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The “Journal” of an Intrepid Traveller And his van

This is not meant to be a travelogue, journal, diary or a story; it’s a Combination of them all, as well as a first for me. In so far as I have travelled, I would say quite extensively I have never written or kept records of those travels. There are several people who, at this stage will remain nameless who could well be blamed for it.” You ought to write a book of your travels” say they. Well here it is. I have no idea whether it will be finished or just another of my unfinished works. I suppose it started with last years aborted trip, sorry, I forgot to mention I’m one of these camper van travellers who in 2007 when, through sheer cold I had to abandon my trip into Russia. My camper is a 4 year old twin bed Auto Sleeper (wish I did, auto sleep that is) with a 2 litre Peugeot diesel engine. I’ve done several trips, but this one in 2008 is the big one so far, if all goes well! It was on my return to the UK in 2007 after the aborted trip to Russia and beyond that I decided next year I would do as much of that trip in reverse order as was possible. With that in mind I started my research once again in late 2007 to travel across western and eastern Europe, Turkey, Georgia, Azerbyjhan , a ferry(all being well) across the Caspian Sea then a long drive across Russia, through the Ukraine and then home, all in all about 17000 km. I have no idea how long this will take. Previous trips have been marred by weather, customs officials and vehicle problems, theft and many others small incidents and as this is by far the longest and indeed far flung trip, who knows what may happen. Further restrictions have been put into place since I conceived this trip. Linda has I am pleased to say, decided to join me on the first leg but, wants to return once we have reached Side in Turkey so that date has been set for May 19th.The severe restriction is that I have agreed to be the photographer at a friends sons wedding on July 12th, so I should be back at least a week before. So the planning was started, we would drive across Europe to Bratislava, then drive on to Istanbul then to Side in southern Turkey to chill out before Linda fly’s back, and I continue on the adventure. I am not too concerned with much detail with western Europe, I have travelled and photographed it as much as I want to do, not that I have photographed it all, far from it but it just does not interest me anything like the Eastern European countries and Turkey in particular and never having been to Azerbyjhan am looking forward to that experience enormously.

1 After having the van well serviced, loading it up with enough food to see us on our way, a tank full of water that will run out in 2 days, (that is if we both shower every other day) We left home at 9.30 am on Sat May 3rd with high hopes. The journey to Dover and the crossing to Dunkirk went as planned as did the drive on through Western Europe. There isn’t much to write about driving non stop on motorways, using their service stations as camp sites, except maybe just one thing. Why is it that almost all western European males think it perfectly OK to use the rest area as a public toilet? Some of these public areas are a stinking disgrace. I can only assume that because there is a charge to use the toilets they decide that either they can’t or will not pay for the facility. It’s a European disgrace, that apart, it was only when we were almost out of Austria, that we encountered our first official problem. We were In one of our usual type “camp sites”, a motorway service station, when after dinner, prepared by us in the van as we seldom if ever eat out, a police car drew up along side us, which when the officer got from his car and indicated he wished to see me outside, I realised there may be a problem. As I thought, apparently and bearing in mind I go out of my way to avoid trouble we or should I say I had not read a notice at the border which informs all motorist that if they wish to use the motorways must purchase a vignette(road tax disk) at a cost of 7.5 Euros. He seemed almost pleased to tell me that the fine for this was E120, obviously I was in severe shock or at least that was what I wanted to portray to him, but alas to no avail. He simply took out his official book and let me read what he had told me and he then went on to say “how would I like to pay, cash or credit card” you have the choice not about whether or not to pay, just by what method. My parking up that night was one of my worst, I had parked at what was the entrance to the parking bays and the nearest to the entrance, consequently when any car pulled in it was the first spot they came across. It seemed as if we were doomed, around mid night a large transit type van pulled along side our camper accompanied by several cars which were all of Polish origin and soon started to begin to repair the van. This was by way of much hammering, discussion and argument (or that what it sounded like) all while we were trying to get some sleep. The only thing was for me to move the van to a quieter spot, all this in the early hours of the morning. I have nothing against the Polish people or their country, but why the hell did they all have to park around our camper. With precious little sleep and many miles to travel, we rose early, only to find that our van battery was so low the water pump was inactive. Not really knowing what to do it was a process of elimination. It didn’t take too long to find the problem, the van battery was not being charged as a fuse had blown. That being the case, I changed the fuse only for it to blow again. Now I have a problem, I know more about quantative physics than I do of electricity but having a friend in Bosnia who is an electronics expert I have no problem if I can get there Most fortunately before we left, one of the emergency pieces of equipment I packed was a battery charging system for emergency use. I connected this to my van battery and all seemed well, but for how long I had no idea. Getting to Ilyas in Bosnia was now beginning to become important, so off we set. In real terms the distance was not too far, some 450 miles. We could both do without showers until then, but without a pump we had no way of drawing water, we had to

2 purchase a largish bottle for day to day running, which we did in Hungary, Problem semi solved were off to Bosnia. With this inconvenience it takes us longer than I envisaged, the journey through Hungary and Croatia was much the same as before and as my mind was more set on getting the problem sorted ASAP where we were or what we were going through was of little importance. Our timing proved to be awkward, I didn’t want to contact Iliya to tell him we were near by as I know only too well that his mother would prepare a banquet and it was already 4.30pm ish, we decided to have our dinner then move on too Iliyas. We arrived at Iliyas just after 6pm and was made as welcome as anybody could be, the big problem now was that Ilyas mom insisted that we sit down with them for dinner and have only a small portion. During dinner and after several glasses of schnapps I told Ilya of our problem, “what problem” he asked, “It will be done in the morning and if I can’t fix it I know a man that can”. Now I can rest easy!!

