FRANCE, SPAIN - Part 1 - Nov. 26, 2011

FRANCE, SPAIN – November 26, 2011

We’ve been mainly running errands since we got back to Vendome including dealing with France’s wonderful bureaucracy, buying new tires for the front (drivetrain) of the van, restocking food and of course, the ever essential wine. Our wine cave is in the back of the van under the bed and in front of the bikes making it difficult for would-be thieves…an important consideration. Thirty litres is a good start. With the weather being mild and sunny for this time of year riding took high priority. Dawn tried but even though it’s been three months since her injury it caused her too much pain and was a no-go. To say the least she was very disappointed. Another couple of months maybe? I got a really bad cold and sore throat which knocked me out for a while so we delayed our departure by two days to Nov. 17. Though still feeling the effects and being very tired it was time to head out once again. The first two days saw us going south from Vendome to the border between France and Spain along the Mediterranean. The nights were cold but we had purchased a small ceramic heater which made The White Night very cosy. Fields bright green with young shoots of winter wheat dazzled the overcast days. In central France a region called La Creuze, very hilly and dotted with small farms where eeking out a subsistence living is difficult at best, fields are separated by short hedges much as in England.

Travelling can provide some of the best and funniest things. This time it was a sign with the name of a village. Not sure what it means in French but in English…

One of the most amazing structures we have ever seen is a bridge near Millau in southern France not far from the Pyrenees. The bridge crosses the Tarn River and provides a shortcut over the valley. It’s very long and very tall with its needle-like supports giving it an air of grandeur and elegance. Near here is where the famous Roquefort cheese is made. A few kilometres before and after the border one now sees many prostitutes, mainly coming from the east European countries just to survive.

In Spain as well as France there is the habit for local governments, campgrounds and homeowners of cutting back the limbs of trees to the point which almost leaves only a tall stump. The limbs and leaves regrow the following year only to be chopped again the next fall. This is supposedly done to prevent limbs from falling on people. The campground in Spain looked like an eerie planet from a Star Trek episode. But to be sure no limbs fell on us!! This place was just south of Tarragona on the Mediterranean coast of Spain. The next day near Valencia, massive rainstorms roared through dumping more water than the hard land could absorb. The result was standing water in the massive Valencia orange orchards and other fields sometimes up to 30 cm (1 ft) deep! Devastating flash floods took everything in their way…trees, stones, dirt, bushes…and the lives of five people. Streets in some towns as well as exits off roads were impassable. Later that day we were hit by part of the same storm system. Mid-afternoon was as dark as midnight with high winds lashing such volumes of rain that most drivers simply pulled over and stopped unable to see. Those that moved slowed to 15kmp (10 mph)! Spain has and continues to see harsh economic times with the current official unemployment rate at 23%, probably 30% unofficially. Construction projects everywhere, at various stages of completion have come to a total stop with no one on the sites and no equipment in sight either. One of the largest we saw was a four-laning road project running some 200 km. Even where construction appeared finished, what you see is a thousand kilometres of uncontrolled sea-side development with ten story shuttered buildings wait the return of someone, anyone, who of course will not. You can’t even find a cat here. This is Spain’s housing crisis which helped collapse the economy. It is one thing to read about this but quite another to see it. Central Spain near Madrid is the same. All these buildings will probably never be lived in.

Further down the coast, smaller towns and villages are more the norm with many being all white as if a used paint salesman had come through with a hell of a two-for-one deal. The town in this picture is Mojacar. The Mediterranean is just the other side of the ridge. Another 100 km (60 miles) south and a bit inland is Nijar known for its pottery…and a great place to wedge a van…or at least almost. In town we headed out of a small plaza down a small curving street which turned into a blocked lane. Tall walls on both sides. No way out. Except to back out, up and around. The rear-view mirrors had to be pulled in. Much to-and-froing had to be performed. Add a pinch of swearing, a handful of patience and a dab of wall-scraping and we were free! Not fun but interesting.

