Thursday, September 18, 2003

9-18-03 Copenhagen     Yeah, I know, I’m been about a zillion countries behind in the Weblog.  We’ve been having a hard time finding an Internet place that will let me get the laptop on line to post what I have written.  We’ve got an address of a place in the city that will, so this morning, that will be our goal.  If you are reading this, we were successful.    We are traveling like real tourists now, a schedule, an itinerary…  it’s tough to keep moving.  We’ve been here for two and a half days, I’d love to have at least another week. The little town Hillerød seems to be a fairly wealthy suburb of Copenhaben, at the end of the commuter train line.  Downtown there is a large brick building that used to be a factory for making agricultural machinery, it’s now a beautiful mall with one of those European super-hyper-markets we love so much.  But it is the anchor of a long pedestrian shopping street that wanders through town to the lake, with the castle in the center.  We walked around the castle grounds last evening, this morning we (on stern instructions of the campground owner) walking down to tour the interior.  He promises 300 year old furniture.  So a quick tour of the Castle and then we’ll get the train back to Copenhagen and see if we can get all this stuff downloaded.   AALLLL RIGHT!!!   We are hot, smoking, on line at a very cool place in Copenhagen.  They have a special room downstairs for people to connect their laptops, very comfortable, and relatively inexpensive.   We did the castle tour this morning as advertised, it was big… and full of portraits of every important Dane in the history of the country, I think.  I’ve sure learned a lot about this country in the past few days…  did you know they have the oldest monarchy still in business?  The current queen is a direct descendent of the first king of Denmark back in the ninth century.  Whoop-tee-do.   Okay, so we’ve seen enough paintings and furniture.  Tomorrow we’re going to the town my mother’s father came from (yes, that would be my grandfather), and maybe a quick visit to the island of Als, where great-grandfather (right, mom?) Frost came from…   Lots of pictures freshly posted.  You will notice a folder of Van pictures.  The main reason I took them is because we’re probably going to try to sell in on Ebay for whatever we can get for it.  Had several plans on how we could wait until spring to sell it when there will be a market for campervans… but we figure, we’ve got our money’s worth out of the thing, maybe it would be simpler just to get rid of it….  Anyway, if you’ve been curious about our home on wheels, check it out.     9-18-03 Copenhagen     Yeah, I know, I’m been about a zillion countries behind in the Weblog.  We’ve been having a hard time finding an Internet place that will let me get the laptop on line to post what I have written.  We’ve got an address of a place in the city that will, so this morning, that will be our goal.  If you are reading this, we were successful.    We are traveling like real tourists now, a schedule, an itinerary…  it’s tough to keep moving.  We’ve been here for two and a half days, I’d love to have at least another week. The little town Hillerød seems to be a fairly wealth suburb of Copenhaben, at the end of the commuter train line.  Downtown there is a large brick building that used to be a factory for making agricultural machinery, it’s now a beautiful mall with one of those European super-hyper-markets we love so much.  But it is the anchor of a long pedestrian shopping street that wanders through town to the lake, with the castle in the center.  We walked around the castle grounds last evening, this morning we (on stern instructions of the campground owner) walking down to tour the interior.  He promises 300 year old furniture.  So a quick tour of the Castle and then we’ll get the train back to Copenhagen and see if we can get all this stuff downloaded.   AALLLL RIGHT!!!   We are hot, smoking, on line at a very cool place in Copenhagen.  They have a special room downstairs for people to connect their laptops, very comfortable, and relatively inexpensive.   We did the castle tour this morning as advertised, it was big… and full of portraits of every important Dane in the history of the country, I think.  I’ve sure learned a lot about this country in the past few days…  did you know they have the oldest monarchy still in business?  The current queen is a direct descendent of the first king of Denmark back in the ninth century.  Whoop-tee-do.   Okay, so we’ve seen enough paintings and furniture.  Tomorrow we’re going to the town my mother’s father came from (yes, that would be my grandfather), and maybe a quick visit to the island of Als, where great-grandfather (right, mom?) Frost came from…   Lots of pictures freshly posted.  You will notice a folder of Van pictures.  The main reason I took them is because we’re probably going to try to sell in on Ebay for whatever we can get for it.  Had several plans on how we could wait until spring to sell it when there will be a market for campervans… but we figure, we’ve got our money’s worth out of the thing, maybe it would be simpler just to get rid of it….  Anyway, if you’ve been curious about our home on wheels, check it out.                7:20:19 PM    comment []

9-16-03    Copenhagen   The campground is in a town (30,000 population) called Hillerød.  Very cool, Word speaks Danish, but I don’t know what will happen on the internet to the o with a slash through it.  This morning we walked down to the train station, bought tickets good for all day on the trains and buses, and climbed on a shiny red electric train that carried us into downtown Copenhagen in about 40 minutes.  What we’ve seen of Denmark so far is very flat, lots of water, lakes and rivers.   Everything is very clean, well cared for.  Everyone we’ve met has been very friendly and they all speak excellent English.  A real treat for us.  We met so very few English speaking people once we left Greece.    We walked out of the main train station, just across the street from the famous Tivoli Gardens.  Just down the street we found our first stop, the Danish Design Center.  The primary exhibits displayed the work of Verner Panton a Danish designer who worked from 1950 to his death in 1998.  If you’d like to see his work, check out www.vernerpanton.com or www.panton.ch   .    He is considered the most international of Danish designers because he moved away from the tradition Danish Modern design we are all familiar with and experimented with materials other than teak… plastics, metals, and glass.  He was known for designing complete environments, some of his most famous work were restaurant interiors.  We spent three hours or so exploring his universe.  Rhona loved his hanging couches.  He really gave me a lot to think about in terms of color and shape.  I especially liked his light fixtures, he liked soft glowing light diffused by dangling shapes.  It felt odd to be looking at furniture on display that you can’t sit in, but the museum had a small café in the center courtyard where several of his mass produced designs could be tested… I’m sure the café people would prefer that you do that with a coffee and some of their very high priced pastries, but no one seemed to mind a few tourists sitting around testing the designs.  And they were comfortable, I have to admit.  The one piece plastic chair seemed like a bit of a gimmick to me, but it works, what can I say…   We left the Design Center and walked the Copenhagen shopping street that winds the length of the downtown area.  We visited the Marble Cathedral, a huge Lutheran church, massive and austere.  No fancy stained-glass windows here, boy.  A huge dome with paintings of bible figures around the circumference.  From the Cathedral, we walked to the Danish Decorative Arts Museum.  That’s right, a tourist’s triple play, two museums and a Cathedral!   The variety of stuff collected from all over the world was just amazing.  A temple to design of all types.  From the Harley Davidson V-Rod to Oriental cabinets to a panorama of Danish chair design through the ages, just all kinds of stuff, connected only by the quality of the design itself.  In the basement was an exhibit containing all the winners of the Danish International Design Awards.  Telephones, lots of electronics, industrial designs, even a sheetmetal electronic enclosure.  Very nice work, I had to admit.  There was a Nomex fireman’s turnout suit, kitchen appliances, medical equipment, an amazing variety.  I could spend months in the place.   We left the museum and hopped a couple busses.  Probably said it before but we’ve learned a great way to explore a city is on the buses.  If you get lost, all you have to do is get off the bus, cross to the stop on the other side of the street, and soon you are back were you started.  We went to the so called “Free City”, Christiana.  Back in the early 70s a group of artists, hippies, musicians moved in to a group of abandoned military barracks and set up a community.  The had many battles with the authorities, some violent, and at one point the city recognized the area as a social experiment, and basically tolerated its existence.  It’s become a tourist attraction, weed and hash are sold and smoked openly like in the coffee shops of Amsterdam.  Evidently they’ve had serious problems with hard drugs like heroin and speed, and the community has tried to discourage their use.  We are told that the major problem is that the authorities believe that there are gangs based there that sell drugs throughout the city.  It’s difficult to learn much about a place just walking through it like we did.  There are obviously some very creative things going on.  Around a thousand people live there.  We saw a large indoor skateboard park building, an open central plaza with picnic tables and small restaurants serving food and drinks.  I am curious about the experiment, I wonder if anything has been written about it.   Basically we got a good taste of Copenhagen.  I’m looking forward to going back for another visit in a couple days. 6:56:40 PM    comment []

