Tuesday 28 April 2009

Ulcinj, Tirana

Arber, with lunch!
Museum of National History, which I visited this morning. Note the impressive communist style mosaic.

Main Square. The mosque was left by the communists despite the destruction of other mosques due to its beauty.


Danny and Fabian

Just crossed into Albania!



I decided to head down to Tirana, and then East to lake Ohrid in Macedonia. My trip will then probably dip into Bulgaria before going through northern Greece towards Turkey.

After a great day under sunny sky, the three of us found a camp site near Ulcinj, not far from the Albanian border. The weather was so lovely that I couldn't resist going for a dip in the chilly sea on the pebble beach that was near the campsite. That night none of us got much sleep due to a Slovenian students' weekend away that was taking place in our campsite. If Fabian hadn't insisted on a 6am start the following day I would have joined in the revelry! The early start did however mean we achieved a lot that day.

The following day the 26th, we cycled to the Albanian border where we were met for the first time by "old fashioned" border crossing rituals- long queues, and the necessity of E 10 entry tax - the EU does have a few advantages!

The moment we crossed the border, we became aware that the culture of our surroundings had vastly changed. People were using donkeys to move things around the countryside, and ladies were washing their clothes in the street. Rural Albania is visibly not a wealthy place however nearly every person smiled at us broadly and waved, shouting "Ciao, Ciao!" We felt like filmstars, and it became quite a skill to both wave and shout back at the same time as cycle! It turns out that most Albanians speak Italian as their primary foreign language due to the availability of Italian TV. It was not only the pedestrians! Most cars hooted their approval and waved, and people hanged out of buses to wave and ask us where we were going!

At a bridge a ten year old kid high-fived us all, then ran on to meet us when we stopped. In an instant he had his mits in Danny's bag, and had taken his small box of turkish delight. He did not however run off with it, but returned it and was given a piece. The kids here are cheeky but they seem to be friendly and honest.

Due to some military discipline from Fabian (I confess to find hard cycling not particularly relaxing!), we got to Tirana, a distance of over 145k in time for tea. The city has smart bars, and reminds me of Miami and Bangkok rolled into one. It also has a central square that reminds me of Havana. People are well dressed, and sip cocktails as they would in any other major city.
The city has a true buzz to it, and you feel yourself interacting with it, rather than simply looking at it. Crossing the road requires some skill as the little green man is about as useful as a zebra crossing in Toulouse. I find the safest way is to shadow a local as they navigate the crossings, cars going everywhere around them. I was a little shocked to see a pram being wheeled over the road, however it all seems to work, every man takes responsibility for his own safety, and there are apparently no more accidents than in other places.
The other thing to note about Tirana, is the almost total absence of beggars- it seems that anyone who would be begging has taken some initiative and is selling something on the side of the street! This is a very happy city, amid the chaos!

After my mother told my brother Dan Dan (George) I was in Albania, he called is close old Radley friend Bessi (sorry mate, I don't know how your name is supposed to be written), and within 10 minutes I quite unexpectedly received a call from Bessi's brother Arber (an old Etonian, but no one's perfect!) who lives in the city with his mother and father. I was immediately invited to stay, and have been truly spoilt with Arber's mother's most wonderful Albanian home cooking- roast sea bream with all all sorts of accompaniments, Albanian Riesling, and a great Albanian cooked breakfast this morning with eggs, saugages, and goat cheese amongst all sorts of other things. His parents are fascinating to talk to, as they can speak very clearly about Albania's difficult past and fastly developing present. Today, Albania applied for membership of the EU, which shows quite how far they have come since the fall of communism. The family is very proudly Albanian, and quite right too. They also love telling jokes!

Yesterday, Arber took me out for some delicious koftes, and got stuck in Gridlock whilst taking time out of his working day to come and collect my stuff in his car (Greek PM visiting). He has been really generous, and I have also met some of his friends. He is playing in an important pro basketball match tonight- and I am going to go and support. Fingers crossed! We may head out to celebrate victory tonight with a drink or two (or else it will be my birthday to celebrate!) Right I need to go and meet him!
Macedonia tomorrow!

