BRUGES TODAY, GONE TOMORROW

Bruges today- gone tomorrow.

Saturday 23^rd

A fly in visit to Bruges starting with a manic start to the travel day from Paris as Alex’s phone decided to fail some more and not keep time. So our early start for the walk for the 6.07 train turned out to be not so early, meaning we had to trot (as we can’t run with backs) to the station. An odd smell trailing us round turned out to be Bex’s backpack straps damp from the rain during our stay meaning we travelled separately until the bus. Amazing ourselves at how early we managed to get to the bus meet point was quickly overshadowed by the struggle to get a coffee from the world’s dumbest hostel worker.

Pushing our luck on the accommodation list round the bus, requesting a campsite for 2 with free wifi and centrally placed, didn’t work so yet again we pulled into somewhere with nowhere to stay and the google search began. Success in the form of Camping Memling, as always bad directions and putting Bex in charge of navigating led to a long walk before being greeted by the ‘no vacancy’ sign. Thankfully our small tent allows us to pitch anywhere so we were let in.

Since it was such a short stay we splashed out on a canal tour, while eating our chocolate spoon lolly, and the tour guide trying many times to sell us property along the way. We feel he is an estate agent mon-fri, tapping into the tourist market on weekends.

Sunday 24^th

Sunday morning was a sad moment when Alex woke Bex up to the news of Amy Winehouse’s death. The news had spread as quickly as the drugs through her system round the campsite then verified by an iPhone. Similar to when in Australia we learnt of MJ’s death we set the speakers up and played her album while mourning our morning away.

Mourning over and done with it was time to tourist the sights of Bruges including the chocolate Obama, Christ’s blood & drink the potent de Garre beer. Jaysus’ blood is kept watch over a priest in a basilica and surrounded  by tourists – so quite hard to miss. We queued to touch it and copying the more religious folk ahead of us we touched it, smiled at the priest while saying a prayer and as donations were meant to reflect your belief we chucked 30 cents in the bowl.  Alex’s prayer was very topical requesting we don’t die on the pilgrimage, signing off love Alex.

Moving on to de Garre Alley, to de Garre pub for a de Garre beer signalled the end to the rest of our touristing for the day when we started on the beer so potent they will only serve you 3 and networked the pub for future accommodation.

Firstly the local Belgians we shared a table with who despite the language barrier between us all we held a good conversation ending with a dinner invite and a place to stay.

 Next up the Italians, who gave us their son’s address in Venice who we can stay with next month. 

Then fellow Bus Abouters before the Canadians and their new Belgian friend who loved Queen.

The night ended in a fruitless search for the library bar before ending up drinking with a lads holiday group from Derby who after our night out with the Barnsley bikers we will visit on our return. After Alex noticed her jumper was not keeping her warm due to a whole seam ripped we trekked back to the campsite praying it wouldn’t rain – and given our conversation with Jesus earlier we felt this was completely reasonable.

Monday 25^th

The next fly-in stop was a return to Amsterdam on our journey back to Berlin. The bus about rep, although possibly mentally unhinged greeting us with the phrase ‘I wouldn’t come near as I am sweating like a rapist’, was by far the best so far doing the safety speech in rap to the ‘fresh prince of Belair’ tune. We returned to Camping Zeeburg and it finally paid off to be on foot instead of a car as no cars were being accepted. Unfortunately the site housed the most active stoners ever who stayed up all night chanting and singing but somehow not passing out and going to bed. 

PARIS...OVERPRICED, OVERRATED, OVER AND DONE WITH

Monday 18^th July

Earliest start by far with the aim for us of catching the train and for Hannake making sure we left and didn’t stay for good. Instructions of turning left at the pig for the station worked, much to everyone’s amazement and we set up our picnic after waddling and squeezing through the seats to dump our packs. Dutch kisses to all for a fab stay and for having us.

An hour into the journey concern arose when the train stopped and a French announcement made, after finding a translator we found out it was only animals on the track. 5 hours later we pulled into Paris and learnt the French disembark trains as fast as the Asians do boats. General puzzlement later we mastered the train to Melun and trekked le new campsite, as always the longest and wrongest route first.