9-12-03 Berlin   The drive from Prague to Berlin was a tough one.  It rained hard most of the day, and the van had electrical problems.  We also saw our first major accident of the trip.  After we arrived in Berlin I went through the wiring as best I could, removing some excess wires that had been connected at one time to the cigarette lighter and a radio, checked the fuses and replaced a couple, cleaned up the battery terminals a bit, and everything electrical is working much better than it ever has.  We left Prague with headlights on, the little refrigerator running on battery power, windshield wipers on, the defroster blowing, and in the wet, it was all too much for the system to deal with.  The alternator light would come on, the gages would shut off, and the major problem, the windshield wipers would stop working.  When the problems started, Rhona went back and shut off the refrig, I used the headlights and wipers only when absolutely necessary, and gradually things got back to normal… then the rain would pick up again, headlights and wipers on, and soon I’m looking at a glowing red light again.  Nerve wracking, but we survived.    The autobahns of Germany are fantastic highways, smooth, and made for high speed driving.  Work fine for old camper trucks tootling along at 60 mph too.  At one point we saw a nice car, a large BMW I think, parked on the side of the highway just before an underpass, two businessmen types standing by the open passenger door, obviously looking down the road for somebody.  I was looking in the rear view mirror when I saw a large truck pull off behind them.  Suddenly the truck swerved back on to the highway, but hit the side of the car.  I’m guessing the driver saw the car waiting for him, tried to pull over behind it, and realized at the last minute that there was no way he could stop the big truck, swerved back out into traffic, but didn’t clear the car…  I saw sheet metal flying as the truck sheared off the side of the car, I think the front tire on that side must have blown, the truck collided with a pillar of the overpass, bounced off, then swerved back into the fencing and finally stopped.  I had looked right at the men standing beside the car just moments before, I felt like I should do something to help, but there was no way we could do anything but drive on.  In a few minutes we saw police cars and ambulances heading down the other side to the scene of the collision…  I really wonder what happened to the people, I wonder if the two guys had a chance to jump before the truck hit their car, it happened so fast.    When we reached Berlin, for the first time on our trip, we couldn’t find the campground we had chosen as our target.  We were actually in Potsdam, just outside Berlin, in what used to be East Germany.  The area is full of lakes, rivers, and canals.  More bridges than Venice, the guidebooks say.  The map shows highways, but we find busy city streets with confusing intersections and difficult to read street signs.  Lots of construction going on.  We pretty much drove in circles until we spotted a camping sign.  Led us right in to an area of road rebuilding, wandered a bit more, and then finally found the campground, an outpost of the German Caravan Club, not shown on any of our books or maps.  A very old place with rather quaint bathrooms in the basement of the restaurant/reception building, but a nice big space, electrical connection, nearby water, things have been worse.  One day I’d like to go back to Prague and have another try at finding the campground we were looking for, think I know where it might be.   We are at the point now were we are enjoying the small towns near our campgrounds more than the big city destinations.   This time we had the small villages near the campsite that were fun to explore, and then the city of Potsdam, which has a very interesting castle, and then, of course, Berlin.  I’m sure we could have spent a month or longer in the area and not seen everything.  We had a great dinner a couple towns from the campground, with the fantastic sweet Italian wine Rhona and I like so much.  We spent a day exploring Potsdam, walking through Frederick the Great’s castle, called Sans Souci.  Oh yeah, that was the name of the campground we never found, Sans Souci. It’s also the name Jerry Garcia called his house in Marin, it means, No Worries.  Must have been a pretty cool king, old Frederick the Great.  The Castle itself is pretty modest looking, for a castle.  But the setting was amazing.  Yep, pictures on Yahoo.    There is not much left to show that Berlin was a divided city, pretty much bombed to rubble at the end of the war.  Most of the historic buildings have been rebuilt, and there are huge new modern buildings, all steel and glass near the new city center.  We walked to the major tourists sites, the Brandenburg Gate, Checkpoint Charlie, the Reichstag.  There is so much water in and around Berlin, and it really is a beautiful city.  6:55:37 PM    comment []

Olomouc and Prague, the Czech Republic   Our driving day north from Budapest took us across the Hungarian border into Slovakia, and from Slovakia into the Czech Republic.  The Hungarian police just waved us through when they saw our American passports, the Slovaks did the same.  A little more study of the pages at the Czech Republic border, but no ink stamping required.  It was a pretty easy day of mostly good highways.  The campground outside Olomouc was a bit strange, camping Czech style.  The main thing going on there were bungalows, little cottages not much bigger than a king sized bed with a little sitting porch in front.  They had a large community kitchen and day room with a TV and couches.  The camping area was a grassy field behind the bungalows.  There was a large bathroom block with a big old solar water heater array.   Good hot water and lots of it.    The next day was Sunday, so we drove into the city of Olomouc.  We knew that most everything would be closed, but traffic would be light and parking easy to find.  We were right.  Except for a few tourists, the place seemed deserted.  We parked in a big square in the old city, and walked through the streets looking for an ATM to get some Czech money.  We came into a large plaza around the city hall, found our cash machine and were surprised to find an open tourist information office.  Loaded up on maps and brochures and went out to find a bench in the sun.  There was a big tower in the center of the plaza, like a big fountain without the water part.  The City Hall was a great old building with a large clock tower.  The clock was a very modern looking German style clock with a star map, phases of the moon, and a rotating collection of figures going in and out two doors when the clock struck the hours.  According to the literature we picked up the clock had been rebuilt several times to the tastes of whoever happened to be in control at the time.  Evidently the Soviet version was pretty ugly, the last version had been completed just a few years ago.   Another interesting bit of info I came across in the tourist brochures was the fact that there was a nearby Irish Pub.  We went off in search of it.  Things are never as simple as they should be, there’s always something to create confusion.  In this case, the address of the pub was on one street, the actual front door, with the sign and all, was on an adjacent street.  So when we walked down an alley where we expected to find the Pub…  nothing.  Took a bit of wandering, but, soon, another mystery solved.  Discovered that the Czech’s have their own version of Guinness, called Kelt…  a very good beer, recommend it highly.  The bartender told us that Guinness is just too expensive, no one will buy it.   The place was empty except for us, the bartender, and a friendly Irish guy who either owned the place or acted like he did.  We soon had a lively discussion going about travel and politics.  The Irish guy said that he had recently been home in Dublin and he swears that most of the bartenders are Oriental.  All the Irish bartenders are running pubs all over the world.  We asked them about Prague and Olomouc, they told us that once we had seen the main square we’d pretty much seen Olomouc.  But they both love Prague.  They said that Olomouc was basically a university town.  The fall session hadn’t begun yet, so the town was pretty much deserted.  Another reason the town is so empty is that the Czech people have little cottages in the country where they spend their weekends.  The pub’s kitchen was closed, but they recommended a restaurant in the main square.   Rhona was in heaven, the place was packed full of “cute” to the rafters.  The food was delicious, the Pilsner ice cold.  It was the night before our second anniversary, and it seemed like it was going to be a tough job to top this dinner.  Little did we know how hard it was going to be.  We had planned to spend another day in Olomouc, but after hearing the guys rave about Prague, I was anxious to move on.  I wasn’t that crazy about our strange little campground and the reviews of the one we were heading to outside of Prague sounded great.  Rhona really had her heart set on the special hot chocolate that’s an Olomouc specialty, but I guess that will have to be on the list for the next trip.   Next morning we packed up and drove across the Czech Republic to Prague.  The countryside was relatively flat and beautiful, it was a very easy, pleasant drive.  We found the campground in a small village in the suburbs of Prague, and it was very nice.  The nicest, cleanest, most modern bathroom facilities we’ve seen.  Everything was controlled with these chip cards, like credit cards, but no bar code or magnetic stripe.  You just waved them at a sensor and it recognized the card.  We used the card for entering the campground, using the Internet terminal, using the washing machine and dryer.  The system was smart enough to allow five liters a day of free hot water for dishwashing; use more than that an a charge was made to your account.  But Monday was our anniversary and I had promised Rhona a special day in Prague, so off we went on the bus.  The info on the campsite said it was only 5 kilometers outside Prague… well, that might be, if they are talking about some city limit running out into the countryside.  It took at least a half hour for the bus to get to the tram stop in an industrial area, then another fifteen minutes or so on the tram to get downtown.  But with the usual bit of confusion, we made the tram connection, and got off in Wenchelas (sp) Square, as in the good king of Christmas carol fame.  The square is just an open spot on a major boulevard.  Lanes of traffic divided by a wide park like island, broken up by cross streets.  On a hill at the top of the boulevard was the glittering dome of the state museum.  At the other end, after some zigs and zags, we entered a pedestrian shopping street that lead us to the main square of the old city.  I guess we are getting a bit hard to impress when it comes to ancient architecture, we’ve looked at a lot of stone buildings in the past five months, walked on a lot of cobblestone streets.  But Prague is something special.  Our guidebooks say that it’s the only European capital that wasn’t destroyed at one time or another.  One thing I thought was strange is that the main Cathedral, with its two ornate towers, had a rather ordinary shed shaped building grafted on the front of it.  Must be an explanation…  perhaps the front wall needed reinforcing, but it seemed like shops had been added to the front of the church.  Very strange.   Opposite the Cathedral was the massive city hall, with it’s ornate clock tower.  Tourists filled the square, tacky shops and stalls were everywhere.  We were told that 95 million tourists visit Prague every year, and I do believe it.  Made me wish we had spent that extra day in Olomouc.  I do have more to write about Prague, I’ll be updating this entry later. 6:54:40 PM    comment []

