Europe in a campervan – Roving With Love

May 26, 2018May 27, 2018

11 Months on the Road: Final Figures

Andrew here with a summary of our European Road Trip. When we decided to embark on our European adventure so many people said, “fantastic I/we would love to do that,” or words to that effect. The fact is I would be surprised if any of them ever do and there are many reasons why, like; I have a mortgage, I have kids, I have grandkids, I have a job, or a business, and so on. The fact is though if you want to do it, you can!

Lots of sayings spring to mind like; “life is not a rehearsal” , “you are a long time dead”, “you work to live not live to work” and so on, and all these are correct but if you do want to take a good look at Europe or the world do it whilst you can, don’t wait until you can’t or don’t have the drive or health any more. The world is a different communication place these days with Skype, Messenger, Facetime WhatsApp and so on, so you may be 12,000 miles away, but these devices allow you to feel like you are just down the road. My mum turned 88 the other day and I have skyped her twice a week, so we see each other and talk like we are in the same room. The same with Louise’s Mum and Dad, we talk to them regularly. My daughter Rebecca had her second child a couple of months back and of course we have never met him in person, but we saw him (Ihaia) less than an hour after he was born and many times since, along with her first born Kerenga who is nearly three. Distance is not a reason, nor is having a job. If you are any good you will find another one when you return, or if you’re lucky they’ll hold it for you. Think about it – what have you done in the last year? And what could you be doing in the next year if you gave it a go?

Having said all that you probably don’t have to be 11 months in Europe if that is too long, a steady travelling schedule could see you complete a lot in six months or do a couple of stints over a few years. What we have done doesn’t compare to taking a 4-week holiday in Europe. By mixing it up with some house-sitting we were able to experience day to day life in some small and not so small European villages.

Other questions we have been asked along the way and back here in the UK are; “what was your favourite place”? That’s impossible to answer as every place had its own character – from Spectacular Norway to Reindeer on the Road in Finland, the mountain tops of Austria and Switzerland, the gorgeous areas of the Rhine and Moselle Rivers in Germany, Tuscany Italy, Prague and Gdansk, the French cuisine and so on, but I guess the special package was discovering Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania. We new nothing about these places and were almost warned off going there but they offered so much. The Lonely Planet has just voted Vilnius in Lithuania as one of the best destinations. Louise agrees, she loved Vilnius. We spent the most time though in Spain, side stepping the cold European winter, and we both agree Spain was one of our favourite areas for a number of reasons. The people were friendly, the scenery and beach areas were breath-taking, the cost of living is ridiculously low, and history is everywhere in this vast country.

We have also been asked about the size of the motorhome and where to go? Our motorhome was 7.45 meters long and that is on the larger side – there were plenty a lot bigger and likewise a lot smaller. We feel we chose right as it was our home for the best part of a year, but if we were going for 3 – 4 months we would probably go smaller. As for where to go; I covered this in a previous blog but really and truly Louise has been superb in planning the trip, with a little help from me from time to time.

As for driving a big vehicle like this in Europe; all I can say is take your time, don’t panic, don’t rush and if you do go the wrong way its not the end of the world, you can turn around. The same at roundabouts, if you can’t work out which is the right exit just go around again.

Another big question that’s come up is; “how was living in a confined space with your partner for a year?” Answer: Easy – and I mean that. We never argued, never needed to. We only had Netflix which we watched for a maximum of an hour a day, and not every day, so we learnt the art of conversation (often lost these days) and used our computer, tablets and phones to check up on what’s happening in NZ and the rest of the world, as well as reading the odd book or three. It was seriously an easy experience for both of us.

So, what did we actually do? Where did we go? And, I’m sure you’re keen to know, what did it all cost?

We left for Europe on a ferry to Calais on June 3^rd, 2017 and returned to Dover on April 29^th, 2018.

Countries We Visited: France, Belgium, Holland, Germany, Denmark, Norway, Sweden, Finland, Russia, Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania, Poland, Czechia, Switzerland, Austria, Lichtenstein, Slovenia, Italy, Spain, Portugal, Gibraltar, Sardinia, Sicily, Vatican City, Monaco, Luxembourg and England. We did go in and out of some of these countries a few times, and with the likes of France and Germany we made four separate visits.

Accommodation: 330 nights in Europe made up of 255 in the motorhome, 49 house-sitting, 19 with Louise’s Aunt and Uncle in Germany, 5 on overnight ferry crossings and 2 in hotels. In all we spent NZ$10,010 on campsites at an average of NZ$39.25 a night.

Driving: We covered 26,090 kms (16,306 miles), went to 58 service stations and spent NZ$4,970 on diesel. We paid on average NZ$1.90 a litre, with Norway and Sardinia being the most expensive at around NZ$2.60 a litre while Latvia and Denmark were cheapest at around NZ$1.50 -NZ$1.60 a litre.

Cheap and Expensive Countries: Norway and Switzerland were by far the most expensive while Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania proved to be cheap with probably Poland and Czech Republic the cheapest, but Spain would also be one of the cheapest all round based on supermarket buying, fruit and vege, eating out, and wine and beer.

Overall Costs for 47 Weeks (11 months):

Our budget: NZ$150 per day; NZ$1,050 per week; $49,350 for the 47 weeks. BUT…The real cost was: NZ$128 per day; NZ$899 per week; $42,262 for the 47 weeks – YAY!!!!

In summary you could do it a lot cheaper. We chose to stay in campsites every night except about 4 where we stayed in Aires (parking areas with power but no toilets or showers). These Aires can be up to 75% cheaper than campsites. We also chose to eat out regularly, which you don’t have to if you want to save money, and we went to every museum, historic site and places of interest that we wanted to. I think Louise also climbed every tower in Europe to get a view of whichever city we were in. It was never; “no we can’t afford it”. We just did it. And as I said, when we were boarding the ferry at Dunkirk to come back to the UK, we had no idea what we were letting ourselves in for a year ago, but we did all we wanted and more, never hurt ourselves, never crashed the van or had someone crash into us, never got robbed or broken into, it just all went so smoothly. What else can one want.

When you talk about what it cost; how much money did you spend in the last 47 weeks? Considering we all must eat and drink no matter where you are in the world, and day to day living has other costs like rates, mortgage or rent, power, petrol etc. Work it out you might be surprised.

So, with Europe behind us for now, it’s time to explore England, Wales and Scotland. As we’ve now sold the motorhome my part of the blog has become a bit redundant, but I will try and add something each month – an insight or two from “Mr Love’s” perspective.

Some of our many memorable experiences:

Midnight Sun on the Lofoten Islands, Norway

Reindeer on the road, Finland

Market in Gdansk, Poland

Meiringen, Switzerland

Lake Bled, Slovenia

Christmas Lunch, house-sitting in Periana, Spain

Pinos del Valle, Spain

Statistics by Month:

May 24, 2018May 27, 2018

Finished in Europe (For Now)

It was hard to believe there were two weeks left before our campervanning adventure in Europe would be over. Our ferry crossing to the UK was booked and our plans for the UK leg of our tour were falling into place, and they didn’t include the campervan. Being a left-hand drive and quite large we decided a while ago that we would part company with the van on our return to England and continue by car.

We still had a couple of places on our “to-see” list on the continent; the first being Luxembourg and the other, Passchendaele in Belgium where Andrew’s grandfather had fought in WWI, and we wanted to swing back into Germany to see my Aunt and Uncle again as well. So, with mixed emotions we headed into our final two weeks.

Luxembourg

After a lovely afternoon touring the Pommery Champagne house in Reims we left France, driving into Belgium and across to Luxembourg. It was quite exciting as we were adding another country to the list – Luxembourg is the 28^th country we have visited on our European tour. We’re counting Sardinia and Sicily as separate countries because they’re across the water from Italy and, particularly in the case of Sardinia, are quite different from the mainland.

Since leaving Paris that morning the weather had improved markedly, and it was a warm clear evening when we arrived. That was the start of a lovely spate of weather that lasted almost the entire two weeks.

Our campsite was in the outlying suburbs of Luxembourg City next to the Alzette River. It was a lovely location and one of the better campsites we’d stayed at.

Luxembourg is great for cycling and the next morning we biked along a picturesque path that followed the river for 10kms into the old part of the city. Runners and cyclists were out in force, making the most of the great weather.

Our first impressions of Luxembourg were of a very clean, green and prosperous place. It’s a small country in area and the population is also small – just under 600,000 people live in the world’s last remaining grand duchy, 110,000 of whom live in the capital. In case you’re wondering, a grand duchy is a where the official head of state or ruler is a monarch bearing the title of grand duke or grand duchess.

We found a place to leave our bikes and took the elevator up to La Haute Ville, “the upper town”, sitting at the top of the cliff. Luxembourg is a pretty city with picturesque squares, quaint back alleys, buildings that look like they are straight from a storybook, majestic boulevards and beautifully manicured parks. Having been in existence for over a thousand years it is steeped in history with many beautiful historic buildings from across the centuries, but it is very much a thriving modern city; the cars are flashy, the shops are luxurious and the populous are well dressed and ooze affluence. This isn’t surprising given it is home of many EU government institutions including the Court of Justice and the European Investment Bank.

The geography of the city is quite remarkable. It sits on the top of steep gorges cut out by the Alzette and Pétrusse rivers with bridges connecting the town across the ravines. It is this natural protection that proved ideal for building further fortifications – the first built in 963. Over the following centuries these mighty fortifications were fought over and became the stronghold of whichever army occupied the area and was vying for military control over Western Europe. Once stretching over 180 hectares the fortifications were finally demolished in the late 19^th century to prevent any further conflict and today only the Bock Casements remain. It is now considered one of the most important fortified sites in Europe and is classified as a UNESCO World Heritage Site. You can take a tour through the vast complex of underground tunnels below the fortifications, but we opted to stay above ground and walk across the fortress to admire the view back to La Haute Ville.

Not far from the fortifications is Le Chemin de La Ccorniche, a viewing platform often called Europe’s most beautiful balcony. From here you can appreciate the magnificence of the fortifications built in the cliffside and look over the valley to the charming riverside Grund district below, with its picturesque church and quaint medieval houses.

It’s not a big city and is easy to explore on foot. After a full day out, we wandered down the hill, found our bikes and pedalled along the leafy trail back to the campsite.

Back to Germany

The sky was sparkling blue and the countryside a vivid green as we drove from Luxembourg through to Germany and along the Moselle River. This is a beautiful part of Germany. We’d been there seven months earlier when my Aunt took us for day trip to Trier and we drove back along the valley through the wineries, but with the weather the way it was we couldn’t resist stopping and spending some more time there. We ended up staying two nights in the Moselle Valley, camping right beside the river. It is stunningly picturesque, with charming half-timbered German villages dotted along the river and vineyards running up the steep sides of the valley, interspersed with a patchwork of woodland. There are bike paths all along the valley and we cycled from one village to the next, stopping for a few wine tastings at the roadside stalls. It was the first time in a while that we’d had lovely summery weather and no pressure to rush around seeing the tourist sites. We were relaxed and content.

Friday was another glorious day and, feeling sun-kissed and refreshed, we headed through to Wahlrod where my Aunt Margaret and Uncle George live. We’d spent a week here in September when we three months into our tour and we loved it – not only for the generous hospitality and great company of our hosts but also the beautiful countryside and surrounds, which we were very much looking forward to seeing in spring. After a harsh winter nature was in overdrive and Margaret’s garden was no exception. It was stunning; in full bloom with and abundance of white flowers and green foliage. The huge cherry tree in the centre of the lawn was heavy with white blossom, and with the white tulips below, the daphne and white rhododendron, combined for a soft, peaceful, spring feel. Being so warm we were able to spend plenty of time sitting outside under the cherry tree enjoying the garden and the birdsong.

However, relaxing was not our priority when we arrived. Our first task was to list the van on UK Autotrader. This was easier said than done. We found out that you need a UK IP address and a UK credit card to submit an ad. I have no idea why this is, maybe to stop “foreigners” selling vehicles in the UK. We panicked. We had a week before we were back in England and needed the van listed so ideally it would sell quickly after our arrival. A delay of a week would upset our plans. Then Andrew had the bright idea of asking his cousin Mark to help. I set the ad up ready to go and Mark obligingly logged into our account from the UK and pressed submit. Within a few hours we had our first enquiry.

The next week was spent getting the van serviced, cleaning it inside and out, and sorting all the “stuff” we’d accumulated in preparation for downsizing for the next leg of our journey. It wasn’t all work, there was time for other activities to, like getting me a much-needed haircut and colour, going for long walks through the beautiful countryside, playing the odd game of scrabble and rummy, and practising tent pitching on the lawn. We are planning on doing some camping in the UK and had bought a tent in France so tried it out in the garden. It took three of us quite a bit of time to work out the instructions and put it together, but we finally managed to create something that looked quite liveable. We’re not sure how much use it’ll get, that will depend on the fickle English summer.