Our pitch was slightly oversized for our tent leading to indecisiveness of where to pitch it – luckily it is not a challenge to move it. Dinner was brought over to the pitch by a small child on a bike so chips and a movie signalled the end of a very long travel day and as always the good weather came to an end and the rain came in overnight.

Tuesday 19^th July

The longest travel day to date of 8 hours in transit and heavy rain led to an unplanned rest day. After gaining courage to run through the torrential rain we took cover at the bar. A wander into the mystery town of Melun led to a restaurant – Asian Buffet – unfortunately travellers are a buffets worst enemy and we cleared it. While debating whether the building over the road was a prison or not we found fellow Brits and decided to go for one drink , not the easiest task in Melon, 20 minutes later and a high pitched French guy at a shop, we arrived at ‘Le Bar’.  Potentially a bar of local gangsters that stared at us the whole time, deciding against another drink there we headed back to the shop to buy some wine for the campsite.  Finding some Dutch teenagers at the campsite the wine was indulged upon, after they discovered our age, and told us we were quite close to death! From now on were claiming to be 23, its better for us and for parents, it makes them younger too! Being moved on from the site (possibly a pattern immerging) we took up residence near some road works equipment and continued our inter-country mingling, joined by a man who had sat in his car watching us since we arrived.  During the inter-country mingling, the term ‘johnny pocket’ was explained to all, mostly Alex, and her amazement at the use for the tiny mystery pocket was obvious.

Wednesday 20^th July

Super touristing day got off to a late start- but once coffeed and coissanted we trained into Paris, halfway realising we didn’t have any of the brochures’ for the tour starting points.  Instead we went to the catacombs which not everyone thought were as amazing as we did, one girl spending the whole walk through with her head to the ground distressed at the death all around her.

Despite being optimistic about climbing the 1600 steps or so to the top of the Eiffel tower it was decided against it once we saw how big it really was. Lots of military police everywhere but here at the tower they had decided to deploy boy soldiers who, despite having guns, had he fear factor of -10.

Arriving at the Arc De Triomphe at 5.51pm meant we got to see the lighting of the Eternal Flame ceremony. Old soldiers everywhere with flags galore and a couple of younger soldiers not taking part just taking photos – we questioned whether they had just hired the uniform to get a good picture spot. Alex went to the Louvre and against the odds had a one on one moment with the Mona Lisa.

It was time to head home to but not before a toilet crisis at Gare De Lyon where Alex got locked in a cubicle and caused a commotion. As usual the rain had started so it meant only one thing: bathroom party. When we eventually returned to our damp, wet, smelly tent doubts about Vango started to creep in and discussions had about whether to upgrade to a larger tent.

Thursday 21^st July

True day of achievement, found the short route to the station and caught the direct 25 minute train to Paris! Trying to debunk the tours, we made our own way to Versailles, only to find a hitch in the metro line and had to catch buses, finally arriving we found ourselves very at home in the grand palace.  So grand and opulent, the Hall of Mirrors fantastic, Mary-Antionettes apartments spectacular. 

Of course nothing can go too smoothly, after being divided by Asian tourtists, we remained lost for 30 minutes, both at separate exits, waiting for the other.  Lunch was the best sandwich had in France so far (not counting Hannake’s), the back to the city to see Notre Dame.  3 older Americans utilised our touristing skills, which for them included a guide through the station to the taxi rank, these are the people that should be on an organised tour, but points to them for trying.  The Jury is still out on what we think of Notre Dame, definitely spectacular, just not sure if its nice or not, but that was soon to be overshadowed by the following sights all in quick succession. A man playing the nuts, a seemingly homeless pair with a gerbil eating sushi and a man crossing the road balancing a ball on his head.  A swift beer in the Latin quarter and then back to the smelly tent, disappointing Alex immensely, spending the day at such a big palace where people roamed in grand clothes, and we were crammed into the tiny tent in clothes that should have been washed some time ago.

