Today has been a very lazy day. We have found ourselves on a gorgeous eco-campsite at the side of a lake in southern Bulgaria. It is as far from the tourist ridden Black Sea coast of Bulgaria as you can imagine. It is bliss!

After our long drive yesterday, we had already decided that we would have a quiet day. Just as well, since last night Howard came down with my summer cold – although we had hoped that he had managed to avoid it after all these days. Consequently, rather than walking or cycling, we have just pottered around the campsite.

We haven’t been completely idle though. By lunchtime, we had done three loads of washing, and got most of it dry. We also spent some time planning for the next leg of our trip. We plan to move down into Northern Greece, on the Aegean Sea. 

Jobs done, we walked along the road to the local restaurant, and sat on the terrace, having a late lunch, looking out over the lake. It’s a hard life!

Apart from that, we have just watched the world go by. There seem to be several French couples on this site, the first we have come across for months. There is also a German couple in very good looking cobalt blue California. It seems quieter though than on other campsites of late – maybe we are just coming to the end of the school holidays now. The Bulgarian owner speaks impeccable English, and although fairly rustic, the campsite is so clean, that we have no complaints. Having your own shower, with copious hot water, also seems a luxury after our last few camping experiences.

Eastern Europe has been an interesting place to visit, but if I am honest, I far preferred Scandinavia. Howard, though, is quick to point out that Scandinavia was probably at least three times more expensive than here, possibly more so. We have had to adjust back to some atrocious driving, poor roads and fairy basic camping conditions. It will be intriguing to see what Greece has in store, after it’s recent financial problems. The last time we were there was in 1978, exactly 40 years ago – so we will see how things have changed in that time – we certainly have, that’s for sure!!

Today we have had a long drive down through Western Bulgaria to the Southern Mountains. Our first stop of the morning was to a petrol station to pick up a vignette, allowing us to drive on certain Bulgarian roads. Then we set off, on what proved to be a slow and tedious journey. The roads were appalling – pot-holed and patched, leading to a very bumpy ride. For most of the drive we were travelling on single carriageway roads, shared with heavy goods vehicles and horse-drawn carts, which led to very slow progress.

Our satnav Natasha, however, kept us amused. We have now moved into a world of the Cyrillic alphabet, which clearly she is struggling with. Her normal modus operandi is to tell us, for example, to turn right and then give us the name of the road we are turning into. Natasha seems unable to speak Cyrillic, so she now says, ‘Turn right, into….’, then silence! It has been amusing us all day. Dear Boris, of course, is up for anything, and is willing to give it a go! It does make navigating that much harder, though, when you can’t read the names of the towns.

At one point, we got diverted off the main road, because of roadworks. It ended up being a ten mile or so diversion, through some very rural part of Bulgaria. At one point on this diversion, we came to a tiny village, with a shop cum cafe. Desperate for a pee stop, we pulled in and went inside. It felt as if we were aliens arriving on a new planet! The looks we were given by the locals were priceless. They clearly don’t see tourists here much, if indeed ever. When I asked if there was a toilet, an elderly gentleman in the corner of the bar insisted on taking me there personally (!), and then when we drove off, he stopped the traffic outside to wave us out.

By now the scenery had changed, and we were driving though heavily wooded hills and mountains. There were few communities en route, just the occasional farmhouse. We did, however, notice that every few miles, there was a well-dressed woman standing alone in a lay-by. Reach your own conclusions – Howard certainly did!

As we drove past Sofia, the capital, for a short while the roads improved. In the distance we saw the city. One lone modern skyscraper, and four tall chimney stacks seemed to dominate the skyline. Apparently, the centre of the city has transformed in recent years, but we had decided no more cities for a while – we were heading to the countryside.

After Sofia, we stopped at a motorway services, of sorts. It advertised a cafe and also shopping opportunities. We were temporarily excited, thinking we could pick up fresh bread and milk. However, the shop sold the weirdest combination of goods, from dried pasta and biscuits, to Star Wars models and detergents – most odd. Certainly nothing fresh for tea. We eventually passed by a large supermarket in one of the towns. We were instantly met with a female beggar, closing her eyes, I’m pretty sure feigning blindness, who was most persistent. Of course, we have encountered many beggars on this trip, but none quite as in your face as this one.

Despite joining the EU in 2007 (and NATO in 2004), the upturn in the Bulgarian economy, like Romania, has yet to materialise. Bulgaria was the only country post Perestroika to re-instate a communist party to government subsequently, albeit short-lived, and allegations of corruption remain rife. Political turmoil continues. Consequently, many younger educated Bulgarians left the country in droves, once freedom of movement throughout the EU was permitted, and they were allowed to work permit-free in other countries, many to Germany, Italy and Spain. So, in a similar way to Romania, they have experienced a ‘brain-drain’.

In 2015, Bulgaria had the lowest GDP of all EU countries, and a poll on the International Day of Happiness, reported them to be the most discontented nation. We have yet to really understand the Bulgarian psyche. Having been ruled by the Ottamans, followed by a period of National Revival, and then under a suppressive Communist regime for generations up until 1989, I guess it is understandable that they aren’t always such a cheery bunch.