Almost a week had passed and with only a few days left in Europe we said goodbye and with a lot less in the boot headed off in our sparkling clean van.

Campsite on the Moselle River

Traben-Trarbach on the Moselle

Cycling the Moselle

Practising camping in Margaret & George’s garden

The Last Post

After a full day of driving we arrived in Ypres (Leper as it’s known in Belgium). Ypres is at the heart of an area that saw some of the biggest battles in the First World War and as it is 100 years since the end of the war we wanted to visit and pay our respects to the many commonwealth soldiers that fought and died there.

The campsite was full. This was only the third time this had happened to us in almost a year on the road. Ypres is a popular place to visit. We were directed to a nearby “Aire” specifically for motorhomes. It had electricity, but not any facilities so our intention of staying two nights was quickly amended.

We biked the short distance into the centre of Ypres and wandered around this picturesque town. Ypres was mostly destroyed in the war and was eventually fully rebuilt, including the historic Cloth Hall and Cathedral. Standing in the town it is hard to believe that most buildings are at most 80 or so years old. The tourist shops were full of WWI memorabilia, craft beer and chocolates, and paper poppies on sticks. We bought two poppies for our visit to the war graves the next day.

It was time for one of those famous Belgian beers. We found a nice Belgian beer house that overlooked the square and tried a local brew.

One of the most important sites in Ypres is the Menin Gate, one of the Memorials to the Missing. It lists the names of 54,332 men who fell in the Ypres Salient and who have no known grave. The names represent the fallen of Britain, Ireland, and what were then the Dominions (apart from New Zealand) up until 16th August 1917. Those with no known grave after that date are recorded at Tyne Cot (including all New Zealanders). As well as a place to visit in its own right, every night at 8pm, the Last Post is played, and a small ceremony takes place at the gate. We had heard it was not to be missed and after a quick Thai dinner made our way there. We didn’t expect the crowds to be as large as they were – Andrew estimated there were well over 500 people gathered. The traffic through the Gate was halted, the crowd was welcomed, there was a moment of silence and then the Last Post was played. It was an incredibly moving experience in a sombre setting and there was not a dry eye around.

The next day we headed to Passchendaele 13 kms away. Our first stop was the museum. Here the story of the war in the Ypres Salient is told with special emphasis on the Battle of Passchendaele in 1917, one of the bloodiest battles of the First World War. Andrew’s grandfather fought in this battle, in the Canadian Army. He was one of the lucky ones, he was injured and sent home.

The museum is an interactive experience with the exhibits helping you to understand what it was like for those fighting on the Western Front. Inside steps took us down into a 6-metre deep reconstruction of a battlefield dugout, complete with headquarters, accommodation, workshop, communication room and first aid post. It was amazing how complex these areas were. Outside are a network of reconstructed trenches, made to look and feel exactly as they would have during the war. Walking through them it’s impossible not to think of the gunfire, the fear, and the smell. The museum was very well done, not glorifying or embellishing, but instead letting those that were there tell their story. It’s a sad story, but one that needs to be told.

Our next stop was the Tyne Cot Commonwealth War Graves Cemetery and Memorial to the Missing, not far from Passchendaele. This is the largest cemetery for Commonwealth forces in the world, for any war. Here there were lots of unnamed New Zealand graves. Lost sons and brothers lying forever in a foreign land. We left a poppy in remembrance.

We left Belgium and drove on to Dunkirk for our last night on the continent, and the last night sleeping in our campervan. The campsite in Dunkirk was right on the beach. We joined the many others and went for an evening walk along the promenade, past the restaurants and bars and brightly coloured retro changing sheds. All along this lively promenade are information boards telling the story of another war. It was from this beach in late May 1940 that around 338,000 British, French and Belgian soldiers were rescued from the hands of the German army and evacuated across the channel. Hundreds of civilians sailed across from England to help with the rescue. Private yachts, motor launches, lifeboats, paddle steamers and barges joined the effort, all the while under attack from German aircraft. Many lost their lives. But, if those troops weren’t rescued the Allies would not have had the manpower and strength to turn around and face the Germans again, and eventually defeat them, and we may not have been enjoying the warm evening on this calm and peaceful beach

The day had arrived. It was time to catch the ferry to Dover. We were both quiet driving to the port, both reflecting on the 11 months that had passed since we’d been on the ferry going the other way, from Dover to Calais. Back then we didn’t know what to expect – would we even be able to live in such a small area for a month, let alone 11? We could, we did, and we loved every minute! What an adventure it’s been. We’ve got many more adventures to come before we head home to New Zealand, but we were still feeling a bit sad and a bit sentimental that those adventures will be without our beloved campervan.

The security guard at the ferry terminal got us laughing again. He was a big, handsome, hunk of a Frenchman and after doing the mandatory search of our camper, turned with a beaming smile and declared: “No Taliban in here!”

Ypres

Last Post ceremony, Ypres

Tyne Cot Cemetery

Graves of un-named New Zealand soldiers

Dunkirk Beach

May 19, 2018May 27, 2018

Paris in Springtime

We arrived in Paris late on Thursday afternoon and settled into our campsite by the River Seine. It was a lovely setting amongst leafy trees with an abundance of birds busying themselves with spring activities. Across the road was a golf course and a large woodland park area and not far away was the famous Longchamp Racecourse. It was hard to believe we were only just over 5 kilometres from central Paris. This was our base for the next four nights as we explored Paris and its surrounds. We have both been to Paris before, Andrew a few times and me only once, and to be honest my impression of Paris from the one visit was not positive so I was hoping this visit would change my mind.

Day 1: Paris on Foot

If you look at a map of Paris the central area is a big circle with a ring road running around the outside separating the inner and outer suburbs. The Metro lines run to the edge of this circle and from there other forms of public transport, trains, buses and trams, take over to service the outer suburbs. Our campsite offered a shuttle bus service to the nearest Metro station at Porte Maillot which we took the next morning. Once we were there we made the snap decision not to take a Metro but instead to walk. Walking is a great way to get your bearings in a city and you see much more than you do popping up at one metro station and then popping up at another.

The Arc de Triomphe was only 1km from Porte Maillot and was therefore the obvious first destination. This magnificent arch was commissioned by Napoleon to honour his victorious army. Unfortunately, the project ran over budget and over time and Napoleon was long dead by time it was completed. It is now an iconic landmark in Paris and very popular with tourists. There was a queue when we arrived, but it moved fast, and it didn’t take long before we were climbing the stairs to the top. The Arc de Triomphe is in the centre of Charles de Gaulle Place, a busy roundabout from which 12 symmetrical avenues radiate outwards from like spokes in a wheel, the most famous being the Avenue des Champs-Élysées. It was mesmerizing watching the cars whizz around below us and the buzz of activity in the avenues beyond. It is a great vantage point to appreciate this city and get the lay of the land.

From the Arc de Triomphe we walked down Champs-Élysées, the trees lining the avenue were just coming out in leaf. Past the Jardins des Champs-Élysées filled with spring bulbs, and through Place de la Concorde with the impressive gold-topped Egyptian Obelisk and the ornately carved Fontaine des Mers and Fontaine des Fleuves. Tuileries Garden was awash with spring colour and filled with people enjoying the sunshine. Chairs were scattered around the ponds and we sat awhile, people and duck watching. A bit further on, just before we got to the Louvre, is the Arc de Triomphe du Carrousel topped with four bronze horses pulling a chariot. Not to be confused with it’s larger cousin up the road, this one was also commissioned by Napoleon but as it is a lot smaller it was finished on time and while he was still Emperor.

The arch is the gateway to the grounds of impressive Louvre museum with its iconic glass pyramid jutting up from the centre of the grand courtyard, acting as the entranceway to the museum. The Louvre is the biggest museum in the world and with a collection of over 35,000 works spread over 60,000 square metres it is said to take 100 days to see everything, if you looked at each item for 30 seconds, all day without a break. Despite both having visited before, we were lured back in. The last time I was here the queue had stretched well out into the courtyard. This time it was only about 20 deep inside the foyer. Considering 15,000 people visit each day we counted ourselves lucky. Because of the size of this museum it isn’t crowded apart from when you arrive at the most famous painting in the Louvre, Leonardo da Vinci’s Mona Lisa. Everyone congregates around this masterpiece, which is surprisingly small for such a big reputation. The other gathering point is in front of the armless Greek sculpture of Venus de Milo. Most of our time was spent in the “paintings section” and with 7,500 artworks in this area alone there was little energy left for many other sections: Eastern Antiquities, Greek, Etruscan, and Roman Antiquities, Egyptian Antiquities, Prints and Drawings, Decorative Arts, Sculptures, Islamic Art and so on. You can see why it would take 100 days to see it all.

Back out in the sunshine it was time to refuel with a baguette in the park. After lunch we crossed the Seine using the Pont de Arts pedestrian bridge and walked along the left bank where stalls selling vintage French Art Nouveau prints line the footpath – think Chat Noir and Moulin Rouge. The distinctive stone arches of Pont Neuf marked to beginning of Ile de la Cité, the island in the Seine where the Notre Dame Cathedral sits. We crossed Pont Neuf to the island, walked through Place Dauphine, past the city courthouse and state police station, to the Notre Dame. We were admiring the impressive façade of the cathedral and deciding whether to line up to go in when police descended on the square and quickly removed everyone from the area and closed the cathedral. It may have been an exercise, given the cathedral is directly across from the police station and they didn’t seem to be overly concerned, but we weren’t waiting around to find out and quickly crossed over to the Latin Quarter.

The Latin Quarter has been the bohemian area of Paris for centuries and got its name from the students communicating in Latin well before the French Revolution. It is a lively place filled with quirky stores, museums, eateries, bars and galleries, and is the home to France’s oldest University La Sorbonne, among other higher educational institutions. We wandered through the colourful streets soaking up the atmosphere, slowly making our way back towards the Eiffel Tower.

Our feet were starting to remind us we’d covered a lot of ground and by the time we reached the base of the tower we calculated we’d walked close to 15 kilometres. Time to stop for a while, sit on a park bench and laugh at the millennials posing like models for every photo they take.

The last time I was in Paris you could walk underneath the tower and I remembered it as being filled with hawkers and tricksters trying to wrangle money off you. Not anymore. It’s completely closed off so only people with tickets to climb the tower can enter the area through glass doors and after passing through security. But, when we were there no one was entering. The tower was closed. We thought it a bit odd and wondered if the police clearing out the Notre Dame had anything to do with it. I started imagining terrorist plots and was pretty sure I was on to something when Andrew suggested maybe we should ask one of the security guards. It was closed due to strike action.

We crossed the Seine again to the gardens in front of Palais de Chaillot where people were relaxing in the sun enjoying the views back to the tower. Up the stone steps crowds gathered to take photos with that iconic backdrop, the Eiffel Tower. We joined the throngs and asked obliging strangers to take some of us.

By now it was late afternoon and we were still a couple of kilometres from the pick-up point of the campsite shuttle. We briefly contemplated catching a Metro from Victor Hugo Place but decided we’d finish what we started, doing Paris on foot.

Arc de Triomphe

Avenue des Champs-Élysées

Tuileries Garden

Le Louvre, Paris

Eiffel Tower Selfie

Day 2: Versailles

The next day we headed to the outskirts of Paris to visit the Palace of Versailles. The train drivers were on strike again so to get there we took a tram and then a long bus ride. Our bus, and every bus we passed, was packed with people. The 13.5km journey took nearly an hour and a half. These rolling strikes are incredibly disruptive.

The bus stopped directly across from the Palace and we were taken aback by its grandeur, and by how many tour busses were there. As it was already afternoon and we hadn’t eaten we decided to find somewhere for lunch in the village before joining the crowds in the Palace. I had a hankering for crepes and we found a lovely creperie that served delicious savoury buckwheat crepes, more than satisfying my craving.

We walked back to the palace, through the gilded iron gates and past the heavily armed military police to the ticket office. There was a long queue in front of the ticket office window but in an adjacent room there were lots of automated ticket dispensers and no one using them. We took a look, they seemed straight forward, we purchased our tickets and were ready to go. All the while the “sheeple” in the ticket office queue had only moved one place forward. We couldn’t avoid the queue to get into the palace itself, as there were the obligatory security checks to go through, but it didn’t take long, and we were soon inside.