Friday 24 April 2009

Some random beach, Dubrovnic, Kotor

View of Kotor from the fort
Arial view of Kotor

Kotor, and its fjord


Andy and Danny


Into Montenegro (the sticker on the bottom left was put there by an English motorcyclist I met on the Austria/Italy border!



Dubrovnik

Dubrovnic


Dubrovnic

Camping on the beach-cum-quay

On the 21st, I met up with Danny, a Swiss cyclist I had met on my first day in Croatia. He took a different route to Mostar, but we are heading in the same direction. That morning (I had just arrived in Mostar after a stupidly early train to get back) we also ran into another couple of cyclists- James who is en route to Jerusalem, and Fabian who is also heading East. I am still travelling with Danny, and we have now run into Fabian again so we are rather a jolly little team. I am the only cyclist I have met so far who is not sporting a beard. I might sprout one to appear a little more Islamic when I get further east.

I digress. Danny and I cycled south from Mostar which was rather satisfyingly downhill most of the way, and it was interesting when we noticed that we were in Serb areas when the Roman alphabet signs were blacked out by graffiti, and in Croat or Muslim areas when the Cyrillic signs were blacked out. To get to the Dubrovnic part of Croatia, we had to dart back into Bosnia's 14kn coastline before re-emerging into Croatia. It was a nasty wet day, and we warmed our hands by a barbecue during a coffee break (Danny is addicted to the stuff!)

That evening, failing to find a campsite, we found a deserted small beach-cum-fishing quay where we pitched our tents, and made spaghetti with spicy ragout sauce and rehydrated some mash. It was really very scenic.

We then made good time into Dubrovnic, and accepted a very grotty but impeccably located apartment spitting distance from the city walls. We agreed to a lower price on the condition that we would not cook in the flat- so we used our stove in the courtyard!

Dubrovnic itself is a very beautiful place, and it is just as I had expected. It is rather like St Malo, but with nicer colour stone, and a lot more panache. It was great to have a rest day the following day (my sleeping bag liner is now clean and my sleeping bag is dry!!) We ran into Fabian, the other Swiss chap in the supermarket co-incidentally, and arranged to meet again in Kotor, Montenegro the following day. He was leaving at sparrow's fart, so we didn't cycle with him, favouring a more gentlemanly 8.30am.

The route out of Dubrovnic this morning was rather a climb, but afforded stunning views of the old town. On my way into Montenegro I asked if I could change my left over Kunas into Euro in Macedonia, and was promptly reminded that "Montenegro" was the name of the country I was about to enter! I received my first stamp in my passport in my entire trip at the border.

In Montenegro, we immediately found a little butcher's shop which would not only sell čebapčiči meatballs and chicken pieces, but also grill them for you next door, and serve them to you in a lovely greasy pitta! Delicious!

We then saved a tortoise that was about to get run over on the curb by hurding him back into the brush- every 10 seconds his head would emerge from his shell, he would try to move forward, then a car would roll by and his head would go back inside for a further 10 seconds.

To get to Kotor, we circumnavigated the largest fjord in southern Europe which is absolutely stunning, with little villages on the banks, and ancient churches. There is a monastery on an artificial island that was built hundreds of years ago!

On the banks, we ran into Andy, another Swiss chap who has decided to walk from the Iranian border home to Switzerland. He started in December, and has no money, and no tent. He has relied on people to look after him all the way, and he has been very successful. Amazingly he refused some pasta when I offered it to him!

Kotor is a truly special little place. Set on the banks of the fjord with the mountains behind it, it is protected by ancient city walls just as Dubrovnic is. It is much smaller, but feels more authentic and less touristy. There is a marina with some lovely mega-yachts flying the British Ensign.

Overlooking the city, hundreds of feet up, is the old fortress that used to protect the city from the Ottoman Turks. The climb was tough but gave us the most incredible views.

I am sharing a room with the other Swiss guys- very cash efficvient and more comfortable than camping! I have yet to finalise my route east. I had thought to go through Albania to Kosovo (both countries are aparently safe) and then through Macedonia and Bulgaria. The FCO however advises against the border area between the two countries due to unexploded devices, so my insurance is not valid for there amd I therefore won't go.