There is no doubt that some EU influence has helped, helping to restore some historic buildings, and giving Bulgarians a renewed sense of pride in their nation. We have, however, laughed at some of the roads that we have experienced today, supposedly ‘sponsored by the EU’ and requiring a vignette, that have frankly been like driving on a bumpy rollercoaster.

The last leg of our drive became more and more adventurous – up steep winding mountain roads, interspersed with cows and goats, and barking dogs.

Tonight, we are staying by a lake in the mountains, and plan to give Howard a break from the driving for a day or two. He is certainly making noises about beer – oh sorry, he’s corrected me – he’s saying bears! Yikes!!

PS Not many photos today since in van most of day.

Despite aspirations for an early start this morning, we awoke to find that we had failed to appreciate that there is a time difference between Hungary and Romania, and hence we had lost an hour. We consequently breakfasted and packed up quickly, knowing that we had a long drive ahead of us.

Originally, we had hoped to spend more time in Romania, perhaps visiting Transylvania, and the capital, Bucharest. However, our plans changed after last weekend, when 150,000 protesters took to the streets in Bucharest, complaining about the Romania’s Social Democratic Party (PSD) attempts to weaken the judicial system and anti-corruption laws. Despite being members of the EU, the PSD are keen to manipulate the law, mainly, it seems, in order to protect themselves from being prosecuted under the more stringent EU regulations regarding corruption. The protests have been led by the country’s diaspora, who left the country after the fall of communism in search of work and a better life, who are now returning. Normal Romanian citizens are also very unhappy about corruption within the ‘democratic’ government, and unease is growing. Consequently, keen to avoid the reported tear gas and water cannon, we have decided to give the East of the country a very wide berth!

Our plan instead is to whip down the western side of Romania, largely shadowing the Danube, and crossing into Bulgaria in the west. After an hour or so of driving this morning, we came across the town of Lugoj. It looked pretty lively, and in need of a Romanian flag (we have been collecting them in each country we have visited), and a comfort stop, we parked up to take a look. I must say, we were pleasantly surprised. This town had the feel of somewhere that took pride in it’s appearance. It was clearly reasonably prosperous, situated on the River Timis, and has been an important textile and industrial hub for many years.

We walked into a pretty pedestrianised area, noting several churches en route. After purchasing our flag in the local bookstore (I always love a town with an old fashioned book shop), we crossed over the river on the metal bridge. We found ourselves in a glorious little square, surrounded by, this time, well kept, largely baroque town houses and cafes. Everywhere we looked, there was the red, yellow and blue Romanian national flag flying, and well kept attractive gardens. We stopped for coffee, then felt intrigued to see more. We walked into another square by the large town hall, opposite the large Catholic Church. An official from the town hall, seeing us reading an information board, stepped outside with a map and town guide for us. Who would do that in the UK?!! Duly impressed, we went to look at the 14th century St. Nicholas Bell Tower, once part of the monastery and the oldest building in Lugoj.

As we wound our way back to Oscar, we stopped off in a shop to purchase some more shower gel and some tissues, keen to use up the last of our Romanian currency. It turned out that we were just short on change, so rather than making us put the tissues back, the lady on the til did a calculation, and removed three small packs of tissues from our pack of eight, and called it a deal. Just wonderful! Howard pointed out that our morning expenditure, of coffee, flags and toiletries had cost less than one cup of coffee in Norway.

We continued on, first past flat agricultural land, with plenty of hand-made hay stacks, until suddenly the landscape changed dramatically, to wooded hills, as we hit the edge of the Carpathian Mountains. The going was slow, often following behind sluggish lorries on the winding single track mountain roads, occasionally seeing vendors on the side of the road selling apples and pears. Eventually, we crossed the mountains, and veered away from the Danube for a while, along the wide flood plain. As we approached the border with Bulgaria, the roads became decidedly bumpier. As yesterday, about two to three miles from the border, queues of lorries started to back up on the side of the road. We took our cue from other cars , who just carried on driving past the lorries, and so we followed.

However, as we took the final turn towards the border, we couldn’t help but notice that we were the only car on the road. There were still tons of lorries, but just us, slowly nudging to the border in the other lane. We got to the border post, and started to wonder why there was no-one else there, but us. We drove sedately up to the only green lighted booth. A very aggressive man demanded our passports and vehicle documents, I handed him our passports and car insurance. ‘NO’, he shouted. ‘Vehicle documents!’ Howard, thankfully, quickly laid his hands on our vehicle registration document. It was taken away with our passports. A few minutes later, we were waved on to the next booth, to collect our documents. Then onto the next booth, to pay our bridge toll. By the time we eventually left the border post, we were a heap of nerves. Not exactly a warm welcome into Bulgaria!

Then, as we drove across the bridge over the Danube, we couldn’t help but notice that we were the only vehicle on the bridge. We had a sort of apocalyptic moment! Had something happened that we didn’t know about? We continued driving, and eventually spotted an EU sign, and then the sign indicating we were in Bulgaria. But we were still left wandering, ‘Where is everyone else?”