We were also in luck as tomorrow was market day in the town, now I’ve been to more markets that you can throw a stick at, but it is a wonderful place to mix and meet the locals so I retire relaxed and sleep well. We are told in no uncertain terms that we will be using their home as ours regarding eating, washing etc. It is no surprise therefore that as I emerge from the van first thing in the morning, Stella is at the front door showing us where the shower is and I notice the table, already laid for breakfast. We couldn’t argue, were both showered and clean at last, and breakfast is huge, cheeses, home made pork salami, fresh bread and any drink you wish to name including schnapps. Ilya who, after all the drink last night was late for breakfast and looked rather fragile, his mother in who’s house we were had left for work some hours ago, she works as a cook in the local supermarket. In a Bosnian market place

Ilya was not too worried about my problem, it wouldn’t take long and in any event there was a market to go to and things to be bought for lunch, the van would do later. The market was much like any, full of cheap goods, clothes which for ourselves were long out of fashion and all sorts of electrical and gardening tools with any amount of junk, we weren’t there long, I was keen to get the van fixed and after a trip to the “meat shop” we headed home for lunch and to fix the van. Its noteworthy that Bosnians are not the wealthiest of people but Stella had gone way over board with the food, fillet of pork, onions and mushroom sauces, one in cream the other in tomato both of which she had been making since before we got up, fresh bread and again anything including schnapps to drink. Experts don’t take long, so it was no surprise that within a short space of time he had it fixed. With the battery being low, what was happening was that when I revved the 3 engine, it was putting more current than the fuses could take and causing them to blow. So until such times as it was fully charged, I had to go easy on the accelerator, and that’s not easy for me!! We had a great lunch before his brother and mother came home, they will eat what was left later, in fact his brother was eating it on the hoof so to speak, but with little time on our side, I took some photos of us all. Ilya’s mom gave us a present of her home made salami which tastes great, a few hugs and kisses and I was genuinely sorry to be leaving such a super group of friends behind, which they truly are, I know we’ll meet again. Our journey through Bosnia takes us past The Arizona market, in the middle of nowhere but on the main road through Bosnia, probably the largest market you could either hope to see or avoid. It was brought about by the Americans whilst in occupation there to try to get the various parties within Bosnia to mix, and as Ilya tells me as far as it can its done a good job. It has now developed into a huge trading area where market stalls have been taken over by shops of all shapes and sizes, but still retains the title of market Having been there before we continue on to Sarajveo which still shows the scars of the war, many buildings still have bullet and shell marks, some are flattened altogether but by and large they are doing a good job of restructuring and building a new and vibrant city. We needed to re fuel, it was at the garage that Linda informed me after her visit to the bathroom that the water pump was not working, and if this is the case we could have a major problem. I check and as Linda says, it isn’t working. I check all I can, the fuses this time are OK, I check that power is going to the pump, that’s OK ,I think by now I know more about electrical problems than I do about quantative physics, as far as the pump is concerned I’m stumped. I might just as well contact another expert, Ian, the service manager at the distributors from where I bought the van in England, he has in the past been most helpful when needed, I hoped to hell he would be this time. When I got through, I explained all the problems we had in the past as well as this latest, Ian told me that if power was going to the pump then the pump must be at fault, although this was a new pump I did bring the old one with me “just in case” so change the pump it had to be. One last check before I start work and sure as can be no reaction from the pump. Its not a difficult job, more awkward, as there is everything you need for living is in such a small and confined unit, I have to empty the wardrobe remove tables etc from within , as well as the main (240 volt) control panel, take up the floor before I can get at the pump. That all done its just a question of undoing the entry and exit pipes, a couple of electrical connections, take the pump off the wall and replace it with one that works. Now that its all done, I put the pump on the floor of the van and decide to try it one last time, for no good reason as I hadn’t done anything to it, but on connecting the same leads as before the pump worked as well as it had ever done .I had no idea what I had done, nor had Linda and after A few choice word from me the pump was returned from whence it came and worked as good as new. Campervanning be bu….d !!! Were done

4 and off but apprehensive, what the hell caused it and will it return? Linda says not! Only time will tell. Bosnia doesn’t get any better on the rest of the drive; the only reason for going through Serbia is that it is the only way to get to Albania and then Montenegro. The map shows me and the guides tell me that Vardiste is a main border crossing so its there were off. It doesn’t take long but the roads are winding, hilly and in poor condition but at least we arrive. After passport inspection, I am ushered in the office to be told that my green card was not valid in Serbia; I knew this from the past and explained to the customs official that I had to purchase the insurance at the border. He then told me as the documents could not be issued at this crossing I would have to go to the border crossings further south, get my documents and return. Nothing works smoothly in Serbia, on my first visit, I wasn’t exactly refused entry but was told that as a combination of being a photographer and a paedophile (on the border check they found a photo of our 3 year old grand daughter naked in the bath) all my camera equipment would be confiscated and returned to me when I returned to leave the country. As I was at the time going home, returning to that border crossing was not an option, so barred from entering Serbia I was. The journey to the second border crossing wasn’t long, but even more hilly, narrower and worse roads than previous, but again we got there to be greeted by 2 Brits from Bristol driving a double Decker bus to India, if I thought I had problems ! The insurance would cost me E120 yes E120 for a 1 day drive across Serbia to Albania but pay it I must. When I get back to the van Linda says that was one of the reasons for not going to Serbia but she couldn’t remember it at the time, the other very good reason is that if you drive on their motorways the tolls are extortionate, worse than the insurance, in my opinion unless you just want to say you’ve been there, there is no reason to go to Serbia. And on to Albania, now if we thought Bosnia and Serbia were bad, we were in for a shock. The border crossing presented no problems, there was a large notice for all to see trying to banish bribery particularly with the police and customs officers, it didn’t say as much but it was obvious where it was intended. I have never driven on such bad roads the steering wheel almost leapt from my grip, it was necessary for me to stop and reduce the tyre pressure otherwise the van would have been shaken to pieces .These conditions continued until we reached the first major town of Shkoder, again we were shocked the town was deep in dust and sand, buildings were dilapidated the whole town looked more like a run down third world town .I have been to India, Pakistan and Sri Lanka , and like those countries and their people but I can only describe Shkoder, not the people ,as bad and as run down as any I have seen. Fortunately after the shock of Shkoder the roads became quite acceptable and reasonable speed was possible. There is however not a lot of good I can report on Albania, with the exception of, that should anyone driving through or a resident need a car cleaned, this is the place to come.