With our new-found freedom we headed for the coast and a campground. On the way we drove through what seemed an endless distance of plastic greenhouses. Thousands of long plastic, white sausages growing fruits and vegetables for the rest of Europe. In the distance they all look like shimmering waves. Most of the workers here are from other countries, illegal immigrants, living in difficult conditions.

The campground near Los Escullos is a stones-throw from the sea with great amenities, is extremely quiet with lots of trees. The quietness comes from it being inside a national park of treeless extinct volcanoes. There are lots of Germans, Dutch and Brits who have been coming here year after year for six months to get away from the cold dampness of northern Europe in the winter. It turns out this area is the warmest and driest along Spain’s southern coast. There are many small villages good for day visits in the area. Almeria, a major city where people go for the main shopping, is about an hour away. We had planned to stay here for a week. With great riding the in area, close to the water, towns to visit and the amazing peace and quiet, we booked in until the first week in January! During our previous travels with Daniel and Jojo, we showed them how to play “Paper, Scissors, Stones”. Sometimes ya just gotta be silly, gotta be a kid, gotta be simple, gotta be real. Try it sometime…you’ll smile.

FRANCE, ITALY, SLOVENIA, CROATIA, BOSNIA & HERZEGOVINA, MONTENEGRO, ALBANIA, ITALY, FRANCE – Part 3
November 5, 2011


And then came Albania, a country closed for decades. Its people, its infrastructures, its countryside all show the resulting effects. It’s a Third World Country. The dirt road in the picture is one we took from the border for about 50 km before coming to reasonable asphalt. We had gone through a night of very heavy rains. Cemeteries in shambles, buildings either unfinished or in tatters yet a gas station every kilometer (with no cars at the pumps) and a carwash every two kilometers (with no one there either). First night we parked in a gas station. Rather ironic that a building in Durres on the coast calls itself “Wall Street” especially after what happened there in the last few years. Durres was where we would take the ferry to southern Italy. Should we have been concerned by the ticket kiosks? On the ferry at 11 pm. We booked a cabin for four to get some sleep. For me, not exactly feeling comfortable in the open ocean, it would help. Maybe. Well…it didn’t! From coast to coast we were in a violent storm with thunder and lightning and howling winds! All the way to Italy…9½ hours!

We drove up the shoreline of Italy in a mix of sun and cloud and with continuing wild winds. The building in the picture is one we’re considering renovating for a more permanent base. Much of the eastern coast of Italy is flat and populated but there is a small rounded nub which juts into the Adriatic Sea that is rugged and beautiful. Stopping for lunch was as eventful here as it was everywhere else.

Half way up the coast we turned west toward Assisi a town famous for its old buildings but especially for being the home of St. Francis of Assisi who was considered to be the patron saint of animals. An amazing town.


Some people look reasonable in the morning while doing breakfast dishes while others…well…don’t. In his 17 years doing the Paris-Dakar, Daniel learned how to look good! He does love himself though especially when he sees his twin in a cheap machine-dispensed coffee place.

Dawn and I had been to Tuscany twice before, once during one of our cycling trips and again to help an Australian friend celebrate an important and sobering birthday. Daniel and Jojo, however, had never been so we showed them around. First was Siena with its tall tower, shell-shaped square and incredible church the inside of which is even more impressive than the detail of the outside face. It was here during a bike trip in 2004 that we found a little restaurant and where Dawn fell in love with the joint’s calzone, the rolled-up pizza. It was so good she refused then to share with me and vowed never to have another (calzone that is) until she could come back. She stuck to her word and had one this trip which she claimed was just as good. I wouldn’t know since she refused to share with me…again!

Next stop…San Gimignano, a medieval village which had at one time 92 large towers; 7 remain. The towers were not built for defence of the town. They were built by rich individuals simply to outdo and out-ego the other rich individuals…kinda like the current Wall Street but with cheap labour. The surrounding area is incredibly beautiful will rolling hills covered in vineyards producing some of the world famous Chianti (by the way…to be the official Chianti Classico it must have the black rooster on the paper stuck to the neck of the bottle).