The Palace of Versailles was built by Louis XIII in 1623 as a hunting lodge and was enlarged into a royal palace by Louis XIV in the 1660s and 1670s. The interior of the Palace is exquisitely opulent. The walls of the Gallery of Battles are lined with impressive paintings of battle scenes depicting nearly 15 centuries of French military action – some explicitly gruesome and violent, and all with the French as victors. The palace is proudly French to the core and all the materials used in building and decorating Versailles were made in France.

The most famous room, and the one I was most looking forward to seeing, is the Hall of Mirrors, containing a total of 357 mirrors. At the time it was built Venice had a monopoly on making mirrors so Venetian artisans were lured to France. The Venetians then ordered the assassination of the mirror makers for giving their secrets away. A dark side to a room filled with light. The same could be said of the outcome of the Treaty of Versailles that was signed in the Hall of Mirrors. Signed to end the First World War, it was meant to bring lasting peace to Europe.

Behind the Palace are beautifully manicured formal gardens containing over 400 sculptures and 1,400 fountains. You could spend hours, even days here as the actual grounds extend for more than 30,000 hectares.

We had had our fix of French nobility, it was time to return to reality. There was still plenty of daylight when we got to the campsite, so we went biking through the woodland park to the Roland Garros tennis stadium, home to the French Open, and back past the Longchamp Racecourse, home of one of the world’s most prestigious horse races, the Prix de l’Arc de Triomphe.

Hall of Mirrors

Gallery of Battles

Palace of Versailles

Versailles Gates

Homage to Napoleon

Day 3: City of Love

Our final day in Paris was our wedding anniversary and Andrew had the idea to find a street artist to do our portrait to mark the occasion. We took the shuttle back to the metro station and caught the underground to the Montmartre district which was once where all the Parisian artists lived. Andrew had seen street artists doing portraits on the hill during a previous visit. On the top of the Montmartre hill is the Basilica of Sacre-Coeur with its distinctive white domes like dollops of whipped cream. We joined the other tourists and walked through the gardens on the hillside and up the wide steps to the church, all the while looking out for a street artist at work. There was no sign of any. Where had all the artists of Montmartre gone? We admired the view across Paris from the hilltop and took a look in the beautiful church, before heading back down the other side of the hill to catch a Metro into the city centre. We had decided to try our luck finding an artist on the left bank of the Seine, near the Latin Quarter. As we’d missed out on seeing the Notre Dame Cathedral because of the police activity we took the opportunity to see it and got off at the station nearest this famous church. Intricately carved, dark, cavernous, and very Gothic – this Cathedral is incredibly impressive. But there was no sign of Quasimodo.

We finally found a portrait artist at work on the left bank of the Seine. He was in the middle of a caricature and told us he’d be at least another half hour and would be around for a couple of hours after that if the rain held off. Perfect, we could have our anniversary lunch. We found a quaint bistro in the Latin Quarter that was serving traditional French country cuisine. The waiter recommended the beef bourguignon which we washed down with a lovely Burgundy. When we emerged, it was starting to rain, and our portrait artist was just about to pack up and go home. He was more than happy to stay, found an umbrella to shelter his easel and got to work. Sitting still for such a long time tested our attention levels but it was amusing to watch the reactions from passers-by as they looked at the easel and then up to us and then back to the easel and smiled, laughed, nodded or gave a thumbs-up. An hour and a half later we had our portrait. We looked a little more serious than we might have liked, and a little cat-like, but all in all we were pleased. Happy Anniversary Mr Love!

Basilica of Sacre-Coeur, Montmartre

Notre Dame Cathedral behind the stalls on the left bank

Anniversary lunch

Sitting still

The portrait!

Day 4: Champagne

It was time to leave Paris, but not quite time to leave France. We had one more place to visit –Champagne.

As we drove out of the campsite we reflected on our time in Paris. I was underwhelmed when I visited 8 years ago, it was dirty and there were a lot of beggars and hawkers about. I wasn’t expecting much to have changed but I was proved wrong. The city was clean and vibrant and although there were still a few beggars about we weren’t hounded, and we felt safe. Paris had redeemed itself.

The city of Reims is about 150kms from Paris and is the unofficial capital of the Champagne wine-growing region, with many of the champagne houses headquartered there. We had booked an early afternoon tour of the champagne caves at Domaine Pommery as our farewell before heading out of France and in to Luxembourg. The champagne houses are very grand, sitting behind tall gates at the end of sweeping driveways, and Pommery is particularly palatial. The light blue Elizabethan-style chateau is reminiscent of a fairy-tale castle. Complete with cone-like spires it reminded me of a children’s birthday cake.

The chateau was built by Louise Pommery in the late 1800’s when she took over running the company after her husband’s death. Under Louise’s guidance the first brut champagne was invented at Pommery – before that is was a sickly-sweet drink and nothing like we know champagne today.

Underneath the chateau lies 18 kilometres of caves. Once Gallo-roman chalk mines, they were converted to champagne cellars where now over 20 million bottles of champagne are stored at a constant temperature of 10 degrees. Our tour took us down the steep steps to 30 metres underground and through the maze caves, past the many racks containing thousands of bottles of champagne fermenting to perfection. Louise Pommery was an art lover and collector and the caves feature art from her era and also contemporary installations and sculptures, making the caves of Pommery quite different to other champagne caves in Reims. The caves are all named after cities – every time a new market was established Louise named a cellar after that city.

Near the end of the tour we were shown a cellar where their premium vintages are kept. Bottles from as far back as 1904 lie in the dark waiting for the call to be brought up into the light and consumed for the small price tag of 50,000 to 120,000 Euros.

We weren’t treated to a such excess but still finished our tour with a very nice glass of Grand Cru 2000 Vintage Champagne – the perfect end to our time in France.

Pommery Champagne House, Reims

Art in the champagne caves

Very old vintage champagne

Cheers to France!

May 10, 2018May 27, 2018

France: Arles, Le Puy & Bourges

Before leaving Italy we took the plunge and booked our ferry crossing back to the UK. With a date now set we worked backwards to plan our last month in Europe. Paris was a must, so my job was to find a few places to visit enroute, and of course to work out how to avoid as many of those road tolls as possible. We settled on three stopovers, each for two nights. The first of these was Arles, in Provence, a 3-hour drive from our campsite on the Cote d’Azur.

Arles

Arles lies on the Rhone River and is famous for inspiring some of Van Gogh’s most celebrated paintings. He lived in Arles for over a year and painted prolifically while there. Arles is also renowned for its Roman history and its Roman ruins are World Heritage listed. It’s not a big place with a population of just over 50,000. Arles surprised us. It didn’t look like much as we cycled in from the campsite – a flat, ordinary, semi-rural town with lots of car yards, supermarkets and a MacDonald’s. But, in the very centre was a wonderfully well preserved historic town with an incredible 2-tiered Roman amphitheatre as the centrepiece. This impressive theatre is similar in style to the Colosseum in Rome and was built 2,000 years ago, holding more than 20,000 spectators. It is still used for concerts and French bullfighting, which I’m told isn’t as brutal as the Spanish version and doesn’t result in the bull being killed. The medieval town was built around the amphitheatre and the streets and buildings follow its curves, expanding out like ripples. Next to the amphitheatre is another Roman theatre, this one built a century earlier and in the same style as Greek theatres. It is mostly in ruins and is now an archaeological museum. A short walk away, near the banks of the Rhône River, are the Thermes de Constantin, or Roman baths dating from the 4th century. And like all Roman cities there was a Forum in Arles, though little of it remains today apart from two Corinthian columns that are now incorporated into the wall of the Hotel du Forum, where a sign saying Place du Forum marks the spot.

Where the Forum was is now a square filled with restaurants including the famous café that features in Van Gogh’s painting “Café Terrace at Night”. It is now aptly called Van Gogh Café, but is still bright yellow as it is in his painting. After taking a photo of the café we walked all through the streets of the old town trying to find the Fondation Vincent van Gogh where exhibitions of his work and of artists influenced by him are displayed. All signs seemed to point to it, but we were sent around in circles and back again. Finally, we found it, and it was closed until April 20^th. Never mind, we had visited the Van Gogh gallery in Amsterdam at the start of our trip and wandering through the streets of Arles, seeing buildings and scenes he had painted was enough, and we still had one place to see – Espace Van Gogh. This was the hospital where Van Gogh had his ear stitched back on after he cut it off, and where he was later locked up after suffering a severe mental breakdown. The flower-filled courtyard is the subject of two of his paintings. It’s now an area for working artists and hosts exhibitions and workshops. We wandered around the courtyard and admired the gardens brimming with spring colour.

Van Gogh’s connection to Arles has had a lasting effect and now many artists reside here. All through the old town are galleries and artisan boutiques and browsing through them was a lovely way to spend a warm Saturday afternoon. Taken by the artistic mood of the place Andrew splashed out on a very dapper light blue panama hat.

The famous café that features in Van Gogh’s painting “Café Terrace at Night”

Espace Van Gogh, the former hospital

Remains of two Corinthian columns that are now incorporated into the wall of the Hotel du Forum

Roman amphitheatre

Monsieur Love

Le Puy

Our next stopover was Le Puy-en-Velay. This town was a bit out the way but was well worth the long slow drive through the mountains of the vast Cevennes National Park to get there.

Le Puy-en-Velay lies in a basin at an altitude of 2,000 feet, not far from the Loire River. Despite being high, the pass we drove over to get there was higher and the road into Le Puy was all downhill. As we came down the slope we looked across a wide valley where the new town sprawls and towards the old town sitting on a volcanic mound in the middle with two remarkable rocky pinnacles next to it; one with a chapel perched on the top, the other with an enormous deep-salmon coloured statue of Mary and Jesus.

Our campsite was directly below the 85-metre rock needle where St-Michel d’Aiguilhe chapel is perched and we didn’t delay in climbing to the top to see it. The labour that must have gone into building this incredible chapel is mind-blowing. Bishop of Le-Put was the guy who, back in the 10^th century, pointed to the top of that sheer rock and said: “Yes, that’s the ideal place for the new church to celebrate my return from pilgrimage.” I’m sure a few people looked sideways at the suggestion, and he was probably not the most popular among those left to cart the rocks to the top. The 268 steps to get to the chapel are carved into the cliff-face, the steepness of the climb highlighted by the prominently placed defibrillator at the top. The chapel is beautiful, intimate and peaceful, and there are some impressive frescoes and lovely stained-glass windows.

We got to the bottom and the woman in the ticket office told us not to go without seeing the lentil exhibition. Le Puy-en-Velay is also famous for the green lentils grown in the area and driving through the farmland outside the town there were plenty of signs proudly promoting lentils using a carton lentil-man. This carton lentil-man reappeared in the museum to tell us about the process of growing, drying and exporting lentils. I had heard of, and eaten, Le Puy lentils but had never put any thought into where they were from. Now we know.

All through Spain, in Portugal and in southern France we have come across paths marked with the distinct yellow scallop shell, all leading to Santiago de Compostela. There are many ways there and each is an important pilgrimage route. Le Puy is the gateway to the Santiago de Compostela French Way pilgrimage trail. This is where the hardiest of the pilgrims start their journey to Santiago de Compostela – 1600 kilometres away! Le Puy is a very religiously significant place and in the centre of the historic town is the 12th-century Romanesque Notre Dame Cathedral, the starting point for the long pilgrimage path, and each morning there is a blessing for those about to set off on the journey. It’s a lovely cathedral and stands at the top of a long and broad flight of stairs. At the foot of the stairs are cafes and lace shops, another thing Le Puy is famous for.

Looking over the town from atop another rocky volcanic outcrop is that enormous statue of the Virgin Mary. This is the 132-metre high Corneille Rock and the next morning we climbed to the top to see this colossal statue of Notre-Dame-de-France up close. The 16-metre high salmon-pink statue was erected in 1860 and was made using metal obtained from hundreds of cannons that had been seized during the Crimean war. It’s hollow and there are stairs up the middle with a trap door that opens at the top and you can look out over Le Puy from the middle of Mary’s headpiece of gold stars. If you think about it too much you’d call it garish and tacky, but we decided to settle on “odd”, and leave it at that.

On our second and last evening in Le Puy we were in the van, it had finished raining heavily and the sun was trying to push through the dark clouds for one final showing before it set. Suddenly the chapel on the rock above us was bathed in sunlight, like it had been turned upside down and dipped in molten gold. I rushed outside and managed to get the photo I had been hoping for. That night there was a magnificent storm and thunder rolled around the valley non-stop.

View over Le Puy from St-Michel d’Aiguilhe chapel

16-metre statue of statue of Notre-Dame-de-France

St-Michel d’Aiguilhe chapel

Bourges

Our next leg on the way to Paris took us just over 300km further north to Bourges, almost exactly in the centre of France. Bourges is known for its quaint half-timbered houses and grand, Gothic-style cathedral and these were the reasons we had decided to stop here.