5 There are more car washing places than any where else I have seen. Garden sheds, private garages, public garages, street corners, shop fronts almost every conceivable place you could fit a tap and hose pipe there will be some one offering their service as a super car washing expert. There was one small sting in the tail as we were leaving to enter Macedonia, the customs official required E20, 10 per day for our visit to Albania, I was given a receipt so must assume it’s genuine, that is if the receipt was in the first place. The drive through was all we did, with little to mention. The whole country looks a lot better than I expected, I have read about holiday properties for sale here and if the coast line is as beautiful as southern Croatia and similar to that of Dubrovnik, then it could well be a good place to buy a holiday home, but not for me! At the border I asked the customs officer about their attitude to the European Common market, she told me in no uncertain terms that it was only the old and present enemy that will do all it can to stop their entry. It’s a pity; it looks far more worthy of entry than a lot of other countries we’ve been through. We decided that a rare treat was in order, we stopped at a small road side shop and bought 2 ice creams, a mars bar and a loaf of bread, which in our village shop would be over £3, here in Macedonia it was all for 2 euros. Things will change should they ever get in The EU. It’s not a very large country and the trip from one side to the other is very short, it wasn’t long before we were into Greece. Now that we are entering an EU country there are no custom problems, a cursory glance at the passports and were in. We are entering the northern part of Greece, which is nothing like the Greece we know as tourists visiting the Roman and Greek ruins. It’s a far more run down area with roads and housing to suit, I was well disappointed. Lots of road constructions, housing and general building work, most of which is far from complete and looks like staying that way. Ah the benefits of the EU. The one redeeming feature is that in spring, I doubt if there is a country any where that can match Greece for the brilliance of their wild flowers, fields are full of them, I’m no botanist and don’t need to be one to be amazed at the way the white and bright yellow and soft lilac flowers mix with the finest of deep red poppies. It’s almost worth a visit to Greece just to see it. On the way up to Turkey, its half agricultural and half industrial with one or two small fishing harbours scattered along the coast, these are overshadowed by the petroleum and cement works close to the shores with their own jetties for the ships collect or deliver their cargoes. I wasn’t disappointed to be leaving. Apart from the flowers there was another aspect of Greece that is worth a comment. It’s well known that their driving is almost as wayward as the Turks (more of that later) but on this day the lorry drivers were on strike against the price of fuel, they think they have problems. I nearly joined them; it did make for pleasant driving on virtually empty roads to Turkey

6 Turkey is one of the main reasons for this entire trip. There is so much to see and photograph archaeology, people, markets of all kinds, beach resorts it’s a venerable holiday makers and photographers paradise. What I am trying to write here is not a travel guide but the reasons for visiting the places I do, a brief description of what I see and maybe show a few of the photos. If the reader hasn’t been to Turkey, I hope after reading this it will be your next trip. It’s a huge country with a 98% Muslim population with laws passed for the freedom of worship for any denomination. You couldn’t find more pleasant and happy go lucky people that you can trust, talk freely with and above all, even without speaking a word of Turkish, you can enjoy their company. They are however, like many continentals a little hot blooded, they don’t suffer fools and if you upset them your sure as hell are going to find that out. Their driving has but one rule, none. Traffic lights don’t seem to matter, the same can be said for dual carriageways, its not uncommon to see a car heading toward you, hazard lights flashing as he passes you going the wrong way on the “hard shoulder” but they always have a smile and a wave for you, and nobody is any the worse for it. Without exception all drivers seem to have a right to overtake, when they want, where they want regardless of almost anything and it doesn’t matter which side they overtake on The country is vast with a great deal of farming, I wondered as to whether or not the country could be self sufficient as far as food is concerned. I do believe that all their petroleum has to be imported, which, is probably why fuel is more expensive here than it is in the UK. We stop for the night parked up on the beach, 10 yards from the sea and next to a parked car the driver of which is busy on the mobile, within a few minuets and whilst still on the phone he comes to us, shakes our hand and welcomes us to Turkey, he no more than pours half the packet of the nuts he was eating into our hands and wishes us a happy time in his country. We seem to be getting a little ahead of ourselves with a little time to spare before Linda flies home, and as yet our sight seeing has been confined to 2 hours walking around Bratislava I thought a “special treat” was in store. There are no shortages of attractions in Turkey, most are history related, and the country is steeped in it. A quick look at the guide books and I find that Konya is not too far off the beaten track, some where I haven’t photographed as yet and has a most important museum relating to the Sultans that date back many centuries, so were off. We drive through the northern mountains, once off the motorway there is mile after mile, going into the hundreds of miles of road works. It looks as though the existing road is being made into a dual carriageway. The only problem seems to be that there is no one working on it. It is quite obvious that this project has