Bagels, bikes and bangers

It's been a while since we had a house guest, so it was a delight to have Sarah - a former neighbour from those halcyon days in Haines Street (North Melbourne) - over for a couple of nights earlier this month.

She'd just completed an amazing tour with MUCS (Melbourne University Choral Society), singing her heart out with 79 other compatriots in cold churches throughout Germany, Austria and the Czech Republic. After taking an impressive 16 hour journey on an overnight train, from Prague (and not in a sleeper), Sarah finally made it to Eindhoven.

The first thing was to give Sarah a home-cooked meal! Thanks to my trusty Karin Martini cookbook, I could do up a quick roast chicken with smashed potatoes and lemon.

She was then happy to have a spot to sleep fully prostrate, and got some shut eye before our little day trip to Amsterdam the next day.

We awoke in the morning to what promised to be a beautiful sunny day in Eindhoven, but unfortunately by the time we got to Amsterdam, it was misty and moody.

But it didn't stop us on our quest for a very good - if not the best - sandwich in Amsterdam.

We wandered for hours through the streets of district Jordaan - it was full of lovely shops and lots of ... well, no one. We wondered whether there might be a big football final on, or something majorly cultural driving the crowds indoors (beyond the mist).

It was a Saturday, and yet we barely heard a non-Dutch accent and everywhere it was an eerie quiet! Quite nice to have such a lovely destination all to ourselves.

We each bought some souvenirs for ourselves (a belt from Bijenkorf for Sarah and some new Camper shoes for Jane ... Edwin got to carry everything!) and enjoyed several rather nice coffees in various cafés throughout the city. After introducing the interesting texture of kroket to our ever open-to-new-foreign-foods-that-could-be-a-dare guest, we took the early evening train home in time to set up the guest futon so Sarah could get some more rest after another long (but exciting!) day.

The following day we decided to take Sarah on an adventure of ... not a lifetime, but one she'd not had in a long time. We rode our Dutch bikes into Eindhoven Centrum to get a bagel at one of the haunts we hadn't visited in a while- Bagels and Juice. The journey there was very exciting - a few crashes (!), but all minor, and a very flushed and happy Sarah made it to the cafe and enjoyed her new favourite: goat's cheese with raspberry sauce on sesame bagel. Unfortunately I don't have a photo of Sarah on the bike - we were too busy having fun!

The day before Sarah had, in the utmost inquisitiveness, bought a 2 euro sausage from the HEMA, and we decided to try it before she set off on her next part of her itinerary ... despite how full we were from our other culinary expeditions. So we had a bit of rookworst, a popular banger in these parts, which was lovely with some potatoes dauphin and packet gravy.

It was sad to see my friend Sarah off at the Eindhoven train station after our lunch. But she was off to Scotland to spend time with some family and of course was looking forward to seeing them.

Sarah did say out loud the day before that she "liked Amsterdam the best", which was quite flattering, seeing she'd been to Vienna and Prague this time - places I find quite breathtaking and beautiful. But she thought Amsterdam was these things. I guess they're a couple more b-words to add to the litany of b-words of Sarah's trip, like bagels, bikes and bangers - and breathtakingly beautiful Amsterdam!

Europe: last blog entry

On Sunday we decided we would just simply drive home, to Eindhoven. It´s only 719km away. Unfortunately we had stayed up watching a movie until 2am, so didn´t set off until 9.30am. After many stops for resting, lots of German late Sunday night traffic jams, we made it home at 11.30pm. I have to fess up. Many of you know that while I like to drive a regular sized car and am reasonably good at it, I am rather hopeless at managing a camper, let alone parking it. I did try to convince Edwin to let me drive back in Hungary but he said he was enjoying it (or did he just not trust me ....?) so he drove the entire way this holiday.

Oh, a little aside, remember the sweet Swiss couple Werner and Denise that we meet back in Week 2? We were going to drop in to see them at the end of our trip but ran out of time. They were travelling too while we were away, so we missed them. Anyway, we have been emailing and hope to see them on another purpose-trip. Werner has some cool instruments I want to try out! We're gonna jam together. Yeah!