Then it was on to Florence where the combination of history, art, architecture, Italian cooking, outdoor markets and crazy traffic blend into a mix not to be missed and not seen anywhere in the world. The home of Michelangelo’s famous statue, David. Again this was our second time here. The real one is in a museum that takes forever to get in while the one in this picture is in a park above Florence with a magical view of the city. The cathedral here has one of the most beautiful exteriors, similar to the one in Siena but much larger. It simply cannot be taken in a picture. Here again we took Daniel and Jojo to a local restaurant called an osteria, because of its simplicity, a place Dawn and I had eaten in many times in 2004 during one of our bike trips in Europe.

After two days of intense site-seeing, it was time to move on. We headed toward the north-western part of Italy just below Genoa, a large industrial city. On the way we did a slight detour so Daniel and Jojo could see the Leaning Tower of Pisa. A second time for us and still appearing underwhelming as it did the first time.

The same day we continued on to our original destination, Cinque Terre. We found a campground, still very busy for this time of year just because this place is so famous. Cinque Terre is a strip along the Mediterranean coast of north-western Italy where five small very colourful villages sit precariously on cliffs. Originally fishing villages they are now more famous for the insanely steep vineyards behind them and for their sheer beauty. Access is by train, boat or on foot. During our three days here we used them all…sometimes more often than we wanted to because we would take a train that did NOT stop at the village we wanted to go to! As in most trains in Europe a ticket must be machine stamped prior to boarding. We did that…twice…but nothing seemed to print. We boarded anyway. A conductor in a chippy (not chipper) mood decided he was going to take a strip off us in public to show how important he was. He also demanded a 5 euro (about $7.50) penalty per person. That convinced my finger to get into his face which convinced him to shout louder which convinced me to…well…you get the picture. Once I demanded to see the police at the next stop, he suddenly went away. Daniel was standing in the aisle so I fuelled things further by taking a picture of him and the now wild-man conductor (that would be the fuzzy man to the left of Daniel…note Daniel’s smirk) coming for me demanding that I remove the picture from the camera as it was illegal to take pictures on trains in Italy. Really? This time he threatened the police to which I agreed. He again went away grumbling. A young Italian couple near me got my attention to say, “On behalf of all of Italy, we apologize for his behaviour.” Thanks but just the northern half would suffice.

Okay…maybe it was time to change countries. So France it was. The Cote d’Azur, playground to the rich and famous, yachts bigger than most towns, tax evasion, center of the world for the perfume business, a coastline to drool over, sunny warm weather…and a crush of people and cars to wreck it all. While here we visited one of Daniel’s brothers and his wife living near Marseille. Meeting them almost started badly. Daniel and I decided to play a joke on them (the two at the far end of the table). With Dawn, Daniel and Jojo hidden in our van, I drove into their yard and knocked on the door.
“Do you have a relative in Canada?” I asked.
“Maybe.” Was the curt answer. He looked at the plates on the van and asked if I was from the center of France given away by the number 41 on the plate. It’s a rental, I responded.
“Well, that person said I could come here to eat any time I wanted to.” I added.
“REALLY!!” Unhappiness was kicking in. (‘Had he met the Italian train conductor by any chance’ was rattling around in my head.)
“And another thing, you have a brother near Vendome who owes me money.” was my punch line.
“NO BROTHER OF MINE NEAR VENDOME WOULD OWE ANYBODY ANY MONEY. HE PAYS HIS DEBTS.”
Now the anger was showing, his breathing was becoming laboured and a fist was forming. Time to bail.
“No, no! Don’t worry. Daniel is in the van!”
Garbled anger-filled words were flying at this stage while I began to pound on the windshield to get everybody out…somebody…anybody…to save me.
Daniel came out laughing so hard he could barely stand with handshakes all around following none-to-soon. Daniel’s brother and his wife later said they thought I was a gypsy out on a scam.

We spent three days in the area, mostly with these two very nice people who had by now forgiven me. Apart from sight-seeing this beautiful and historical area, we spent a day at an annual festival celebrating things of 1720, a particularly important year in the history of the town, La Ciotat.
For about a kilometer along the shore displays of arts, cooking and the way of life of that year were represented. Many of the locals dressed up in costumes of the era. Music, symbolic “villages”, animals all representing that time made you feel that you were there…well, except for the Mercedes on the street next to us. It was loud, windy, dusty and fun.