in parts been stationary for some years. With regard to the construction projects in Turkey, whether it is roads, houses or factories, it seems as though the idea is to half complete the job then give up. This is the one thing that we both thought was a tragedy as far as this beautiful country is concerned. We stopping for the night at what I thought were a well laid back off the road lay bye. It was, but that didn’t stop half the Lories in Turkey using the road as a race track all through the night, sleep was not on the menu. 7 We rose early, we might just as well as sleep wasn’t on the menu and set off for Konya passing all types of industry, the one I remember most was bricks and Turkish breeze blocks, there were so many factories producing them that must be the centre of all Turkish brick making. The country side and mountains, some still with snow on the peaks and the valley we drove along were as picturesque as almost anywhere as we now get near to Konya. A city over 4000 years old, owned by The Hittites, then The Romans before it eventually became Turkish. From roughly 1150 to 1300 Konya was the capital of the Seljuk Sultanate of Rum, one of the successor states to the Great Seljuk Turkish Empire of the 11th century. The main reason to visit is to see the Mevlana museum, the former lodge or convent of the “brotherhood” called Mevlevi or The Whirling Dervishes. In one of their members namely Celaleddin Rumi they produced one of the worlds great mystic philosophers. His poetry and religious writings, mostly in Persian, the literary language of the day, are amongst the most beloved and respected in the Islamic world. He later became known as Mevlana (our Guide) to his followers. The tomb of Rumi and his son Sultan Veled who after Rumi’s death organised his followers into the brotherhood, along with the tombs of many other sultans are in this museum. Over 1.5 million people visit this very holy shrine, most of them Turkish Muslims who can be seen openly praying for his help and guidance. I wanted to photograph the “museum” at night, although well lit it was not possible to obtain a decent vantage point so the photography had to wait until morning. This didn’t need an early morning call as the light would be fine around 8.30am. I parked the van 200 yards away in a huge car park , had a good nights sleep and although the light wasn’t as good as I would have hoped , the images were fine for there purpose. We left about 10.30 and headed for Side, a place we have visited on numerous occasions situated on the southern coast. Hopefully we’ll see some long awaited good weather. This good weather didn’t materialise over the mountains but on arrival at Side all was well, a fill up with water and were off to find a parking spot on the beach, through the otogar, (Bus Park) along the stony track on the beach front and park in any one of the many parking spots. This is where were going to stay for a few days. The beach vendors come out to meet us, (they own and run the beach lounges hiring facility with their own bar and light refreshment stalls) not to warn us off as would be expected in the 8 UK but to say hello, find out where were from and welcome us. I ask as I usually do, “Is there a problem, me parking here” I got the reply I expected over here “No problem, stay as long as you wish” But why Side? This small town seems to have more than many for the tourist, miles of sandy beaches, shops, restaurants of all cultures, a warm sea with safe swimming, the usual water sports and paragliding and a Saturday market to rival any, but most of all Side is a walk into free museum, let me explain. The modern Side is built on the site first occupied by and built around 600BC by the Aeolians, then swept through by Alexander The Great (this man certainly got around) after which the Romans had a go and as such the new town built as it is on and around these ruins makes the town a free museum there for all to walk about and admire. As you walk into town through the huge arch, you cannot help but notice the roman theatre, one of the largest in Turkey, seating over 15000 people .Across the road is the agora with many columns still standing .To the east is the Byzantine basilica and the colonnaded street with over 30 pillars still standing, the foundations of Byzantine houses with there mosaic floors which you are actually walking on, this is for real, where else could you find such a place. The Icing on the cake is that at the southern tip of the town stands the Temples of Apollo and Athena which date from the 2nd century AD, walking here at dusk or first light is most atmospheric and yet another opportunity to get the camera out. Whilst here, I was able to plan the itinary, I knew most of the places I wished to visit but had to check out one or two others. The world Heritage site at Divrigi is by all accounts a must for those wishing to say they have truly seen most of the sites in Turkey. Its only problem is that it’s almost right in the centre of the country, which means its miles from anywhere. I estimate that it’s at least an extra 500 miles, but I console myself by the fact that its only 250 miles from Mt Nemrut National park which is my number 1 reason for the trip. Its time to take Linda to the airport, her planes at 3.00am but we get there early and after check in Linda tells me to go as its now 1.00am, I’m reluctant as I was going to wait with her but as usual she makes good since. I give her a big hug, she’s not only a super wife, which she doesn’t realise she’s also been great company, although, she thinks a bit in the way and holding me back. That’s rubbish; my only regret is she won’t be with me for the rest of the trip. There’s almost a tear in both our eyes as we kiss and say bye for now, I watch her go into the lounge, and as she turns to say a last farewell, I wish I was going with her. There are many positives about the journey I am about to embark upon as well as a few disadvantages, one of these is loneliness, which I experience almost immediately I get back to the van and head for the beach resort at Side.