We drove the short distance to the next town, where we were staying for the night. The town of Vidin sits on the banks of the Danube. It is pleasant enough, not quite as scruffy as Timisoara, but a close second. Like Romania, the town is in urgent need of a tidy up. We took a walk along the banks of the river and into the town. There were a couple of pleasant churches, and some interesting war memorials, and the remains of the old town walls, but nothing that compelled you to rave about the place. We returned to our room for the night, and had a tasty supper on the terrace. I must say, that even if they can’t sort out their infrastructure, they make a splendid bottle of Sauvignon Blanc – one of the nicest we have tried on our trip. Tomorrow we head for the mountains for a few days R & R in Oscar. I am looking forward to being in the countryside again, and a break from odd border crossings. But before then, we have a long drive ahead of us – the roads here are slow and winding. I think I hear the Beatles in my ear from our playlist …’The Long and Winding Road…!!”

We felt considerably refreshed after our night in the hotel in Budapest. We would have happily stayed longer here, but with a dearth of local campsites, and wanting to get back on the road, we set off southwards. On our way out of Budapest, we made a detour to a camping shop that advertised Campingaz. In the end, it was only the little canisters that they sold, but we bought a couple along with a burner attachment, so that if necessary, we can boil the kettle outside, if we run out of gas in the van.

The drive was fairly tedious in the increasing heat. By 10am it was already recording 29 degrees, and it just got hotter. In some way, it was a relief to be in Oscar with the air-conditioning on. The countryside was very flat and arable. Yet again, we passed fields of sunflowers, and plenty of fields of maize. The small towns that we passed through were largely unremarkable, so whilst Howard concentrated on the driving (which did indeed require lots of concentration – the Hungarians take no prisoners!), I typed the blog.

We drove southwards towards Szeged, and then approached the Romanian border. En route, there was absolutely nothing alongside the road, just miles and miles of huge flat fields. Approaching the border, some of the lorries carrying livestock were filtered off to another route, and all the lorries had to divert over a weighbridge. We stopped at the only place that signed a toilet – a sort of large asphalt car park, full of stacked up lorries. The sign for refreshments, petrol and accommodation had been crossed off the board – and presumably what had been there previously was now raised to the ground, since the only building was a very primitive toilet, and a wooden booth selling vignettes for your vehicle. It had rather eerie feel about the place, and despite all the lorries, we didn’t see another soul.

As we came to the border, the queue of lorries backed up for at least two miles – our hearts sank. However, cars were still moving, so we continued on, and were pleasantly surprised to see only a short queue for cars. Romania, although a member of the EU, is not party to the Schengen agreement, and so passport control still exists – a sign of times to come in the UK! The border guard, though, seemed rather puzzled at our passports, and had to show them to another, more senior official. We wondered if she hadn’t heard of the UK – she certainly looked bemused. Whatever, we were waved through, and no-one took any interest in our e-vignette which we had purchased online that morning.

Driving into Romania felt like we were the only people on earth. There were hardly any heavy goods traffic (probably they were all still sat at the border!), and the cars had thinned out to a trickle. The land remained flat and featureless, with enormous arable fields on either side of the road, presumably a throw back to the days of collective farming.

Before not too long, we had arrived at our destination for the night, the city of Timisoara. We had investigated campsites, but reviews such as, and I quote, ‘don’t stay here… the toilets are bad….the electrical hookup is a deathtrap….hookups all unlocked with exposed electrical connections…the staff are basically grumpy and unhelpful…..the showers are broken, only one out of three worked… in all the sites we have stayed in throughout Europe, this is the worst.’ You get the picture! I must say, by now, Howard and I were hooting with laughter. Thankfully, for the price of a campsite throughout many places in Europe, you can bag a hotel room in Romania. So we promptly booked up a hotel online, and headed into town.

Timisoara is the third largest city in Romania. It was instrumental in the liberation of Romania from communism, being the first place in the country to show resistance to the regime. It was here, in 1989, that Father Lasz-lo Tokes stood on the steps of the Orthodox Cathedral, and condemned the Ceausescu regime, the spark that triggered the downfall of communism. Not before the police had killed 115 protesters here in Timisoara, and many more in the capital Bucharest, where the unrest spread. It is estimated that 1033 people lost their lives in one night alone in the main square in Bucharest, when Ceausescu ordered tanks to suppress the mass rally in December 1989. By noon the next day, the dictator and his wife were forced to fee the capital by helicopter, but later arrested, tried by an anonymous court, and executed on Christmas Day by firing squad. Romania was the only Soviet bloc country to fall with the death of a leader.

In 2021, Timisoara will serve as the EU’s Capital of Culture, and reading through our trusty Lonely Planet, it sounded an interesting place to visit. The aforementioned guide informed us that Romania was sprucing itself up, and that ‘fix-up fever’ had reached Timisoara, which as a result of this award, is ‘cleaning itself up at a feverish pace’. Sadly, none of this ‘tidying’ was in evidence to us.

