melodies pure and true.

Ain’t spring great! Here in Scandinavia it seems to take on a sense of urgency as if the cold will come back and it will have to start again.  The dawn chorus  has a louder necessity to it and the buds are creaking with pressure.  The people urgently embrace the first warm sun as well, and amongst the joggers in newly squeezed in lycra, the promenades throng with amblers in spring, (not winter) coats.

We like Denmark and the Danes, and apart from their ridiculously expensive capital, it feels like Devon.  Apart from, all the Danish tourist attractions we have seen, which are very good, are all about Vikings.  We are lucky in the UK, we had Vikings, Romans and Normans.. Denmark is Vikings and Carlsberg. Well a bit more. Turborg as well.

We crossed over to Sweden and stayed with some friends in Malmo.  The bridge is 8km long, after 4 km in a tunnel and is the longest road and rail bridge in Europe.  Amazing. We crossed the whole bridge in fog which was very eerie; like driving through a cloud.  

Bob Marley has pipped The Kings of Leon as no 1 driving song. Well, sunshine, the road, can’t beat it!

NEW PHOTOS

In same place as last time. Right hand margin, click on to go Flkr. When on Flkr click the sullivans Photostream The new ones start from Milan!

Germany

I have never been passed by a rocket in the sky before but after driving on the Autobahns for a while, I think I know what it would be like.  The last Merc that went past, I’m sure was jet powered and passed the sound barrier soon after overtaking.  Each time it happens we still say, woe that was fast.

We stayed in a little town outside Dresden, which we hear has been rebuilt beautifully since the war.  We didn’t visit; I felt I would feel a little like Mr Putin does at the moment.  Relieved at the overall victory but not so happy with some of the methods.

And so to Berlin and the rudest people we have met so far.  We are aware that most cities can me anonymous, but we have spent the best part of a month in cities now and Berliners win hands down.  When does edgy, hip and cool become happy; people. Cheer up.  I have got money I need and in some cases want to spend; if you smile I might give some to you.  Cat has got to the point of thanking people when they smile! 

A big city, small in its embrace.  Great Zoo though. We found Nemo.  And a lovely spring evening by the Brandenburg Gate.

Hats off to the Hapsburgs

In 8 days we have been on a four city breaks.  Zagreb, Budapest, Vienna and Prague.  Interspersed with the lovely city of Gyor, (Between Vienna and Budapest) and a friendly but boggy Czech field. The main link with these cities and indeed most of Central Europe is the Hapsburgs, a dynasty that influenced the region for about 400 years.  Their epi centre was the Hapsburg Palace a beautiful series of buildings in Vienna, which sparkled in the early spring sun.  A few minutes’ walk away was the impressive museum quarter that occupied us with an ocean themed play area and a very good exhibition on Austrian artist Gustav Klimt. Fantastic place.

Some things we have leant in the last week.

The Czech folk version of Sloop John B is really bad. That’s before the bells.

The Austrian in Bauhaus, who sold us the camping gas, didn’t know what an empty canister feels like.  Granted, nor did we until it didn’t work.

Expected cost of camper stop.  Nothing.  Actual cost of hotel with really good wifi to watch the Rugby against the French live on BBC 1.  Priceless.

Clean clothes are really good.

The Czech motorway construction crews should Google concrete shuttering.  It irons out bumps when you pour concrete lads. Still shaking as I write.

Hazel can’t help giggling when she does her sad impression.  

Austrian Drivers, good.  Czech, moderate.  Polish; absolute nutters, go and pass a test or something.

Hungry

“Nice one spudsy”, “Good work fella” was how 7 lads from Manchester loudly greeted their stepped immersion into the outdoor thermal spa.  Although my sentiments mirrored theirs, I preferred to let out a long, happy sigh that drifted with the steam.  Welcome to Budapest.

The city has a number of thermal springs from which the water spouts.   At 75 degrees.  You can choose between about 6 spas that utilise the hot stuff.  Our one had outdoor pools at about 38 degrees and 6 indoor pools which went from 24 to 40.  I had a sauna and jumped in an 18 degrees immersion pool. I’m still ironing out the goose bumps.

Budapest is in fact two old cities, one called Buda and the other... Have a guess.  Imagine that town council meeting.  “Well we have come up with a few potential names, which we would like to vote on”

Think of a wide Regents Street, and you have got the main drag, Andrassy which for 2 miles leads up to Hero’s Square and the main park. Underneath is a metro line that is so shallow, I think it was three steps down; I was surprised not to see the train poking out of the road.

We had a stupidly cheap apartment in the city centre and spent a couple of days wandering around.  The castle of Buda, which sits on a large rock, looks imperially down over the Danube and gives the whole city a regal backdrop.  Hazel’s highlight was a busker playing Billie Jean on a Sax, all to her!

Our highlight may well have been a chocolate shop, with the most amazing cake. Or maybe the petrified hand of St Stephen in the Cathedral.  800 years it’s been there. Blimey.

and so we turn north

We have left our lovely Island of Hvar and have headed to Zagreb, a city of communist concrete and Austro Hungarian splendour.  Just a to say:

I’ve weaned myself from Sat Nav, can you believe,

I’ve weaned myself from Sat Nav, now I can weave,

On A and B roads in the old Eastern Bloc,

Without letting Tom Tom run me amok,

To see how far it is to go

I sporadically spy the speedo,

I feel so free and green

Not constantly scanning the screen;

I’ve weaned myself from Sat Nav.... for now.

But we can’t have war, this is 1990; this is Europe.

The title of this blog is a quote from a film I watched about 15 years ago.  It was about two brothers on opposing sides of the Balkan war and a family subsequently torn apart.  The line always stayed with me as it was said with so much conviction, by the wife of one of the brothers, and ringed so true.

I was reminded of it yesterday as we snaked through rural Croatia.  The damn, insatiable wind was blowing again and having had enough of being buffeted, we took the next road off the motorway and decided to see if we could reach our destination on the B roads without any wind.

In any rural setting you will always have some buildings that are decrepit,  be it an old, dry stone shed in Cumbria or a decaying brick hut in Spain, as I pondered this I realised the dilapidated buildings were less sporadic and looked surprisingly newly fallen.  They generally would have no roof, no windows and most of the walls had tumbled down.  Then next door would be a brand new house.

I then realised the new polished grave stones by the road were adjacent to the shattered buildings.  

As we continued through the next town, we began to notice more and more of these ruins, and that particularly around windows and doors, they were scarred with bullet and grenade holes.  It all looked like it had happened so recently, if we had turned the next corner and seen smoke rising from a house, it would not have surprised. Then next door would be a brand new house.

I wanted to take a picture, but didn’t really want to be reminded of this horrifying place.  It didn’t feel right. Why had they left such a visual reminder of the appalling recent history, understandably trying to build a new life, but next to murderous ruins?  I don’t know if the houses were Serbs, Croatians, Christians or Muslims.  I don’t know whose bullets scarred those walls and I don’t know whose new houses overlook the ruins.  I did know that our windy motorway, in this friendly, pretty country, was brought into perspective.