I will probably go down to Tirana, then into South Macedonia, and into Greece however I have not ruled out the Tirana-Scopje-Sofia route. Watch this space!

Monday 20 April 2009

Zadarje, Bročanac, Mostar, Sarajevo

The Holiday Inn, which became home to wartime news reporters
Bashcharchia, Sarajevo

Chevapchichi, sarajevo

Turkish Coffee in Bashcharchia, Sarajevo
Sarajevo
This house was on the front line, the highway, between Croat and Muslim forces, and still acts as an ethnic divide.

1993 graves

View of the Stari Most, Mostar, from the minaret

Just arrived in Mostar!

Neno's lorry, where I spent a very pleasant night

Petar and Neno

Into Bosnia-Herzegovina






The canyon the next day





The mule and his mule!











Philip, and his mule






On the 17th April, I didn´t actually get going until 2pm, as errands (such as writing this blog! and doing my laundry) delayed me. The ride south of Split was very beautiful as the road clings to mountain sides that soar up directly from the bright blue Adriatic.

The late start meant that without realising it, I cycled later than I normally do, and was caught out slightly by the fading sun at 7.30. I asked a farmer if I could camp in their field, and they turned me away to my utter disgust! I continued a further half a mile to the next settlement, Zadarje, where I met a friendly group of young people. Maria suggested that the best place to camp was near the spectacular canyon which runs 20 km all the way to the coast, and boasts an enormous waterfall. I therefore went up, and set up my tent.

As soon as I had finished setting up camp, I was rather alarmed by an approaching car, and the tepping of the horn. I went over to say hi, and it turned out to be Maria's brother Philip. He is a maritime student, extremely tall with a deep Croatian voice. He was extremely friendly, and interested in my travels, and suggested that I move my tent to his barn. The panniers went in his car, and I set up camp in a barn comfortingly laid with hay.

We then went down to the village where all the young, between the ages of about 14 and 35 gather around a low wall (which serves as a bar), and the locak "Market" that sells the beer. They plied me with strong, tasty Croatian beer and refused to let me pay for anything. They were all very interested in Football, and I found my lack of knowledge of the Premiership a little embarrassing!

Philip, and his best friend rather comically and affectionately refer to eachother as "My Mule", and we briefly went to visit Philip's friend's real mule, Victor. He was a large beast who makes a grunting noise if grunted to!

They tried to get me invited to a wedding they were going to the next day but unsurprisingly the groom, when consulted by phone on the eve of his wedding day did not want a random British cyclist gatecrashing his big day.

I slept rather well, but was woken various times by the guard dogs. In the morning, Philip kindly brought me a huge ham and cheese sandwich and some milk.

The following day, I cycled up to the border with Bosnia and Herzegovina which was a steep climb. I was chased by a vicious dog for the first time (all the others have been restrained so far!). I managed to outpace it.

In the Croatian border town, just before the border I ordered a large ice cream and a baclava for which the chap would accept no payment. Ice cream in the Balkans is truly special, especially when my cycling routine means I can eat as much as I like!

On entering Bosnia, I was rather struck by the fact that as far as I was concerned, there could have been land mines anywhere that was not on the road. It was a little chilly, so I opened a pannier to don my fleece.

I cycled past a couple of children who screamed, "What's Your Name! What's your name!" I slowed, without stopping and sais "Humphrey, what's your name?" to which they just kept repeating themselves. I sped up, and the fat one lobbed a small stone that hit my panniers.

Fifteen minutes later, I discovered I had neglected to do up the pannier, and had lost my down jacket. I decided to turn back to look for it, and luckily the children were not there, and I found the jacket. On the return leg, however there was a group of 7 or 8 of them, and they appeared a little more menacing. I sped past them, shouting friendly pleasantries and the same fat kid lobbed another small stone that missed. A couple of them had bikes, and rode behind me for a little bit but lost interest after fifty yards.