We found the hotel, which was small, but lovely – a bit like an oasis in the middle of melee of dilapidation. We dropped off our bags, and set off on foot to explore. It was like walking in a city that time had forgot. There was certainly evidence of former elegance – leafy tree lined streets, grand baroque mansions, civic parks. But that is where the elegance stopped. Virtually every building we saw was in a state of extreme disrepair – with peeling paint, flaking masonry, rusty railings, rotting front doors. The streets were in need of a good sweep, and clearly no-one seemed to be taking any pride in the environment where they lived. It was quite sad. The only buildings that we saw that were pristine, were the churches, with fresh paint, and manicured gardens. 

We walked into the town centre, with it’s large pedestrianised area. Here, at least, there was some attempt at a tidy up, with a splendid flower display taking centrepiece. The shops in the precinct were also thriving, although look up, and again, the beautiful baroque facades were crumbling.

Our conclusion is that Timisoara has a hell of a lot of work to do, to get the city up to scratch for their year as City of Culture. That being said, the people were all really friendly, and there certainly was an energy to the place.

Unusually, we chose to have supper back at our hotel. We were thrilled to find, yet again, we were being treated to live music – this time a very good female vocalist, singing songs so ancient that my dad would have loved them, as did I! For once, Howard was out-danced by the man at the table next to ours, who, much to his wife’s irritation, started ‘Dad-dancing’ every time a number came up that he recognised. His wife, periodically poked him in the ribs. I know just how she feels!!

Today was a much brighter day. The incessant rain had stopped and the sun started to peek through once more. We were truly unimpressed, however, in the washing facilities at our ‘campsite’, and the promised boat ride into Budapest wasn’t possible because of the low water levels on the Danube. As a consequence, we changed our plans, and booked into a hotel in Budapest for the night.

First, though, we took ourselves back into the small riverside town of Szentendre. This morning, in the sunshine, it had taken on a completely different feel. The Danube, rather looking like the murky grey of yesterday, did have the slightest touch of blue, although I suspect that Strauss may have been on hallucinogenics when he penned ‘The Blue Danube’.

The hustle and bustle of yesterday’s festival had gone, and instead, walking round in the early morning, before the day-trippers had arrived, it seemed really pleasant. There is obviously a large artist community here, and many of the small shops reflected this. Some artists were even at work, painting various scenes around the town. We had a quick wander and snapped a few photos, with much better light than last night. Then we sat in the central square and enjoyed a coffee, served by a jolly lady who seemed to genuinely enjoy meeting people, unlike our surly waitress last night. It was excellent coffee, too.

We then followed the course of the Danube the few miles into Budapest, Hungary’s capital. A few days ago, we had contemplated giving Budapest a miss, really because the high temperatures were making city visits too exhausting. However, although sunny, the temperature was cooler following the recent storms, so we decided to put it back on our itinerary. We are so pleased that we did – Budapest is really a most splendid city!

As we drove in alongside the Danube, on the Buda side of the city, we both gasped as we spotted the magnificent white Parliament building across on the Pest side of the city. It is truly beautiful, and although apparently inspired by Britain’s Palace of Westminster, certainly dwarfs our Houses of Parliament in both size and good looks. I suspect the stonework must have had recent clean up, because the white stone just gleamed in the sunlight – a sight that I will not forget.

We made our way to the hotel, in the shadow of Castle Hill. We had our usual dose of collywobbles trying to get Oscar parked in the hotel’s underground car park, but once tucked up safe and sound, we heaved a sigh of relief. The size of our hotel room took us by surprise – it is huge, and we whooped with delight at having our own toilet and shower once more – it feels really decadent!

Once settled, we headed off to explore Budapest. The city essentially straddles the Danube, with the western shore being Buda, and the eastern shore being the Pest part of the city. Despite having been occupied by the Nazis during WW2, followed by Russia occupation post war, and then following a brief respite, a brutal re-invasion in 1956, much of Budapest’s splendour from the days of being an important force in the Austro-Hungarian empire, has remained architecturally intact. As such, it is a really beautiful city. Buda is home to the famous Castle and Royal Palace, which dominates the city, sitting aloft on Castle Hill. The Pest side is home to the Parliament and government buildings, and much of the commercial centre. First we walked along the Danube promenade on the Buda side, looking across to the Parliament building, and stopping for a light lunch en route, at one of the many riverside cafes. We then re-traced our steps, and walked across the Szechenyi Chain Suspension Bridge, constructed in 1849, and very much an icon of the city.

As we walked along to the Parliament building on the path by the Danube, we passed by the ‘Shoes on the Danube Bank’ memorial. It is a collection of sixty cast iron sculptures of shoes, period appropriate, in memorial to the 3,500 civilians, many Jews and Romanies, who were shot dead between December 1944 and January 1945 by the extreme Nazi group, the Arrow Cross party, who had control of the city at the time. They apparently rowed the people up, including women and children, ordered them to take their shoes off, and then shot them in cold blood. It was a true horrific act of genecide. The shoes sit on the riverbank, in a higgledy-piggledy fashion, many with small tea-lights or flowers, mostly dead or dried, sat besides them. People stand and contemplate for a while, before walking on.