Before I close off this incredible experience, one that won't fast come to us, here I leave you with some statistics:

Days away – 77
Kilometres travelled – 9000
Campsites visited – 35
Number of countries visited: 8, (or 9 if you can include the border crossing fora bout 10km into Bosnia-Herzegovina) Austria, Czech Republic, Hungary, Slovenia, Croatia, Italy, Germany, Switzerland
Number of countries wished to be seen, but couldn´t (never mind, next time!): 2 – Poland and Greece
Languages spoken (or attempted) – English, German, Italian, French
Books read by Jane: 13, with about 9 started and still being read
Photos taken by Edwin: 6000
Diary notes for blog written by Jane: 98

This entry is somewhat an anti-climax, but I can't think of anything else, still processing such a wonderful time away, and trying to put away all the stuff we managed to fit in the camper (I think there were about 100 books in there in the end, I kid you not).

Out of puff, but filled with admiration, wonder, inspiration and gratitude after learning all about Europe's three most important facets; it's people, places and things, I am going forward now to settle back into life in Eindhoven, and resume a life that what felt once to be complex and unwieldy, and approach it with simplicity and grace.

Week 11: Things

21 September - 27 September: Italy - Switzerland - Eindhoven

St Francis´s Basilica was beautiful, with all the Giotto frescoes and so forth. Such majesty and richness in terms of art and history. These are things that the saint would have shunned, preferring to be buried, probably, in an unmarked pauper´s grave. He did ask to be buried on the Hill of Hell, so named for there, criminals used to be executed. It is now called the Hill of Paradise and Assisi is the city of Peace. It was a wonderful, serene place, and the basilica gave us great rest.

That Colosseum is … big.

My newly acquired architectural knowledge (guess what, I bought a book on the subject!) told me that Orvieta’s incredible cathedral is indeed Romanesque. In Todi, there´s a beautiful one too, with lots of light and hardly anything else to distract. You can meditate easily there.

We paid €32 for a couple of espressos, a shared dessert and a lemon juice. But if your view is the Pantheon, and you are served by the most cheerful staff on the planet, then you are more than happy to part with your money. This is the life.

We were desperate to eat. We only had one place to go at the campsite, after having driven for 7 hours and too tired to go into town. It was the campsite restaurant. What did we have? Well, over a couple of days we had:

• Layers of filo pastry alternating with melted goatscheese, served with a sprinkling of pistacchio nuts and drizzled honey.




• Buffalo mozarella and cherry tomato pizza.




• Porcini and duck breast risotto.




• Fried eggs with black truffle.




• Pear filled ravioli with provolone fondue.




• Radicchio and parmesan tortelloni with walnuts.




• And some wonderful local red wine, each glass as good as the last.

The lion monument in Luzern is indeed, as Mark Twain sad, the saddest and most moving piece of rock in all the world. Mammoth in size, he is a remembrance to those who Swizz mercenaries who fell in the Tuileries in 1792. How an image hewn from rock can stir up such emotion can only have been done with intense feeling. The photo we took is trapped momentarily on Edwin´s camera, so the one you see is one I found online.

One last thing I forgot to write about back in week 7. When we were in Slovenia, we decided to ride along the Soca river, renowned for its topaz like sparkle over luminous giant pearl coloured rocks. This we had to see! We hopped on our bikes and began the bikeride of death. Rarrrrrrrr! Well, we managed about 3km before I lost my nerve. These are Dutch bikes we were riding, with about 3 gears, and high handlebars. These roads are curvey, hilly and full of motorcyclists and avid canyoners and kayakers. I wanted to keep my skin on in one piece, so we rode home and took the car. We saw some wonderful sights, not least these wonderful stone piles. We admired them at length and I thought, I will add a rock to this pile, as evidence of my having been here, and of me being part of this wonderful ritual of sorts. Edwin thought, `Yes, I too will lay my own stone,´ upon which, he did so. Mind you, I was videoing it as the tower of stones came crashing down and all I could see was Edwin´s sheepish face amidst the settling dust.