I don't genuinely think they would have hurt me - they could have pelted me with stones at short range instead of halfheartedly lobbing one solitary small one, but it was a bit of an eye opener! Dogs and kids should be banned!

As it approached the time when I was looking to stop, I went past a house with a friendly looking chap (Petar) who asked me where I was going. I explained I was looking for a place to stay, and he said I could camp on his brother's land no problem. He explained that this part of Herzegovina has no land mines, and that it is a very safe country, which was good to hear! I was invitred in for Turkish coffee, dried ham and Bosnian savoury pancakes, which were all lovely. Each brother has 4 happy children, and a wife, so there was quite a crowd! I was given a large package of pancakes and ham, and they suggested that instead of sleeping in my tent I should sleep in Neno's lorry, to which I jumped at the opportunity!

After a lovely, comfortable night's rest I was invited inside in the morning for another sandwich and more Turkish Coffee, and plain drinking yoghurt, which is delicious. Neno is typical in that although they are Bosnian Croats (catholic), they try as much as possible to play down differences with Bosnia's other nations. I thought it was interesting that Neno was watching the Orthodox (Serb) Easter celebrations on TV in lieu of going to church as it was his turn to babysit the baby.

I cycled through the rain to Mostar, which is an incredibly beautiful city. The old part has been restored, save the ubiquitous ruins that still pepper the streets. As I crossed the Stari Most, the famous bridge that was rebuilt after the war, I heard the Muslim call to prayer. I scanned the cityscape, and noted minarets from mosques in all directions, and it dawned on me that I was in a truly muslim city. That said, if you cross the highway that acted as the Front Line with its honeycomb blasted buildings, you enter the Catholic (Croat) area. A large cross, erected controversially after the war, glares down on the city from this area.

A girl in the free photo gallery explained to me that her father, a muslim had lost a kidney trying to save a croat. A serb was then shot trying to help her father. This shows how pointless the whole thing was. It is extraordinary talking to other young people who have lived in the heart of a battlefield for four years. The chap in the pensione where I stayed is 23, and a muslim. He said that his father, a doctor, once came home covered from head to toe in blood, having tried to help a pregnant woman who had been shot. The town is littered with cemeteries, which are still surrounded by ruins, and the date on the headstone is nearly always 1993. The same young chap, on observing that I was using my bungee cords to hold my trousers up hung a leather belt on my door, saying that I could have it as he doesn't need it anymore.

I had supper with a view of the Old bridge, and it was one of the most beautiful places I have ever dined.

This morning, I woke up early and bought a return ticket for Sarajevo. An American missionary helped me with my bike, and we shared a cubicle. He further enlightened me to Bosnia's complicated history, and the cultural resonances that remain. For example, the word you use for bread is different depending on which community you are in, and if you use the wrong one, they will pretend they don't understand you! Also, if you buy a stamp in the Muslim area of Mostar, they will not allow you to post it in the Croat area!

Sarajevo has been much more cleaned up than Mostar, and there are nearly no ruins in the old part of the city. There are however bullet holes in the walls of many of the buildings. The old Ottoman area is a lovely bustly place where you can get great turkish coffee, and čecapčiči, Bosnian BBQ meatballs served in a greasy pitta with onions and Kajmak, young cheese. I have eaten very well!

I have also been to the town museum, and viewed the pistol that killed Archduke Franz Ferdinand. I have also stood in the place where the shots were fired, near the Latin Bridge. It is a truly extraordinary city. I have become very attached to Bosnia, and especially Mostar and Sarajevo- I will be very sad to leave.

I have encountered extraordinary generosity wherever I have been for the last week. It has been truly humbling.

Tomorrow morning, I will head back to Mostar to continue my cycle ride towards Dubrovnik- if the weather improves. It is currently raining cats and dogs!

Friday 17 April 2009

Ljubljana, Kostrena,Tribanj, Biograd, Rogozica, Split

Mountainous coastline but great views!
With Rick, the Australian chap who looked after me in Split

Sunset

Camping in Rogozica
Rogozica, making supper

Tribanj
Danny

I stayed a further night in Ljubljana, however the hostel was full, so I found a campsite that was pretty close in to town, and saved some much needed cash!