Budapest   We had talked to several fellow campers about Hungary, and everyone agreed, Camping Fortuna was the place to be outside Budapest.  We did have a tough time finding it, but once Rhona figured out that Highway 7 was a different road than the M-7, we solved the mystery.  We got here last night, it’s been raining off and on since.  I’m writing this Sunday evening after a long walk through our small village outside Budapest.  We found a medieval looking restaurant, the only place we could find open.  It was medieval looking… in the sense that the waitresses wore serving wench outfits, and there were suits of armor in the corners…  not a very old place, if that’s what you were thinking.  A little on the expensive side for Hungary, but we deserved a treat.  Today was an official rest day, with an intermission for a long walk in the rain.  Tomorrow it’s time to check out Budapest.    The owner of the campground spoke very good English.  He had a hand drawn map of the village for us, with instructions on where to get the bus to Budapest, and where the supermarket could be found, and lots other helpful information.  But his Budapest map was a tourist’s dream.  He had taken the Tourist Information map and noted the bus, tram and metro lines we would need to ride to see the main attractions, showing the stops and terminals.  We talked to him for quite a while before leaving for the city.  I asked him if he was optimistic about the future for Hungary in the European Union.  He was not… he could see only bad times ahead.  Hungary was a major supplier to the Soviet Union, but the factories were all geared to Soviet standards, the farms weren’t very efficient, but it didn’t matter, they had a guaranteed market.  With the Soviet Union gone as customers, the Hungarians are finding it very difficult to meet European standards… factories have closed, farmers have gone broke, it is a major problem.  In Budapest I came across a Hungarian magazine that was much more positive about the future, confident that Hungarians would find ways to compete in the free world markets.    Buda is on the hills above the Danube, it is the home of the Castle and the Fortress, the two major attractions.  There are nine bridges across the Danube to Pest, which is relatively flat.  The first day in the city we walked around a bit, found the Funicular to the Castle area, and explored the medieval city within its walls.  There were several museums in the old castle buildings. A highlight for me was dinner in an Irish Pub on a boat anchored in the Danube.  Then we walked through the shopping street in Pest, Rhona loves checking out what women in other countries have available to buy. The second day we took a little bus that wound to the top of the hilltop Fortress.  It was an outdoor museum, with exhibits behind glass, like department store windows.   The major attraction to us was the views from the top of the walls, Buda below us, Pest along the opposite side of the Danube.  A ride back down the hill on the little bus, and we jumped on a streetcar to Pest.  We’ve learned that a painless way to see a city is to ride the trams and buses.  So we rode through the streets of Pest to the Park on an island in the middle of the Danube.  Got off, and picked up the bus that took us through the park.  When the bus left the park, we got off, crossed the street, and rode it back to where we started.  We walked back through Pest, past the Parliament building, the along the waterfront to visit the old market.  The building was built by Eiffel, the tower guy, it was a very interesting building indeed.  A brick structure with a roof of riveted iron girders with lots of windows.  The bottom floor was shop after shop; butchers, vegetable stands, leather shops, embroidered linens, pastry shops, little stalls with every spice and seasoning you could imagine…  just an amazing amount of goods for sale.  There was a balcony running around the four sides of the building with more shops and small restaurants, were a thirsty man could get a beer or two while his wife prowled the aisles below.   The pretty much closed the place around us…  we decided it was time to look for dinner.  I had noticed a place by the stop where we caught the bus back to the campground, seemed to be owned by the Rolling Rock Brewing company.  The menu seemed to be American food… we ordered a plate of nachos.  I guess red beans are hard to get in Hungary, they used green peas instead.  Looked very colorful, and tasted pretty good!    There were a series of concerts during the week we were there, sponsored by the Jewish community.  I really wanted to see the Kletzmer show, I guess there are two very good Kletzmer bands in Budapest.  Kletzmer music is fun, kind of a combination of Jewish folk music, bluegrass, zydaco.  There are usually violins, an accordian, guitar, some kind of percussion, all played with a lot of energy.  But that show didn’t start until nine in the evening, I was sure we wouldn’t make the last bus back to our village.  But there was a concert by the Budapest Gypsy Orchestra in the main synagogue beginning at seven the next night, we could definitely pull that one off.  So after a campground morning, doing laundry and cleaning up, we headed back to the city.  We went right to the synagogue, bought our tickets, and then did some more exploring.  We rode the Metro to a big square, the Place of the Heroes, I think it was called.  Well, whatever it was called, it was in Hungarian, so I guess my translation is as good as anyones…  well, except Ida, of course.  Ida is Rhona’s friend from Budapest who made sure we were fully equipped with maps and brochures for our visit.  Anyway, there is this big square you see, with a monument to the seven Magyar kings who founded Hungary.  Saint Stephen was the first King of Hungary, his statue was up front.  Yes, the pictures are on Yahoo.   Did some walking around, then more Metro navigation to another Irish Pub I found out about.  I do like my Irish Pubs…  always friendly people, menus we can read…  Anyway, a nice dinner and it was time to go to the concert.  The building was spectacular.  Seems like I’m always writing words like amazing, incredible, spectacular…  but it’s true.  Just awe-inspiring.  I had to wear a little skullcap to enter, I considered it a great privilege.  The Gypsy Orchestra was fantastic…  like a mad bunch of fiddle players had taken over a symphony orchestra, just amazing classical music with a Hungarian folk music flavor.  One of the older violin players seemed to be the leader, but they rotated soloists all night, with duets and trios taking the centerstage in various combinations.  It did seem that each violinist had their own particular strength, but they played together with amazing precision.  Their timing was impeccable; at every pause in the music the silence was complete.  The audience was obviously hearing music they knew by heart, and they made their appreciation known at every difficult passage.    It was a perfect end to our visit to Budapest.  Of all the cities we have been in so far, Budapest is the one I could see myself returning to, hopefully for a much longer stay.    ` 6:53:53 PM    comment []

8-28-03    Bouncing in Bulgaria, Rocking in Romania   Okay, where was I?  Been tough to find time to write.  Oh yeah, we were in Northern Greece, staying in an almost empty campground.  Store and restaurant were both closed for the season.  Looks like when the holiday season is over in Greece they slam the doors shut.  Monday morning we went back to the nearby city, Serres, we had passed through to the way to the campground, with two goals in mind.  We needed a bottle of propane, and we hoped to get the notebook online.  Driving through town, Rhona thought she saw a guy crossing the street carrying a gas bottle.  We found a parking spot, and I went walking back… no clue, what I had thought was a camping supply store was a bookstore with some backpacks in the window.  Down a side street I saw some plastic buckets and mops in front of a store… hum, might be a hardware store.  I walked in the door; the old guy got up from behind the cash register and walked to the back.  I heard some clanging and banging, in a few minutes out he came with a lovely bottle of official Camping Gas.   He rang up the sale, pointed to the amount, and I paid him, not a word was spoken.  Back in the truck, more crazy city traffic.  We’re looking for the Internet place we had stopped at on the way through town the first time.  Okay, found the street, the store… then major miracle, a parking place.  We took the laptop in, but the guy in charge wouldn’t let me connect.  First he said there was a problem with the electricity, power surges or something.  I said I could run on the battery, no problem.  Then he said there was some new Microsoft killer virus, destroys every MS program and erases every Word and Excel file on your harddrive.  Found that very hard to believe, I think he was talking about the SoBig virus that’s been in the news, but I don’t think it does any of the nasty things he was talking about.  But, if they don’t want me to connect, there’s nothing I can say to change anyone’s mind, I’ve found that out.  Anyway, I burned a CD of the current pictures, and got them posted, called it the best we could do, and we rolled out of town heading for the Bulgarian Border.   I had some real concerns about going to Bulgaria.  Like Morocco, it’s a real border.  Cops with guns, new money to deal with, and unknown redtape.  But everything went very smoothly.  We drove through a shallow pit of chemicals and they charged us 2 Euro for “Disinfecting”.  The police checked to be sure the car wasn’t stolen and we weren’t international criminals.  The forms were in Bulgarian, they filled them out for us… the fees were less than the guidebooks said to expect, and other than the waiting in line part, wasn’t bad at all.  We had been warned that Sophia, the capital of Bulgaria, is full of thieves.  We didn’t hang around long enough to find out if the rumors are true.  It’s an ugly place, I can tell you that.  The street signs were totally unreadable.  