14. Apr, 2016

14. Apr, 2016

SUNDAY 19-4-15

Today started well and then it was downhill all the way. We had a lovely hot shower and a change of clothes before dumping our loo cassette in the gents and the grey (sink & shower) water down a nearby drain.

Back on the road again heading pretty much across country from the E75 to Sofia where we'd pick up the E80 towards the Turkish border. The Serbian section of the trip was an eye-opener. This was peasant country, dirt poor farmers and population, where if you own a donkey and cart you are considered a flash git. There were single track roads full of twists and turns with a lumpy bumpy surface. Strangely, we were seeing concrete structures either side of the road which were clearly the beginnings of a motorway and interchanges which would pass through here, though I don't see the point of having interchanges constructed here, as there's nothing to get off the motorway for. There's no tourist industry, certainly no restaurants, and even if they opened some, they would have to be Burger King or something because even Loyd Grossman would struggle to create a sauce to make what these people must eat taste appetising, and if the authorities don't allow horse and carts on the motorway then the locals will have nothing to get on to it with anyway, so I don't see what's in it for them.

I've no idea who's paying for it but I but the British taxpayer features in it somewhere.

We crossed in to Bulgaria with a lot of hassle, questions and searches. With the attitude they adopt its little wonder their tourist industry is not big - and the roads! I thought Serbia was bad but Bulgaria takes the prize for worst road surfaces. I spent all my time swerving around on single file roads trying to miss the potholes, then when we reached the motorway there were deep ruts in the nearside lane caused by the HGV's which I had to try and avoid, otherwise we were liable to start weaving, as our track width isn't the same as theirs. Both lanes were peppered with so many potholes and rough patches that I spent many miles driving on the hard shoulder as it was a better surface.

The most frustrating thing of all is that we have to buy vignettes at the border to allow us to use their roads plus toll fees on top of that. A fairer arrangement would be for them to give us an envelope of cash as we left the country as a 'thank you' for coming, together with a small donation towards our next set of tyres and shock absorbers ruined by their roads.

The mixture of bad roads, pot-holed surfaces and their bad driving (letting these people drive a car with full forward vision, having been so accustomed to sitting on a cart holding a pair of reins whilst staring at a horses arse, is positively dangerous) has slowed us down considerably. It has been a very long day. We were on the road at about 09:45 and came off at around 19:00. This TruckStop is very quiet, so we should get a good night's sleep.

As it had been a long and tiring day my resident chef rustled up a quick meal of beef in gravy, new potatoes and carrots, all tinned, and very nice it was too, especially when washed down with a glass or two of vino.

14. Apr, 2016

SATURDAY 18-4-15

We woke to rain hitting the roof above our heads. After breakfast I managed to dump our 'grey' water down a nearby drain (we've yet to see any recognition of the needs of caravanners or motorhomers in these parts).

We hit the road again heading out East. We spent the day putting our hands in our pockets for fees and passport inspections by every man and his dog as we passed from Croatia in to Serbia.

There was a queue at the Serbian border. As we came close to the front we could see there was a caravan that had been stripped bare, it also had a 'GB' sticker in the back, and all the seating cushions were outside, leaning against the side of the caravan. Jesus I thought, which side did we back? These are Serbians. Didn't we militarily support the Croats against Slobodan Milosevic the mass murderer? Maybe this lot are just bad losers and its payback time. I was a little concerned that if they searched the vehicle they may find the safe. Luckily we were allowed through with minimum formalities. As we passed the caravan we could see a table loaded with items wrapped in bubble-wrap, probably discovered in the storage compartments under the beds. The owner and driver certainly didn’t look like respectable pensioners going off on holiday.

We are now getting used to the border crossing arrangements in this part of the world. Firstly you go through a tollbooth and pay somebody for the bit of road you've just used, then you get a couple of miles of freebie before hitting the exit border control, having cleared that you get about 500 yards of 'No Man's Land' in which the Truckers can pee with legal impunity, then comes Border Control for the country you're entering, passport formalities, then half a mile to another toll booth where you take a ticket to be screwed for another X number of miles on toll roads which lie ahead.

