Camping Manjastre

Well here we all are, Walter, David, Catherine, Barry, Diana and me, at Camping Manjastre.    We are having a great time with lots of laughs, and plenty of wine.     And a few mishaps along the way.  But to keep it all in order, I will go back a few days and start from there.

Walter and I left the campsite in Italy, and started on our way along the motorway which runs high above the coast in Italy.    The highway with hundreds of long and small tunnels.  

All went well, until we stopped for our morning cup of coffee.   We should have been warned as we saw signs at the services which said 'no security', but no, we were too intent on that morning fix of caffeine.    A lapse in concentration and hey presto, Walter is relieved of our last 40 Euros.   Taken from the inner pocket in Walter's man bag.  Two zips.  

This is how it happened.   We walked into a very busy restaurant area, with people lining to pay for coffee.  Walter asked me, "How much money do you have left?"  To which I replied, "40 Euros" and took it out of my wallet and gave it to him.   He then put it into the inner pocket of his bag, zipped the pocket up and then zipped up the bag.  And of course someone was watching the proceedings.    Easy pickings there.   Very naive.   Luckily we had enough money to pay for our coffee.

Walter no longer likes Italy.  

We continued on our way, and arrived at the airport to collect our rental car, only to find a very long queue, and an assistant in tears, due to four men harassing her, as she would not let them have a rental car, as they did not have a credit card between them.  The men were playing to the audience too, that is all the customers  in the queue. This went on for some time, and eventually someone from another rental company came and took the poor girl away, which left the other assistant trying to deal with the rest of the customers.   He was shaking. After some time we managed to collect our car, but the four men were still there, and the girl had come back and was still trying to sort it out.   I think they called security in the end.

We set the camp up, our caravan, our motorhome and Donna's caravan, and the next evening went off to collect David, Catherine, Barry and Diana from Toulon Railway Station.  They had flown from Venice to Marseilles, caught the airport bus into Marseilles Railway Station and were to catch the train to Toulon.  All arranged.   Easy you might say.   Well we did not count on the railway line being closed between Marseilles and Toulon.   So after many mixed messages from the railway stations about which bus to catch to Toulon, and texts and telephone messages, we realised they would be stranded for the night in St Charles Railway Station, in Marseilles.   A dreadful place, with very dodgy people.  

But were we prepared for a trip to Marseilles, seasoned travellers that we are?    No definitely not.   We had left our maps and sat nav back in the caravan.   So we set off, undaunted, to travel to St Charles Railway Station, following each other (two cars), in the dark.    And surprisingly we made it easily, by Walter following the signs, and me following Walter, watching him go through a few red lights, due to concentrating on directions.

We collected a very relieved group from the railway station, and set off to travel back to the campsite (2 hours away), and of course became lost in Marseilles, so saw plenty of the dodgy nightlife taking place on all the back streets.  And once on the motorway we witnessed two very bad accidents, which threw our confidence somewhat, but finally arrived back, at 1.30 am, to a very quiet and peaceful campsite.    We crept around, had a cup of tea and collapsed onto our beds.

And the next evening we sat outside in the sunshine, and drank our beer and wine, and said, 'Het is heel gezellig', and it was too.  

Caravan Park La Vesima, Genova, Italy

We started this morning well with a cappuccino from the restaurant beside our site at the camping ground, by Lake Garda.   Coffee in Italy is excellent, which is to be expected, and cheap too.   Walter has decided that maybe Italy is not so bad after all. 

We then drove three hundred kms, on relatively quiet motorways, until we reached Genova, and got stuck in a traffic jam, pretty typical for Genova, or at least in our experience.

This camping ground is much cheaper, at 16 Euros per night, but only has 3 amps for power, and the sites are minuscule.  The camping ground clings to the side of the hill, with the motorway way above us, a road beside us and a train line between us and the beach.   It is very cosy!    But good shade!   There is now a caravan directly behind us.  

The motorway, which runs alongside the coast, is very high up on the side of the mountains.   There are hundreds of small tunnels on this motorway.

 We walked to the end of the camping ground, and through a tunnel under the railway line, to the small beach.   No sand here!   All black volcanic gravel.