We walked on to circumnavigate the glorious parliament building. In the large Liberty Square there is another monument, this time a simple water channel installation, in memory of the 1956 Russian invasion. At the far end is a sensor triggered  fountain, that comes on as people approach, and is a monument to anti-fascism. Children seemed to be delighting in running through the soft mist, as the afternoon temperatures rose. Also on this side of the river are the Hungarian State Opera House and Basilica of St. Stephen, the Catholic Cathedral.

We wandered back to our hotel to shower and freshen up, having given the abysmal communal showers at the campsite as miss this morning. As we walked back over the Szechenyi Bridge, a large barge of dancing party-goers was approaching on the Danube, with booming rap music blaring. True to form, Howard gave them a demonstration of his best moves from the bridge above. Much to my total embarrassment, the entire boat load of revellers let out a large cheer in appreciation – he’s such an exhibitionist!!

Batteries re-charged, we headed up the steep Castle Hill, up a series of stone steps, and then, to my dismay, down the other side again, to find our selected venue for supper. I couldn’t moan about the walk, since it had been my choice, and in fact, gave us a wonderful walk through the Caste Hill area, with its cobbled squares and alleyways. I must say, though, my choice was spot on – a charming little bistro, positioned in a square, by a lovely illuminated church. It was virtually full when we arrived, and we were lucky to bag the last free table outside. Not only was the food superb, but we were serenaded for the whole meal by a delightful pair of Hungarian folk musicians on fiddle and guitar, whose acoustic melodies were both contemporary, but with a definite Hungarian twist. I am always a succour for live music, and this just added the cherry to the top of a very enjoyable day.

We have both loved Budapest, and I suspect you could easily spend four or five days here exploring it’s many sights and museums. For us, though, it was just a taster, and maybe somewhere to which we may return someday. It stands out to us a city that takes great pride in it’s appearance, and offers a warm welcome to it’s visitors. Brilliant Budapest!

During the night, as forecast, the rain really set in. By the morning, the campsite was sodden, and our hoped-for final glimpse of the High Tetras Mountains never materialised. Packing up in the rain is no fun! The external topper and windscreen covers were soaking, and much too wet to pack away – so we ended up just shaking them, and leaving them in the footwell of the van to dry as we drove. Most of the campsite, like us, had decided call it a day and leave, also. Unusually, the majority of people here were campers in tents, away for the weekend to walk or cycle in the mountains. One chap, who decided early on that the day was going to be a right off as far as the weather was concerned, had decided to have a bottle of beer with his breakfast in the cafe. No-one with any sense would go walking in the mountains in weather like this!

We set off south eastwards, towards the Hungarian border. First, though, we paid a visit to the small city of Kosice, Slovakia’s second city after the capital Bratislava. With a population of only 240,000, it is hardly large, but it does date back to the 12th century, and in 2013 was joint European City of Culture. We had earmarked it just as a place to stop for coffee, but I was really impressed when we arrived with the characterful old town. First we stumbled across a giant painted shoe on the pavement leading to the city square. It was entitled, ‘Andy Warhol in the Streets of Kosice’. Walking on, we came to the Cathedral of St. Elisabeth, a stunning gothic affair, which dominated the skyline. In the courtyard outside, was a large 5 tonne bell, which had once stood in the ‘Urban Tower’, the bell tower adjacent to the cathedral. Leading on from there, was the city’s main square – containing a leafy park area, and by far it’s star attraction – the ‘Singing Fountain’. It was built back in 1986 by Russian experts. Although it is called the ‘Singing Fountain, to my mind, it is more of a ‘dancing fountain’, which squirts jets of water up in the air to recorded music. As we turned the corner from the cathedral, we first heard wonderful classical music paying, and then set eyes on the fountain, which really did appear to be dancing in time to the music. It was acquiring quite an audience, and rightly so – it was brilliant! At night, it is even more spectacular, and it is lit up with multi-coloured lights – a sight I would have loved to have seen.

We went and sat on one of the cafes round the outside of the square, and enjoyed our morning coffee listening to the music, and watching people’s reactions to this innovative piece of public art.

As we left the cafe, the music changed from classical to orchestral and piano music playing some more popular tunes. I watched as a family with five children sat on the stone stools by the fountain, watching the water and listening to ‘Love is All Around’, made famous by Wet, Wet, Wet – quite appropriate on such a rainy day.

We had a quick walk around the centre. Many of the buildings were baroque or Art Nouveau in style – all very attractive. At the other end of the square from the cathedral was the domed State Theatre, which apparently inside, has paintings of scenes from Shakespeare on the ceiling. 

By now, we were soaking wet, so decided to head back to Oscar. As we turned to go back, one of my favourite pieces of music started playing from there fountain – an orchestral version of Dire Straits ‘Local Hero’. I left wishing that Dundee would install such a wonderful fountain in Slessor Gardens – the only trouble being – it would probably be programmed to ‘sing’ to the Proclaimers or Paolo Nutini. Come to think of it, what a brilliant idea?!!!