They use the Cyrillic alphabet, no helpful Latin versions like we sometimes found in Greece.   The one thing that helped us was that our Let’s Go Europe guidebook had both the Latin and Cyrillic versions of the city names.  We got totally lost and confused, and then somehow found ourselves on the right highway out of town.  Rhona only had our Europe map to navigate with, and it was no help in the city.  We did have two possible directions in mind… due east, and kind of northeast… we ended up on the northeastern route, heading for a town we’d read about in our Let’s Go Europe book, Veliko Tarnovo.  The book said something like, “To see Bulgaria, you must see Veliko Tarnovo.”  We took them at their word.  We also had been told that there are very few campgrounds in Bulgaria, and those are mostly on the Black Sea, a long way off our route.  But the good news is that hotels and rooms are easy to find for less than the cost of camping.  About halfway from Sofia it was coming on towards evening, and I’ve made a rule (and a good one it is) to never drive at night.  The nearest town was called Botevgrad.  Never made a guidebook, never will.  We drove into the town and discovered that the entire center is closed to cars.  We did see a big building with a Hotel sign on top on the far side of the downtown mall, or plaza, whatever they call it.  Took some trial and error to find our way around through the maze of streets, but I pulled in to a square that seemed close, and parked.  I approached a couple young guys and asked where I could find a hotel, probably my dumbest question of the trip so far…  The building next door was the one with the BIG hotel sign….  It looked pretty fancy for a couple ragged campers, but we walked into the lobby and talked to a very friendly young lady who spoke very good English.  A double for the night?  Fifty Lev…  quick calculation in my mind, that’s twenty-five bucks…  a bit on the high side for a campsite, but for a hotel room, not bad at all.  Especially when I found out they had a gated, guarded parking lot to put our van in… and, my very own remote control for the TV.  So we parked the van in the lot, packed our stuff upstairs, and went walking, looking for dinner.  It was a bit late, and there didn’t seem to be very many choices.  It was pretty clear right away that if there have ever been any tourists in this town they were probably Russian.  We saw a several groups of teenagers eating pizza on the front porch of a place, that’s a good enough recommendation for us.  The waitress brought us menus.  We fumbled through the pages of the menu… figured the front page was probably the list of pizzas, two columns of prices, two sizes, large and small….  Making funny faces and gesturing, we tried to tell her that we had no idea what ingredients were, I thought maybe she’d let us go to wherever they made the pizzas and look and point, but if she understood what I was asking, she wasn’t going for it.  Finally we just picked two at random and hoped for the best.  She understood I wanted a beer…  it’s called Bere, pronounced like the Italian, but she rattled off three or four brand names, I told her to pick.  While enjoying the bottled beer she brought me, I noticed a couple guys drinking a draft.  So when it was time for my second, I asked her to bring me (hand motion, pouring a beer from a tap).  She was noticeably disappointed; she thought I didn’t like her choice.  Oh well, much to complicated to explain.  The beer she brought in a mug was a bit strange tasting… couldn’t really explain it, just different, huskier than normal is all I could say.  For my third beer I went back to her pick and she beamed, redeemed.  The next day on the highway we passed a big old tanker truck, all rusty and greasy…  You guessed it, the brand name of the draft beer I drank, proudly painted on the back… so now I know where that “husky” flavor comes from.  Anyway… three beers, a couple cokes, and two very good pizza’s (still not sure exactly what was on them, one definitely had pieces of pineapple) cost us the equivalent of about four dollars and fifty cents.  We sat on the deck and watched kids walking through the plaza, riding their bikes… no cars, no motos… very quiet and peaceful.   Next morning we walked around a bit, found a Bulgarian map in a small bookstore, and we were on our way to Veliko Tarnovo.   We found the center of town, spotted a couple hotels recommended by Let’s Go, and looked for a parking place.  There was a square with some guys running around parking cars, they waved us into a open spot, cost us 70 cents an hour, a rip off, I’m sure, but hey, we’re parked and we’re right near the hotels.  We ask one of the guys where the first one on our list is, the Hotel Comfort.  He says, “Oh no, no good, no good.  You want to go there-” and points to the second one on our list…  Okay, so we head down the street.  Suddenly there is an older woman by our side. “Are you English?”  She says.  We get that question a lot, asked usually by someone trying to hustle us, sell us something… .  It was Rosa.  And Rosa suggested that we might want to look at the room in her house that was available.  She told us that the parking guys get commissions from the hotels to send tourists, and I believe her.  We followed here down the street, and up a very narrow alley to her amazing house.  He husband is an artist, and the house is crammed full of oil paintings.  And just tons of STUFF…  She showed us the room with a terrace outside overlooking the river canyon out back.  She wanted 40 lev for the room, dinner that night and breakfast in the morning.  Twenty bucks.  Best deal since Morocco.  One big advantage was that Rosa spoke pretty good English.  She was very concerned that we park the van under a streetlight outside a neighbor’s window so he could keep an eye on it…  She had all kinds of advice for avoiding hustlers and thieves.  She fixed us a little lunch, a nice salad, and we were ready to go exploring.  The main attraction of the little town is the fortress on the hill.  What to tell you?  The top of a mountain surrounded by ancient stone walls, with square towers every fifty yards or so.  There is a natural gully that circles the fort, a long stone bridge across the gully to the town.  A genuine wooden drawbridge about half way.   Much of the original structure had been destroyed in an earthquake in the 1800s; much of what we saw had been rebuilt since WWII.  The sheer size of the place was impressive; at one time it was a good-sized village inside the walls.  We walked along the walls to the rock of execution, a big granite bolder overhanging the river valley far below.  I assume that the method of execution was a good old heave-ho.  Well, maybe they chopped heads off first, then the heave-ho.  We walked to the top where we had seen the towers of a church from below.  We are getting pretty blasé about churches and cathedrals, as you can imagine.  But this place blew us away.  No cameras allowed, so we won’t be posting any pictures.  We did buy the postcards though.  My first impression was… Salvador Dali.  The place was full of murals, done mostly in blacks and grays, gaunt, angular figures, grouped to form swooping lines.  But the images were like a crazy collage, placed against each other at odd angles.  There wasn’t the feeling of a chapel, no formal altar, or any of the icons or strange tall wooden seats we’ve come to expect to see in Orthodox churches.  The centerpiece, where the altar usually is, was a rough shaped slab of stone maybe ten feet high, four feet wide, a couple feet thick, floating, suspended by some hidden truss, with a very modern image of the Madonna and Child painted on the face.  The most affecting thing about it for me was that the entire interior of the building was of one piece…  there was not one disruptive element, it was like being inside of a surrealist work of art.  It’s called the Cathedral of the Patriarchs and it seems like from what we were able to find out the work was done in the 1980s… I’d really like to know more about it.   Still pretty much in a state of shock, we wandered out onto the front terrace to look at the incredible view of the river valley all around the fortress.  In the courtyard below, a Bulgarian artist had his wares on display.  The kind of thing we see in almost every major tourist attraction, ink drawings, water colors…  but there was something special (Rhona said, delicate) about this guy’s work.  There was no one else around, so we stopped to look.  He spoke excellent English.  He showed us a piece he had just finished, an ink drawing of the bridge, we asked how much, he said twenty lev…   not very much, but we were running low on Bulgarian money.  But we talked…  about his children and their future, about his feelings about Bulgaria…  I remember he said, “the politicians say, some day, some day, we will take care of you… but now, this for me, nothing for you….”  Rosa told us many of the same things.  No Social Security of any kind.  Old people starve to death; it’s tragic, but accepted.  We saw the black Mercedes of the rich on the highways bullying their way through traffic, zooming around the people in their horse drawn wagons.  I have an old image from some book I read in high school of the nobles in their carriages splashing mud on the serfs on the side of the road.  It’s happening today in Bulgaria, on the highways, and in the economy.   We talked for quite a while, and when some other tourists came down the stairs we left him to make his pitch to them.  We walked down the path a bit, and stopped.  I checked my wallet; looked at the coins in my pocket… we had twelve and a half lev.  I knew we’d be in Romania the next day.  We walked back up to the artist; the other tourists had left…  I told him, this is all we have, twelve and a half lev… is there something of yours you could let us have for that?  He gave us the ink drawing of the bridge…  Rhona took our picture…  I didn’t feel happy about making a “good deal”, I really wished we had more money with us to give him…  but he didn’t care, it was enough that we liked his work.   We walked back to Rosa’s and relaxed before sitting down to a simple but excellent dinner.  Later we were reading in our room when she came in all excited…  light show at the Cathedral!  Free!  We must hurry!  She told us how lucky we were, the show hadn’t happened for a few days, but tonight it’s on.  Rosa led us through the streets to the grounds of the church that sits opposite the fortress.  Far below us was the bridge across the river gorge, then the fortress against the sky.  We sat in the darkness on a stone wall waiting.  Bells on the mountain began ringing.  And the show began.  