 However it is still a pleasant little campsite, and full of families.  The Italian children must be on holiday this week.   There are two caravans by us, with grandparents looking after their grandchildren.   Familiar ground here.

Tomorrow we travel the last 400 kms to Camping Manjastre, in order to set up camp, in readiness for the arrival of David, Catherine, Barry and Diana, who have been on a cruise around the Greek Islands.   Camping will bring them back to reality!    We are looking forward to seeing them.

Verona, Italy

"Romeo, Romeo, where art thou Romeo."  

“I am here in Verona, unwillingly,” replied Walter. 

And he was too.   Walter wanted to leave Lake Garda in the morning and head for the campsite in France.   But I persuaded him to stay and visit Verona. How can one be so close, and then depart without seeing Verona, the centre piece for Romeo and Juliet.

So we set off on the bus, tickets 5 Euros return, and the journey took one hour, through very interesting countryside.  The diesel may be expensive in Italy but the bus fares are cheap.    A good start. 

And we found a delightful city, so full of character, and charming buildings.      There were many tourists there, but room enough for everyone, and often there were only one or two people in the back streets, and in the churches.   

The breadth of history is enormous, from the Roman times to the present times.   Over the centuries Verona had been an important trading city, part of the Venetian, Hungarian and Hapsburg Empires.  It was part of Austria until 1866, before being included in the unification of Italy.   The influence of all these different periods of history can be seen in the buildings.

One of the gates leading into the old city.

 Our first port of call, other than McDonalds for a toilet stop, and drink of water, was the Arena (The Roman Amphitheatre).   This was built at the beginning of the 1^st Century AD, fifty years before the Colosseum was built in Rome..    The first gladiatorial had been held in 264 BC so not a new sport.  Over the years the arena has been used for other events, other than gladiator fights, and Christians being thrown to the lions.   Jousts, bullfighting, concerts, weddings and more recently operas have been held in the arena..   Luckily the arena was not demolished, as for centuries it was used as a source of building material, but in 1450 an edict forbade the removal of stones, as the leaders of the time recognized the arena  was of value and needed to be preserved.    Thank goodness for such foresighted people.

 The stone seats are still used at the top, but chairs have been built over the seats on the lower levels.   It was very high at the top, and very steep.   Not good for people who do not like heights, like me.

The view of part of the town, from one of the balconies in the Arena.

 We wandered around the old town, fascinated by all the buildings, and narrow streets, until we came to the Piazza Delle Erbe (The Vegetable Market).   We spent quite some time in this square.

 This building, called the Casa Mazzanti, is frescoed with allegorical figures.   Very ornate and interesting.

 Maffei Palace, with the figures of Hercules, Jupiter, Venus, Mercury, Apollo and Minerva figures along the top of the roof line.   This building dominates the square.

The tower standing high above the buildings.

  Behind the square was the sarcophagus, the tomb of Cangrade (1291-1329).   I am not sure who this man was really, but the tomb looks impressive.

 We walked to the old stone bridge, and looked across at the old and new castles.   An impressive array of cypress trees on view here too.   The river, not in this photograph, was swollen and flowing very fast.   All the water coming down from the mountains.

The Casa di Giulietta (House of Juliet).   Well there was some truth in the story of Romeo and Juliet, a little bit anyway, and very obscure, but stories via different sources (a bit like whispers) which Shakespeare picked up, and elaborated, in order to write Romeo and Juliet..  The house did belong to the Capuleti (Capulet) family, there was a crest there which identified as belonging to this family. You can write a message on the wall of the archway leading into the courtyard, but I decided to have my photograph taken instead.

Juliet's balcony, which started off as a sarcophagus, and then was attached to the wall, in order to make a balcony.   Recycling of old items! If you rub the breast of Juliet’s statue, which stands at the end of the courtyard, you will be lucky in love.   The courtyard was full of teenagers, who no doubt studied Romeo and Juliet at school.  

We had a really lovely day in Verona, and Walter enjoyed himself immensely too.