Friday 22^nd

Rest and preparation for travel day turns out to be quite a strenuous one, washing, drying, fixing Vango (the tent) after a pole break was noticed, as he only has two main poles, this is important to fix.  The Balex committee meeting was held and it was decided that we do need a bigger tent, not to be defeated by the tininess of Vango200 but to allow for the continuance of the shite European weather, it has forced our hand, not allowing the packs to be kept in the porch.  Vango will be kept and used as a dressing room/pack room when we upsize.  Whilst enjoying our pizza dinner (once again delivered by a small boy on a bike) we were rudely interrupted by kids club antics, until Alex pulled out her best teacher voice and some hand gestures the blind would have understood. 

HOME IS WHERE THE HANNEKE IS

 Days of le Superr travel

Friday 8^th – Sunday 10^th July: Stuttgart – Paris - Toulouse

Despite having grand plans to be packed up by 10 and on our way our way to the bus from Stuttgart to Paris leaving at 12.30 our tent was still up and stuff unpacked at 11.45am. Final mad dash to stop & bakery left us with just enough time to regale the crew with horror tales of the sauna before we were off to Paris.

10 hours later we pulled into Paris in amazement at the crazy French driving at which our driver Dan fully participated in. Some jeering at the competitor coaches later we arrived at the hostel – unfortunately not where we were staying. No, we had to find our mystery gem of a hotel costing us $22 each. This turned out to be in mini-Arabia and possibly the worst part of Paris situated behind the red light district.

The name the Grand Hotel was optimistic, seemingly they used all their budget on the reception/bar area and none in the rest of the ‘hotel’. Up a spiral staircase we went leading into another world looking more like the dirtiest thai backpackers you can imagine, after shuffling sideways through the pitch black corridor we arrived at our room and prepared to take turns in the communal shower.

Saturday morning brought new hope as we left the hotel and our bags too (hoping they will be there on our return) to try and find the latin quarter instead ending up in the middle of a police supported ‘support the homeless shelters’ protest. Signing the petition earned us some directions to a 3 course meal and wine for $15 each. Sometime later thankfully, reunited with our packs, we took advantage of the hotels hospitality and stayed to use their internet until late into the night, leaving only when they turned down the lobby lights. So at 2230 hrs we headed off, to spend our cheapest night yet, at the airport, awaiting our early morning flight.  Joke was on us though, it turns out due to the increase in tramps using airports as homes, there are now no longer 24 hour shower facilities, no chairs you can lay over and no food on offer unless it’s out of a machine. We did the only thing we could, using luggage trolleys, one as driver, one as jockey, we raced some Germans up and down the terminal, tried to find cheap vending machines (foiled due to tramp activity) and then watched as Alex –clinging to all valuable parts of the luggage- managed to fall asleep around the chair divider in an area designated to the special needs passengers.

With only 30 minutes sleep we have managed to check in and using our packs water proof covers, have managed to sneak things on that had to be carabineered to them cause there wasn’t enough room inside.  The flight itself was meant to be the easy part- this was not so! After 12 of EasyJets best conference’d about the best time to have us board a bus that would drive us 50 metres to the plane , we were aboard, only to have the third seat in our row taken by a lady who after she got a seat belt extender from the stewardess, then proceeded to kiss us breath by breath, the type of horrid breath that makes you complete the entire flight with your jumper over your mouth and nose, while you obviously and deliberately waft the air with the inflight emergency instruction booklet, all while battling turbulence.  We as a team urge everyone, everywhere, brush your teeth, it’s simple, it’s supported, it should be mandatory. 

From here on in it was like a treasure hunt, the treasure being somewhere to pitch le tent and go to sleep.  A big hello to the helpful inspector on the airport link bus, giving us hints on getting to Cahors from Toulouse, while the other not as helpful one talked French at all three of us during our obviously struggling English conversation- during which Becky managed to complete a full change of clothes in the back seat, on a highway.  Alex was tuckered out, not managing to make it to a campsite before napping, instead taking some zzz while on bag watch duty at Cahors station, hiding so well that Becky had even started involving other parties to find her before discovering her fast  asleep next to a fountain in the shade.  Then onwards we trekked, walking with the first pilgrims we’ve come across to the campsite of sun, fun and pools.