Week 11: Places

20 September - 27 September: Italy - Switzerland - Eindhoven Me being ´bedazzled´, as Edwin would say, by the masterpieces in the Vatican Museums.

A ceiling by Rafael.

This guy has dolphins in his beard. Cool.

Listening to stories while admiring a fresco by Rafael.

By far my favourite sculpture or piece of art on this entire journey. Michaelangelo´s ´Pieta´.

This spiral staircase in the Vatican was built only in 1932 by Guiseppe Momo (cool name, eh?). Its double helix design is echoed in Berlin´s Reichstag building.

(I so am not Audrey Hepburn, but yes, what a Roman Holiday!)

The Trevi Fountain is just wonderful, but the clamouring masses that surrounded it was simply too much. It’s late September people! Don’t you have jobs, other things to see, and do? Anyway, I chucked a coin in. We’ll be comin’ back to Rome.

Umbrian hills roll on for as far as the eye can see. I think I like Umbria’s landscape more than Tuscany’s, dare I say it.

Week 11: People

21 September - 27 September: Italy - Switzerland - Eindhoven
Wendy Murrays’ 2007 book on St Francis of Assisi's life "A Mended and Broken Heart" is somewhat contraversial as she asserts that Francis loved Clare (the Saint) and revered her as a knight would his damsel. She was always faithful to him, through his work, rejection from his own order and illness. But in the end it was light reading, and told me little more than I learnt from visiting the Basilica and reading a comic book of his life, "The Illustrated Life of St Francis". Above all, I admire St Francis´ attitude, that everything (the world in nature and human/plant/animal life) around us is connected, to remind us to give thanks to a higher power. Thank you St Francis.

Week 10: Things

14 September - 20 September: Croatia - Italy
Trulli huts are these odd, prehistoric structures that are dotted all around Puglia. There’s a village, Istra, I think it’s called, that has loads of them in town. But we didn’t go there. We just saw mile after mile of enchanting olive grove, and every now and then, was one of these huts. Magical, as if they had sprouted out of the blue just for us.

We took a ferry from Dubrovnik, Croatia to Bari, in Italy. We got a bed and the camper had a garage stay. But it was no ´Loveboat´ (remember that tv show?). It was a scary, rusting, smelly ship. The cabin was not big enough to swing a cat in, or a kitten, let alone a rat (which could have been found on board, I reckon). I started to be seasick about 10 minutes into watching ´12 Angry Men´ on our laptop, and Edwin was worried it´d be an extra gross trip for him, mopping up my mess. But I popped a pill, and slept for 8 hours. We made it to Italy, me green faced, yes, but okay.

We had originally aimed to make it to Greece, but it was not possible given the rate of our travel. So we did the next best thing, and visited Paestum. This is a place a little south of Naples that is the proud home of some of the best preserved ancience Greek ruins. There you can find several Grecian temples, the remains of an amphiteatre and various domestic dwellings built by the Romans in a later era. I have a book on ´Daily life in Ancient Rome´. I feel like this trip has become such a historical experience for me, I can´t read enough or learn enough. Paestum is ancient, and it´s weird to be here.

The faun from outside Pompei´s "House of the ... Faun".

Pompei is indeed a vast wonder that you can spend days, perhaps weeks exploring and studying. In a way I wished we´d had more time to go and see Herculaneum, which was better preserved than the ash covered Pompeien ruins we visited, as the ones west of the volcano were actually covered in mud. The textiles there survived, whereas in Pompei they burned. I particularly enjoyed eavesdropping on the tour guides, one from Belgium (so it was in Flemish) where she showed us a fast food `McDonalds´ type hangout for the Romans back in the day, and also the Italian tour group which tested the reverb of an ancient amphitheatre. Always sceptical at first, then surprised in the end, we watched the 35 older gents and nuns have a go at standing where a Roman orator would have stood. Each said something, anything, to test the space. ´Buona sera!´ ´Mi chiama Rosa, oh!´Afterwards, I got up and said simply, `Wow, these acoustics really work!` Not profound, but my audience wasn´t interested. They were off to the next sight – perhaps an ancient roman bakery, a (literally) petrified person, the incredible public baths with undercover heated pool, a villa perhaps or even the local brothel (which was purpose built, mind you! It has a menu of erotic positions in the form of a fresco inside to advertise the services renderable. Saucy, eh?)

