Dolomites and into the Eastern Block

Blog 3

It seems it’s my turn to compose this blog, as we are going to try to take it in turns…  So much seems to have happened since the last one, when we were heading for Rapallo in north Italy.  Tricia and Steele, the folky American couple we had befriended were with us, and Tricia was travelling up front navigating for Amanda (with the help of Yvonne Gulugoth of course).  Steele and I were sat cross legged in the back playing magnetic chess and drinking Rum cocktails. We didn’t stop in Rapallo in the end, but continued onto Lake Gada, a massive picturesque crystal clear lake.  The following morning, I was very excited to have a quick snorkel to see what Italian aquatic life lurked beneath these fresh waters, but I found none – not a single living organism, not a sausage!  We had a quick coffee (I’m addicted to Italian coffee!), and then ventured on to Venice.

Venice is extremely expensive.  The most expensive place we have been to so far in fact.  We stayed in a campsite outside of Venice as it’s even more expensive to stay on the island itself.  The campsite cost us 30 Euros per night.  We spent the evening drinking local wine, and Steele entertained us with his guitar playing folk songs and gallantly singing all the Bob Dylan requests I was making.  He really is quite a talented musician!  In the morning, we caught a ferry across to Venice (20 Euros) and walked around the enchanting little island. It’s a mysterious place, with old decrepit buildings, tiny alley ways, gondolas, and millions upon millions of Venetian masks.  I (jokingly) suggested to Amanda that we should stay there a while and open a shop selling these peculiar ornaments, but wisely, the business minded accountant in her that surfaces every now and again (when the healer in her lies dormant), advised me against such absurdity.    Venice is somehow magical, and is worth checking out, but only for a day.

We said goodbye to our Yanky Southerners, and drove up into the impressive Dolomites.  This dramatic mountain range separates Italy from Austria.

Interestingly, the predominant local dialect is a ‘mountain language’, which comprises a mixture of Italian and Germanic influences.  We drove high up into these mountains to meet up with Aaron, a good mate of mine from London, who has just started a job as a mountain guide up there.  We certainly did not expect such beauty, nor did we expect to drive along such tricky little mountain passes.  Poor ol’ BattleBus huffed and puffed up those windy little roads.  At one point we found ourselves well above the snow line, with icy shelves on either side of the road towering meters high and dwarfing BattleBus.

Aaron is staying in a place called Pedraces, in the Badia range.  We parked up near the local pub called ‘Badia’ that is colloquially referred to as ‘The Bad Idea’, which it usually is after a long day of hiking followed by yet another early morning start.  Pedraces is a quaint little village, in an idyllic setting, with pure mountain water gushing out of little fountains dotted around the town, colossal ice-capped mountains in view in every direction, and the friendliest mountain folk wearing comical little mountain hats.  Logging is big business, and all the houses are built from attractive oiled wood.  Amanda must have become slightly irritated with me, since for nearly three days, I sang Monty Python’s Lumberjack Song at full volume whenever I saw a real-life lumberjack:  “He’s a lumberjack and he’s okay, he sleeps all night and he works all day.  He cuts down trees, he skips and jumps, he likes to press wild flowers.  He puts on women’s clothing, and hangs around in bars.”

We thoroughly enjoyed our stay in the Dolomites, and spent two days walking high up in the mountains, navigating by map and compass, and following tiny little un-trodden paths.  Skiing in this area is also very popular in the winter, and seeing the whole set up has inspired me to try this exciting sport out at some point.  (Perhaps northern India?)

Much to BattleBus’s delight, who moaned and groaned along the steep windy hills, we headed back down the mountains and headed for Croatia.  I need to get some dental surgery done on my front incisor that I knocked out when I was a child.  This tooth has recently given me some trouble, and I was quoted some astronomical amount in London.  I had therefore sourced a dentist in Croatia, since dentistry in the Eastern Block is famed for its cheapness and quality.  But, as things turned out, timing had worked against us, and it we were to arrive in Croatia late on Friday, making it difficult to make this appointment.

So, change of plans instead, we drove through to Ljubljana, the capital of Slovenia.  We arrived late and the next day we hoped to cycle into the town to explore.  But alas, we got carried away drinking cheap Slovenian beer, and left our fridge switched onto the 12V supply, which meant that we had a flattened battery in the morning.  This should have been okay, since it’s connected to a secondary leisure battery, but we also forgot to turn the light off, so we had really killed ALL the power.  And then, during breakfast, we finished our gas too!  What a pickle!  After many strained and broken conversations with other Motorhome owners from all over Europe, I eventually hit the jackpot.  Cautiously approaching and asking if this next gentleman spoke any English, he triumphantly answered in all the glory that the Scottish accent is able:  “I doo.  Ill be rruit overr - uts nay botha”.  Well, this fine Glaswegian was so helpful and managed to get us back on the road.

Instead of cycling, we needed to charge the battery a little, so we drove into Ljubljana (pronounced Yoob yaana, with little intonations of ‘L’ mixed in wherever possible).  We explored the place for a few hours, and found it to be fairly interesting, and modestly picturesque.  The best thing about Slovenia is the people, who are all so very helpful and eager to please.  They smile broadly, speak English beautifully, and to our amusement, the men all parade the most exuberant moustaches.

We left town to hunt for gas, but failed at this.  Gas in Slovenia is scarce, and of those places we did find, none had the regulator to go with it, and none of the bottles fitted our English set-up.  Conceding to the fact that we had no gas, we headed for Zagreb.  We arrived late, tired and hungry.  The campsite was more expensive than we anticipated (22 Euros), and since we are trying to get away with free nights wherever possible (because we can), we considered driving on a bit to find a quiet place to park the BattleBus.  But fatigue was overcoming us, so we gave in and stopped there for the night.  Today we have had a lie in, and I am currently typing this blog in bed before we head into Zagreb.

A short reflection on life in the van…  I have noticed a great deal of other travellers in Motorhomes frequent these campsites.  They are generally of an older generation, which makes me chuckle, as it appears that Amanda and I have already retired – at least for a bit.  Sleeping ‘rough’, gung-ho style, outside of campsites is always our intention, and we have had quite a few of these nights so far – but the concern is always the next morning’s poo!  Thankfully our nifty little foldaway ‘pooper scooper’ makes a great digging implement, and there is something naturally satisfying about assuming the squat position covertly in the bush, the fresh morning air tingling my exposed naked little white ‘bottie’,  and letting the little buggers drop safely to mother earth.  This is one example of a number where ‘the little things in life’ suddenly count for so much more.  We are living a simple life, with few material possessions, and limited comforts.  But what we do have is suddenly so much more appreciated!   It makes we wonder about materialism and the importance we tend to place on ownership of goods, imbuing them with some sort of magical qualities, as though they can bring us happiness by making us more comfortable.  It seems to me now, planer than ever, that this is not the case, but instead a mechanism of the capitalist machine to induce us into buying more.  Of course I say this whilst tapping away (happily) on a fancy laptop, so contradict myself to some extent…  So let me stop and allow these thoughts to sink in further before pursuing it any further.

Well, that’s about that for this blog…