The alarm went off the following morning at 4.45am to rouse me for the 5.53 train back to Koper, which I caught by 15 seconds. Phew! It would have been a pretty depressing 2 and a half hours to wait for the next one!

I explored Koper for an hour, which is a charming sleepy old port town in its centre, but highly industrial on the outskirts. The star attraction (not to detract anything from the town!) was a visit to the Tourist Bureau, and a long chat with Tina, the stunning girl who works there who gave me tons of history, maps, and advice for what to eat when I get to Mostar!

The ride up to the border with Croatia was steep, but it was great to finally have to show my passport at a border crossing, and to leave the cursed Eurozone. The borderguards, who was pretty stern at first fell about laughing when I asked if I could fill my water bottles! They helpfully obliged nonetheless.

In Rijeka, neaerly at sunset, when consulting my map I ran into Danny, a Swiss chap who is cyclinig the same direction as me. He has the same bag setup as me, and is going in the same direction. We camped side by side in the closed campsite at Kostrena, just east of Rijeka. It turned out that we had both asked the same group of police officers outside a football match for directions to the nearest campsite, which may explain why they were so very bemused to see me!

The next morning, Easter Sunday, we enjoyed a decent breakfast at a restaurant with a great view of the Adriatic. The first omlette for a long while went down a treat. We then parted company as he was going a different route, through the islands.

Easter weekend is not a great time to arrive in Croatia, as all shops were closed, and I had to eat out a couple of times, which was a bit pricey. The calamari were however exemplary.

That evening I camped at Sinj, in a closed campsite (FREE!) right on the sea. The only annoying thing was that as the nightclubs closed an afterparty kicked off at the other end of the field which was a little noisy.

That evening, I found another campsite right on the sea, this time unfortunately open at Kruscica. The neighbours were Italian, and not at all friendly which was a bit of a shame. It was good to have a shower, however my sleeping mat developed a hole that night, making for a poor night sleep. I mendee it this morning, so fingers crossed!

Despite the shops being open again, the little ˝Markets˝as they call them were expensive and badly stocked which was a bit of a shame. I found myself buying ˝the choclate bar˝at one of them, which must have been there for a while. Communist Cuba has better stocked shops. Thankfully, towards the better populated areas supermarkets do exist, and it was great to have finally found one that evening! The evening of the 14th April found me in another closed campsite in Biograd.

I have noticed that the locals don't have front lawns, as every available inch of land is cultivated for veggies, seemingly out of necessity due to the high prices in the shops. I am always seeing people tending their little patches. It is the asparagus season, and there are ladies on the side of the road everywhere selling the stuff.

I got to Split yesterday, and just as I had found the street where the hostel was based, a friendly Australian chap befriended me, and asked me if I wanted to stay in his flat. He is a coordinator for student volunteers who come over here to lend a hand at various improving activities. He is very knowledgable of the city, and showed me all the great viewpoints (Diocletian's palace is a maze of ancient streets, highly impressive!), and took me out for some great drinks, and cooked me a superb supper.

This afternoon I am going to start cycling toward Bosnia!

Thursday 9 April 2009

Ljubliana

Ljubljana from the castle
Into Slovenia!

Having had a glorious day in Trieste, the plan was to spend some time in Slovenia en route to Croatia. What I neglected to notice was that the Slovenian passage was only 40k, which would have been a morning. I cycled over the border to Koper, and then on a whim decided to get a train to Ljubliana for the day, and return to Koper tomorrow or the next day to continue the voyage. It is a shame to come here and not come to Ljubliana for the sake of a train ticket.

It is an absolutely charming city, incredibly clean and safe, and bikes go everywhere, including the pavements, which makes a change from draconian Munich! It is expensive- but worth it. The most delicious ice cream I have ever tastes comes from a little place near the main square, and at 2.40 was also the most expensive I have yet encountered.

A chap stopped me in the street to ask about my bike "Is that a Thorn?" because he has one too. He said it was the first time he has seen one in Slovenia! He also said that the Croatian costal route is very good which is great to hear.