We arrived late in the afternoon and walked into town from the campsite. We spent an hour or so wandering around getting our bearings and admiring the exterior of the grand cathedral and the many other lovely historic buildings. Bourges was the capital of France during the time of Charles VII in the 15^th century and was a prosperous and busy commercial centre. As a result, many affluent people lived here, and the elegant buildings reflect this, one of the more well-known being ornate Jacques Coeur Palace, home of a 15th-century nobleman.

The next day we visited the cathedral properly and were taken aback by the beauty of the exquisite 13th-century stained-glass windows that line the walls. It is obvious why it is a UNESCO World Heritage site. I decided I couldn’t not climb the tower and left Andrew sitting in the sun in the square below. He’s very choosey on which towers to climb and which ones to leave to me. From above you can see how Bourges finishes abruptly and farmland begins, how flat and vast this part of France is, and the extent of agricultural production.

We wandered back down into the old part of town and admired more of those lovely half-timbered houses that are straight from the pages of a fairy tale, many now the fronts for cafes and chocolate shops.

That evening back at the campsite a Range Rover pulled in towing a very cute retro-style silver caravan. They parked right next to us and Andrew was quick to compliment them on their accommodation. They were quick to compliment Andrew on his black Steinlager T-shirt sporting a silver fern logo as they were Kiwis too, and funnily enough from Mount Maunganui. Wayne and Asa now live in France and they’d come to Bourges to pick up their brand-new caravan that day. Wayne was once the golf professional at the Mount Golf Club and it turns out Andrew and Wayne know many of the same people. We exchanged contact details and promises of a golf game when they’re back in NZ later in the year.

The next morning, we were on our way to Paris.

Half-timbered Houses, Bourges

Jacques Coeur Palace

Bourges Cathedral

Bourges

May 8, 2018May 27, 2018

French Riviera

We drove from Italy back into France on April 1^st and spent five days exploring the beautiful Cote d’Azur before heading north. The landscape in this part of France is dramatic. Driving along the coast the snow-covered Alps rise up on the right, the deep blue Mediterranean sits calmly on the left and in between picturesque towns and villages tumble down steep coastal hills. The terrain left us with no alternative but to stay on the motorway and we were once again stung by the high French road tolls – 35 Euros to travel less than 50 kilometres.

Our base on the French Riviera, or Cote d’Azur, was a campsite in the seaside resort town of Villeneuve-Loubet. This proved to be the ideal location to explore the region. We were close to the train station and bus stops and although the rolling train driver strikes had us juggling our plans we had wonderful day trips to Nice, Cannes and Monaco, as well as spending time around Villeneuve-Loubet.

It was beautifully sunny for our first day, perfect for catching up on washing. After a morning doing “housework” we biked along the promenade, past the marina filled with expensive boats and along the lovely beachfront made even more beautiful by the backdrop of snow-dusted mountains to the Cote d’Azur Racecourse. We’d seen posters advertising a show-jumping event there and thought we’d take a look. Biking into the racecourse we were blown away by the impressive line-up of horse trucks. There were hundreds of large, lavish transporters fitted out with living quarters that made our motorhome seem quite average, and with equally comfortable areas for the horses to travel in. The number plates were from all over Europe, including UK and Ireland. I suppose when you’re carting precious horseflesh across the continent you need to make sure they have the best. These equestrians had descended on this part of France for a 2-week festival of jumping, with 380,000 Euro in prize money up for grabs. That first day happened to be practice day but we stayed a while and admired some of the stunning horses and equally striking riders do their practise rounds. The next afternoon, after getting back from Nice, we went back and watched some of the competition rounds.

Villeneuve-Loubet

Snow-capped mountains and deep blue sea – Villeneuve-Loubet

Showjumping festival Cote d’Azur

Two of many amazing horse trucks

Nice is lovely at this time of the year. I had been before at the height of summer and it was crowded and overbearing, but on the shoulder of the season it was relaxed, and we could appreciate the elegance of this beautiful seaside city. Nice has been a magnet for the rich and influential since the 19^th century and the many opulent old-world buildings transport you back to an era of extravagance. The city has many pedestrian-ways lined with high-end shops and eateries and the old town is filled with charming narrow lanes and brightly coloured buildings housing tourist shops and creperies. We walked along the wide seaside promenade, stopping to remember the awful terror attack that had taken place there less than two years ago, and then climbed the steps to Castle Hill for a beautiful view of the city, the Bay of Angels and of course, the bright blue water that gave the Cote d’Azur its name.

We had intended to go to Monaco the next day, but with the train strike still on we took the bus to Cannes instead. The home of the International Film Festival, Cannes is every bit a glamourous movie star. Like Nice, Cannes is filled with elegant 19^th and early 20^th century town houses, hotels and palaces in muted pastels and ivory. These grand old dames add glamour to this glitzy jewel of the French Riviera. We walked along La Croisette, the most famous boulevard in Cannes lined with plush hotels where the stars stay and ritzy cafes and bars. At the end of La Croisette is the Palais de Festivals where the International Film Festival is held every May. The red carpet is rolled out all year and a few Japanese tourists were imaging a pack of paparazzi and striking a pose. Right next door, beside the Old Port, the huge set for the TV series Ninja Warrior was standing. A few Ninjas were practicing swinging off the elaborate aluminium scaffolding. We wandered along the waterfront, stopping to admire the elegant Marie de Cannes – the town hall – and then through to the maze of charming cobbled lanes that make up Le Suquet, the old quarter. At the top of the hill a 14^th century church and clock tower stand behind the Cannes golden letters. We walked up for the views back over the city and bay.

The next day the trains were running again, and we were off to Monaco, the tiny independent city-state just up the coast from Nice. In under an hour we had arrived at what must be one of the nicest train stations we’ve ever experienced. It was more like an airport terminal. Monaco is built on a steep hillside and because of this the train station has multiple levels and exits. We took a few sets of escalators and found ourselves out on a street quite high up the hill. This was great as we were walking downhill to our first destination, the tourist information centre beside the famous Monte Carlo Casino. We have both been to Monaco before and both when on bus tours, where we were only given a couple of hours to see the main sights. This time we had all day. After we got a map and were given ideas and directions by a very friendly and enthusiastic staff member we headed to the casino. Monte Carlo Casino is very grand, like a palace with an ornately carved façade and immaculate gardens. The formal garden in front was filled with bright red tulips and framed by tall palm trees. We went into the wood lined foyer and posed for photos on the staged garden swing. The doors to the Opera House, the Salon Garnier, were unexpectedly open and we took the opportunity to peek inside. It is truly magnificent – opulent and indulgent, the epitome of 19^th century excess. We were lucky we had jumped at the opportunity, the security guard kindly told us we weren’t supposed to be in there and shut the doors firmly behind us. It costs 12 Euros to get into the actual casino and as we had both been in before we decided not to go any further and walked back out into the sunshine. Outside some very nice top-end cars pulled up, their occupants welcomed warmly and shown in through the private entrance. Monaco is a magnet for high-rollers.

Along a path, past some luxury boutiques and down some steps, is the Fairmont Hairpin, one of the famous corners of the Monaco Grand Prix track. It was funny to see so many people taking photos of a corner in a road, many of them clearly displaying their love of motorsport on their caps and polo shirts. Andrew tried to hide his excitement but was mighty quick to pose for a photo when I suggested it. While we were standing there a hop-on-hop-off bus went by and we briefly toyed with the idea of getting onboard – it looked quite pleasant up there on the open top deck. We changed our minds when faced with the 24 Euro ticket price – 80 NZD for the two of us. Monaco is not that big, we were prepared to walk. We headed off on foot down Avenue J F Kennedy towards the marina. Preparations for the Monaco Formula One Grand Prix were well underway, and the temporary grandstands were already in place along the waterfront. The cold start to the day had evaporated and we sat in the warm sunshine and enjoyed a well-deserved gelato before climbing the hill through the old city walls and into the historic quarter, home to the soft apricot-coloured Royal Palace. This is where the Prince of Monaco and the Grimaldi family have resided since the 13^th century, looking over their small dominion from atop the rocky outcrop. You can’t escape the royal family in Monaco, souvenir shops are brimming with royal memorabilia and most businesses have a photo of the reigning Prince Albert and his beautiful Princess Charlene, or his late father Prince Rainier III and his glamorous mother Grace Kelly. Monaco is still very much in love with Princess Grace – photos of her are everywhere.

The narrow lanes of the old town are popular with tourists and are filled with eateries and artisan boutiques, as well as the more garish souvenir shops selling everything Formula One including F1 onesies, for adults. Away from the throng, overlooking the Med, are the peaceful terraced gardens of Saint Martin with paths lined with exotic greenery wind along the cliffs. Moored below in Port du Fontvieille are an abundance of luxury yachts, the shore surrounded by plush apartments and condos. Monaco is money.

I stopped to Google something, it opened the page and then when I tried to go further it wouldn’t. A moment later I received a text from my mobile provider saying I had a zero balance. We thought it was a bit odd, there wasn’t much of a balance on there, but there was some. It wasn’t until were waiting for the train back at the station when it occurred to me, Monaco isn’t a full member of the European Union, so the “free roaming” we enjoy across EU countries doesn’t apply. That one Google search used up all my credit on data fees.

On the way home, not long after we left Monaco, the train was boarded by heavily armed police who searched every cupboard and locker and went through every carriage. They were very polite, smiled and said “bonjour”, but all the same is was a bit disconcerting.

Back in Villeneuve-Loubet we walked around the waterfront to find a cash machine, an hour later we were finally home. Mr Love was grumbling. Time for a cold beer. My Fitbit read 24,380 steps.

The next morning we were on the road again, starting our journey north to Paris.

Monte Carlo Casino

First winner of the Monaco Grand Prix

Temporary grandstands ready for the Grand Prix

Prince’s Palace of Monaco

Monaco!

April 28, 2018May 27, 2018

10 Months on the Road: Planning Our Trip

Another month passed and it’s that time for me to push Louise aside and have my say on the blog.

Having now be on the road for a little over 10 months I can say that planning your rough route well in advance pays dividends. We made an initial plan back in New Zealand as to where we thought we should head. We have made tactical changes along the way but if you are planning a trip like this you do need a rough plan but also be ready to change.

We made the first stop Scandinavia as we felt we had a 3-month window over summer to enjoy it and we were right. The last thing we wanted to do was be bitterly cold and strike snow on the roads. Fitting chains to the van would not have been much fun. Even then it was cold at times. We had also intended to head down to Croatia, Albania, Romania and the other Balkan countries around October. That plan changed quickly when we realised how cold it was going to be over December, January and February. Instead we headed to Spain for winter. A much better idea. We will get to the Balkans in August this year but not in the motorhome.

We ran into a NZ couple back in Bern who had given themselves 6 months to see the UK and Europe. When we spoke to them they admitted they hadn’t put in the planning needed. They had spent too long in the UK then once in Europe they realised how much they wanted to see and how big the distances were. There was a motorsport event they badly wanted to see so went back to the UK, then back to Europe and by that time their 6 months was almost up. It was obvious they had not used their time well and they had no plan of where they were going.

It’s impossible to see everything but Louise has been a fantastic planner. Working out ahead where to go basically month by month and making sure we didn’t have to back track and cross over ourselves, or worse still miss any of the not-to-be-missed sights. Some months before getting to Barcelona we came up with a change of plan and decided to catch a ferry to Sardinia then take another one to Sicily before finishing up at the bottom of Italy to then drive to the top. Otherwise we would have to have driven around the top of Italy then to the bottom then backtrack up – a waste of time and this way we got to see Sardinia and Sicily. Cost wise the ferry crossings weren’t much dearer than paying the diesel and road tolls to drive around, and it was much more fun with two 12-hour ferry crossings.

We also thank Google Maps. Whilst we have a large European road atlas, which we use, Google Maps has been great and once again Louise has been a superb navigator. And I mean superb!! Because it can be hard to follow at times and Google Maps doesn’t know how big you are. Whilst we haven’t been totally caught out, we have had some close calls on small roads. When we arrived for are first house-sitting job in a small French village, we realised we were being sent down very small roads that were far too narrow for us and we had to do a quick about-turn and find another way. In one small seaside village in Spain the road seemed to be getting smaller and smaller ahead of us. I stopped, Louise got out and walked ahead on foot. She returned about 10 minutes later to say it would be OK for us, a bit tight but OK. In Italy Google Maps was taking us to our campsite, but the road was closed, and we had to keep driving ahead. Problem was the road was getting narrower and then there was a particularly low bridge with no sign to say the height. We tried to turn around, but the road was too narrow, and we were causing havoc blocking one side of an already narrow road. Thankfully a delivery van came passed, tooted and waved out indicating he was taller than us, so we followed him through. Crisis averted, but seriously we have spoken to people who have had to turn around and either go slowly back up a one-way street or worse still had to reverse all the way back along a one-way street.