Cahors: Monday 11^th & Tuesday 12^th

Hot Hot Hot, super sun in Cahors reaching the mid 40’s, and somehow we didn’t get sunburnt! Alex survived thanks to Pauls hat. The action of the day took everyone by surprise, interrupting sunbathing when a woman needed 4 ambulance men to lift her out of the pool and take her & her dislocated knee away – Rebecca seeing the commotion on the way back from the toilets was disappointed that no CPR was in progress but quickly joined the poolside commentary led by Alex to other campers.

When it was marginally cooler, 39 degrees at 8pm, we headed into town for cheap wine and moules frites, when in france do as the French do. This was the meal of the day as we discovered early on that france closes on Mondays, so lucky for us the meal came with complimentary crabs which we didn’t bank on and Bex ate several before realising. A few hours later on the few km’s walk home we discovered how attack prepared we are when a suspect car and occupant had Alex instantly searching for a weapon, yet again the flick knife on the spork came in handy in case we needed to stab and run. Instead we only needed to hide next to a property with a big dog before fast walking a km and realising the weird guy wasn’t following us.

Tuesday brought with it the need for some culture and to meet the locals. Into town we went, checking out musee de la resistance, and a big thanks to the Southern French boys from the campsite who gave us a lift into town in their van just minutes after Alex suggesting she would offer lifts to travellers from now on. Our last evening at the campsite and in Cahors was spent drinking local wine, packing and eating fresh food from the markets quickly making the messiest pitch known to man. So quickly fixed when naturally the rain stormed down on us again.

Finally arrive in Salviac – Wednesday 13^th – Sunday 17^th

Wednesday 13^th

Wanting to arrive in style at the station for our pickup to Salviac, we boarded le petit steam train at the campsite in our dresses, heels and packs.

 Steve and Hans collected us and in the process we might all end up in the background of a low budget movie, as we moved closer to filming to look for two men driving round looking  completely lost. And into Salviac we pulled, for Hans’ 80^th birthday, the cooking & chopping of food started before heading to the Bastille Day celebrations.Steve and his girls enjoyed the food and wine before he temporarily flirted with disaster when he pushed a cornetto up Alex’s nose. We enjoyed the fireworks unaware of the challenge awaiting us of getting Steve back up the hill to Hanneke’s. Tonight confirmed the creation of Steve’s law, similar to Sods, and his group, Steve’s Girls.

Thursday 14^th

Thursday was filled with manic preparation for Hans birthday dinner for 40 people. Balex provided a solid contribution of decorating pies with messages for the birthday boy – Charlotte wouldn’t let us near her sausage rolls unfortunately! Lesbian fingers, baked pitta with butter & garlic, were the next item to be prepared for the meal leading to endless jokes throughout the night including one guest wanting to know what they were in case she had them!

Dressed and ready to party we circulated the nibbles to guests starting the confusion of were we hired help or not. Confusion turned into certainty when table 4 asked for more bread and table 1 needed more water. Mingling continued and Charlotte was complimented on her good English language skills – embarrassment all round when they learnt she was English.

Steve’s girls took command of an eventful clean-up operation leading Hans to think a full blown argument had broken out. It was only the huge spider in Els’s hair that led to screaming from all of us, Bex was attacked by an unexpected serrated cake slice and stacks of stuffed dates and potential pecan pie were discarded. Alex joined the list of injuries when she revealed she had been stabbed by a steak knife earlier in the night at the dessert bar. Despite the panic of spiders and deadly weapons in the kitchen we left the kitchen as clean as we could hopefully persuading Hannake to come canoeing with us in the morning instead of needing to clean up.

Friday 15^th

Plans were successful and on Friday morning we formed teams for the day of canoeing the Dordogne. Steve and his girls formed 2 pairings, Hannake & Els another and Hannah and Bos the other. While trying to be helpful Charlotte almost didn’t make it to the river when she was nearly attacked by a dog 

of death.

BALEX boarded and were off while everyone else was still at the shore – partly confirming our affinity to water, partly the current leaving us with no choice. River bars were formed between Steve and his girls while Hannake & Els zig zagged their way down the river possibly covering 17 miles to everyone else’s 9. In our attempt to tan we trialled a gondola approach to rowing meanwhile Charlotte was taking sun protection to new extremes with a turban sarong.