9 Later that morning I am driving from the site when I see Mustafa the “beach boy” coming to work, he must be 30+ I’m pleased I haven’t missed him and we both wish one another well for everything, shake hands and I’m on my way by 9.00am. I’ve made up my mind that I stop driving by 6.0pm regardless of how far I’ve driven, but intend to crack on where ever possible. The first 100 miles I know is going to be OK, it’s a main road through the tourist city of Alanya, and tall hotels filled primarily with Russian and Scandinavian holiday makers. Turkey being one of the main countries for Russians holiday makers. From then on its single road, up cliff faces along the coastline and I’ve now, no idea what to expect, I haven’t travelled these roads before. I asked the question earlier as to whether or not Turkey was self sufficient in food, it now looks more likely as for the next 100 miles there is little else but green houses filled with fruit trees. Now whilst I new they grew bananas, I had no idea just how many. There are banana trees growing in greenhouses, huge ones, well they need to be to house such trees, Peaches Grapefruit and as expected tomatoes by the acreage, and don’t they taste good. I wonder why we can’t get tomatoes that taste as good. Another one of the many benefits of Europe I suppose! Along the roadside there are many stalls, I would think it’s the farmers or should I say their womenfolk selling the produce, could this be whilst the men are busy tending the crops or more likely drinking in the many cafes and bars that line the roads. I say this because in Turkey, the womenfolk seem to get a rough deal. There’s no such thing as equality here, or so it seems. Linda and I saw what I can only presume to be a family going home, father and son and the donkey whilst mother walked quickly or ran slowly behind carrying a small child! I digress, its back to the road again; it’s coming up to 6pm so the next place to park is the one for me. It turns out, as I expected, one of the many “motorway” rest areas. Not quite the 5 star beach front Peugeot hotel I’ve been used to, but its time to be brought back to reality. Let’s wait and see what tomorrow brings. Its an early start, I’m up by 6.30, not that I had much choice , when you stay at such luxurious accommodation you are woken up various modes of transport, cars, coaches, but most of all the lorries all at regular intervals you just choose which one you get up at. I’m showered, breakfasted and en route shortly after 7.00am, I put the am there because generally speaking there is only one 7 o’clock in the day for me and that’s about the time were off to bridge club in the evening I think that in Turkey this isn’t all that early, I drive past many shepherds and herdsmen already in the fields with their stock. They must start at dawn. What a hard life they have, I know that I see them going home, or at least I presume its home after 6 o’clock in the evening. What you don’t see is any one doing this that is aged say between late teens to early/middle age; they have mostly gone to the cities for easier and far more financially rewarding work. It’s a drive over the mountains of central Turkey, not particularly high, 6000ft ish and once more through fields and green houses full of all sorts, there is one change however and that is the sun flowers. At this time of the morning they like my self are just waking and starting to nod their heads, I thought Italy had the monopoly on sun flowers, not a chance, there are mile after mile of them over here. 10 The mist or early morning haze is starting to lift and I can see the mountains I have to drive over, it shouldn’t be a problem, only time consuming, and it’s on that point that I’m going to be very much mistaken. I’m on a super motorway, one of the few in Turkey, all of which are toll roads and the miles are eaten up, by elevenses I’ve clocked up over 150 miles and the toll charge is only 3 Liras, just over £1. Its quite odd really, brand new combine harvesters by John Deere and New Holland can be seen not only in the fields but also being transported to either southern Turkey, or, into Iran or beyond. The point I am getting at is that these machines are working in Turkish fields along with new large tractors, and other modern machinery the types we see in the UK and yet there are farmers still cutting the their crops by scythe, and mostly women doing the back breaking work in the fields. I finish the day about 50 miles from Divrigi and reckon that as the main point ok tomorrows exercise is to photograph the north door of The Ulu Cami & Darussifa , I’ll take an easy drive there in the morning, park up to stay overnight, do a good recky of the place , then get on with some serious photography. It’s quite obvious why not many tourists get to Divrigi; the road is at best a class 5-. Narrow, winding, but above all, its miles from anywhere and in a coach would be a 2 day drive from the nearest major city. It is however an exceedingly pleasant drive, the countryside which varies between 3500ft and 6000ft is a joy to drive through. Rolling snow capped peaks lush vegetation with the odd mountain village thrown in for good measure. Its obvious that Divrigi’s economy is agriculturally based, from 10 miles out, all you can see is crops of many types, fruit trees, shepherds, more herdsmen, tractors and farm workers, but oh dear! The road workers have been at it again. I read in Lonely Planet that Divrigi is an old fashioned back wood town that it certainly is but now can be added, dusty like nowhere else. Some years ago some one decided a road widening scheme would be beneficial, to whom and why I have no idea. The problem seems to be that some years ago after the work was half completed some one else with more authority decided enough was enough and stopped the work, so now what you have for a mile or two leading into the town is a solid mud road, and with all the extra dust it creates I do believe Devrigi to be one of the dustiest places I have visited outside the various deserts I’ve been to. I could see the Ulu Cami above the town and slightly below and to the right of the totally ruined, hill side castle. The drive up was stony and slippery but I got there and parked some 50 yards away on an “ideal” piece of ground. There was “no problem parking” here for as long as I wished one of the locals told me, there were to be just one or two problems for me that he had got used to. 11 I had a good look round and was slightly disappointed in what I saw, I cant say why but never the less I got that feeling, it could well