Another thing we have tried to do is to get out of the cities and visit the countryside and small villages to get the feeling of the country. Again planning a few weeks ahead as to where you are going is so important to maximise your time and again Louise has been great at that. We have been to all the major places one is expected to go to like, Paris, Rome, Madrid, Venice, Oslo, Helsinki and so on, but we have been to many wonderful small towns that have so much history and culture and have enabled us to experience life outside the big cities. As they say; “by failing to prepare, you are preparing to fail.”

Sicily

Off the beaten track in Sardinia

Treating ourselves in Sardinia

As for the numbers we were ever so slightly over budget this month but still well under after 10 months. The reason? We ate out a lot more this month and the price of diesel in Italy is one of the highest in Europe. We also had a couple of nights in hotels whilst walking the Cinque Terre and travelling down to the Amalfi Coast. Both are places you can not take a motor home and both were on our not-to-be-missed list.

April 25, 2018May 27, 2018

Italy: Tuscany & Cinque Terre

Our last ten days in Italy were spent visiting beautiful Siena and the surrounding villages in the picturesque Tuscan countryside, immersing ourselves in the culture of Florence and Pisa and exploring the stunning natural landscape of the Cinque Terre.

Siena

The sun was shining when we arrived in Siena and our campsite was a sheltered suntrap. After the cold of Rome and Assisi Andrew wasted no time whipping his shirt off and catching some much-missed rays. There was no chance of getting him to do anything, so I headed off for a walk on my own and found myself across the valley and walking up the steep cobbled streets shaded by the sheer walls of the tall stone buildings of historic Siena. The narrow streets and tall buildings made it difficult to get my bearings and after wandering around for a while confused, I decided not to attempt to unwrap this city any further and instead leave it as a surprise for when Andrew was with me.

The next day, after a slow start, we went on an organised tour to discover the Tuscan countryside and sample some of the famous Chianti wines. It was just us and an American couple on the tour. Our first stop was the tiny hilltop village of Monteriggioni, one of the most intact medieval fortified villages in Italy. 570 metres of stone walls follow the contours of the slopes and protect a cluster of quaint medieval houses, piazzas and churches. It is now mostly a tourist attraction and there are plenty of shops selling local wine and souvenirs. Being so tiny it didn’t take us long to see the entire town and we were soon back in the mini-van winding through vineyards, fields, and forests, home to the infamous Tuscan wild boars, and towards our next destination – San Gimignano.

In the age of the Renaissance Tuscany was one of the richest and most powerful parts of the world and in San Gimignano wealthy merchant families competed against each other to see who could build the tallest tower. This pursuit resulted in the skyline of San Gimignano resembling a medieval Manhattan. There were 72 towers during the peak of the trend of which only 15 remain, but 15 is still a lot in a small town. Of course, I was keen to get to the top of one of these towers. The view from Torre Grossa was spectacular. Tuscany is every bit as beautiful as I imagined. Back on the ground we wandered through the narrow alleyways, admired the frescoes in the cathedral, sat by the well in Piazza della Cisterna, and browsed in the stores selling saffron, wild boar prosciutto and precious Santa Fina pottery. By the time our guide was driving us down the hill the sun was starting to wane in the sky. We had one final stop, a winery in the heart of Chianti. We were ushered into a private room by the larger than life hostess and seated at a table laden with glasses. A platter of bruschetta, cheeses, Tuscan salami, and sliced cold meats was placed in front of each of us and the first wine was poured. We tasted eight wines in total and five olive oils, finishing with traditional Cantucci di Prato biscuits dipped in a honey-like dessert wine. Glowing and sated we were delivered back to the campsite.

Our final day in Siena was the first time we went into the historic centre of the city and we had saved the best for last. Siena is truly beautiful – a perfectly intact Medieval city sprawled over a hill and surrounded by olive groves and fields. The undulating cobbled lanes wind up and down and around, making navigation almost impossible. Finally, we stumbled out into the magnificent Piazza del Campo, the fan like, sloping, central square. Unlike most central squares in Europe it isn’t a cathedral that takes centre stage here, but instead the Palazzo Pubblico, the Gothic town hall, and Torre del Mangia, a slender 14^thcentury red-brick tower capped in white. Yes, another tower for me to climb. Andrew sat this one out, relaxing by the Fountain of Joy while I trotted off up 400 steps for another incredible view. Piazza del Campo is famous for a twice-yearly bare-back horse race. Incredibly horses are raced around the square on the cobbles while their riders try not to slip off their backs as they hurtle around tight turns while a crowd of thousands of cheers them on. We were pleased we were not there to witness this as to us it seems cruel to make horses gallop on cobbles and in such a tight area, the thought of an accident would be unbearable. But, Siena is proud of this race and photos, paintings and sculptures of it are everywhere.

Not far from Piazza del Campo is the cathedral, sitting on the highest point of the city and visible for miles. The dramatic exterior of black and white stripes is truly over the top and inside is just as lavish, filled with mosaics, frescoes and statues by famous artists including Michelangelo.

Siena is a city for pedestrians and we happily wandered for hours soaking up the atmosphere and enjoying the feeling of stepping back in time. We finished our day in one of the many gourmet food shops, purchasing some Sienese delicacies to take on our journey.

San Gimignano, Tuscany

Towers in San Gimignano

Well trained Wild Boar

Wine tasting in Chianti

Palazzo Pubblico, Siena

View over Siena from Torre del Mangia

Piazza del Campo

Florence & Pisa

Spring had finally arrived, and the lovely weather continued for the three days we spent in Florence. Our campsite was next to the river Arno and only a short bike ride into the centre – it was the first time our bikes had been used since we left Spain. Biking into the city we passed a parking lot filled with tour buses and in the city itself there was bus after bus picking up and dropping off tour groups. The summer peak might have been still months away, but the city was bustling with visitors.

Florence is the home of Renaissance art and architecture and even though I had visited before I hadn’t been to the famous Uffizi Gallery so that was top of the list for me. The Uffizi Gallery is one of the most visited art galleries in the world and remembering the queues from the last time I was there I had pre-booked tickets online. It was well worth doing so as the queues were still long despite being the shoulder season. Inside the gallery my university art history papers came alive before my eyes. Masterpiece after masterpiece lined the walls: The magnificent gilded religious panels including the Orgnissanti Madonna by Giotto; Botticelli’s sumptuous Birth of Venus and La Primavera; the intense colours in Michelangelo’s Doni Tondo; the intricate portrayal of nature in Leonardo Da Vinci’s Annunciation; the curvaceous Venus staring seductively out from Titian’s Venus of Urbino; the horror on the face of Medusa in Caravaggio’s famous depiction; and the gruesome beheading of Holofernes in Artemisia Gentileschi’s Judith and Holofernes. It was a sensory overload.

The rest of our time in Florence was spent doing what we enjoy most, blissfully wandering the streets. We admired the iconic Duomo and neighbouring bell tower by Giotto, browsed through the jewellery stores that line the Ponte Vecchio bridge, bought me an early birthday present of a leather handbag and wallet from the leather market, watched swarms of tourists photograph the replica of Michelangelo’s statue of David outside Palazzo Vecchio in Piazza della Signoria, then joined the throng and took our own photos, and studied the many other sculptures standing in Loggia dei Lanzi. Our visit was completed with a climb up to Piazzale Michelangelo for expansive views of Florence and the river Arno.

We headed off from Florence but couldn’t leave Tuscany without visiting Pisa. Pisa lies near the mouth of the river Arno and was once a maritime powerhouse, but now is known for a tower – the iconic white marble cylinder that is the Leaning Tower of Pisa. We found a place to park the campervan and walked a couple of kilometres to the tower. We have both been to Pisa before and the last time I was there the place was overrun with beggars and hustlers trying to sell tower keyrings – it wasn’t pleasant. However, maybe because it wasn’t peak season, this time there were no beggars and the street hawkers were all standing behind their stalls. It was a much more enjoyable experience. We joined the rest of the tourists and took obligatory photos pretending to push the tower over. Aside from posing for funny photos, the architecture of the tower is fantastic, and the six rows of stone arches are simply beautiful. Behind the tower is the Cathedral of Santa Maria Assunta. The front façade of the 11^th century cathedral is truly ornate with a series of beautiful stone and marble arches and three opulent bronze doors. We had made the right decision to visit again and we went away with a much more positive perception of Pisa.

Florence

Ponte Vecchio

Duomo

Michelangelo’s statue of David outside Palazzo Vecchio

Pisa

Cinque Terre

A while ago Andrew asked me what I’d like to do for my birthday and I told him I’d like to walk the Cinque Terre in Italy. Cinque Terre is a string of centuries-old seaside villages on the rugged Italian Riviera coastline. The five villages are linked by the Sentiero Azzurro cliffside hiking trail and from the photos I’d seen the views looked magnificent. So, we’d timed our trip up Italy to make sure we got to Cinque Terre for my birthday. I’d been watching the weather carefully and the closer we got to the date the worse the weather looked. We’d already booked a hotel in Vernazza, one of five villages, so we had to go regardless of the weather.

Our campsite was in Sestri Levante, 45 kilometres from the Cinque Terre, but close to a train station giving us easy access to the start of the walk. The night we arrived it rained heavily and although it had stopped the next morning, my birthday, the sky was still very dark. We wrapped up warmly, packed our backpacks with what we needed for our overnight stay and set off for the train station.

We got off the train at the northernmost village, Monterosso, and were told the walking track was temporarily closed because of the weather and an entire section was closed indefinitely because of a slip. I had read a blog that said you can still walk the track if it’s closed, there’s just no one at the checkpoint to stamp your hiking pass which means you save 7.50 euro. The rain had started again so we decided to have a look around Monterosso while we worked out what we were going to do. The pretty village with quaint lanes and bright orange and pink buildings was lovely but the rain got heavier. It wouldn’t have been pleasant walking in those conditions and we gave up the idea of attempting the hike that day, finding a restaurant and enjoying a nice birthday lunch instead.

After lunch we caught the Cinque Terre train to the next village, Vernazza where our accommodation was booked. We checked into our cute studio apartment in a pink stucco townhouse, where our enthusiastic host told us how much he loves New Zealand. The rain had stopped by then, and we went off to explore. My disappointment at not getting to walk the trail was slowly fading and this adorable seaside village was helping. Vernazza is known as the most beautiful of the five villages. 450 people live in this tiny village that sits snuggly in a cove at the bottom of steep slopes covered with rustic vineyards and terraced gardens. The sea was rough and slapped angrily against a concrete wall built to shelter wooden fishing boats from the elements. A small river runs through the middle of Vernazza and photos on a wall show of a devastating flood that ripped through the town in 2011. We climbed up to an old stone castle perched on an outcrop above the town and looked out over the medley of brightly coloured buildings and along the rugged coastline.

That evening we went out for my birthday dinner, choosing a hip looking eatery with a simple menu of local cuisine. It was stunning. We shared gnocchi with pesto for entrée and for my main I had the Baccala in cartoccio di vetro (cod in a glass package), which was beautifully delicate cod steamed with herbs and baby potatoes. Andrew had homemade ravioli with spinach and cheese. The food was lovely – simple, elegant flavours – and the local wine superb. The perfect end to a great birthday, despite not entirely going to plan.

The next morning was dry and as the forecast was for more rain we decided to get underway quickly and start the 4km walk from Vernazza to Corniglia. The track was still closed but we didn’t let that stop us, and we weren’t alone, others were also starting out. This is the hardest of the four sections of the Cinque Terre trail and climbs to the highest point, but it wasn’t difficult. The track wound up the slopes and along cliffs through the bush and then up to a small cluster of houses before descending into Corniglia. We struck up a conversation with an Australian couple who were walking in front of us, they were on a 3-month tour of Europe travelling by train.

Corniglia sits 100 metres above the sea and like Monterosso and Vernazza is filled with brightly coloured houses and cute nooks and crannies, but with a population of just 150 people it is a lot smaller. From Corniglia we could see Manarola, the 4^th village along the coast. The track between Corniglia and Manarola is the section closed by the slip, but it’s only 2km long and flat so we weren’t too worried about missing that section. We decided instead to catch the train back to Vernazza and walk north from Vernazza to Monterosso. Apart from a brief downpour the weather was holding up.