Lake Garda, Italy

After negotiating the motorway above Venice we finally arrived at Lake Garda.   We were exhausted and grumpy, really grumpy.    

The traffic was horrendous, as usual, and we were still suffering from shock at the price we paid for diesel on the motorway in Italy, 45 Euros more than we would have paid in the previous four countries for three quarters of a tank of diesel.   In the Netherlands we pay about 1.45 per litre of diesel, as against the 1.77 per litre on the motorway here.   During the past two weeks we were paying between 1.15 to 1.35 Euros per litre.

 When we got to Lake Garda we could not find the campsite we were looking for, an ACSI campsite where we would have received a discount, so had to take another campsite, very large and with tour groups, and the usual tiny sites which you pay dearly for, 28 Euros or more, per night, in shoulder season.  And the wifi connection is deplorable, and very expensive.
 

So we sat and had a really good moan, and felt much better for it.   We are no longer keen on coming to Italy, mainly due to it being such a ‘rip off’ place.   But unfortunately, for us, it was the quickest way across from Slovenia to France, and we knew we would be unable to drive straight across without stopping, as the motorways are so busy, and require a high concentration level for both driver and passenger, and that takes its toll.

 But we have decided to make the best of it, accept the costs involved, and get on with it.   So we went for a walk, and then decided to go out for dinner which was at a little restaurant, right on the edge of the lake, and with a fantastic view across the water.     We started off with a salad for me, and bruschetta for Walter, followed by trout for me, and a crumbed beef affair for Walter.   We had a small glass of red wine each, plus a bottle of sparkling water, and two espressos.   Total bill was 43 Euros, plus tip of course.    It was a lovely meal.

 Before we get back to reality in Italy and France, I would like to recap on some aspects of our short trip through central Europe.    Cost wise there was no comparison to the western part of Europe, as the four countries we visited were very cheap to holiday in, especially using camping grounds.     Standards and service provided, was high in camping grounds and restaurants.   Everywhere we went people were friendly and very helpful, even when there was a language barrier.   The wifi was excellent, and often free.   All four countries have such rich cultures, and history, which they were very keen to share with visitors.   The few museums we visited were fantastic, and offered huge discounts for people over 65 years old, and for families too.  In Budapest transport was free for people over 65 as long as you are from the European Union.   And the scenery was beautiful, even in the rain.

My only regret, is that I left my little Berlitz book of languages behind, as it had all the common words and phrases needed in order to try out a few words in the each country.    Trying to find out how to say hello, good morning, please and thank you, by checking the internet the night before entering the country was not as successful as constantly referring to the little book, especially as I am such a slow learner where languages are concerned.

And language wise, it was good to be on home territory in Italy, and we did breathe a sigh of relief, when we heard Italian being spoken at the first services.  

And as I sit here patiently waiting for the slow connection on the internet, I have a marvellous view over the lake, and can see glittering lights in all directions.   The photograph above was taken this afternoon.   The lake is visible through the trees.

We  have to wear blue wrist bands.   I feel like a tagged prisoner!

Ljubljana, Slovenia

Today is my birthday, and what better way to celebrate it, than in the beautiful city of Ljubljana, and in sunny weather too.

And to think we were undecided about whether we should visit Ljubljana, as we were unsure about this city.  Lake Bled was more appealing, as we knew the mountain areas of Slovenia were spectacularly beautiful.   And it was a difficult decision as to which place to visit, but we chose the city rather than the country, and I am pleased we did so.

We have visited Slovenia twice, just after it joined the EU in 2004, for skiing holidays in Kranjska Gora, located on the edge of the Triglav National Park.  On both occasions the snow was very deep, and the clouds low down over the mountains.   Our memories on both occasions were of friendly, outgoing people, very large portions of delicious food, beautiful white scenery, a very old town (Kranjska), and for me, the ski tows, which were not the latest in high tech chairs, but rather pomas and t-bars.   

When I was learning to ski, I had difficulty staying on a t-bar.   In 2005, due to increasing older age, I had trouble getting off the t-bar. On one occasion I ended upside down, my ski firmly holding me onto the t-bar, in the bushes at the top.   The t-bar lift had to be stopped as I could not get my ski off.   So embarrassing.   After that I always waited for some kind young man to go up with me, so as to help me off!   