This being Saturday and it being about 15:00hrs progress through the centre of Belgrade was slow. Traffic was pretty much gridlocked as shoppers bought food for their donkeys and new elastic bands for the engines of their Lada cars.

We were often passing Lada 'Yugo's, which were mostly red and which I nicknamed 'Serbian Ferrari's'.

Tonight we are camped at a Garage-Cum-Small-TruckStop about 30 miles west of Novis. I thought we'd get cute. Having parked up out of sight away from the HGV's, and having had our evening meal we would buy a coffee in the cafe which had free Wi-Fi and make contact with the outside world. Serbian Wi-Fi equals no Wi-Fi, the price of two coffees wasted. And another thing - how did they manage to serve very cold froth over the top of Luke-warm coffee?

My personal chef and soul-mate seems to be making a slow improvement which is fortunate, as I was considering dropping her off at a local care home for the elderly so that I could crack on with the journey unhindered.

I am hoping that tomorrow we can cover the rest of the journey across the Turkish border to a campground where we'll get ourselves organised before entering Istanbul in the middle of the night to avoid the worst of the traffic.

14. Apr, 2016

14. Apr, 2016

FRIDAY 17-4-15

We were woken to the sound of rain hitting our roof. Oh dear what had happened to all the sunshine? After a bit of a lie-in we scrubbed up, had breakfast, then hit the road. We had done very well with our water consumption over the previous 24 hours. We'd used just 5 gallons plus bottled drinking water (we have an in-line carbon filter fitted to the kitchen sink's tap but we’re playing it safe).

The last 70 miles across der Farderland was quite picturesque, in fact it looked more Austrian than Austria, then in to Austria itself. Not that pretty really, not the part we passed through, besides which we spent much of it inside long dark tunnels. I know it may be unfair but I've never been able to see the Austrians as anything more than Nazi sympathisers. I think escaping from there was the best thing Julie Andrews and Christopher Plummer ever did. Unfortunately their progress was slowed down because they had to drag along all those kids that wouldn't stop singing. It is said that on arrival in England it didn't take British Intelligence long to realise that although he was posing as a naval captain, Austria was a land-locked country and therefore had no need of a navy. As punishment he spent the rest of the war years as skipper of a steamboat on Lake Windermere, whilst Julie and the kids toured residential care homes for the elderly.

At the end of the war the elderly residents from all the local care homes clubbed together their pension money and bingo winnings to buy the whole family one-way tickets to America rather than have to endure another rendition of 'Doe-Ray-Me'.

So out of Austria then (I do love to watch on TV their New Years Day concert live from Vienna), and in to Slovenia for a while. Lovely scenery, then in to Croatia, and guess what? They all screwed us for vignettes and toll fees. What rubs salt in to the wounds is that the UK borrows money to give to the EU so that they can give it to these poorer EU nations to build roads with. Having built them they have the audacity to charge us to use them.

We are spending the night at a TruckStop east of Zagreb, another one with a distinct aroma in the parking area.

Wandering around amongst the ‘Truckies’ is a very rough old bird, clearly on the game, touting for business. Her problem is that she will only appeal to blind truck drivers, which I suggest is a very limited market.

We enjoyed our evening meal of Beef Salad whilst watching a line of Truckies taking a very public pee on the grass (yup, 70 cents here too). I believe Monsanto have developed a GM grass seed which is pee-resistant and with an EU grant, will plant it at all TruckStops from Calais to Eastern Europe.

As I prepare for yet another early night (my personal chef and soul-mate having turned in earlier) I find myself looking out of the window at a fat slob of a Truckie doing very strange and exaggerated leg movements. Oh well, he's the one who will have to wear those underpants tomorrow.