It was then on to the auto route. The French must have the most expensive toll roads in the world. For about 500 km (300 miles) we paid over $100!! Lesson learned. Another lesson was to come. On the highway we filled up the van. Within a kilometer we were losing power and came to a stop.
I let Daniel know by CB he shouldn’t get to far ahead as we had a problem. We quickly figured it out. I had put gasoline in a vehicle with a diesel engine. That was not gonna work! Called our car insurance assistance number. Within thirty minutes we were loaded up and on our way to a garage. Problem was it was Sunday. Closed. The tow-truck operator, a mechanic himself, offered for a cash price to get it done. Deal!!. The gasoline was emptied, filters cleaned and diesel introduced. Vrooom! The White Night sure liked that a lot more. We continued on.

The next day we arrived in Toulouse, home to the airplane company Airbus. We were there to visit the A380 assembly line. The world’s largest passenger plane was well worth a visit.

Our last night out we wild-camped near an old castle. It was purchased by an individual who is in the process of renovating it. He started in 1958…and he has a very long way to go…hope he has kids.

Then back to our little apartment near Vendome.


Total for the France, Switzerland, Austria, Slovenia, Croatia, Bosnia & Herzegovina, Montenegro, Albania, Italy, France (PHEW!!) trip?? 58 days, 8069 km (4841 miles), 176 bottles of booze. And did we have a good time you ask? For us it was one of the best trips ever. Ya just can’t beat good weather, good food, good scenery and good friends in one sweet package.

FRANCE, ITALY, SLOVENIA, CROATIA, BOSNIA & HERZEGOVINA, MONTENEGRO, ALBANIA, ITALY, FRANCE – Part 2
November 1, 2011



Vehicles in the European Union have licence plates with letters indicating the country the vehicle is from. Ours carries an “F” for France. Whenever we get out of the van and speak to people in English, they’re often confused. We often hear, “It’s amazing how good your English is considering you’re from France.” “Why thank you. We think so as well.” we respond.

While still in Riva del Garda in northern Italy I managed to get a mountain bike ride up sea-side cliffs during the continued hot, sunny weather. Drop-offs in places were well over 500 meters (1700 ft) but the beauty easily made up for it.

The third week of September two friends, Daniel and Jojo, from the Vendome, France area caught up with us in Riva del Garda for the rest of the trip around the Adriatic Sea. Daniel hooked up a CB in our van so we could easily communicate with them in their motorhome (‘camping car’ as they call them in Europe) while on the road. It would be indispensible during the coming weeks. What the picture shows is not a formal dinner…it is one of many lunches we were to have with them till the end of October. Good food? Yup. Lots of booze? Oh ya! Laughs? Endless. Some of the countries we would be travelling through have a 0% (that’s zero %) alcohol limit for drivers. Somehow we would forget that.

Our first day together was off to see a mutual Thai friend who lives in Italy. A couple of days with Criquet (named because she is so tiny) and her husband Floriano. After a late evening of steady drinking…to prepare us for what was to come…we “wild camped” by a cemetery…very peaceful.

Two days later we were in Slovenia, one of the parts of the former Yugoslavia. Beautiful and rugged. A huge international cave system was a highlight with a guided tour.

Soon we were in Croatia, a country with a stunningly beautiful coast with mountains coming to the sea. Nothing flat here which made the driving precarious in places. The wealth in Croatia is along the coast with lots of foreigners investing and buying. Go inland only 25 km and you see poverty with people selling things on the side of the road on an old table or out of an equally old car just to survive. But they are just as friendly.


Throughout Croatia we were told stories of what happened during the Balkan war of the 1990s. Inland we were stopped on the road in order for the military to continue searching for landmines in a nearby field. We would later see entire areas, fields posted with signs telling us not to venture in since demining had not yet taken place there…some 15 years after the war!! The entire country and region is quite mountainous and rugged, good for the countless olive trees cultivated.