be that having seen so many mosques and temples I get a bit blaze about such buildings and I suppose I’m fortunate to be in that position. What we have is a Mosque and a danlissifa adjoining one another. A danlissifa being a type of hospital where travelling surgeons and physicians would visit and prescribe what ever may be required to those unfortunate enough to be requiring such remedies. Bearing in mind they were built in 1228 by the local emir Ahmet Sah and his wife the lady Fatma Turan Melik this may well be the original private medical scheme. When I parked, I had no idea it was outside a primary school, now that in its self is fine, however, I think that every child in Turkey is taught to ask 3 questions to any foreigner. The first being what is your name? Followed by where are you from? Finishing with how old are you? Now I’ll go along with a few, but when all the pupils of the school come and ask it gets a bit much. I suppose it has to be expected, it’s not every day that some pale skinned guy rolls into town driving a camper wearing shorts and tee shirts. It may well be the only one they ever see so they sure as hell are going to give this guy the once over. Believe you me they did just that. When I had dinner, I don’t think I swallowed a grain of rice which hadn’t been counted by several pairs of eyes. The other, well I should have known better, parking next to a mosque it not the best thing to do. As when Muslims are called to prayer, it’s not the quietest musical I have listened to especially at 11.0pm and 5.00 in the morning. It was mid morning when I approached the door to the danlissifa, which was locked, a man came from nowhere waving a small bunch of keys and after a few hellos which everyone understands he opens the door and hey presto I’m in. It takes some time for the lights to brighten the place up, but I notice there are another couple of lights he hasn’t put on yet. I point this out to him and without more ado there on in a flash. My photography finished here, I ask what I owe and am very quickly and with shaking of the “The hospital” Head told nothing but would I like a glass of Turkish tea. I sit down with him and talk about all sorts, it certainly could have been and probably was, neither of us had any idea what the other was on about, however; when it was time to go I put a small amount of Lira into his hand, he seemed well pleased and for the rest of the day, if I needed a door opening, he wasn’t far behind me. The mosque was next, I waited until prayers were over and the building was mine, it has 16 differently carved pillars, a most luxurious deep piled carpet and several light bulbs missing from the many chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, a few photos and I’m finished here in the inside.

12 Photographing the outside is a much longer process all together, there’s morning and evening light to consider, will it be lit at night? There’s a fair bank of lights outside so it bodes well for a pleasant early evening photo of the main building. What part of the building should I photograph and when? I make my mind up how to go about this project and it all falls into place well. I have time for a stroll into town, its much the same as many a dusty run down place, the people are all friendly enough, the baker invites me in, more photos, I’m happy, so is he, in fact it’s not too long before the whole town knows me and wants to shake my hand and wish me well. They really are a friendly people Its back to work, I have dinner to make and eat and get ready for the evening photo shoot when the whole place is lit up. True to form, the lights go on and after a short while when they are at full power I Take the photos, finishing off what I came here to do. It’s a good night’s sleep I want before tomorrow’s trip to Mt Nemrut National Park. It’s another early start as I would like to get there before sun set, this is where the huge carved heads lay on the top of a mountain. And, described by locals as, the eighth wonder of the world. It may not have quite risen to that status but it is another World Heritage site The journey takes me through lush valleys, barren and burnt out mountains, soft rolling hills with green vegetation and hill sides that are not dissimilar to those in the south west of USA as you leave Page in Arizona heading south. Here as there the hillside is of multi coloured sand, from almost white to the deep reddish brown, I wondered whether it would photograph as colourfully and saw no reason why not. I drive through the largish town of Adyiman, a modern town with pleasantly coloured blocks of modern flats, and there is a significant change in the mode of dress. Many of the ladies, some obviously quite young are dressed in the full Bursa type dress, something I have seen very little of so far in Turkey. The same can be said for the men, but here its exclusive to the older generation, they wear those types of trousers that tie quite tightly at the ankle and have that deep baggy crutch. I’ve made good time so far and should be there in plenty of time, but my hopes of getting there take a turn for the worse when, as I am driving out of this town I am waved down by the driver of a small tourist type 15+ seater, transit van, who in quite good English enquires about my destination, when I told him where I was going, he told me I could not make it in my truck. Having read in Lonely Planet that the road to the car park at the top was terrible in the extreme I thought he may have a point. That was until I had the good fortune to ask him, if I booked to go with him, would it be in that van he was driving now or had he a different one special for the drive up. He told me that this was the vehicle, I then told him “That if he could make it in his van I could certainly make it in mine” He wasn’t a happy chappy. The road to the top is 15 KM long and not the best of roads I’ve driven on goes up through a small village and passes one or two small hotels. I genuinely start thinking, is 13 it wise to carry on as the road is far from good, good sense prevails and I carry on, to be honest, any modern car would easily have made it so far, I was concerned, as to what would happen if I got so far and couldn’t make the rest, but then if he does in his van, why cant I. Once out of the village the road takes a turn for the better, people have spent many days and weeks building what I can only describe as a block paving type road to the top, the road is a dream alas the drive is not. It’s just about possible for 2 such vans to pass, a camper and a van causes them