Our drive into Hungary was very wet and tedious. Approaching the border, we noticed field after field of sunflowers, sadly all gone over by now. They must have made such a picture, though, when in full bloom. We also noticed one field with at least five birds of prey hovering. We looked it up, and think they may have been Sakar Falcons, but couldn’t be sure. Crossing into Hungary, we saw fields of pumpkins, all laid out to dry.

The roads in Hungary seemed to get bumpier and bumpier. At one point, we saw a triple warning sign for bicycles, tractors and horse-drawn carts, although we never spotted any of said carts.

We arrived at our campsite late afternoon. It is situated on the banks of the Danube, just north of Budapest. A pleasant enough spot, but the campsite itself is underwhelming, to say the least. The wash blocks wouldn’t go amiss in a Soviet Stalag!

We cheered ourselves up by going for a walk into the nearby town of Szentendre (or St. Andrew). It turned out that this thriving art community were celebrating their annual summer festival this weekend, so the whole town had turned out of the streets (despite the persisting rain), to enjoy stalls and live music. Appropriately, one way they had decorated the town, was with overhead brightly coloured umbrellas, and also large lampshades. It really did look a pretty little place, although by now, the light was so poor as dusk approached, that any photos really don’t do it justice. If we have time, we may pop back in the morning to take a better look.

We stopped for a quick pizza on the way home. Our waitress, it would be fair to say, was quite brusque, but I will try not to judge an entire nation on one person. Then it was back to our stalag toilets and showers, before settling down for the night. I’m hoping Howard isn’t going to make me do this for the next two weeks!!

What a difference a day makes! Yesterday, we were struggling with the heat and humidity, but overnight, the weather broke, and now we are in cloud and mist. The evening had been balmy, but around 11pm, things started to change. A strong wind suddenly whipped up, and we saw flashes of lightening in the distance. Within half an hour, we were in the eye of the storm. Frankly, it was pretty scary. Howard and I quickly put the external topper on the roof, and disconnected the van from the electric supply. Howard tried to reassure me that motor vehicles act as a ‘Faraday cage’, transmitting any lightening strike straight to the ground. I, however, had my doubts. ‘What about the pop-up? That’s not all metal, it’s principally canvas and plastic’, I retorted.

We both simultaneously googled the VW California Forum, which is usually a mine of useful information. One sensible response advised to unplug from the mains, which we had already done. But other replies were frankly farcical. Among the less helpful responses were, and I quote, ‘drink more red wine’ and ‘try parking up next to a ‘Big White’ with it’s TV aerial up’. We had a quick look around our campsite, but for once, no Big White’s with huge white dishes in sight!

Our dilemma really was whether or not it was safe to sleep upstairs. In the end, we sat downstairs like scared little mice, until the worst of the storm passed. Howard braved it first, with me urging him not to touch the sides, for what good that would have done. Eventually the lightening abated, and I crept upstairs, but I must say, I slept with half an ear open for anymore thunder.

This morning, it was cold and damp, and the magnificent view of the mountains had completely gone. We decided we would do our planned walk whatever, but then, just before we were about to leave, the gas ran out. Howard went and asked the campsite owner if there was anywhere local we could refill it. He assured us the garage in the next village sold camping gas. So, we packed away everything in Oscar, took down the roof, and drove the few miles to the next village. It turned out to be the wrong type of gas, but the helpful garage owner assured us we could find it in the next town. Sounding familiar?!! So we drove to the next town – and low and behold, it was the wrong sort of gas. In fact, the guy very knowledgable informed us, that we couldn’t get this sort of camping gas in the whole of Eastern Europe. I quick scroll through Campingaz Europe’s website sadly confirmed this. So bad news! We are on our last gas cylinder – just the small one used as a spare – to last us through Hungary, Romania, Bulgaria and Greece. Looks like we’ll have to ration our tea-making and eat out more!

After returning to the campsite, and setting up again, after our fruitless morning, the weather was still looking murky. However, undeterred, we set off for our planned hike in the Tatras Mountains.

The walk into the neighbouring village, along a cycle track in the woods was pleasant enough. We headed for the cable car station, and opted to go up the mountain and walk on the top. The woman selling us the cable car ticket did ask us if we were sure – that should have been a clue. After only a few hundred feet up in the cable car, we met with a complete white out. The cloud cover was so low, and so thick, we couldn’t see a thing. At the top of the second station, there was supposed to be a wonderful mountain lake, but when we alighted from the cable car, we couldn’t even see the path, yet alone the lake.

Defeated, we headed to the cafe for a coffee, and discovered that this was where the rest of the Slovakian holidaymakers were hanging out too. After a decidedly insipid coffee, we headed back down the mountain.

About five minutes into our descent, still in a complete white out, the cable car abruptly stopped, and started swinging alarmingly. I must admit, that at this point, I completely lost the plot. I’m quite sure that the people in the next car could hear me whimpering and quietly screaming (although Howard would debate quietly). I suddenly had memories of a newspaper article I had read about people getting stuck for hours and hours in a cable car, and in the end needing to be winched off by helicopter, one by one. Howard tried his best to reassure me, but it wasn’t until the thing actually started moving again, that I eventually calmed down. Feeble, I know – but somehow it seemed worse with absolutely no visibility at all.