I am staying in a hostel which is a converted prison- I am in cell number 215. Thankfully there are no communal showers, so I have no concerns about dropping the soap!




Wednesday 8 April 2009

Munich, Lenggries, Innsbruck, Frenfeld, Rasen, Lozzo, Vittorio Venetto, Aquileia, Trieste

The Hapsburgs' palace at Trieste

Posing in front of the Adriatic, Grado


I have cycled to the Adriatic!


Ancient mosaic at Aquileia


The family in Lozzo who asked me in for dinner - Luis, Lorenzo and Christina

Innsbruck


Into Austria, hurrah no EU logo!

Maurilina pass, which I did without realising it!

Crossing from Austria into the Sud-Tirol region of Italy. Note the sign.

Innsbruck, from near the ski jump


One foot in Austria, one foot in Germany!

Lady surfer, Munich

Traditional Bavarian Breakfast ( minus the orange juice)

Starkbier Fest




Thomas, in his regalia

Lady surfer, Munich

Apologies for the lack of news everyone, I have genuinely not happened upon a decent internet cafe until now (and even this one won't let me upload any pictures). They have taken a copy of my passport under Italian Law, I can only suppose to trace me if I am a spy.

Munich (27-29 March)

I had an absolute ball in this city, and found it very difficult to leave. It is one of those cities to which one can simply turn up and very quickly have a group of friends- at least that is what happened to me. The great thing about making friends there was that I managed to sample a little of the food and culture that would have been impossible otherwise. Cat, who I befriended from the hostel took me to a great student haunt that served a Wiener Scnitzel the size of a stingray (no joke), and we then went to a bar to meet her boyfriend who was about to make a trip to Kyrgistan. I am awaiting his news from there!

They came over for breakfast the following day (traditional Bavarian Breakfast of Pretzels, Weisswurst sausages (put them in a pan of boiling water, but don't put it on the heat), and Weiss Beer. All very tasty.

The following day, the 29th I had planned to leave munich, however I overslept, the clocks went forward, unbeknown to me, and my phone stopped working, so I decided to remain in the city for another day. This was in fact a great boon because it gave me time to go to the Strong Beer (Starkbier) festival, upon Angus Bauer's savvy recommendation.

Verdi could have been thinking of the Paulaner Strong beer Festival when he wrote his Drinking Song in La Traviate, which we performed as the Social Shout when I was a schoolboy. The English translation that we performed was rolling round my head all evening ("I drink, yes I drink to the pleasure of life, And the glorious enchantment of beauty! I sing, yes I sing...!)

I arrived at 4pm, having visited BMW, and fully intending only to stay for half an hour (have a beer and go). I was met by an extraordinary sight of men in lederhosen, and ladies in traditional costumes that greatly flatter the feminine figure standing on benches dancing and singing to the traditional band as they imbibed from enormous ceramic tankards.

The beer, which was rather like Christmas ale at 7.5% was only available in litre measures (appropriately called a Mass). I circled the room nervously looking for a place to sit as I was rather clearly Jimmy-no-mates. I spotted a friendly looking couple, Thomas and Frederike, who informed me that all I needed to do was sit down and order a beer! So I did. At the end of my first mass, I could already feel the effects of the alcohol, and was very soon dancing on top of the tables with the rest of them.

It was rather like the "Feast" at Cothill house, however no one waited for the Christmas pudding before stamping their feet and cheering. The room was furnished with trestle tables, and benches, school style, and nearly everyone in the room was standing on top of them (except the ones who were falling off onto the neighbouring table). Many of the songs had hand gestures, rugby club style, and the lyrics were rather catchy (Viva Bavaria! being one of the regular refrains). But there was a line- at one point out table moved out of line by about 3 feet, and were given a wave by an usher. We immediately rearranged, and carried on as normal as if we had been given a frown from the headmaster.

I never saw any agression, apart from one small tiffle in which no blows were thrown, and the atmosphere were purely jovial. I seriously doubt if that would have been the case in Britain.