Several stops later, to swim, eat and collect scattered clothing and footballs, we arrived at our destination of the 2^nd bridge – Hannake and Els did this in true style as they canoed over a small child in the process!

Tan lines from the day were fab and Steve’s burnt feet took the prize for best in show. It was time to return to Hannakes, signalling the end of peace and quiet for Hans for the day, for the first evening of the ‘Come Dine with Me: Salviac Special’.  We learnt tonight than Alex’s inflection really is infectious as everyone’s Aussie is coming along beautifully, especially Els’s Dutch – Aussie accent and Steve cannot resist but thrown in a few Bruce’s in every sentence.

Saturday 16^th

Return to Cahors for market day, the back seat contingency forming again, to source ingredients for the ‘Orient Express’ extravaganza. The cake stall inspired cheating as we bought some chocolate cake we would later claim to have cooked ourselves.

Once home the cooking and chopping began again to produce a feast of feasts. Stress levels peaked at one point so BALEX took to plate decoration to get out of the way. Chocolate cake lie was not blown and the kitchen again was left gleaming.  The O’Mara’s and guests excelled at late night drinking resulting in Alex trying to sneak in and not wake Charlotte up instead just falling on her head! We retired to bed happy in our knowledge we had met our one goal of using up all the leftovers in our meal – unfortunately for Hannake we also created more!

Sunday 17^th

Thank god it was rest day today. Late night drinking meant Steve put his shoes on the wrong feet and BALEX snoozed through to a leisurely 12.30. We took advantage of packing bags in a roomy space and the chance to discard things with Charlotte. Oddly giving up 1 dress and a camp shower had made Alex’s bag look super light and empty even though the vac bags are no longer working.

As always a HUGE feast was for tea and a last attempt at finishing the leftovers. We were given a picnic for the train which would make us the envy of everyone around us. The week’s drinking had caught up with the whole house and everyone was early to bed to make sure we were on the train to Paris at 7.01am tomorrow. 

BATTEN DOWN THE HATCHES - WILL THE TENT SURVIVE

We write this episode as potentially our last. A storm has hit and we have very real fears that we will die, rubber thongs have been worn on feet as a storm precaution and a stroke of setup brilliance means were not under a tree.  Within minutes we went from ‘too hot to sit in the tent’ to ‘put everything inside to weigh the tent down’, while we used Alex’s wedge heels to hammer the tent down better. 

Plans to go to the pub to ride the storm out were abandoned after witnessing our neighbour’s tent flip over with him in it, we had to stay and protect our tiny home.  We thought we needed to tighten our grip to the earth, before running to the campsite bar for some wine to ride the storm out with. We refuse to be sober when we get lift off.

Emergency storm management rules and protocol have been established;

1. Grab a shoe with sturdy heel and secure tent ropes

2. Source some alcohol in case it is going to be a long night

3. Tenting duo to sit to the left as the right hand side blows in too much

4. Packs at one end to weigh down and stay dry

5. Brace position to be taken in times of questionable tent survival – legs stretched out supporting other wall

6. In the event of tent death, the favoured method of burial at the moment is sarcophagus from the Altes Museum Berlin. Picture of this can be sourced from our holiday snaps.

With our 3.5kg home, 120cm x 180cm, anchored we have wine, pretzels and a Mexican fiesta playlist on in stormy Stuttgart.

All stations to stand down (and the irony of standing down in a tent you can’t stand up in) after only an hour – all is calm and its time to head to the pub to have beer and discuss survival techniques for the future.

Stuttgart

Wednesday 6th - Friday 8th July: Munich - Stuttgart 

Back on our normal Bus About Bus after a small pre-departure on hearing the bus was going to Vienna - no need to fear as our bus to Stuttgart was just late. It was time to relax after the rush of getting to the meet point as our directions were wrong again which reinforced that special ed kids write the directions to and from campsites & hostels. 3 hours later we hit Stuttgart, the home of the spark plug, and after setting up the tent decided to head to the natural mineral baths. All the heated pools were being renovated so were unavailable so cold outdoor pools we went. A rare good looking German watched us trying to fully submerge ourselves in the cold cold water, his gaze might have been admirable if he didn't have a large amount of snot hanging out.