Hundreds of powerful lights were stationed all over the mountain, shining against the walls, against the Cathedral, inside the buildings and towers.  Red, greens, blues…  strobes flashing, all synchronized to classical music we could hear clearly across the gorge.  There are two huge towers, one at each end of the fortress walls.  From the two towers, and the spire of the Cathedral, at dramatic moments of the music, powerful blue laser beams crossed the sky.  The beams from the two end towers intersected on the face of the church we sat just below.  Rhona tried to get some pictures of the spectacular show, but our little camera just wasn’t up to the job.  It seems like the most memorable things happen to us on this trip when we least expect it…   The next morning I had go down and check to be sure the van was still intact, not a smoldering hulk…  no problem.  But Rosa was all upset, no electricity, she couldn’t cook us our promised breakfast.  Really not a big deal to us at all, but she was mortified.  She made us a couple sandwiches and loaded us down with tomatoes, plums, honey, don’t know what else…  A quick picture taking session, and it was time to head on down the road to Russe, the Bulgarian city at the Romanian border.  Again, the border crossing went smoothly, another mud hole to drive through and a two Euro “disinfecting” fee to be paid.  Maybe it was only one Euro this time.  Everyone was friendly, but it does take at least an hour to get through the lines to get the passports stamped, for the police to make sure we’re okay.   Okay…  I’m on record as saying the Greeks are the worst drivers in Europe.  I take it back.  The Bulgarians and the Romanians are worse.  Basically, behind the wheel of a car, they are just flat out rude.  They will pass any time, anywhere; they seem to feel they have a right to be in front of everyone else, no matter what.  I had cars coming right at me in my lane flashing their brights as they passed a line of cars like I’m supposed to what? Disappear?  I saw a guy in front of me pass a car on a narrow two lane, no shoulders to speak of, as the oncoming car zoomed by in the other lane.  For a moment, three cars across with only inches to spare.  Routine.  Coming up over an overpass, no way to see oncoming traffic?  No problem, swing out and pass.  It’s a narrow bridge?  No problem, just flash your high beams, somebody will make room.  The most amazing thing is that the roadsides are not littered with burned out hulks of wrecked cars…  but they must kill people daily, even though we didn’t see any evidence it.  I can’t figure it out.  I guess if you drive in Bulgaria and Romania you expect to see all kinds of crazy behavior… you expect it.  But the laws of physics can’t be ignored without frequent disasters.   Anyway…  we crossed the border, headed for Bucharest.  The road signs in Romania did give us Latin versions, and there were lots of signs.  Like Greece and Bulgaria the roads were a mess, either under construction or should have been.  But we navigated northwards, hoping to find a campground before dark.  Approaching Bran, home of the so called “Dracula’s Castle” (the real Dracula, a guy named Vlad Tepes, probably never visited the place, let alone sucked anyone’s blood there.)   We came around a corner and Rhona let out a whoop, she had spotted a camping sign.  We had to go down the road a ways to find a spot to turn around, but turn around we did, and pulled into the driveway of Camping Panorama.   Best campground name yet.  Owned by a young Dutchman, open for only two months, a real gem.  He hired a bulldozer to cut a flat area on the hillside, and his campground overlooks an incredible valley and the mountains beyond.  Yes, we took lots of pictures.  Cattle roaming the hillsides all around.  Locals in the fields cutting hay with scythes like they’ve done for thousands of years, pitching it up into cone shaped stacks to dry in the fields for winter feed.    In the morning we drove to Bran and checked out the castle.  It was pretty cool…  a castle in the sense that noblemen and women lived there, not actually a fortress.  Our guidebooks said that the next town down the road, Raslov, had a more impressive and less touristy castle.  But Bran was interesting, especially the park on the grounds that had a collection of old buildings brought from all over the area.  It would be a great place for one of those living museums, with people in costume, doing the jobs as they were done for centuries.  But the houses and barns were very interesting; we could peek through the windows and see the furnishings inside.  There was one example that was open for a closer look.  The Castle was interesting, Dracula or no.  Much of the original furniture was in place… it had the feel of hunting lodge about it.  Evidently troops were garrisoned there and it did serve a military function.  But my favorite was the fortress at Raslov, now that was a real castle.  Drawbridge, front door with the steel grate with the sharp points at the bottom, spouts for pouring out the boiling oil, the whole deal.  There was an interesting museum, and it did say that the castle had withstood numerous sieges.  There was a small village inside the walls, a big well it had taken two Turkish prisoners seventeen years to dig, just lots of cool stuff.  Obviously much of the place had been reconstructed, and the process continues.  Archeology seems to be a concern, but it’s clear that they are trying to give the tourists what they are looking for, a chance to see things they way they once were.  I don’t think that’s a bad thing at all, although some people feel that science is taking a back seat to the tourist dollar.   Castles in Europe served several purposes.  Of course, they were the homes of the feudal lords and ladies.  They served as refuge when invading armies or roving bands of bandits came through the area.  A castle on one hilltop would signal to its neighbors that the enemy was coming.  But they also served as tax and toll collecting stations.  If you wanted to bring goods through the area controlled by the castle, you had to pay a toll or you wouldn’t be allowed to pass.   But we spent a very pleasant day driving through wonderful scenery and touring two very different castles.  We went back to Camping Panorama for another beautiful sunset.  The next morning we were up early and back on the road.  Our host had shown us the best route to Northern Romania, and recommended another Dutch owned campsite to stop at.  It was a tough day of driving, more rough roads and crazy Romanian drivers.  We found the campsite, had dinner in their restaurant, and called it a night.  In the morning, again, early on the road.  The Romanian-Hungarian border was crowded, I guess because it was Saturday, lots of Romanians heading for Hungary for the weekend.  No hassles, just an hour or two in very slow moving lines.   Crossing the border into Hungary I felt my hands relax on the steering wheel.  Yes, there were still construction areas, and I did have to keep my eye on the rear view mirror for zooming black BMWs, but there was definitely a change.  Smiling faces on the sidewalks, machinery in the fields, a feeling of being back in the 21st Century again.   6:52:44 PM    comment []

8-24-03 Northern Greece, outside Serres We left Meteora yesterday morning, heading north towards the Bulgarian border.  We don’t have a clue where we are going once we get there.  We’ve read that there are very few campings in Bulgaria, but we only need one or two.  Sofia is the capital, and it’s not too far from the border, but we don’t want to be driving around in the dark looking for a place to stay.  That’s a nightmare we’ve avoided so far.  Just told Rhona today is our anniversary… she got a perplexed look… well, if you count the plane ride (I do) we’ve been traveling for five months now.  Almost 10,000 miles on the old van, pretty amazing, I think.  And it’s running better than ever.  Yesterday was a very nice cruise, a real variety of terrain… lots of flat driving, a couple ranges of good sized hills to cross, and a drive through a deep river gorge that was pretty impressive.  The amazing thing is, the summer season is over.  The campground in Meteora was packed Thursday night.  Friday afternoon the place was deserted.  We drove to Serres, just 40 Kilometers from the border, and decided to drop down to the coast and spend the night in a camping there.  The place is almost empty.  The store and bar/restaurant is closed, it’s just like it was in the early part of our trip in France.  Well, I sure don’t miss the crowds.  Actually I think we did real well on that score so far.  The only place that was really crowded was Pompei, and that was because there were bus loads of kids that would come in and just take over the bathrooms.  But we’ve really never had a problem finding a spot.  It got a little noisy sometimes, but nothing like what we’d been led to expect.  Of course, finding that room in Paros, that was just luck.  I just wonder if the tourist industry is really hurting this year, what with the poor economies and fears of terrorism.  Everywhere we’ve been we’ve seen shops full of merchandise and no one buying.  I guess that’s just more good luck on our part; we just picked the right year to travel.   Minor wrinkle in our bed sheet of life, we’re out of camping gas.  That means the reefer doesn’t reef… not a huge emergency, but no cold drinks today.  I’ve been looking for gas for the last week or so without any luck.  Usually the little stores in the campgrounds have it available, but in Greece it’s been pretty hit and miss.  Oh well, today is Sunday so everything is closed, no point in searching today.  Later we’ll take a walk and see if we can run into a cold drink or two…. 6:51:51 PM    comment []