problems, not me I hasten to add, just them. The road has more hair pin bends than any I have driven on its fun but concentration is paramount, there’s only one way up, but there are two ways down, I intend to make it in one piece. Once at the top and after paying my 5 Lira fee I can stay as long as I want and one or two vehicles are moved so that I can park up for the night on more level ground. There are many tourists walking their way up quite a steep path to the top, I get my camera gear and join them. It’s not easy but neither is it difficult, just hard work for an old en that hasn’t yet got back in the swing of things. In 20 mins or so I’m at the top. Now what I see is not what I expected 95% of these tourists have come to see the sun set first then to take their snaps, there isn’t one apart from me that’s looking at photo possibilities about half an hour before the sun sets. That’s good for me, I should have no problems, until that is that most of these tourists want their photo taken stood in front of these statues and their long shadows cause me major problems. When I ask them if they could take their photo more quickly, they look quite surprised, until I show them that the shadows cause problems and they very kindly oblige. I come back to the van for dinner, look at the snaps, all is well, so its dinner, bed and an early rise for sun rise and to photo the statues on the other side of the mountain. Half past 4 / 5 o’clock will do me fine, the alarm is set. I had no need, from 3.30am onward there were umpteen of these tourist vans arriving, pouring out their cargoes of intrepid tourists, this time to see the sun rise. They are a different lot to last nights, perhaps the package only allows one trip, but the tourists have very much the same idea as the last. Watch the sun, take some snaps, then back to the café for some early breakfast. That is for all but 4 of them, these turn out to be 4 American “photographers”, now my experience has shown me that most of this type of individual, particularly Americans have “ALL the gear and NO idea” and one of them suits the bill to a T. Another goes quietly about his business, and the other two, husband and wife, who introduce them selves to me by name and then add on that they are both photographers, makes me think. They have come thousands of miles, to a country most Americans would give a wide birth to and I reckon between them they haven’t taken above 15 photos.

14 Now there either the best photographers I’ve ever come across in so far as they get them right first time every time or they are as described above, but at least their quiet about it. The other’s from New York, now these guys know it all, have seen it all have the best images of any where you wish to name but invariably their equipment, which they make sure you see is all brand new. There isn’t a scratch to be seen any where on any piece of gear, even the tripod doesn’t seem to have touched the ground yet. I can’t help but watch him work, as all the other tourists are long gone by now so we have the place to our selves. These folk were not there for the evening session on the other side, never the less you have to see the remaining statues, just to get some snaps. Now bearing in mind that the sun, when it comes over the hill, which will take about 2 hour’s (and they only have one hour left) will be directly in front of the photographer. He tells his party, he wants to wait until the sun comes over the hill to give the statues some special light. It would do that all right but totally useless for photographing stone statues, you couldn’t even get silhouettes. When he came down, he was well full of his photographic experience and, very pleased with his work and what he had taken and what we had missed. Now I know that the only reason some one else thinks your photo isn’t good is because that individual cannot see what you saw when you took it. Now I’m pleased to say, I fell into that category. As we parted to go in different directions, he like many Americans warmly invite you to their place should you ever get over in their direction. I’m pleased to say that on a previous photo trip to The USA we met a super couple whom we have stayed with in the past and I know which company we would prefer. After breakfast, as its still only 8am I am off to the town of Harran, just a few miles short of the Syrian border. This entails driving back over 100 miles of previously driven highway, before which I have to go down this mountain, it’s the next to the worst down hill drive I’ve had, the other was in Turkey last year when, due to the main road being washed away I was diverted over a far higher and winding road, sorry farm track, than today’s and that track was of rough stone and shingle this road today is well built and, as expected there were no problems getting to the bottom. When I get onto new road, at least for me I am driving through various types of terrain interspersed by small villages with small farm dwellings. I’m now heading south and all that changes very quickly, within a few hours it is parched desert and getting hotter, I telephone home and mentioned to them that the temperature was 38 degrees. I drive through Sanli Urfa; I was here last year to deliver a photograph I took the previous year of cotton pickers in North West Turkey. This particular family were driven with several others from the town on their annual cotton picker’s trip, I digress. It’s a large dusty dirty town and I find no reason to do any thing else but drive through. The nearer I get to Harran the hotter it gets I’m drinking water as though it’s going out of fashion, Vie read that once there I will be approached by half the town posing as registered tourist guides with special offers to take me to see the unique housing in the town. These houses are made from mud and

15 straw and look very much like large bee hives but alas, progress is being made by the residents and most but not all now use them to keep their animals in. Driving through town I can’t see any of these houses and stop outside what looks like the entrance to the old castle, within seconds, true to expectations I’m approached by one such guide who seems to be telling his mate that this tourist is his so push off. His mate did just that, but he was a little disappointed when I told him I didn’t want a guide. No, I didn’t need one for the houses, castle, library, university, mosque or old minaret or indeed any other work of art they had in town. He was probably with me for 5 minutes and left with his tail between his legs, another not happy bunny.