Oh, this poor dude who died in Pompei. It was really sad to see.

Here, have a closer look. Argh!

Edwin and I have developed an unhealthy adoration for Italian ceramic or breakable homeware since we have been here. It started with the Murano glass vase, and then it was the Amalfi tassi bowl and now with the oil jug from Assisi … it has to stop, it has to stop!

Gomorra: Read the book, watched the movie (book is better). Where does Roberto Saviano live now? How can he even still be alive? My guess is that the Camorra are loving their international notoriety as it gives them more kudos than the Godfather films ever did, or even Scarface. We have proof of their brutality and rule of law (or lawlessness). This book left me in a daze for days, I still think about it. How a mafia clan can be responsible for arming countries from South America to the Balkans, how they can monopolise the building industry in Italy to the point that waste brokers can dump toxic waste anywhere in Campania that they want with a 80% discount to their clients, how can they be so closely involved with high fashion, those true fakes? What the movie did for me, though, was give it better context. Edwin and I didn’t have time to go into Naples proper, let alone into the suburbs of the book (nor did we really want to). I had a different picture of these mafiosi; certainly not big fat bearded Ginos, wearing shorts and dirty t-shirts. The eloquence of Saviano’s writing is lost in this film, amongst the grime, poverty and despair. The book doesn’t give you hope, but it makes it easier to take in, easier to comprehend. This visual language of Matteo Garrone was too brutal, too hard to stomach.

Week 10: Places

14 September - 20 September: Croatia - Italy
This is what Dubrovnik looks like if you walk up up up a mountain and Edwin takes a photo of you.

See below for what Dubrovnik looks like from the city walls, which we were told, with audio guide, would take us 1 hour to walk around. With the little cafés, people from Eindhoven that we bumped into (I ask you, how does this keep on happening!?) and Edwin´s taking photos, it took us … 4 hours. Just gorgeous.

This is what the water in Dubrovnik looks like with Edwin swimming in it.

This is what Edwin looks like sitting on the stairs in Dubrovnik.

This is what a door lintel looks like somewhere in Dubrovnik.

Villa Cimbrone. Edwin and I both wished our parents could be with us, particularly our mums. The views were stunning (perhaps not quite for faint-heared Gerrie or Susy), and the gardens were exquisite. There were gazebos, and statues, and manicured lawns, rose gardens, tearooms galore. This place was left to ruin but was bought early last century by an English aristocrat who re-did the gardens and villa in English style. I could imagine a movie being made here, or a book being set here. I’m tempted to write a screenplay or book set here, just so I have the excuse to come back for more details, you know, research… Just lovely.

We took a rumbly bus up to the foot of Vesuvius and then a monster 4WD truck up to the crater. There, a handsome Italian guide gave us a quick rundown of its geological make up and historical significance, and then we walked around the lip. It was rather cool to do this, except that we were trapped inside a raincloud and couldn´t see the city at the food of the volcano. The safety zone is 15 kms from the foot of the hill, which means that everyone in Naples (all 1 million of them) are safe. However it means that the 800,000 people who have Vesuvius in their back yard, are not. But, volcano experts monitor the beast all the time, and apparently you have 3 weeks to evacuate in the event of another erruption. In 80AD when the legendary erruption destroyed Pompei and Herculaneum, the lid blew off and rose 28 km into the air. Back in 1944, the last erruption, it shot up only - hah, only - 5 km. It´s supposed to blow every 30 years - so we've missed a few cycles thanks to protection by Saint Gennaro, patron saint of Naples. Yet, technically another event is just around the corner. Hmmmmmmm. But, our guide assured us, no erruption would take place the day that we visited. We just got some docile steam from one opening, and lots of volcanic rock in our shoes.