But Ljubljana Airport then was a dreadful place, made more so by the pilot of Ryan Air, landing the plane in a dangerous manner, in my eyes anyway.   So unfortunately the name Ljubljana, for me, was associated with the airport.   

But to digress no longer.  On with the day.

The view of Ljubjlana, from the castle, looking towards the mountains and in the general direction of Kranjska Gora and Austria.  Slovenia is a tiny place, about half the size of Switzerland, and more than half of its total area is covered in forest.

We sat for a while in Congress square (Kongresni trg square) and listened to a very good children's choir.   Not many people in the audience, which was a pity for the children and their teachers.   There was quite a comprehensive programme provided for the month of June.

 The beautiful trees in the parkland, by Congress square.

 The Ljubljanica river which bends around the old city.   Such a lovely setting with the old buildings, and cafes, bordering the river.   The area in the old town is pedestrianised, except for bicycles, and there were plenty of people on bicycles weaving around the people.  This is a bicycle city.  

 The Triple Bridge, built between 1929 and 1932, when two side bridges, intended for pedestrians, were added to the original stone bridge.  This bridge was designed by Joze Plecnik (1872-1957).   He was an architect and urban planner, who made quite an impact on architecture in Ljubljana, as well as in Vienna and Prague, especially with incorporating the new with the old architecture.  

 When you turn around, from the bridge, you see the Presernov trg square, with  the Franciscan Church of the Annunciation looming on the other side.  It is a very good example of early Baroque architecture.   The monument on the right of the photograph is a statue of the Slovenian poet, France Preseren (1900-1849) who wrote A Toast (Zdravlijica) which has been adopted as Slovenia's national anthem.

 We walked across the Triple Bridge, and entered the Central Market, with delicious looking strawberries and other fruit for sale, plus clothes, all very cheap.   We bought cheese and bread for tonight, and the cheese, cow's milk, was aged just perfectly for our taste.  

We entered the Baroque church, the Cathedral of St Nicholas, with frescoes by Giulio Quaglio.

 This street caught my eye with its curve and promise of more around the corner, and there was too.   It was also great to take a relaxed walk along the street, without worrying about traffic.   And the cyclists tended to ride slowly and were obviously used to avoiding people.

 Now I do not know where I am, but I do know this is not a Plague Post.  According to Walter it is a memorial to commemorate the freedom from the Turks.

 The shoes hanging above Walter's head, mark the spot where there were cobblers' workshops on Cobblers' Bridge.

As with all the other cities we have visited, there is such a rich volume of history here, but just too much to write about in one blog.  

But lunch beckons, my birthday lunch, and I chose the restaurant, one that had a cloth tablecloth, and napkins.   And an interesting menu for 9.20 Euros.   And we were not disappointed.   My glass of wine came in a Riedel glass (Walter was impressed with this), and the wine was very good too.   We ate vegetable soup cooked in fish stock, grilled octopus, with spinach and fried potatoes, and accompanied by a green salad, and the dessert was tiramisu.   We finished with an espresso, which was perfect.   The whole meal cost us 30 Euros.   Great value.    And the service was impeccable.  

Then onto a little train, which took us up the hill to the castle.   A very bumpy ride.

 Walter reading the information about the prison cells, one of which he is standing in.

The beautiful blue ceiling in the chapel.  

 We came down on the funicular railway, which we saw when we went up in the train.   This was preferable than travelling in the little train.   Sometimes we do not read tourist information carefully.  Of course we could have walked, especially after our lunch.

A trip back to Slovenia is a must, and we will definitely visit Lake Bled the next time.

Ljubljana - camping ground

We are finally at the camping ground in Ljubljana, Slovenia, and after a glass of wine in the bar, and dinner in the motor home, all is well again.  

We set off from Lake Balaton, in brilliant weather, with blue skies and plenty of warmth.   We were reluctant to leave, but we have a schedule.   We have ground to cover before we arrive at Camping Manjastre on the 14th June.   So ever onwards.   