Back down in the village, we found a decent cup of coffee in the ‘Ski Museum’ cafe, and Howard tried out some ‘poppyseed roll’. On our gas hunt earlier, we had passed fields and fields of poppy heads, and commented to ourselves how pretty this would have looked when all the fields were red with poppy flowers. They grow them here for their oil, but a local delicacy is poppyseed roll, a sort of poppy seed and pastry roulade. I must say, it looked better than it tasted – pretty worthy, to be honest. Although Howard assures me that it is packed with linoleic acid, which is good for brain function and sleepiness. Maybe that is why he was trying to force feed me with the stuff!

So sadly, our day trekking in the High Tatras mountains didn’t result in wonderful vistas – and consequently, very few photos today. Tomorrow, we move on – hopefully we will catch a glimpse of the mountains again before we leave.

This morning, the temperature was much cooler than of late, with the sky quite overcast. We even felt a few spots of rain as we sat outside eating our breakfast. However, our respite from the heat was short-lived, and by mid-morning, the temperatures were starting to rise again, with a haze over the mountains. We left our campsite near Zakopane, and headed towards the Slovakian border. We had initially ear-marked a campsite only an hour and a half drive away, so we opted to take the rural scenic route, climbing right up into the Tatras, before descending down into the valley to cross the border. However, progress was slow. The traffic around Zakopane was inexplicably backed up, but we noticed a huge number of police and ambulance sirens, as we had done the previous day too. Once out of the town, the roads narrowed and became decidedly bumpy. As we climbed higher, we stopped at viewpoint to look over the Tatras Mountains – just magnificent. We passed through tiny villages with charming Tyrollean style houses, all made of wood, with the characteristic steeply pitched roofs. Just before the border, we stopped to take a look at a gorgeous wooden church, with a tall spire, completely covered in wooden tiles. In front of the church stood a statue of Pope John II, who of course, was Polish. An archway with a cross overhead led from the church grounds up a path to another wonderful wooden building, presumably the priest’s house. We have noticed that all the Catholic churches in Poland are very large, even in the smallest of communities. We stopped for a quick coffee and loo stop in the adjoining restaurant, and sitting outside on the verranda, Howard noticed how the wooden beams are joined, with a sort of straw wedged between there joists. Outside, he also spotted an ‘all you need bicycle repair station’ at the side of the road. Road cycling appears very popular in this area, the steep inclines obviously attracting the keen enthusiasts.

Crossing the border was a non event. We merely crossed a bridge over the river, and there we were, in Slovakia. Almost immediately, the houses changed from the wooden alpine style into much more utilitarian rendered buildings – not ugly, but definitely not as attractive as the villages we had just driven through in Poland. The roads at one point began to look decidedly dodgy, with one road sign showing us an upturned car on a red triangle. We took the next few hairpins very carefully indeed! We stopped off at one village to pick up some fresh bread and milk. Next to the supermarket was a shop selling strudels of all varieties – savoury and sweet. The number they were producing seemed quite out of proportion to the size of the village. We bought a freshly baked soft cheese variety, still warm from the oven – delicious, but very filling. We only managed a quarter of the pastry before giving up. I suspect it will keep us going for the next week. We didn’t spot many locals, but I guess they are not slim! A little farther on, we stopped at another gorgeous church, with the classic onion dome. A sign adjacent stated that the EU had provided money to renovate the church for the community. 

We headed to the campsite we had selected on our camping App. OMG. We first saw a huge great sign reading ‘BabyWorld’. Then we saw the bouncy castles, slides, huge sand-pit, soft play area and animal petting park, all of course full of boisterous toddlers and children. The camping area seemed to be a small patch of lawn next to the bouncy castle. Without even introducing ourselves, we jumped back into Oscar, and drove off. Definitely not for us!

No matter, I said. The English wife in the Big White parked next to us last night, had given me the brochure of the ‘lovely’ campsite they had stayed the night before. Although, she did add, that having a motorhome, they never, and she emphasised, never, use the facilities – neither the showers or the toilets. It was only about twenty five minutes further on from ‘BabyWorld’, so we set the satnav, and headed there. En route we drove along a major trunk road for a short distance. As in Poland, abutting the main roads are huge advertising billboards. At least in Slovakia they seem tasteful ads. Two days ago in Poland, driving away from Krakow, we had passed mile after mile of adverts for cosmetic surgery. On one particular hoarding, was a large photograph of a surgeon putting his scalpel to an attractive woman’s breast. I’m guessing breast augmentation is popular in Poland!

We arrived at the campsite recommended by the English couple. It was a bare grassy patch situated by an industrial estate, on the outskirts of a superbly unattractive town. Once more, we turned tail. Perhaps we are starting to get fussy after months of travelling?!!

We quickly looked up our trusted ACSI App, and found another campsite right in the Slovenian Tatras mountains. In truth, there were very mixed reviews. A bit of a Marmite campsite. It either had five or one star ratings, nothing in between.