8-22-03    Meteora   Every once in a while we find ourselves in a place of spectacular natural beauty.  Monkey Fingers in Morocco was such a place.  Meteora, Greece, is another.  It’s interesting that the stone is the same color, the shapes similar, but the overall effect totally different.  Monkey Fingers was overlapping walls of uplifted stone, smaller more detailed shapes.  Meteora is tall towers of stone, carved by wind and water.  Threatened by roving bandits, monks built their monasteries on the tops of the towers, like the Anasazi villages in New Mexico.  Not much chanting going on these days though, the area is totally given over to tourism.  Must have passed fifty tour busses parked along the roadsides by the monasteries.  The first and biggest is called Metamorfosis, founded by St. Athanasius in the 14th Century.  Most of the monks have escaped the influx of tourists, moved to other more isolated monasteries.  All we saw were the ticket taker, museum guard, and the gift shop clerk, definitely civilians.  No cute monk T shirts, lots of obviously mass produced handicrafts though.  We noticed two icon factories in the town at the base of the stone towers.   Tourists or no, the views are breathtaking.  The towers were formed where the range of mountains meets the open plain.  From the courtyards of the Monasteries, it was at least 500 feet down to the valley floor.   In the museum, we enjoyed looking at the displays of local native costumes, many from Metsovo, the town we visited when we were staying in the campground by the lake in Ionnina… only 130 kilometers away.  We’ve made a loop of Greece, now we are heading back northwards, towards Bulgaria.  I was interested to see photos and paintings of the Monks leading squads of Greek resistance fighters against the Germans in World War II.  Lots of exhibits of weapons and military medals of all kinds, these monks did more than pray and chant.  One of the monasteries, St. Stephens, has become a Nunnery.  We saw actual nuns taking the money at the door, clerking the gift shop, and just going about their daily business.  Rhona noticed the woman’s touch… flower gardens everywhere, neatly painted signs, a lot more “cute.”    Well, a couple monasteries, as impressive as they are, and we’re pretty much done for the day.  We’ll be packing up early tomorrow, drive to a campground on the Med, not too far from the Bulgarian border for a rest day, then figure on crossing the border relatively early Monday morning.  We’ve pretty much decided to head up through Bulgaria and Romania to Budapest, spend some time there, then to Prague, and a northern loop through Germany to Denmark and Holland, before getting to Frankfurt by late September, then of course, on to Munich.   It seems like our trip is winding down, but we’ve still got a full month at least of good traveling left.  We’ve decided to leave Turkey for the next trip, and focus on spending some time in Northern Europe before the weather turns cold.  As far as Venice, we might be able to get there after Octoberfest, it’s really not that far from Munich.  We’ll see.  As usual, we’re thinking about the possibilities, and trying to keep our options open…  worked fine so far.  Good news is the van is running better than when we got it… .  Solved an emergency brake problem, swapped some tires around, and it’s definitely a happy camper. 6:50:46 PM    comment []

8-20-03    Back in Rafina   That boat ride yesterday kicked my butt.  We took the high speed catamaran rather than the regular ferry, at least two hours less time to suffer.  But the ferry has a rail.  The catamaran is like riding in an airplane.  Well, an airplane in constant turbulence.  We were told that in rough weather the catamaran doesn’t run.  That means yesterday wasn’t rough.  Don’t even want to know what that’s like.  I suppose people die.  No, I didn’t get sick.  Iron mind control, that was one part.  But being seated facing a bulkhead, with a window I could stare out scanning the horizon for any sign of solid ground, was the main thing.   I have known and respected people who have lived on the ocean, blithely sailing from one exotic port to another.  What about that part when every wave is dark and menacing?  When the ship falls and slides, only to rear back up again?   I think you have to have that yellow slicker on, hands bravely gripping the wooden pegs of the huge wheel, jaw clenched against the constant spray, to enjoy that experience.   Trapped in a sealed cabin with a roomful of desperate gray faces, crewmembers running through the aisles with mops and buckets, that’s not the way to do it. It’s not physical, it is all psychological.  I kept repeating that to myself.  And I won.  But off the boat I decided I needed to carry the backpack to the campground to purge my mind and body.  That worked.  Definitely gave me something else to think about.  Keeping the back straight, keeping the knees pumping, up the steep streets – let’s see, about 300 yards of elevation in fifteen hundred yards of distance.  And the back isn’t whining this morning, so we’ll call it a success.  But I crawled into bed last night one whipped puppy. (I wasn’t very sleepy last night, had a long nap on the boat. That rocking motion just lulls me right to sleep.) RH   The Greek islands are famous for the “light”.  I couldn’t quite understand what that meant.  But I saw it.  The sky reflects the color of the water, and the water is brilliant blue.  The air is clear.  There’s not much vegetation, so the landscapes are clean lines drawn with a steady hand.  Villages are clusters of white houses with orange tile roofs, churches with bright blue domes topped with white crosses.  The wind is almost constant, dropping to a soothing breeze only occasionally.  The temperature on the mainland this time of year is in the middle 90s most of the time.  On the islands it was 80- 85, very comfortable.  But the light… what can I say?  You look at something in the distance and you see it, crisp and clear.    We got off the ferry in Mykonos under the impression that we could make further connections there.  The ticket agent misled us, we needed to be in Paros, the next island down.  So we explored the town, had brunch in a place called “Little Venice”, right on the water.  We watched a well dressed couple sit down at a table at the sea wall a few feet in front of us.  A couple moments later a rogue wave splashed them before they could react.  There are a few pictures in Yahoo, an unforgettable spot to be sure.  No, you won’t find the wet couple, no way to get the camera out in time.  The best shots are the ones we never took.  A couple hours later we were on the boat again.  We were a little surprised the islands seemed so barren.  I don’t think I was expecting Caribbean jungle, but it seemed downright arid.  Well, it’s August, and near the deserts of Turkey and Africa, might have been able to figure that one out.       We had intended to travel on from Paros.  We thought we might find a room for the night, spend the rest of the day walking around, make the ferry connections, then move on in the morning.  When the ferries arrive, a group of people are waiting to offer tourists rooms.  I know in some places it can be a hustle, but on the islands it’s considered the best way to find a cheap room.  We saw a guy with a sign that said, “Special Price, One Night.”  The guidebooks had led us to expect to pay 35 to 50 Euros for a double.  50 turned out to be a good deal.  Neat little studio by a pool we didn’t have time to use.  We got arranged, set off to explore.  Lovely little town.  Reminded us a bit of Sorrento in Italy.  Definitely a tourist place, but with a bit of class.  There is a definite advantage to a tourist town.  Things like used English paperback stores for example.  Menus you can read.  Ice cold beer.  English style breakfasts, stuff like that.  We found a great used book shop run by a very friendly English lady.  I asked her opinion of the island we were intending to go to, Milos.  She immediately responded, “Well, you’re on the best island now, of course.  But I really didn’t like Milos.  Too many Greeks on holiday, too many loud Greeks.”  The attraction of Milos had been that the guidebooks had said it was not often visited by tourists.  We knew what she meant by loud Greeks…  we’ve been living with them for a while now.  I know I’ve said before that Greek is very melodic.  But loud is loud.  Being, I’m sure, a proud member of the Chamber of Commerce, she casually mentioned several of the local attractions, the beautiful beaches and quaint villages.  And also, that she just happened to have a friend that has a room available.  In full defensive tourist mode, all shields up, we thanked her, and left the shop with our armload of purchases.   We’d already made our decisions… ticket for next day purchased.  Of course, they could be returned… .  A few yards further down the winding street, we agreed, this really is a very nice little town…  Soon we were back in her shop.  She called her friend, and after a bit of wandering and some helpful guidance by folks along the way, found Jane, of Jane’s Rooms.  A room with a private bath, overlooking the water, in the center of the old town.  She had a cancellation, and would rent us the room for the busiest week of the year for a discount.  We recognized it for what it was, a tourist’s miracle.   The holiday is called the Dormination of the Virgin, or something like that.  I had seen the word Annunciation, and assumed that it was the holy day when the angel showed up to tell Mary she’s pregnant….  Couldn’t see why that would be such a big deal.  But later we found out it’s the Ascension…  I think that one is the sketchiest of all Catholic holidays.  It’s the celebration of Mary’s ascending into heaven.  My scientific mind has a tough time with the logistics of that one.  Now, if there was a UFO involved….   Well, it’s a big deal to the Greeks, their biggest holiday in the summer, that’s for sure.  Fireworks, parades, parties, the whole deal.  And for the price of a room we had ringside seats.  But first, adventures.  Okay, we got there on Monday… that was the day of boat rides, seeing Mykonos, getting established.  Tuesday we moved into our little room above the harbor, found the English breakfast place with real cups of coffee.  Italians and Greeks drink these little thimbles of potent brew, not bad, really, but I need something to sip on for a while.  Remezzo had the right stuff.  With a friendly English waitress who seemed to have been everywhere, done it all.  In the afternoon we jumped on a bus and headed for the end of the line, southwards around the island.  Ended up in a place called Drios.  Walked down the beach, had to do a little exploring to find where the action was… discovered a couple restaurants and a very cool bar.  The afternoon we were there they were playing mostly Jethro Tull.  One inside wall was a mural of Pink Floyd’s “The Wall”.  Album covers in frames … jazz, blues, but mostly Old Time Rock and Roll….  I imagined an old English Hippie owned the place, but we found out later, nope, he’s an old hippie all right, but he’s Greek.  Walked back out towards the bus stop and explored the town a bit more.    Saw a beautiful building, looked in, it looked like a bar, walked into the room and was greeted by a friendly young man.  Asked him if they served beer, and he quickly had a cold Amstel in my hand.  Another young man joined us, a few years older than the first, and we spent a few very pleasant hours talking about basketball, America, Canada (the older guy has a Canadian girlfriend who lives in Vancouver, and he’s planning to go there to live for six months… give the country, and the relationship a try.)  The room was something special, excellent art hanging on the walls, very modern feel, but very comfortable.  