Unsure if this is a result of the war but throughout the region there are countless homeless cats though very few dogs (maybe the cats gang up on them!). Though the cats are nervous they seem reasonably well-fed. Most often we camped along the coast to marvel at the seaside; one campsite had been a huge refugee camp during the war. The campground owner had stories…his anger was still alive. Imbibing in the local wines wasn’t too tough as many of them are excellent. One is considered equal to a French Bordeaux (just don’t tell the French!). Along the way we visited towns such as Poric and Rojinc.

Part way down the coastline we took a 30 minute ferry to the island of Hvar, quite different from mainland Croatia. Seventy kilometers in length but with very difficult driving we spent two days. At one point, always wanting to help the local economy and more importantly to try the local wines, we stopped along the road at a stand an old cane-carrying woman had selling wine, cheese and honey. Daniel tasted wine from a bottle and declared it “reasonable”. That should have been a hint. Later, at our lunch stop, he again pulled out the hand-carved cork and filled our glasses. Quickly flies floated to the surface. Daniel’s comment? “I kinda though it was a bit thick.”

We also took in a walk through a national park in Croatia. Jezera is unique with a half-dozen lakes, one flowing into the other and dozens of waterfalls, fuzzy with moss and shrubs. We awoke to 5C temps inland but by the time we were back on the coast we were back up to 28C. Time ta chill da wine!!

In Zadara, we encountered a unique feature. The walkway along the sea had been specially designed with openings below into which the waves could enter to create organ-like sounds through holes in the walkway itself. Very peaceful.


Further inland, into the country of Bosnia & Herzegovina, difficult to find with many unmarked border crossings, we found garbage strewn everywhere, indicating an attitude of uncaring. Into Mostar, the capital city, another story, much sadder was apparent. During the Balkan war the city was destroyed with few buildings left undamaged. A famous bridge over the river that splits the town in half. On one side of the river, 27 mosques. On the other side, a seemingly equal number of churches. Lots of tourists buying trinkets. But the remaining war ravaged buildings, a sign of what happened here, are as weak as the smell of continuing hatred is strong. This place is beyond sadness. As an old Yugoslavian neighbour once told me, “The hatred has been there for a thousand years. It won’t end tomorrow.” Sad.


It was time to get back to the coast of Croatia, and its capital Dubrovnik. Stunning…no other way to describe its location and old world charm. The medieval port, its old town, though damaged by the war, is amazingly redone. A building houses pictures of the 140 who died defending the city during its siege in the Balkan war. Two days here was barely enough to touch the magic of a city where huge cruise ships bring their awe-struck passengers. The weather continued its hot and sunny stride.



Then…Montenegro, meaning “Black Mountain”. Equally beautiful and friendly though seemingly less affected by the war. Unable to find a campground we stopped in Kotor in a dirt parking lot…but we misunderstood what the attendant told us and what the signs, in the local language, said. The night with no facilities cost us $27 and a little calming of nerves was needed the next morning for the attendant to let us out. This old town, beautiful as ever, had its share of stray cats and the odd dog. Dawn could not help herself. She bought a package of hotdogs to feed the dog. But…a homeless woman came by so Dawn gave the rest to her. Confused and wondering why this strange lady gave her food she had just been feeding a dog, just let the dog have them. Animals 1, Humans 0. The next day Dawn was taken by a cat…tiny, sweet and adorable. This one brought tears.



Some travellers tend to go a bit loose on this type of trip…land mines, difficult driving, too much booze. But Daniel was starting to go over the top when he fell for a model…okay, well a mannequin. Daniel is a tough guy who has done the famous Paris-Dakar race 17 times! But this was simply too much for him. The gorgeous women of the region just got to him.

Continuing along the coast of Montenegro brought us unequalled scenery, sunny hot weather, and Caribbean seas.

We would stop for lunch whenever we could get a peaceful spot with a view of the ocean. This stop was not on the ocean but we contented ourselves with a view of an old rusted boat some distance from shore. Montenegro is not as wealthy as Croatia and it shows though again, the people are incredibly friendly and helpful.