Back in Vernazza we refuelled with a focaccia sandwich and then climbed the steep path out town, this time heading north. This section of the trail is also 4km long and quite steep, but unlike the first section this track mostly runs through farmland, vineyards and orchards. The sun was shining by now and the views along the coast were spectacular. Loads of people were walking the track, no one taking any notice of the fact it was still officially closed. It seemed a shame that the national park was missing out on all that revenue. The track was muddy and slippery in places and we passed many people who were struggling and not dressed for the conditions – one woman was even wearing a mink stole and high heeled boots.

Despite a few changes to our plans and a bit more rain than we’d have liked, it all turned out perfectly and we had a great time on the Cinque Terre. It was a birthday to remember.

Back at camp our van was as we left it, and almost as we arrived the skies opened again. We stayed put the next day, it was too wet to be driving. Then Easter Sunday dawned sparkling and bright and we headed off up the coast, through many more of those fantastic Italian tunnels and over sweeping viaducts, and finally across the border back to France, this time to the French Riviera.

Monterosso, Cinque Terre

Vernazza, Cinque Terre

Track closed!

Peva weatherwane, Cinque Terre track

Corniglia in the distance

Vernazza, Cinque Terre

Corniglia, Cinque Terre

March 27, 2018May 27, 2018

Italy: Pompeii & the Amalfi Coast

The autostrade from the Villa San Giovanni ferry terminal was a dramatic improvement from the roads in Sicily. This certainly was a first-world highway and there were so many tunnels. The Italians believe in going straight at all costs – straight through hills and straight over valleys. These tunnels were vastly different from those in Sicily, well-lit. wide and airconditioned. In fact, these were some of the best tunnels we’d driven through.

With such good roads we covered ground quickly and decided to keep driving and make as bigger dent as possible into our trip to Pompeii. The countryside was mountainous, and snow had only recently fallen. Signs warning of the requirement to carry chains regularly flashed over the motorway. It was getting dark when we reached the small town of Padula where I’d found an Agritourism camping spot. These are farms that set aside space for campervans and often offer fresh produce for sale and home-cooking. We were the only campervan there and wondered if it was open. It was, we were warmly welcomed by our host and it was a perfectly adequate site for a stopover. It had been raining off and on throughout our journey and had temporarily cleared, so after many hours in the van we went for a walk into Padula. Set on a steep hillside it is a quaint town with an old-world Italian feel. Below the town at the foot of the hill a 13^th UNESCO listed monastery complex splays out into the countryside. We wandered through the streets, passed occasionally by locals wrapped up warmly against the cold. It started to rain again, and heavy falls continued through the night. In a campervan rain is very loud. Then the roosters started crowing at four and the geese, goats and dogs joined in. Our peaceful night in the countryside was anything but.

We left early and drove through to Pompeii. I had read some excellent reviews about an agritourism campsite on the edge of the city and thought it might be more interesting than one of the standard tourist campsites near the Pompeii ruins. However, Google Maps had other ideas. We were sent down a narrow lane with directions to turn left into a road that was closed for works, so we had to keep going straight as there was nowhere to turn. The road kept getting narrower. Then right in front of us was a low overbridge. It looked far too low for us and being on a corner it was hard to tell if it got any lower on the turn. We panicked. I jumped out and ran to the bridge trying to ascertain the height, deciding on the spot we needed to try to turn around, all the while cars were squeezing by in both directions. There was no way we could turn in this narrow street. We were causing chaos. A woman came out of her house and helped direct traffic while I ran around like a headless chicken and Mr Love sat behind the wheel waiting for an epiphany. One helpful motorist told us there were no campsites on this road. Thanks mate. Finally, a small delivery truck came down the lane and beeped at us indicating that if he could fit under then we could. I quickly did a visual measurement and agreed he was at least the same height as us and we followed him through. Needless to say, we decided not to stay at the agritourism campsite and instead went to one of the three campsites across the road from the Pompeii ruins. In hindsight it was a good thing as the location was fantastic. The next morning Andrew cooked me a brunch of scrambled eggs and smoked salmon and we wandered casually across the road and through the gates to the ancient city of Pompeii.

Visiting the ruins of Pompeii was an incredible experience and we spent most of the day exploring this surreal environment – a city caught in a moment of time long-ago. Before the devastating eruption of Mount Vesuvius in 79AD Pompeii was a swanky Roman resort town where the rich and influential spent their holidays. Elegant houses and elaborate villas lined the paved streets. People were entertained in the 20,000-seat arena, socialised in the elegant forum, and relaxed in the one of the many palatial bathhouses. A large earthquake 16 years before the eruption was the only indicator that Vesuvius was going to blow. It is still an active volcano and had blown before this notorious eruption but the sunshine and beauty in this part of the world would have meant most Romans pushed the possibility to the backs of their minds. 20,000 people lived in Pompeii at the time of the eruption. What made this eruption so catastrophic was its intensity. The blast sent a plume of ashes, pumice, rock, and scorching-hot volcanic gases so high into the sky that people could see it for hundreds of kilometres. Fine-grained ash and chunks of pumice and other rocks then fell from the sky. The initial blast wasn’t fatal, and most Pompeiians had plenty of time to flee. Servants and workers were left behind and for them conditions got a whole lot worse. As more and more ash fell, it clogged the air, making it difficult to breathe. Buildings collapsed. Then, to top it all off a superfast moving surge of intensely hot poison gas and pulverized rock poured down the side of the mountain and swallowed everything and everyone in its path. By the time the Vesuvius eruption spluttered to an end the next day, Pompeii was buried under millions of tonnes of volcanic ash. About 2,000 people were killed. Some residents drifted back to town in search of lost relatives or belongings, but there was not much left to find. Pompeii, along with the smaller neighbouring towns of Stabiae and Herculaneum, was abandoned for centuries.

It wasn’t until 1748 that Pompeii was rediscovered, when a group of explorers looking for ancient artefacts arrived in Campania and began to dig. They found that the ashes had acted as a preservative and underneath all that dust, Pompeii was almost exactly as it had been 2,000 years before. Its buildings were intact. Everyday objects and household goods littered the streets. Skeletons were frozen right where they’d fallen. Plaster casts of bodies made from imprints in the ash are an eerie addition to the museum; the dog and small child particularly confronting. Archaeologists even uncovered jars of preserved fruit, nuts and loaves of bread, which are on display, and apart from being blackened look exactly as they would have the day of the eruption. The scale of the city is what hit us. It is huge and obviously well planned. Walking along the remarkably wide cobbled streets we imagined the city as it was 2,000 years before; colourful shops brimming with exotic wares and traders bargaining loudly, wealthy merchants stepping out of elegant townhouses, wine makers pouring their treasured liquid into beautifully decorated amphoras, philosophers arguing on the steps of the forum, and poets reciting their works to gatherings of intelligentsia and noblemen. It really was a fascinating day.

Vesuvius behind the ruins of Pompeii

Mural of Venus in Pompeii

Remains of an opulent home in Pompeii

Pompeii

Plaster cast of a body of a Pompeii victim

The next morning, we left the campervan in Pompeii and took the train to Sorrento for a two-day break on the Amalfi Coast. You aren’t permitted to drive campervans along the Amalfi Coast during daylight and having done the research you’d be mad to drive there full-stop. The Amalfi Coast is a famous summer holiday destination and despite spring continuing to be elusive and the weather not looking great we were determined to visit this much talked about destination. Leaving the van behind was the only option.

For me, this part of Italy conjures up images of retro glamour; a baby-blue Alpha Romeo Spider whizzing along narrow coastal roads, top down, a young Sophia Loren behind the wheel, oversized glasses shielding her from the bright Mediterranean sun and her lemon chiffon scarf streaming out behind. I had no expectations that I’d see my made-in-the-movies ideal, but we did see a few sports cars and the towns are straight out of a film set.

Our first stop was Sorrento, a town that has been popular with holidaymakers for centuries – since the days of the Grand Tour. We spent a couple of hours there before heading further around the coast. Sorrento sits on cliffs rising dramatically above the Mediterranean. From the Villa Comunale Park there are lovely views down the coast and to Mount Vesuvius sitting across the bay. It is picturesque and elegant, albeit a bit tired, and was surprisingly busy with tourists, many on organised tours. Tourism is obviously vital to the economy of this area and the narrow streets of Sorrento’s historic centre are lined with tourist shops selling souvenirs, Italian delicacies, and everything lemon. This is lemon country and if it can’t be made lemon flavoured or lemon scented it’s not worth making.

We then caught the bus and headed off to Positano on the other side of the peninsula at the start of the Amalfi Coast road. This little town has been used in many films and it’s easy to see why. Colourful buildings cascade down steep hills towards the small pebble beach where the church of Santa Maria Assunta with its tiled dome sits quietly amongst busy restaurants and bars. The bus dropped us at the top of the hill and we made our way down through the cute lanes and stairways lined with pricey boutiques and galleries.

There’s a rustic feel to this town. Being still months away from the high season there was a lot activity underway to get the town ship-shape for summer; shop interiors were being renovated and hotels painted. Nevertheless, many more buildings are in need of care, with wisteria vines crumbling walls and the sea air rusting exposed railings.

After a lunch of capricciosa pizza by the sea we climbed back up the hill to catch the bus to Amalfi. Amalfi is only 16km along the coast, but the road is incredibly narrow and winding, and the journey took 45 minutes. Apparently in summer that trip can take more than twice as long. We were in awe of our bus driver. He drove that bus like it was a fiat bambina, not flinching when we encountered cars on hairpin bends or met other buses in single-lane underpasses. Calm and patient, he got on with the job.

The town of Amalfi is one of the most historic towns along the Amalfi Coast, having had a glorious history as a maritime republic whose status joined the ranks of coastal powerhouses like Pisa, Venice and Genoa. It was a trade bridge between the Byzantine and western worlds for centuries. It’s hard to imagine it being so influential as our first impression was of a sleepy, slightly shabby, seaside village. However, that changed when we walked through the city gate and into Piazza Duomo where the Amalfi Cathedral looms impressively over the square, sitting at the top of a flight of steep, wide steps. The façade of black and white stripes and arabesque arches is very dramatic, and we were taken aback by its magnificence and size, almost out of place in its surrounds. I couldn’t resist seeing inside and left Mr Love sitting on the steps people watching. Built in the 1200s the cathedral is dedicated to Saint Andrew. It has been remodelled several times, adding Romanesque, Byzantine, Gothic, and Baroque elements. To reach the cathedral you first walk through the original 9th century Basilica, which is quite austere, then down some steps to the ornately decorated and surprisingly opulent crypt, before ascending into the splendid cathedral itself.

Amalfi is only small so once the cathedral was visited it didn’t take long for us to fully explore the rest of the town.

We found a donkey shop. Well, a shop full of merchandise and pottery decorated in a very funky donkey motif. Andrew’s mother has 13 donkeys and we couldn’t resist buying her something. The woman in the shop told us that donkeys have played an important part in the history of the Amalfi Coast and are still used today to lug goods up the steep hillsides. Their strength and tireless work ethic symbolises the spirit of the coast.

It was getting late and we had a B&B to check into. We caught the bus 3km back along the coast and walked the short distance to our accommodation. It was lovely. The deck on our room had sweeping views along the cliffs and across the sea. Right next door was a well-known restaurant that our host told us was worth trying. One of the oldest restaurants on the coast it has been run by the same family since 1931. We had a lovely evening and the food and service was faultless. Our gorgeous meal started with a complimentary amuse-bouche of fresh anchovies on a citrus salad and was followed by an entrée of seared squid on homegrown mashed peas served with the most delicious freshly baked potato bread. The family grow all their own produce. Andrew chose their famous spaghetti with clams, cherry tomatoes, olives and capers, for his main. They’ve been serving this dish since 1965. It was cooked in a paper bag, which was opened in front of us, steaming and aromatic. I had a sea bass fillet stewed in lemon sauce on a bed of home grown broccoli, all sweet and leafy and nothing like broccoli in the shop. The wine was recommended by their sommelier and was from across the bay, a small family vineyard that only produces a limited amount exclusively for this restaurant. It was heavenly. There was no room for desert and we asked for the bill. In typical European style a complimentary digestive was served and in typical Amalfi style it was lemoncello, distilled on the coast of course.

Our host at the B&B told us his town of 5,000 swells to 25,000 in summer and the only road in, the coast road, is packed. Boats become the main mode of transport during these months. It’s hard to comprehend how these small towns teetering on cliffs cope with such a seasonal overload.