Keen for some warmth we headed to the sauna & steam rooms. Unable to read the warning signs we entered only to find a cesspool of mixed gender, completely naked, flippant about their bouncing genitals people. We were brave and found a sauna room with only 2 naked people until a 3rd sat open legged opposite deep breathing, clearly stressed about his life while we were stressed about his bits. Slightly distressed we wandered to the lounge area, surrounded by people stretched in every position imaginable some almost inthotony, when embarrassingly an attendant  told us we had to de-robe or leave we were grateful for the escape chance and ran and never looked back. We feel that Germany should pay more attention to their downstairs hairdressing if they insist on parading naked. This marked our first removal from a public place and for being the only ones clothed. 

 

We felt that a strong drink was needed to overcome the distress and rid images from our mind so headed to the Sky Beach. Fabulous bar on the top level of a car park in the centre of Stuttgart.

Drenchden

Friday 1^st July - Tuesday 5th July: Berlin to Dresden to Munich

Lovely start to the journey to Dresden, within minutes a girl yakked, claiming travel sickness, despite having only moving 100m up the road! Most likely her massive hangover. On arrival, continuing our new tradition of a few drinks on route to the new campsite, we reached a new personal best of 5 hours to make a 30 minute journey, due mostly to beer and food, a little mapping too.  

It become clear to us, that we have become used to a very low standard of living, when a bathroom mounted hairdryer from the 80's made us happy girls. The site also had a real pool, with water, although the weather would ruin all our plans for that, and earning the city the name of Drenchden.  

The new dawn gave us both super back pain, it could be linked to carrying our weight in backpacks, sleeping on the floor or having to mimic being reborn each time you get out of the tent.  Although up before 9am, still beaten to all the fresh baked goods by the Germans, in a similar style to sunloungers at beach resorts. So we hit up Dresden city, walking directly into a gay pride parade, which proceeded to follow us around the city all afternoon, probably tuning into the 'lesbian voice' of Becky.  Onto the church of Our Lady, or the woman's church, so we could be women, and then to the Zinger Palace, only after 30 minutes we found out we had accidentally queued in the wrong place, and were in line for the Opera.  

Drenchden today again, woke to rain which stayed all day, and the discovery that Germans have a siesta, and close everything for hours in the middle of day, depriving us of food, make us resort to our slightly stale bread and packet mix soup in warm not hot water. Some luke warm coffee later, we were ready to charge everything again, a constant theme.  Its not our fault that the only power outlets available at campsites are those in bathrooms, its like they want to gather all our electronics,find some chairs, turn on the tunes and begin a good ole fashioned bathroom party.  But just like the ugly lights in clubs, you know its time to pack up when you find yourself doing yoga from a pod cast.

Dresden- Munich was an incredibly eventful travel day, involving our second clash with border police. Starting routinely, apart from hourly stops for the bus driver to have a smoke break, and to allocate a fellow passenger as an interpreter for the trip for us,  until on a particularly lengthy stop, plain and uniformed police raided the bus. Demanding ID from everyone on the bus, including our translator, calling in to check on their status, alarming us slightly, however showing no interest in us, except for if Alex played soccer and if Australia had a team. Our new bus arrived, the police proceeded to raid it in a similar style, but this time pulling people off for searches, of themselves and their luggage. Shoes and socks off, pants undone, and bags rummaged through for almost every other passenger but ourselves. An hour later we were back on our way, with the fiercest bus attendant named Maria- Von Trapp she was not! Though she did look like something out of Little Britain. She barked orders, slapped legs, and completely confused us for about 5 hours.  

Pulling into Munich we watched as once again a bus (not ours this time) get raided by police, this time in bullet proof vests, seeing as this bus was bound for Romania, all was understood and we set off for 'The tent'.  A giant pre-erected wedding marque, with over 100 bunk beds, suspiciously stained mattresses and a violin playing asian. THIS WAS LUXURY.