Week 10: People

14 – 20 September: Croatia – Italy

I always thought Grace Kelly met her end along the Amalfi coast (but I checked, and she didn´t - it was somewhere near Monte Carlo) but this coast has always held some sort of glamour and nostalgia for me. However, I'll say, if the Princess got to see Ravello and Amalfi before she left this world, then she was indeed a lucky woman. The Amalfi coast is the stuff of dreams. It winds, it overlooks sheer cliffs, and sometimes the roads are so narrow, there is only room for one car, even though it´s two way. You have to honk your horn before the bend, especially if a bus is oncoming, and even though my knuckles tightened around the door handle so that there now is is an imprint of my palm, I loved this part of Italy. To our dismay, the road from Amalfi to Sorrento had been closed due to a landslide, so we couldn´t get to our campsite. We ended up staying at a bed and breakfast, invited by a dear nonna (actually, a great-grandmother). She told us about her youth, climbing the mountain to go to school, that even though she's a brunette her great grandchildren were all blond and her dismay at the seas being all fished out. Barely anyone spoke English at this B&B and we enjoyed our pigeon Italian conversations (Edwin's sounding suspiciously Spanish, and then he reverted to Dutch just because she'd have had just as much luck understanding that, as English!) We thoroughly enjoyed all the space on an double bed, with crisp linen sheets in mosquito-less, air conditioned comfort. I had two showers in the space of 12 hours. Edwin, three.

Week 9: Things

14 September - 20 September: Croatia

Edwin and I decided to take a tour to the island of Brac where a famous, unspoilt peninsula of beach is, called Zlatni Rat in the township of Bol. This meant taking a 15 minute bus ride into town, and then missing the 9am ferry to the island and having to wait another 2 hours. We then took the ferry which was a ride of an hour. After that we waited 40 minutes to take another bus to take us to Bol and the beach. This torturously windy ride in the hottest part of the day took one hour. By the time we got to Bol, and found some lunch at a restaurant with a view, we finally got to the beach. How was the beach? Pretty, but far too many people and certainly far from unspoilt. How long did we lol about in the `pristine´ sands and waters? All of 18 minutes, we had. It took 2 minutes to get changed, we had 10 minutes in the lovely water and then about 4 minutes to dry up, 2 minutes to pack and then we had to start heading back, as the walk between the bus stop to the beach took a good 40 minutes. Then, we took the last bus (remember, winding roads and an hour in duration) back to the ferry (another hour´s ride) and got back to our camper via a local bus (15 minutes). All that palaver for 18 minutes at a special beach. The things we do, the things we do.

Misha Glenny’s “The Fall of Yugoslavia” is disturbing, challenging reading. Essential to understand what happened in the 90s in the Balkans.

Ed and I took a taxi boat tour that was upset me for quite a time, but now I’m writing about it, I don’t mind as much. Basically, we were promised 99% chance of seeing dolphins on this tour of some of Croatia’s smaller islands. We were also told that we would have loads of free time at these islands. Sounded good. Also a complete breakfast, lunch and drink offering. Even better. However, the seas were choppy that morning. And the taxi boat was small. I was the only non-German speaker. There’s the beginning. We were stopped by the water police for a good 20 minutes after having travelled only 10 minutes or so. Edwin and I suspect, with our rudimentary knowledge of Croat, that the police were wondering why this captain would be taking a load of 15 tourists out for a pleasure cruise in such inclement weather? (Hm, I guess at 300 kuna per head, he wasn’t going to cancel). Anyway, I got seasick. Very badly. I knew we had to travel for an hour before we got to the first island. So I held on. I knew I was to get to land, wait 15 minutes, take a seasickness tablet and wait another 15 minutes, before re-boarding the boat. We waited for dolphins that are never sighted in choppy waters, so we waited in vain. We arrived at our island. About 50 metres off shore. We were not to moor, I was to swim to the island. If we hadn´t had the foresight to bring my floatation device, I´d never have made it. But we did it, I sat there and took my medication and got back on board. We had a curious lunch of deep fried chicken and a tomato onion salad which the captain managed to cook on board. Then we were to go to another island, another hour. By this time I desperately needed the bathroom, and I was sitting on the side of the boat which was sending in buckets of ice cold sea water (while the Germans basked themselves cosily in the warm sun, starside). Still, no dolphins. We got to a dear little island with a pier and a lighthouse. At this point we were promised capuccino and cake, which I believed couldn´t be procured on the boat. I thought, we´ll moor, and we will get to the cafe and I´ll be able to pee! But no. So, I was soaked to the skin, I had to put Edwin´s trousers on and a jacket I´d wisely not yet gotten wet and prepared to jiggle around for the 90 minute return ride. When a little girl asked about the toilet situation, it turned out that there was a miniscule toilet on board! Hoorah, cried all the women, internally, and we all used it. (This is 6 hours without peeing and being plied all day with beers and cokes). I endured the trip home, seasickness rearing its ugly head. Everyone was disappointed that we´d seen no dolphins and I was disappointed that we´d never docked in over 7 hours, she who fears the sea so greatly. When we got back to Zaton, we had to pay the balance of our tour fee. We had hoped for a discount for bad weather, or zero dolphins. But no, no apology, nothing. We pushed the balance into the captain´s hand, turned on our heels and in the rudest demonstration of ingratitude I´ve ever shown (and am not very proud of), we walked away without saying thank you or goodbye.