The motorway was empty, being Sunday morning, and of course no trucks on the roads either.

We stopped at the border to get diesel and a vignette for the Slovenian motorways.   There was free wifi at this service station so I was able to catch up on Facebook and emails while I waited for Walter.  And I minded the motorhome too.

 Then off again, into Slovenia, the land of mountains and rolling hills.  We had to get off the motorway for 20 kms due to road works, but still pleasant travelling as the countryside was lovely.   We were making good time too, and due to arrive at the campsite by 1.30 p.m.

 But what is this?   A line up of caravans and motorhomes.    We can go no further.    We had already tried three different ways of getting into the camping ground, but roads were blocked all around it.   A repeat performance of trying to get into the camping ground in Brno last weekend.

 But this time it is not a fair and fireworks, but a marathon cycling race, and the roads leading to, and on the circuit, were closed.   This time the kind policeman said he would mind the vans, if we wanted to walk to the camping ground and book in, but the road would not open again until 5 p.m.   No police escort this time.

 The camping ground was only 200 metres away, just around this corner.   So close, but so far.   I opened all the windows in the van, and read my book.    And dozed.     For three hours.   Walter booked in, and then spent the rest of the time talking to the Dutch people in the other vans.

Luckily Walter booked the van in, as there must have been 20 vans lined up, to go to the camping ground.  

I wonder why Dutch men of a certain age always stand with their hands on their hips, and watch as you put your van on your site.   It is so unnerving.

Cycling by Lake Balaton, Hungary

After eating breakfast outside in the sunshine, we hopped on our bicycles and off we went for a ride around a small part of Lake Balaton, about 10 km I think.  We packed our Dutch ponchos just in case of rain, as we have learnt to be prepared during the past few weeks.

The first stop was the beach area in front of the town Keszthely.    The water was almost like glass, in the still warm air. 

 Please take note, no red soft shell jacket, and no scarf.   I am finally dressed for summer.

 Walter taking a rest, on the very good cycling track, which apparently goes all the way around the lake, some 200 km or more.

 Time for lunch, and a well deserved beer each.   Mine is the smaller glass of course.   I noticed today that radler means bicycle here and the word for a shandy in German is radler.   No wonder the waiter in Budapest looked at us very strangely when we tried to buy a beer and lemonade and used the word radler.

I must say that the beer hardly hit the sides on the way down.   Lunch was pretty ordinary, stuffed peppers and boiled potatoes for me, and pan fried pork with mushrooms and cheese for Walter.

 And luckily we brought our ponchos otherwise we would have got very wet, as it absolutely poured at about 2 pm, just as we left the restaurant.   I must have looked a sight in my huge bright orange poncho, but at least I was dry.   Walter has a much more sedate colour, dark green.

After a short rest, and a cup of coffee, the sun came out again, so we decided to cycle to the local town, Keszthely, and have a look.   It was on top of a hill, but we made it.  Just slightly puffed.  This town is rated highly in the Lonely Planet 'as a place of grand town houses and a gentle ambiance far removed the lake's tourist hot spots'.

Apparently most of the southern part of the lake contains tacky resorts, whereas the northern side has national parks, quiet beaches and a few pleasant towns.   But Keszthely, on the Western end of the lake, stands out as being very special.   And I can see why.  

The town centre, with the usual Plague Post which every town in Hungary seems to have in place.  

The main street, tree lined, and vehicle free, but with space in the centre for cyclists.  The shops were closed as it was Saturday afternoon.   No all day shopping here, as was the case in every country we have been in so far.

The baroque castle, with a fountain in the front.   There was a wedding feast taking place when we were there.   A lovely setting for a wedding.

 And from the castle grounds a view over part of the town.   Note the communist era housing block on the right, which jars a bit with the picturesque church in the centre.

And then off down the hill, much easier this time, and back along the path, to our motorhome, before the next rain shower.

We have enjoyed our day and a half here, a very pleasant interlude, in a lovely caravan park, beside a peaceful and calm lake.    But I don't think we will rush to move our caravan here.   Lake Balaton does not have quite the same ring about it as the Cote d'Azur.