We asked them about the place and they showed us around.  The room we were in was actually the reception of a hotel, they took us out and showed us the grounds.  They said they’d love to show us a room, but the place was full.  Rooms were 200 Euros a night, but they said if we came back in late September we could have one for 200 a week…  pretty tempting, actually.  Anybody thinking about a cheap island holiday in the fall could do a lot worse than Drios.  I just love talking to these young Europeans…  for one thing, they like Americans… especially Americans that talk to them like real people and not just “the help”.  The other thing is that they are just very polite, very respectful of older people.  Not that I need that, but it sure is refreshing.  They look at me like, well, you’ve lived a bit, what do you think?  I, of course, am willing to tell them.  And I don’t waste any energy defending American stupidity, so I get past their distrust and dislike of Americans very quickly.  I think a lot of European kids really want to like Americans.  So many of them have relatives living there.  But our government, and a few stupid, insensitive tourists, make it very difficult.  I don’t think I’m exaggerating to say that when I talk to these young people their reaction is, now here’s that nice American I always wanted to meet.  That’s our mission, folks….   The young kid was pretty tall, a serious basketball fan.  I guessed the Lakers, but he wants to be like Mike.  The national Greek team is big news right now; they are headed for the European championships with a good chance to win.   When it came time to pay the bill, I couldn’t believe it… three Euros for three beers and a coke?  Special price, the kid said….   The told us about a festival at the beach the next night, a full moon party.  Well, we couldn’t miss that.  So the next day… where am I?  Wednesday, yeah, I think so….  We puttered around, did the Internet thing….  Oh yeah that’s interesting.  All our guidebooks said that Internet connections on the Islands were rare and expensive… well, that must have been last year.   We found several very nice places, good computers, very fast connections, and relatively cheap prices, all over the island.  Paros has an excellent website with lots of information,  About four in the afternoon we were back on the bus heading to Drios.  It’s a lot of fun for me to watch the driver deal with the typical Greek craziness… the people who leave their cars and motos parked in the street, the bizarre narrow streets, and he’s got this huge bus to maneuver around.  Saw his side mirror hit an oncoming truck, that was fun.  Didn’t break though… Oh well, can’t have everything.  I’m just in a constant state of amazement watching these people drive.  It was a real treat to watch the driver deal with it all.  Climbed off the bus in downtown Drios, and walked down the now familiar little road to the beach.  There was a stage built between the water and the seawall.  The area behind the wall was lined with tables and chairs, then an open walkway, then the restaurant outdoor seating area….  Except that cars and motos drove right through the middle just about anytime they felt like it.  No one seemed to be concerned, and I have to say they did drive slowly, unusual for Greece.  Well, you would think that if you are driving through a restaurant, you would keep your speed down… but I kept my eyes open, just in case one of the boys wanted to show off his hot new bike.   Dinner was great but more because of the setting and the people around, not really the food.   Rhona had their “Special”.  Turned out to be macaroni and cheese with meat… she wasn’t all that impressed.  I had pork in a lemon sauce that was pretty tasty.   We had a liter of home made wine, and that may have been the beginnings of my problems.  The guys had told us this is an all night party, a tradition on full moons in this village.  I was willing to give it our best shot.  I envisioned curling up on the beach in our sheets, listening to the music as the moon traveled across the sky.  It didn’t quite work that way.  But before I go sounding all negative, I have to say that yes, the whole village did show up, and the dancing was very fun to watch.  The music… how to describe my feelings about Greek music?  The songs seem very sad…  it’s tough to listen to sad ballads when you don’t have a clue what they are about… who did what to whom.  The fiddle playing, the guitars, that high pitched round backed Greek guitar, what’s it called, a Bouzuki?  No, I think that’s an anti-tank weapon, anyway, the music is very… interesting.  I guess I’d say, a mixture of European and Oriental sounds, with a strong beat for dancing.  “It’s got a good beat and I can dance to it, I’ll give it an 80, Dick.”   The music quit about one o’clock, and after the crowd cleared out a bit, we found a spot down the beach a bit.  Problem one was that the beach was very small, in both dimensions, only 10 or 15 feet, sea wall to water, and maybe fifty feet around the little cove, big boulders on both ends.  Problem two was the sand was liberally sprinkled with rocks the size of large potatoes.  Problem three was the bright light that illuminated the stage, and the entire beach… they never turned it off.  Rhona was uncomfortable, I was stubbornly trying to get sleep, it just wasn’t working.  She decided she’d be happier sitting in the rock and roll bar….  I already wasn’t feeling too good, so, for the first time in her young life, she walked into a bar by herself and ordered a drink.  I guess that landmark life experience justifies the whole evening, right there.  I rolled up in the covers and tried to fall asleep.  I might have, for a few moments there….  until the guy came to tell me they were washing down the sidewalks and I’d better move before the water got me…  I tried moving, but I could see my fantasy was doomed.  Not the first time that’s happened, oh well….  Pretty soon I joined Rhona at the bar, but I was feeling worse and worse.  Really don’t know what was wrong with me, had a fever, flu like symptoms as they say, but I didn’t really get that sick.  Just felt like hell for a couple days.  About five in the morning we walked back to the bus stop to wait for the first bus of the morning…  We got back to Parika and I went to bed.  So what was it Kris?  Was the homemade wine strained through dirty socks?  Rhona felt fine, so that couldn’t be it.  Was the pork the culprit?  It was overcooked if anything, tender, falling apart.  Maybe the potato rocks and the cool night air were just too much for me.  Thirty years ago I’m sure there would have been no ill effects.  All well, call it the price of a good time.   (Thursday was a sick day for Larry, I spent the day doing some shopping, reading and Jane took me to the Pharmacy to get some “Greek Drugs” for Larry. Parika is a very cute town with interesting shops; a few classy dress shops, the typical beach resort shops with lots of California Surf Stuff, an abundance of what I call old hippie shops, I got a great shirt for 3 euro, and several nice galleries selling local art. After shopping I stopped for a pita sandwich, it was great. They put French fries right in the sandwich. Almost everything you order her comes with fries even pasta and mousaka. Not very good for the diet plan but pretty tasty, oh yes, my pita dinner was 1.5 euro or about $1.75) RH   Friday evening was the big celebration.  Rhona and I climbed the spiral steel staircase to the roof, and it was very cool indeed.  For a small town on a small island, they did themselves proud.  The big star shells were exploding right over our heads, it was like the grand finale of the Fourth of July from front row seats.  A bunch of small boats driving around in the dark harbor, crewmen waving bright red flares, much bigger than the normal US highway flares.  Down the street a ways was a stage, a band similar to the one we heard in Drios playing Greek music while people danced in the street.  Before the fireworks they had a professional looking group in full traditional costumes dancing on the stage, afterwards it was all comers.   Saturday things calmed down a bit.  After our usual English breakfast we on the bus to a place called Golden Beach.   The bus dropped us off and after a bit of a walk we found two beach clubs sharing a long, beautiful sandy beach.  Windsurfing lessons were the main event at this place, lots of beginners in the water, but several experts ripping back and forth in the steady strong winds.  Rhona and I were satisfied just to kick back and watch the action.  The water was clean and clear, and invigorating.  A bit on the cool side, Rhona thought.  After an afternoon’s relaxation, reading our books, we caught the bus back to town.   We were in the mood for a special dinner.  We had noticed a big restaurant across the street from the hotel where we spent the first night, we decided to give it a try.  No tourists in sight, the place was packed with local people.  My stomach was still feeling a bit rocky, so I had this Greek baked macaroni pie… sufficiently bland.  Rhona had some rotisserie pork, crusty on the outside, but very tender and juicy on the inside.  Lots of flavor, she says.   Sunday we took the bus in the opposite direction, just to see a bit more of the island.  Found a cute little fishing village with a very small sandy beach in the harbor.  Later we walked for a while and found another, longer sandy strip of beaches.   We decided to treat ourselves to a movie, the first one of our trip.  After the bus ride back to town, we found this amazing little outdoor theater.  Rows of old fashioned patio chairs, the kind where the seats are plastic clothes line rope.  Very comfortable.  Got a coke, a beer, and some popcorn and settled back to watch the Steve Martin, Queen Latifa movie…  don’t remember the name… not an Oscar winner, but good fun.    Monday we went Naouasa.  Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s how they spell it.  Rhymes with  Yowsa.  This was the cute little Greek fishing village we’ve been looking for.  Took some pictures down at the harbor, all the little boats lined up behind the breakwater.  We noticed a lot of little churches all over the island.  I figure every time some boat captain spends the night in a storm another little chapel gets built.  Walking through town we saw a sign that said, “Pizza, Best View.”  Well, I’d seen pizza before, but maybe they are talking about a view of the town.  We walked up some winding streets and into a large, empty restaurant with a great balcony overlooking the town and the bay.  A friendly little man appeared and sat us on the deck and brought us cold drinks.  