But in between the sight of my green face and no dolphins, Edwin did catch a gorgeous shot of the mountains that look like whipped egg whites.

Here are some examples of Croatian customer service, nothing quite like anything we’ve experienced till now.

At the docks of Split, we see tickets for sale for the ferry to Brac. “Hello, we’d like some information on Brac, the island.” The answer is, “You have to go to information, across the road.” At the shop front in Split which reads “i”, we believe, for information we say. “Hello, we’d like some information on Brac, the island.” The reply is, “This isn’t tourist information. You have to go here.” We receive a map with an ´x´to mark the spot and off we go. “Hello, we’d like some information on Brac, the island.” The response comes to us in the form of, “We only have information on Split. For information on Brac, you have to get that information … on Brac.” So we decide that we have to just buy tickets to go to Brac and find more information on what to do there, there. After a 3 hour voyage to Brac, we ask at the “i’for Information how to get to the famous beach. “The easiest way is along the esplanade, it’s a 10 minute walk” (yeah, right, it ends up 40 minutes). “And is there somewhere nice to eat along the way? ” to which the lady replies with her best, but most dismissive smile “`Yes”. At the Dubrovnik information centre, I ask ”I´d like to find out about a walking tour of Dubrovnik”, to which the girl behind the counter looks at me with round, incredulous eyes and exclaims ”Well, you´ll have to call up the tour guide for that information, ” to which I splutter ”And how do I get that phone number? ” to which she condescendingly advises me is on the small table (subtext, ”Are you blind or what, you stupid tourist! ”) at the entrance of the office and I rudely comment, ”Well, I´ll just go ahead and INFORM MYSELF. ” The cynicism is lost on her, and all the information staff of Croatia. After reading the brochure, I see that you can just turn up 10 minutes before the tours at 11am and 3.30pm at Onofrio’s fountain. Just look for the red umbrella. Is this information so hard for the info staff to read and absorb so they can help a stranger to the town? Maybe fobbing off tourists is part of the position description for info centre employees. After all, I’m just another Australian in Croatia!

Ed bought a new jaunty hat in Split for 50 kuna, something like €7. It is made of straw and it won’t last a terribly long time, but it is lovely and dandy-ish. Shortly after making his purchase, he came upon another stall with beautiful panama hats. Very high quality, very flexible, won’t disintegrate after a couple of squeezes. But these were 180 kuna (€26 or so) and Edwin wasn’t interested. Always a Dutchie, happy to haggle, Ed tried to bargain down to 100 kuna a suggestion which offended the stall owner. “Where did you go to school?” the man asked, furiously, in German. At this, Edwin popped on his cheap, but cute, straw hat from another stall, set it on a rakish angle, cocked his head, winked, and sauntered off airly with me on his arm.