There is an Italian having an argument on the phone right in my ear which is driving me insane.
Anyway, where was I?

On the way back (after 3 mass), my friends made sure I got the right trains and trams to get home, which was very good of them. I was shocked that drunken students at midnight in Munich still wait at the little red man for fear of getting a jaywalking fine. I even met a chap who had been given a fine for riding his bike on the wrong side of the pavement!

Lenggries 30 March

Having eventually left Munich, I headed south towards the mountains, following the Isau river which conveniently goes in the direction of Innnsbruck. By the end of the day, I arrived in Lenggries, which is a small Bavarian ski resort. The chap working in the hostel was British, on his gap year and planning to study in Canterbury. He made a good German breakfast the next day! I was a little shocked that having spent a large part of his gap year working in a ski resort he had done no skiing- hopefully he will have fun with all the money saved!

Innsbruck 31 March - 1 April

The cloud cover only cleared to reveal the alpine peaks in the afternoon of my cycle to Innsbruck, which was a real joy to see. I did not notice much of a climb on the route to Innsbrick, so I was totally shocked when I found myself at the top of the enornous Inn valley (don't know if it's called that, but it has the river Inn at the bottom of it!), and I had a glorious downhill run of several hundred metres to the bottom. On arrival at Innsbruck, after a while I found a grotty independent hostel, but was pleased to share the dorm with a pair of friendly Aussies.

The following day, the first of April, was gloriously sunny, and the scenery of Innsbruck which is surrounded by a corona of white mountain peaks was breathtaking when seen against the blue sky. I spent the day exploring the city with those guys, and managed to trick Anthony (it being April 1st) that a fountain was spurting apple juice. He tasted it (sorry Anthony!), but he claims he was only doing it to be polite!

One funny thing about the Austrians is that if you ask them "Do you know where the ski jump is?" they will simply answer "Yes". You have to ask "Please, tell me where the ski jump is."

Freinfeld 2 April

I was very nervous about crossing the Brenner Pass into Italy, but it wasn't nearly as bad as I had thought. On the other side, I was a little annoyed to find that nothing of the culture is Italian, as the official sign at the border "Sud Tirol ist nicht Italien!" suggests.

The food is still bratwursts, and the language is Deutsch. The only difference was the quality of the breakfast, which consisted of 3 pieces of bread, some scrapings of cheese, and jam. This was a big shock after Germany.

Rasen 3 April

Found a campsite on this day, which was lucky- still in Sud Tirol. The Alpine scenery was stunning, and the night was not too cold.

Lozzo 4 April

I asked a farmer if I could camp in his field, and he asked me in to have supper with his wife and son. He is an electrician 5 days a week, and keeps sheep and donkeys for the weekends. The Spag bog was very tasty as were the home made saucisson.

Vittorio Venetto 5 April

Having decended the mountains, the warm mediterranien air is wafting over my skin. The nights are balmy, and the realisation that I have cycled to Italy is now a reality. I stayed in a shared apartment in the city where some of the inhabitants cooked my supper for me in the proper Italian way! (pork rashers, globe artichoke, and wonderful tomato shaped like a pumpkin)

Aquileiea 6 April

The flat lands of Italy were a treat after the hills of the Dolomites. I made good progress, and made it to a campsite that was getting ready for the summer season by cleaning the pool. This was a major city of the Roman Empire, so I explores some of the ruins, and the Basilica contains a huge mosaic commissioned by Constantine after the legalisation of Christianity.

Trieste 7 April - present

I am loving being in Italy, and it will be sad to leave it for Slovenia tomorrow. I have explored Trieste and the Hostel is beautifully perched overlooking the Adriatic. I sat up in bed this mornign and looked at the ships bobbing up and down. It is very near to Miramare, a stunning castle built by Archduke Maximilian who lived here when it was part of the Hapsburg Empire.

I asked a lady in the street where a good place to eat well for little, and she took me to Marios, where I hat the most delicious gnocci in gravy sauce. They were the size of hamburgers and tasted like stuffing. Delicious. I then went to a cafe and had an espresso topped with a little bit of whipped cream!