it had the whole medieval trip going and it was perfect to amble around in. Unfortunately we spent the first couple of hours battling to acquire a Wi-Fi connection at the local Starbucks. Being bound for Mainz with no planned spot for the night, and we were desperately scouring the “Couch Surfing” website to find candidates to help us….  

 “Jogging!  Although I think it’s pronounced “Yogging”

In the end we failed to find a couch surfing host or a free overnight stay, so we were forced to cave for the first time on the journey and pay an excessive 26 Euros for a camping ground. In the end it wasn’t too bad considering it was situated on the beautiful river Rhine (on a side note, the whole reason we ventured towards the River Rhine, is because my father would never speak to me again if I missed it). We soon learned that the city of Mainz was holding its annual Marathon, where hoards of Germans flood the city to take part in the event and as a result half the city was now blocked off. It is always fascinating to me the joy people get from running for an extended period of time, but I think the Germans have got it right. Right after the finish line the hordes of runners are shuffled into a tent, and are promptly served hot dogs and beer….. Now I think I get it.

Benji: The couch surfing enthusiast

Coming off the autobahn into Munich we went through our first police inspection. The ever efficient German police must have concluded that May and I fit the bill as international drug lords. As I detailed my intentions for Munich and our grand adventure they quickly realised we weren’t the criminal masterminds that would jeopardise the future of all Bavarians. In fact they seemed genuinely interested in our trip, in which I was happy to indulge them (I wonder if they have checked out our page after I gave them flyers?)

We soon made contact with Benjamin and his wife Ping, who kindly agreed to host both of us for the night. This was our first couch surfing experience and what a wonderful couple to introduce us to this world. They showed us their city, cooked for us and were so genuine in their love for travel and indeed hosting people through the couch surfing community.  The day of our departure from Munich, Benji drove us to the only concentration camp to remain open throughout the entire length of the war, Dachau.

A bland and depressing place, but never the less, important to visit. For anybody who has ever visited a place like this, I assume the feeling is the same and you leave emotionally drained. This was only interrupted by a truly spectacular bail by Benji. I liken it to sitting in Church as a kid, and trying desperately not to laugh, you know it’s inappropriate, but funny is funny. The problem is that it seemed to take 15 minutes for the big fella to finally hit the deck… Sorry Benji , hope the foot is ok mate. J

“This is Austria! Not some Bazaar in Morocco”

Was the response I received to our feeble attempt at negotiating the price for our campsite in Salzburg, this same sentiment was echoed in similar fashion on two other occasions. (I’ll get back to this later) Austrian driving rules state children less than 12 years of age and below the height of 1.5m are not allowed to travel in the front unless they are in a proper child restraint seat. Otherwise they must be fastened with a seat belt at the back. You must purchase a tax sticker permitting use of the motorways, you must use dipped headlights at all times, horns are not allowed anywhere, parking must all face the same way and on the right hand side of the road. Basically rules are rules and there is no room for negotiation.

I was definitely the worst dressed in Salzburg. I was looked at with disgust by of the locals (I suppose I couldn’t really blame them, then or now) Salzburg is the birth place of Mozart and it seems that the locals are constantly trying to live up to this expectation, with 17th Century classical compositions echoing through the cobbled stone streets, and everybody dressed ready to attend the opera. All in all, I found it all rather pretentious. That is, until we met Kristina!

Kristina was an Austrian arts director (seemed to be in her mid-seventies), who has lived in New York & Los Angeles, been a top class ballet dancer and rubbed shoulders with A class celebrities.  We met her as she was scarfing down two burgers at McDonalds.  “Go to the youtube!” was her enthusiastic request as we were stealing Macca’s WiFi. She directed us to a Youtube clip of her in Salzburg talking with Tom Cruise, “Press see-more button” which revealed additional information about the clip and Kristina’s credentials. As we spoke, I commented that the city itself was quite small, her retort was “Just like the brains of the people living in it” she went on how she didn’t like Salzburg very much and how she longed for the “big apple”. Kristina was a gem and was a huge breath of fresh air in a potentially stuffy atmosphere.