Another couple arrived, obviously friends, and the two men sat at the far end of the deck playing backgammon while their wives kibitzed.  As the sun slowly went down we watched the light grow soft and rosy.  The pictures we took do not compare with the images in our memories.   But what we came for was the 60s rock and roll show.  As usual, had no idea what to expect.  There was a children’s playground in sort of a village square.  A small stage had been built in front of an old stone building that faced the playground.  The group seemed to be local guys, we’re pretty sure the singer was the same guy we’d seen on the beach at Drios.  There was a tall skinny bass player, a guy on lead guitar who had obviously spent a long time sitting in his room playing to Santana and Beatles albums, an excellent drummer, and a keyboard player who was amazing.  He was in a wheelchair, he seemed to have MS or some other crippling condition… but you wouldn’t know it to hear him play.  Their playlist of old rock and roll wasn’t that large…  I’m pretty sure they did three different versions of “Black Magic Woman”.  About every other song was Greek, I wondered if they were songs popular in the sixties in Greece.  The singer had a great voice, he was reading lyrics off of sheets of binder paper as he sang.  Someone had obviously copied them down while listening to albums.  I wanted to hang around and tell them that the real words are all on the Internet, but it was crowded and I didn’t want to seem critical.  The guitar player really was good… he wasn’t a kid, I’d guess in his late thirties, maybe older.  But he could definitely play in a bar band in the states, maybe in a Santana tribute band.  But the highlight of the night, no question…  The Rolling Stones:  “Satisfaction.”  Ya just haven’t lived until you’ve heard, “I can’t get No…” in a heavy Greek accent…  It was good fun and a great end to a perfect day.  A short bus ride and we were back in Parika, no problems.   People have asked us along the way, “Where have you been that you’d like to go back to?”  That’s really a tough question…  the fun of traveling for Rhona and I is the new adventures.  I’ve always said I’d rather be miserable having a fresh experience than happy doing the same old thing.  Big problem in a favorite restaurant, do I order my favorite dish, or try something new?  I usually go with the something new.   But Paros just might be the place we’d go back to… of course, there are about 23 other famous Greek islands to explore…  maybe we’d stop in at Paros on the way…. 6:49:42 PM    comment []

8-10-03, Rafina   A little car talk, sorry, ladies.   The actuating arm of the emergency brake is attached to the rear brake shoe with a clevis pin.  That pin is held in place with an E shaped retaining clip.  The one on the driver’s side fell off, result, no emergency brake.  Luckily, no emergency either.  I do rely on the hand brake a lot.  Of course, parked in the campground, the E brake keeps the van a lot more stable.  We have these plastic blocks, like ramps, we drive up onto to raise whichever end or side of the van is low, and they do act like chocks… but, I miss my E brake.  First problem was getting the tire off…  lug nuts were obviously put on with an air gun, and the puny little tire iron really wasn’t up to the job of loosening them.  But I found the perfect cheater bar, a rusty old piece of pipe, under the neighbor’s caravan.  Pretty soon I had all lug nuts off, axle jacked up, tire off.  Ah, reminds me of the old backyard Redding days, hot sun, greasy hands (okay, greasy body).   I got out my English version of WD-40 and sprayed down the brake drum, and with a little banging and prying, soon had it off.  I was very happy to see that the most inexpensive part had failed.  When I pulled the hand lever and felt it go slack, I imagined the worst… broken cable, or somehow the lever mechanism had failed.  That could have been an expensive repair.  But the little E clip?  Has to be a 10 cent item.  Got the clevis pin out so I can find a clip that will fit, and made a little sketch of what I thought it might look like to show the parts store clerk. I took the opportunity to rotate the tires on the driver’s side.  The driver’s front has always been worn (yep, probably needs an alignment).  Anyway, the spare is new. So I put the worn tire in the spare rack, the spare on the back, and the moved the back to the front.  Feeling pretty good about my progress, I decided it was time to get cleaned up and crack that first beer.   Had a navigator/pilot meeting and decided a return visit to the campground restaurant would be a fitting end to the day.  Let’s see if I can do a little better job of describing the place, it really is special.   This campground sits on a bluff over this inlet of the Aegean Sea.  It may be a couple hundred feet to the beach below.  It’s been pretty windy; the view from the campground of the froth-topped waves rolling into the cove is beautiful.  The restaurant is in the back corner of the campground on piers overhanging the cliff.  The dining room is a deck around a rectangular bar that fronts the kitchen area.  The three walls facing the sea are glass panels or open doors.  The roof is solid over the kitchen, but canvas panels, like permanent awnings, stretch over the sitting area, billowing like sails in the wind.  The tables and chairs are nice, but nothing fancy.  But the view is incredible.  There is another peninsula, another finger of Greece, across the inlet.  At night we see the lights of three small villages and one larger town tucked into the dark rolling hills on the opposite coast.  The view is framed by the cypress like pine trees this outcropping of land is covered with, long needles dancing in the constant breeze.   My feeling sitting there, enjoying our Greek salad with a big chunk of seasoned Feta cheese on top, sipping my frosty ice cold half liter mug of draft Heinekein, is, yep, you guessed it… it don’t get much better than this.  The first night we went there for dinner we didn’t see a camper in the room, everyone seemed to be fairly well off local people.  This night there were several families from the campground wearing their good stuff from the bottom of the backpack.  Kris, remember that place you took me to at the Berkeley yacht harbor, wasn’t it called the Sand Piper?  Anyway our little campground restaurant has the same ambiance, just a bit more rustic.  And a whole lot less expensive.   The next morning, I decided to remove the opposite wheel, to get a look at the E ring.  Cranking on the first lugnut, the little English tire iron broke.  Seemed that the shaft into the socket was a weld joint, and it just broke loose.  So, a quick cleanup, and we set off on a walk to town, to try to find a replacement E clip, new lug wrench, and do a little food shopping.  There’s a roundabout, and we picked the “wrong” street.  Well, it was the wrong one, because it wasn’t the one we planned to take, the most direct route.  A highway runs parallel to the coast; the one that is completely tore up for at least twenty miles.  Off that highway there is a spur that runs to Rafina on the coast.  The campground is on a road that comes off that spur.  We thought we were walking back to the Rafina road, but actually we were on another country lane that led us back to the main highway.  Through some countryside we hadn’t seen before, vineyards.  They looked like old vines, no stakes and wires, just growing separately in rows.  Out on the highway we found a Greek hardware store, with a very friendly English speaking man behind the counter.  No E clip, he recommended another store down the highway a bit further.  But he had a beautiful small four way lug wrench, just the type I would have bought in the States.  He asked the usual questions about where we were from and how we were traveling….  Then said that he had a suggestion for us… oh boy, I thought, another brother-in-law rug merchant.  Seems his mother’s village in the north of Greece has a special celebration next Friday.   He told us how the villagers take their horses down the river and bathe them, braid their hair and tie colored beads in their manes.  Later, they bring their decorated horses into the church to be blessed, and then the celebration begins, dancing and drinking all night.  We just might be able to make that party.  Might have to pick up a little speed to do it, be a little careful about the island trip, but it sure sounds like something we don’t want to miss.  Anyway, it turned out we didn’t walk down the “wrong” road after all.   We stopped at another hardware store, the owner told us I was probably going to have to go to Athens on Monday to find the part… but he did send us down the highway a bit further where we recognized the road back to Rafina.  Oh, so that’s where we are.  On familiar territory now, we walked towards town to a small repair shop.  A very friendly couple were doing a brake job on a Fiat when we walked in.  He stopped what he was doing and spent maybe a half hour digging through little plastic drawers and coffee cans of parts.  A couple near misses, but no luck.  He agreed, Athens on Monday.  A bit further, we filled the backpack with groceries at the supermarket, and then walked to the town square.  We had made the fantastic discovery a few nights before - the newspaper stands in the square sell bag ice.  No, you don’t understand.  Ice in Greece, or Italy, is like gold.  We stop in at McDonalds and buy cokes just to see ice cubes.  Rhona has learned to ask the McClerks for lots of ice, but it disappears pretty quickly.  But a giant plastic bag full of ice cubes, what luxury!  That meant a cab ride back to the campground so the ice wouldn’t melt, Rhona didn’t seem disappointed.   So, it’s Sunday, relaxation day.  The wind seems to have died down a little, maybe we can spend a few hours on the beach.  We’ve got to get backpacks organized for the Greek island adventure.  The plan is to leave the van here in the camping parking lot.  Take the bus to Athens tomorrow, find the E clip, and get a ferry to an island we haven’t quite picked out yet.  We have lots of options.  The easiest islands to get to are the most crowded, of course.  Each one seems to have it’s own attractions and drawbacks.  Rhona has seen the poster of Santorini with its white houses and blue domed roofs, and has dreamed of going there for years.  It’s one of the more difficult to get to, but still most crowded islands… Rhona’s not the only one who saw the poster.  We will be out of touch of a while, we hear email is very expensive on the islands.  Another tough decision will be whether to come back in time to make the drive north for the festival with the decorated horses.  Oh, the stress….  6:48:15 PM    comment []