The next morning, while waiting for the bus, we walked down a path along the cliffs to get some photos of the coast. I wanted to get a better shot so clambered over the wall and skirted along the cliff, getting scratched by agaves on the way, before finding a great vantage site only to realise a large black snake had the same idea. I don’t know who moved quicker, him or me. You forget there are snakes in Europe. It was a viper, and vipers are poisonous.

The bus ride back to Sorrento was just as hair-raising as the ride out. These drivers earn their money.

Back in Pompeii our van was as we left her. The next morning we were off to Rome.

Positano

Amalfi Cathedral

Amalfi

View from the B&B, Amalfi Coast

March 13, 2018May 27, 2018

Sicily

Palermo & Monreale

Palermo hit us like a slap in the face. After a very calm and punctual 13-hour ferry crossing from Sardinia and feeling a bit dozy from limited sleep we drove out of the port and into a frenzy of tooting horns, with Fiats and scooters zipping in all directions. We bumped and lurched over the rugged pot-hole filled streets and squeezed through narrow lanes lined with shabby buildings, where market stalls overflowed from the pavement and old men on bikes wobbled past a jumble of parked cars. It was 8.30 on Saturday morning and the city was buzzing. It reminded us of Vietnam or China; noisy, colourful, chaotic and cluttered, and complete with those 3-wheeled mini trucks piled high with produce teetering to market.

Our campsite was a mixed parking lot in the middle of town with an area for campervans; electricity connections, a shower and toilet, and all-important Wi-Fi. You couldn’t get much closer to the city centre and for only 20 Euro a night it was great value.

After our early arrival we had the full day to explore and after freshening up headed into town. Palermo is Sicily’s capital and was first founded by the Phoenicians in the eighth century BC. Since then it has been ruled by Greeks, Romans, Vandals, Byzantines, Arabs, Normans, Holy Roman emperors, Angevins, Argonese, Bourbons and Austrians – among others – and all have left their mark on the city’s architecture, creating an historical collage.

Away from the busy backstreet markets the city was calmer, but the buildings are tatty and well-worn, the footpaths chipped and gardens overgrown. We walked the short distance to the historic centre, through the majestic Porto Nuovo, a city gate built in 1535 after victory over the Tunisians, and down to Palermo Cathedral. There’s nothing shabby about the cathedral. A striking building with enormous presence, the cathedral is understandably one of the most important architectural monuments in Sicily. It was built in 1184 by the Normans on the site of a Muslim Mosque that was previously built over a Christian basilica. A passage from the Koran is still engraved in one of the columns. The impressive exterior builds up high expectations for the interior which, although lovely, were not as memorable as others we had seen in our travels. We climbed the stairs to the roof terrace and soaked up the views across Palermo. On the terrace we overheard an Italian woman telling her friends, in English, about the city, and taking the opportunity Mr Love asked her if she knew what a particular building was that we had been discussing. She explained it was a market and then went on to point out different areas of the inner city and make some suggestions on places to visit. She told us Via Vittorio is the most important street in Palermo. In the past it was the street joining Palermo with the city of Monreale in the hills and produce from the inland orchards and farms was moved along this road to the ships waiting in Palermo’s harbour.

Outside the cathedral a woman approached us and told us of a Sicilian artisan market being held in an historic building nearby. We took a look and ended up buying me some beautifully crafted earrings.

The pedestrian area of Via Vittorio Emanuale was busy and tourist shops selling brightly coloured ceramics and mosaics lined the street. We stopped for some arancini in a street food deli, a Sicilian specialty of delectable rice balls with different filling and oozing with mozzarella.

Where Via Vittorio Emanuale dissects the other main thoroughfare, Via Maqueda, is Quattro Canti, or Piazza Vigliena, a Baroque square. The piazza is octagonal, four sides being the streets and the remaining four sides, Baroque buildings. The ornate near-identical facades contain fountains with statues of the four seasons, the four Spanish kings of Sicily, and of the patronesses of Palermo. We turned into Via Maqueda and walked up to the Massimo Theatre Opera House. This stately building was built at the end of the 19^th century and is Italy’s largest theatre with seating for 1,387.

From here we caught the free bus that runs around the historic centre of Palermo, a great initiative benefiting locals and tourists alike. The bus stopped for 10 minutes at the waterfront, so we took the opportunity to admire Porta Felice, a monumental city gate of Palermo. Like many of the buildings it’s beautifully ornate but crying out for a good scrub. Back on the bus, we completed the circuit to Massimo Theatre. It was time for a gelato to regain our energy. Even though it was a calm ferry crossing we still didn’t sleep well and felt a bit boat-lagged.

Our bus ride had given us our bearings and we walked back through the historic centre to the romantic Fontanta Pretoria, an ornate 1500’s marble fountain with curvy nude statues of mythological figures. It is very Italian. Behind the fountain is the church of San Cataldo, an old Arabic-style Norman church built in 1154 with mosaic floors and three red domes. Next door is Santa Maria dell’Ammiraglio, a domed Norman-era church with ornate baroque remodelling and known for its Byzantine mosaics. This collage is complicated.

Back up Via Vittorio Emanuale is the 9^th century Palazzo dei Normanii, the Royal Palace of Palermo. I had read about Capella Palatina, the gold chapel within the palace, and was keen to see it. Andrew was prepared to give it a miss but when we arrived at the ticket office it was a lot cheaper than we’d expected so I managed to convince him to come in. He was pleased he did as the chapel alone was worth the visit – truly stunning, with a gilded interior of elaborate Byzantine mosaics and paintings. The rest of the palace consisted of the ornate royal apartments, beautifully decorated with sumptuous furnishings and antiques.

We were beat and made our way back to the campervan. It had been a long day.

The next morning, we caught the bus to Monreale, 8kms from Palermo on the slope of Monte Caputo. This picturesque town overlooks the fertile valley of “La Conca d’oro” (the Golden Shell), famed for its orange, olive and almond trees, which are exported in large quantities. It was a beautiful day and the view down the valley and across Palermo was lovely. Apart from the view, Monreale’s 12^th century Norman Cathedral is its main attraction and is famous for the gold mosaics that line the interior. It was Sunday and Mass was just about to begin when we arrived. We were allowed to stand at the back and watch. A church always seems more beautiful when it is being used for what it was built for. The mosaics are exquisite, and being made from 2,200kgs of pure gold they are truly opulent. This cathedral, like its counterpart below in Palermo, reflects Sicily’s varied past – a combination of Norman, Byzantine and Arab.

Outside, the sun was warm, and the mood relaxed. We ate calzone, arancini, aubergine and artichoke in Piazza Guglielmo, wandered through the cobbled lanes, bought a ceramic wall tile and a scarf, then headed down the hill to Palermo.

It was election day in Italy and when we’d left for Monreale we’d passed lines of people outside polling booths. In Italy, like Spain, everyone goes out on a Sunday, so it may have been a normal Sunday, or it may have been busier because of the election, either way Palermo was humming. We walked back into the historic centre and couldn’t believe the sea of people along Via Maqueda. The atmosphere was vibrant, live music played, unsteady scoops of gelato balanced on children’s cones, café tables spilled into the street filled with people sipping hot chocolates or vino bianco and rosso, and dogs of all shapes and sizes, decked out in the latest doggy fashions, proudly accompanied their people through the throng.

Porto Nuovo, Palermo

Palermo Cathedral

Palermo

Quattro Canti, Palermo

Capella Palatina, Palermo

Massimo Theatre, Palermo

View over Palermo from Monreale

Trapani & Agrigento

The next morning, we left Palermo and headed west to Trapani. The countryside in this part of Sicily is hilly and fertile, and the closer we got to Trapani the more vineyards we passed. Trapani is a port town with a large fishing industry, and the province also produces olives and wine – more wine in fact than the Italian region of Tuscany. The ancient Greeks had a settlement here and over the centuries it has always been an important trading hub for whoever ruled at the time.

We intended to drive up the nearby peak of mount Erice where there is a small medieval village and apparently stunning views across the province. However, it was a cloudy day and Erice was shrouded in a thick grey blanket. We ummed and ahhed for a while and decided the twisty narrow road to the top on a blustery day would take a lot of effort for very little gain, as we wouldn’t be able to see anything. I had read that this was a regular occurrence and many tourists were left disappointed. When you’re travelling you quickly realise that a picture postcard experience is not a guarantee and you can’t possibly see everything in a travel guide.

Trapani itself has an elegant historic quarter built on a peninsula. We wandered through the streets and along the sea wall, noticing the graffiti on the walls and rubbish in the street, both of which seem prevalent in Sicily. There were some lovely buildings with ornate honey and alabaster facades, and the baroque cathedral with its emerald green tiled dome was very impressive, but we weren’t bowled over by Trapani and decided not to stay the night and instead push on to Agrigento.

The drive along the coast from Trapani to Agrigento took most of the afternoon and it was early evening when we arrived at our campsite on the beach. This was another sosta, a parking lot with an area for campervans and the necessary facilities. This sosta was particularly well looked after and the owner was very welcoming, even offering for sale his family olive oil and wine. Mr Love took him up on the vino rosso. At only 12 euro a night it was by far one of the better value campsites we’d stayed at.

The next day we took the bus to Agrigento, a beautiful town on the hillside overlooking fertile farmland and the coastline beyond. We walked through Porta di Ponte, the medieval gate at the entrance of the old town and were immediately captivated. Agrigento is a charming maze of narrow lanes and stairways leading through to piazzas and churches and dotted with pizzerias and artisan stores. It is clean and well-kept, and there were window boxes brimming with flowers. The steep climb to the Norman Cathedral was worth the puff with an incredible view from the bell tower across the valley. Lunch was from a little deli filled with locals –an arancini each, a piece of pizza for Andrew, and stuffed artichoke for me. It’s artichoke season and we have passed fields and fields of them being harvested, both in Sicily and Sardinia. Artichoke motifs are everywhere – on gates, building facades, ornaments, fountains, friezes, ceramics, wall tiles etc. They symbolise hope for a prosperous future.

Agrigento was a very pleasant surprise, as the real reason we had come was for what lay on the hills below this picturesque town – the Valley of the Temples. The remains of the ancient Greek city that lie here are considered some of the more impressive and important archaeological finds of their kind. Building began in the Valley of the Temples in the 6^th century BC with the foundation of the ancient Greek colony of Akragas, one of the largest on the Mediterranean Sea. The archaeological area of the Valley of the Temples is vast, covering 1300 hectares, but the area we visited was the ridge where the Doric temples were built. Seeing these imposing temples silhouetted on the skyline as we drove in the previous afternoon gave me goose bumps. Up close the marvel of these structures becomes real. Huge columns erected without machinery and fashioned to be majestic and refined, honouring the divine beauty of the gods and goddesses they were built for. The colour of these temples is unusual, built from the local calcarenite rock they are a rusty red and glow in the sunlight. After studying classics at school and university it was wonderous to walk in an area so steeped in antiquity and have the books come alive.

Trapani, Sicily

500 year old olive tree, Valley of the Temples

Temple of Juno, Valley of the Temples

Valley of the Temples, Agrigento

Temple of Concordia, Agrigento

Syracuse, Giardini Naxos & Taormina

It is impossible to escape the ancient Greeks in Sicily – as if you’d want to. Our next destination was Syracuse, where an enormous Greek settlement was founded by Corinthians in 734 BC and for a long time rivalled Athens as the most important city in the Greek world. It was the birthplace of Archimedes the mathematician, physicist, engineer, inventor, and astronomer, and of the playwright Aeschylus whose tragedies I once studied at length. The philosopher Plato also spent a few years in Syracuse.

We stayed at another sosta in the new part of the city, this one council owned. Like the other two sostas there were only a couple of campers there, but it the facilities were perfectly adequate, and it was only a 10-minute walk to the old city. The afternoon we arrived we walked across to the nearby Neapolis Archaeological Park where Greek and Roman ruins are in abundance.

The next morning, we walked down to the waterfront and across the bridge to the historic part of Syracuse on the island of Ortygia, where a labyrinth of charming ancient and medieval streets gave us plenty to explore. Although originally Greek, this area has been lived in by many peoples of Sicily and was the centre of Byzantine and Judaic civilisation on the island. Here, once again, the combination of different cultures influencing architecture makes this city a fascinating place to visit.

It is a small area, and we had all day, so we started with some more Greek history in Piazza Pancali. In the middle of the piazza is the Temple of Apollo, the oldest Greek temple in Sicily – in fact the oldest Doric Greek temple outside present-day Greece. Only a few columns and walls remain, but it is impressive all the same. From there we wandered through to Piazza Duomo, glorious in alabaster marble. Here the cathedral takes pride of place. What makes this cathedral special is that it was built around the Greek Temple of Athena, and the massive columns of the Doric temple are visible inside the cathedral – one civilisation respecting another that had gone before. Further on, by the sea wall is the freshwater Spring of Arethusa where in Greek mythology Artemis changed Arethusa into a spring of water to escape the river god Alpheus, it was here that the transformed maiden emerged. From here we saw Mount Etna for the first time, capped in snow. The sun was warm, and we ambled slowly along the sea wall to Maniaces Castle on the point. A castle was first built on the point by the Byzantine’s but was at its grandest two centuries later in the medieval era, and then, as with many castles, parts were destroyed and extensively modified over successive centuries.