As I said previously the attitude of “This is Austria!” only made sense when we left Vienna for Budapest in Hungary. Austria lies in the middle of Germany, Slovenia, Slovakia & Hungary (not to mention Italy, Switzerland and the Czech Republic) and is somewhat of a Segue to Eastern Europe, where rules are not necessarily rules and a kind of anything goes attitude begins. It’s also where scams and petty crime starts becoming apparent, the Austrians definitely want to disassociate themselves with this.


Tuesday 8 May 2012

Sat-Nav adventures in Europe

Leaving London
It’s a strange feeling at the best of times when leaving a place you have spent two of the best years of your life at, let alone leaving in a campervan for a 6 month drive, London to Australia. Having said that, I still found it harder than expected to say goodbye to all those who have changed me in so many ways. But as I’ve always seen it, you’re either moving forward or backwards! So I know the right thing for me is to move on…. The next adventure!
Late as usual
Dorothy, May and I steamed down the highway watching the clock tick by as we tried to make our ferry from Dover to Calais at 04:20, wondering how we managed to start this monumental road trip late. (In hindsight there was no other possible way it would have happened…. Fitting really) As we were closing in on the eastern docks at Dover it seemed as though we would make it just before cut off at check-in. As I approached the booth in Dorothy I am greeted by the ticketing lady “You must be Mr White?” They must have heard about my trip I thought!  Could have they been eagerly awaiting my arrival to answer all their questions about this crazy dream?  “You’re late!”…. I paused, and then stammered…. “Your ferry left at 04:20 AM, you booked for 04:20 in the morning”. It seems in my haste to book all the last minute bits and pieces, I had failed to recognise a 24 hour clock. (I’d like to say this is the first time something like this has happened) I gave a little embarrassed look, before she assured me there was a ferry leaving at 04:40 PM, and would only cost a few quid extra to catch a lift on that one. Relief!
That bitch on the Sat-Nav
After landing in Calais and entering the address for our overnight Aire (Aire de service – Free overnight campervan parks throughout France and some other parts of Europe) We gleefully made our way towards Gent (Belgium),full off anticipation and excitement. This soon turned to sheer frustration as we became victims of a cruel practical joke at the hands of Garmin (The brand of Sat Nav we are using). A preverbal wild goose chase proceeded, with the phrase “Re-Calculating” ringing in our ears.  After shouting and swearing at it, the bitch seemed to fall in line and we managed to find our rest spot for the night.
Gent was lovely the following morning, although I was struggling to get into the flow of travelling again. Maybe because it was the European vibe that I have mostly already travelled or the magnitude of what was in front of me hadn’t really sunk in yet. I felt a little ambivalent to what was all going on, and the geriatric tour groups didn’t help the feeling of the great adventure that I was shooting for.  Gent, and I suppose Belgium as a whole, seems to completely wedge between French and German culture, being pulled either side by these two giants. This in essence, creates a uniqueness that has a nice flavour, but nothing that was going to keep us around for long.
After a pre-game pep talk with the sat-nav, we set off for Reims, in France.  Reims is a nice functional city, where we got another taste of wild camping, this time with a couple of other motor homes.
Backpacking with retirees
Since we started this trip I have completely lost my sense of identity. I have the spirit of a backpacker but I am finding myself in the company of retirees.  We are mostly frequenting Aires or overnight stops, meeting retired couples, living the dream in their giant fully furnished motorhomes. It makes it a struggle to find those “like-minded people” backpackers are always seeking. I am however grateful at witnessing couples routinely shouting at each other for the most trivial things. Never the less we march on making our way through Strasbourg to what we discover as a gypsy haven.
Damn pikies
Strasbourg is simply a very attractive city full of the usual European grandeur…. But what intrigued me even more, is the number of damn pikies there were. I don’t know if there is any historical reason as to why this is but we soon learned they were not as welcoming to our little attempt at nomadic life. After sourcing a couple of aires, we checked out the first one…. We found a little gypsy community, full of dodginess and generally they seemed to be in a griftin mood.  Being the inquisitive sort we are, we pulled up for a closer look at pikies in their natural habitat. Like caged lions, they approached the fence to gawk at us, soon making their intentions very clear, we were definitely not welcome in their community…. Damn pikies!!!