Attracted by the location (still fans of Kirsty Allsop), we decided to give it a try. We arrived late afternoon, and the views of the mountains are sublime. Granted, the washbock is in an old barn. Yes, there are holes between the wall in the toilets, so you can see the person next door, and worst of all, the showers are indeed ‘tandem’ showers, meaning two people shower at either end with no curtain at all. That being said, they are clean, the chap running it seems nice, and the views are to die for. Howard and I must have dropped our standards, because we both instantly took a liking to this place.

So we have just eaten our tea, watching the sun set beside the Tatras Mountains – you can’t ask for more. I doubt you would get such a good view in a five star hotel. I just need another couple of gins, before I can muster the courage to go to the showers, by which time, hopefully, I won’t even care!

As the crow flies, we have come a very short distance from Zakopane in Poland, on the other side of the mountains. I do believe, however, that the Slovakians have the best view of these spectacular mountains!

I’m back on the blog again, after passing it over to Howard last night. There is something truly miserable about coming down with a cold / virus in 33 degrees heat. Thankfully, now that we are in the stunning Tatras Mountains, once the sun goes down, the temperature plummets at this altitude. Last night, remarkably, we were the only camper van on our site. There was one solitary pop-up tent in the far corner of the field, but other than that, we had the place to ourselves. After our recent string of over-crowded sites, it was a real treat. The view out of the van is just delightful too – looking across the mountain peaks. The lady who runs the site is also very pleasant, and when we asked her this morning as to whether there was a washing machine on site, she let us use hers. Since it was so hot, we decided to do all the bedding as well – so we now feel very clean indeed!

Whilst waiting for the washing to dry, we took a wander down into the nearby town, a satellite of Zakopane, and enjoyed a coffee, before walking back to the site. This afternoon, we took a trip up into the mountains, using the nearby ski-lift to get us up to the top of the mountain. The scenery was superb, but there was such a heat haze, that the definition of the mountains on camera was poor. At the top, there was a string of attractive wooden built chalets, all with isosceles triangle shaped roofs, often covered in wooden tiles. We couldn’t be sure if they were lived in all year round, or just used for the skiing season. There were plenty of families out walking, and some crazy downhill mountain-bikers, but for us, the heat just got too much. We turned tail, and enjoyed a cool drink, before heading back down on the ski-lift to the village.

En route back, we stopped off for an ice-cream in the shade. When we arrived back at our campsite, three ‘Big Whites’ had appeared, one inevitably, right next to us. It turns out that they are from the UK – really the first Brits we have come across on a campsite since Norway. I’m quite sure they heard Howard bemoaning the fact that they were right next to us, but nevertheless, came over to chat.

Yet again, Howard has become camp buffoon, by inflating the ‘Lazy Bag’ – it really is such an ingenious affair. I wonder why they haven’t used the same sort of design for lilos, and the like? It would certainly save having to pump the air mattresses up – but then again, there would be campsites full of men running around like idiots trying to inflate them. Maybe not!

We are sat trying to decide our plans for the next week or two. The Carpathian Mountains run along the entire border between Poland and Slovakia, and the Tatras Mountains, which form part of this range, extend into Slovakia too. We are feeling pretty weary of large cities in this heat, and so will probably opt to give Bratislava a miss, maybe even Budapest – depending on the weather. It is undoubtedly more pleasant to be in the countryside when it is this hot.

The sun is just going down now, so appropriately, Howard is pouring the gin. I’m not sure how well it mixes with cold relief capsules – but at least I should sleep well tonight!

Tomorrow, all being well, we head for Slovakia.

Style change today as your normal author is poorly with a summer cold. 

This morning we bade farewell to the old historic hotel in Krakow, walking past a portrait of the lady owner from a few years ago on the stairs. We squeezed Oscar out of the bijou car park and entrance to the street. I do think he breaths in and becomes smaller in such situations. 

We found our way out of the city past the university area, Poland’s oldest University that has taken a significant part in the city’s history and culture. Over the occupation many of the professors were interned and tortured for continuing to teach. 

Our journey south towards the Slovenian border was uneventful apart from occasional snores from the passenger seat. As we climbed higher, the scenery changed dramatically, from the flat terrain we have become accustomed to. In the distance we saw the towering Tatras Mountains, and slowly the route became more mountainous, as we entered the alpine region.

The area we are in is a ski centre, with many chairlifts and cable cars, which in the summer caters for walkers and the inevitable dare devil down hill cyclists. 

We have the campsite to ourselves, so found a cool grassy spot for Heather to flop out in. Ill she may be, but she still found the strength to laugh at my attempts to inflate the lazy bag. However she was not the only spectator, and I think I could get regular bookings for an afternoon comedy slot! 

Leaving Heather tucked up in Oscar, I explored the local area, finding a walking route up beside a chairlift to get some fine views of the hills and mountains. I noticed that the drying of the hay was being done by hand, building tall stacks, and not the tractor process with large multicoloured bales we have seen from elsewhere. The wooden houses all have steeply sloping roofs, I imagine to cope with the winter snow.

We are hoping that Heather recovers sufficiently to use the chairlift tomorrow, and is able to return to normal service with the blog! 

Photos courtesy of Heather, until the lazy bag, then over to me. Editorial oversight, of course – Heather!