It was time for lunch and the Spring of Arethusa was the perfect spot for that. We headed back and found a café selling what else but arancini. Those rice balls are getting addictive.

When we got to Ortygia in the morning we had seen a market, but not wanting to carry food around all day had left it until after lunch to take a proper look. We bought fresh fish and stocked up on veges before coming across a deli with a huge queue waiting for sandwiches. These weren’t your ordinary sandwiches, they were stacked high with every deli cuisine imaginable and the sandwich maker was a true showman keeping the crowd entertained while handing out samples of their homemade mozzarella. What a shame we’d eaten. The mozzarella however was too good to refuse, and I bought a block of their famous smoked mozzarella. While I was waiting in line for the cheese Andrew got talking to a German couple who were attempting to eat their giant sandwiches. They came from Gottingen, where my cousin lives. They expected we’d have no idea where that was and were surprised we’d been there. The coincidences continued when they told us they booked a trip to New Zealand later this year. It’s a small world.

Laden with produce we walked back to camp for a nice fish dinner.

The next day we drove up the coast past Mount Etna to the seaside resort town of Giardini Naxos. Here they proudly promote the fact that this was the first Greek colony in Sicily, established before the more well-known Syracuse and Agrigento. We weren’t here to see Giardini Naxos, but instead the mountain town of Taormina 200 metres above it. However, being a mountain town there are no campsites there. We were pleased to find the campsite we had chosen was almost full. We had started to feel a bit lonely after barely any campervans in Sardinia and only a few in the parts of Sicily we had visited. Here there were mostly Italians and Germans, but also French, Dutch and Belgians. It was a lovely site with welcoming owners and we immediately decided to stay for three nights.

The next day we caught the bus up the mountain to Taormina. It is very much an affluent tourist town and is often described as a mountain “resort”. There are endlessly winding medieval streets and tiny passages, loads of restaurants, cafés and ice cream shops selling their famous “ice-cream cannelloni”, as well as upmarket boutiques and swanky hotels. Although it is only about 200 meters above sea level, Taormina seems much higher, probably because it’s built on steep rocky cliffs with sheer drops. The Greeks lived here, and then the Romans. Andrew had seen enough of the Greeks so waited for me while I explored the Teatro Antico di Taormina, an ancient amphitheatre. He missed a treat. It was magnificent. Located just above Taormina the view from the theatre is of the town and rugged mountains in one direction and the coastline and sea far below in the other, and in the background is Mount Etna, smoking away under a shroud of cloud. It is a breath-taking location. With a setting like this it must be hard to concentrate on the action on stage.

We spent our last full day in Sicily in Giardini Naxos. Many of the holidays apartments and hotels in the resort town were closed up for winter but the town itself had plenty of life and the beach was lovely. We went for a walk along the coast. The rocks are black and volcanic. It was a lovely sunny day and Mount Etna was fully visible. She’s currently erupting and has been for the last four years. Puffing away in the background the presence of this volcano is always felt.

It only seemed fitting to eat out on our last night in Sicily and we found a waterfront restaurant with night-time views back up to Taormina and, as always, our Italian meal was well enjoyed.

The next day we drove on to Messina to catch the ferry to mainland Italy. The highway took us under the hills. Many of the tunnels looked a bit worse for wear and were often unlit. The roads in Sicily have not been great. The ferry links Sicily to mainland Italy and runs every half hour 24/7 365 days. It was a seamless experience, we drove on, briefly enjoyed the view from the deck, and 20 minutes later drove off. Our 12^th ferry journey with the campervan complete. Now the next part of our Italian adventure begins.

Sicily surprised us. At first, we didn’t know what to think, it was more worn than we expected, the buildings scruffy, the roads rough, very little new development and lots of rubbish. But the history is overwhelming, the food is divine, and people are passionately Sicilian, warm and welcoming.

Piazza Duomo, Syracuse

Arancini

Taormina

Teatro Antico di Taormina

Taormina

Taormina from Giardini Naxos

Mount Etna

March 6, 2018May 27, 2018

9 Months on the Road: House Sitting

Another month gone and another chance for me to push Louise aside and have my turn on the blog. We passed a couple of milestones this month. Firstly, we notched up our 200^th night in the motorhome – the rest of the nights were with family and house sitting. Secondly, we checked in to our 100^th campsite, in Sardinia.

Before we left home we investigated the idea of doing some house sitting in Europe. We had used house sitters for our place in Auckland and an ex work colleague had been house sitting in Europe for a couple of years and highly recommended it. After a bit of research we registered on two sites: www.trustedhousesitters.com and www.mindmyhouse.com . I think better names would be Trusted Pet Sitters and Mind My Pets, as essentially that’s what it’s about. It costs around NZ$130 a year for Trusted House Sitters and only NZ$30 for Mind My House. You get email alerts every day with the new assignments or you can just go the website and search what’s available by country and/or date. We thought by doing a few house-sits along the way we could get off the tourist route and experience local life in a different country, as well as take a small break from the motorhome. Plus, we wanted to spend Christmas in a house, so we could cook a nice roast dinner.

To date we have undertaken five house sits in Europe and have one booked for the UK in June. We feel that may be enough, but we may look for another one in the UK in July.

In case some of you are a little confused about ‘house sits’. It’s basically looking after someone else’s house and their animals while they are away on holiday. It saves the owners paying the cost of putting their pets in a kennel or cattery and they get to stay in their own environment, plus someone is looking after the house and garden. It’s a win-win for both parties. The pets are happy, the house is secure and for the house sitters it’s free accommodation, all they need to do is provide their own food.

Here’s a snapshot of the five house-sits we have undertaken to date:

Our first house-sit was for two weeks in late October in a small French village, looking after 2 cats and a dog called Bailey. He was a lovely golden Labrador and we walked him all over the place through the hundreds of acres of vineyards. We cut the hedge and mowed the grass for the owners as well as looking after the animals. It was quite a narrow lane to get the motorhome down, so it stayed parked in the driveway for the duration of our stay and we either biked or walked everywhere. The supermarket was over 5km away and we biked there, filled our backpacks and basket and biked home. A couple of times we bought too much and had plastic bags swinging on the handle bars. Another time Louise worked out a short cut. Did I say short cut? Well, we went down small paths, across vineyards, along bumpy narrow tracks, before eventually finding the way back to the road. When we got to one corner I realised a baguette was missing. All the bumping had broken the paper bag and it had fallen out. Louise backtracked a few hundred meters and found it, unscathed and still edible. We didn’t use that short cut again!!

Our second house-sit was for nine days in early December near San Pedro de Alcantara in southern Spain. Trish had seven adorable dogs who were great fun to look after. Trish was also adorable. She had been living in Spain for many years having worked there in her early life. She had a great sense of humour and made us feel very comfortable and at home. The day we arrived Louise set off with Trish and her friends for a ‘Girls Christmas Lunch’. Most of the 18 lunch guests were Brits who now live in Spain and play golf together just down the road. I wasn’t invited so instead got acquainted with the dogs. Right opposite Trish’s house was a huge paddock, around 20 acres where we would take the dogs for a walk twice a day. The only snag was horses and a donkey that didn’t like dogs lived there. We were forever on the lookout for them and had to make some quickfire moves to avoid them. It was hysterical. Trish left us a vehicle to use so we managed to get around the coastal area and see the sights. At night I would light the fire and Louise would sit on the couch covered in dachshunds all trying to get the best spot close to her.

Pet & House-sitting in France

Pet-sitting in France

Nanny reclining by the pool in Spain

Hugs in front of the fire

4 of the 7 out walking

Our third house-sit was at Periana Spain, 20kms from the coast, in the mountains surrounded by thousands of olive trees. We were there for 2 weeks over Christmas. The drive in was hair raising. It was basically a one lane road of about 3km. We are quite a big vehicle and we had gone only 200 meters when we encountered a large Range Rover towing a trailer filled with olives. Having managed to negotiate our way past, by pulling the side mirrors in, all was good for another 500 meters when a tractor with a trailer load of olives arrived. Another deep breath and we again managed to pass. Then there were the overhanging trees – scratchy pomegranates that made an awful noise on the side of the van. At times we did wonder where we were going, but eventually we arrived at Steve, Midi and son Joe’s quaint Spanish farmhouse. We negotiated a small lane around the back of the house and parked the motorhome, and that’s where it stayed. We again had use of a vehicle. They had a few acres with three horses, a lovely dog called Milo, two rabbits, a cat and some hens. No matter which way we walked from the house it was up hill, so the fitness levels improved a lot while we were there. We had Christmas lunch on the deck in the sun and a lovely Christmas roast dinner that evening. There was only a hand full of houses in this small alcove just out of Periana and the neighbours were all were invited for drinks the day we arrived. It was an excellent idea as it enabled us to get to know everyone. Some of the neighbours kindly invited us to a lovely Boxing Day brunch with around 25 of their friends from around the area, they were ex pat Brits, a Norwegian couple, and a Belgium and Dutch couple, all of whom now call Spain home. Before we left Periana we did a bit of pruning on the roadside while we were out walking Milo and the drive out went without a hitch

Our fourth house-sit was for four days in mid-January at a place called Cehegin in the Spanish region of Murcia. Tony and Shirley moved from the UK 13 years ago. They have a number of olive trees and upon our arrival they gave us a 5-litre container of homegrown olive oil – an absolutely beautiful product. They were out in the country and had 3 dogs. The whole house ran on solar power, so you had to be a bit careful with how many appliances you had going at one time, but it all worked well. It was a nice house with swimming pool, a bit too cold to use at this time of year, and again our walks with the dogs took us through olive groves and past wild deer, much to the delight of the dogs who gave chase on one occasion but came back empty handed. One of the advantages of house sitting is it can take you off the tourist route. Louise found a campsite at a place called Bullas, about 15km from Cehegin, where we stayed the night prior. We walked in to the small town and found a wine museum. We decided to have a look around and it was fascinating. We also purchased some of the product for around NZ$5 a bottle – it would probably sell for NZ$20 plus at home. The day we left Cehegin they had a cold blast and our route took us up through a mountain range. From a distance it looked like more of those plastic green houses, but as we got closer we realised it was snow. Very beautiful.

Our final house-sit was for nine days in late January at a place called Pinos de Valle. On our arrival we realised this was one driveway we could not fit up. Our hosts Laurie and Annie have a gorgeous property in the mountains overlooking a damn, some 50km from Granada. Once we decided we couldn’t fit up the driveway, we decided to leave the motorhome at a parking lot in town about 3km up the road. The locals were told it was ours and while we were a bit nervous about leaving it there, it was as safe as houses. Again, a vehicle was left for us to run around in. The property had olives, oranges and lemons. We squeezed fresh orange juice for breakfast and were invited to take some with us which we happily accepted. Walking tracks for the two dogs were endless and we hiked all over the place with the two adorable dogs, Lucia and Nuria. They had a beautiful bakery in the small town of four shops and one restaurant/bar. The house was very warm with two fireplaces and under floor heating. We needed it. The Sierra Nevada ski fields weren’t too far away, and a big snow fall occurred during our stay. While it didn’t snow where we were, when we drove to the nearby supermarket, about 10km away, there was snow all along the roadside and surrounding hills and the cars in the carpark were covered in snow. Laurie is a mad keen rugby fan and they had flown off to Rome to see England play Italy. England won. Again, a lovely place to be house sitting with great hosts.

Periana, Spain

Cehegin, Spain

Walking with Kayla in Cehegin

Louise & Nuria, Pinos Del Valle

View over Pinos Del Valle

So that was our house sitting in Europe. All different, but all great and memorable experiences. Even if a campervan tour isn’t your thing, definitely keep house-sitting in mind. It is a brilliant way to see places you wouldn’t normally see, meet great people and animals, and all for a low cost.

Now to the stats for February. We finished NZ$1,165 under budget for the month even though our mileage increased on the previous couple of months. We travelled 1,624 km’s (1,015 miles) averaging 58km a day. We spent $339 on diesel with 22 nights in campsites, 5 house-sitting and an overnight on the ferry from Barcelona to Sardinia. We are now NZ$6,811 under our budget after 9 months and feeling pretty chuffed.