Back to the van, I drive no more than 200 yards and there on the side of the road is an ideal set up. Several old style bee hives with the modern houses built on, this is for me and I move in I walk up a small bank to the farm yard entrance, to be met and welcomed by a young lad trying to organise his sheep by catching the lambs and putting them in a separate bee hive pen. He beckons me into the yard where his, must be grand mother? (I can’t be sure as they do age quickly out here) is milking a cow whilst the other is tied up waiting to be relieved of milk. From the “new” house comes 2 younger women, one of which I assume is his mother and when I point to the lad and back to the elder looking woman, she indicates that she is the boys mother and the elderly lady is the gran. All this, without a word of English, brilliant eh? They invite me into the house for tea which although never sure if it’s a good thing to do health wise I’m afraid they would feel insulted if I didn’t participate, and how else can I be sure of getting their photos. I needn’t have worried; they were as keen to have their photos taken as I was to take them. I got their address and will be sending them some prints when I get back home. I wander around the village and see some 100yards away the castle and old minaret (who needs a guide) not only do I see them but the light is fine and the suns’ over my left shoulder. Things can’t get better. I’m only there for an afternoon, there’s nothing more photographically I want to shoot so once again I have to go back on myself to Sanli Urfa before I continue towards Lake Van. This is going to take me several hundred miles north and some cooler weather I hope. That fortunately turns out to be the case, but before any thing else, I must return to the subject of roads, for the last time I promise. The road for some 80 miles going east out of Sanli Urfa is by far the worst stretch of road I have ever driven on. The whole organisation let me call them the MOT (ministry of transport) must be in turmoil. This is a main arterial road leading to Eastern Syria and Iran both, big trading partners as well the main road to eastern Turkey it is however not a busy road.

16 By the end of this awful road there is about as much traffic on it as goes through our home village of Abberley, deep in the Worcestershire countryside on a busy day. That has not deterred them from once again half building a dual carriageway, with half finished bridges which have no adjoining roads and once again not a worker or road making/building machine in sight any where along or within near distance of the road. I have now driven several 1000 miles in Turkey and I can honestly say that well over half the roads are being developed in similar fashion. I will probably return to Turkey as the gate way for another trip to Asia next year. What I would like to do is return in say 10 years, just to bear out what I have said in so far as not one of these projects will be finished. Their system is in total disarray! Let me also say that it’s about the only thing, as far as I am concerned that is wrong with the country. To continue the journey, before I get to Lake Van, I will be going through the small town of Hasankeyf, a gorgeous little place with honey coloured houses clinging to the rocks of a gorge above the Tigris river where some still live a troglodyte way of life. There is now a modern bridge that needs to be crossed to look back on this unusual village, to the right of this bridge can be seen the ruins of the old with its broken arches and now with only 3 pylons of it remaining. One of these pylons or bridge supports has now been taken over as a house. Bet that gets pretty isolated if the river gets flooded for some time. After crossing the bridge and parking in the large car park next to the river, there are many small bus loads of brightly dressed women and well dressed men, with a party of them down by the rivers edge, singing and dancing to the rhythm of 2 well beaten drums. It takes me some time to find any one who speaks enough English to tell me what’s going on. Apparently there has been elected or created a new political party for the Curds, who are the main nationals in this part of Turkey. With that I decide that may be photographing them may not be the best of ideas, or at least be a bit selective. They didn’t seem to mind but my “good sense” said no to many more. I was in the right spot for photos of the village, so a few in the bag and I go for a short walk into town. Its got all the souvenirs you could want or not, cafes ,restaurants and more bars than I had time to count , the town didn’t do much for me so I walked back to the van to get ready for off. As I got to the car park a coach pulled in with “USA cultural tour” plastered over the side so I think I’ll wait to see what gets out. Sure enough brash loud Americans, hell 17 bent on hurrying into town to get the photo so that when they get home they can prove to their friends that they’ve done Turkey. A few stay in the coach, the 100 yard walk is too far. As a nation they really are the worst tourists. I’ve got to move on, the next port of call is a small village of Ahlat on the north side of Lake Van, which has a small grave yard that apparently is a not to miss visit? It’s a super drive along various river valleys, with numerous small farming villages with one that I stopped at as there was a great deal of commotion going on. That usually means photos, and it did. A large lorry laden with all manner of fruit had arrived, some little time ago, as by now it was well and truly being pillaged. Well that’s what it looked like to me. What was in fact happening was that these fruits with a small supply of vegetables were being sold off to the large number of small traders who would load up their pick up trucks and small vans and be off to goodness knows where. It was indeed a traders market. It passed on half an hour, during which time I was offered small samplings of various fruits along with a cup of Turkish tee with several of the traders, I thank them, show them a map of where I’m going, wish them fare well and I’m off. Lake Van is a refreshingly different landscape, its water! I haven’t seen any for a few days and it’s a welcome change, it’s a huge lake and looking at the map of Turkey takes up quite a space in the extreme east and slightly above centre Apparently it was formed as a result of Mt Nemrut, not the one I have previously visited with the statues, there are 2 in Turkey, erupted and blocked its natural outflow. The water level is now remarkably maintained by natural evaporation resulting in a high mineral concentration and extreme alkalinity. It’s a beautiful blue lake with snow capped mountains on the far side, but as for photos, it’s just a record type picture some where along the way. Its not long before my eye catches a small group of people by the waters edge with a small flock of sheep, as I pull up a few of the men wave and beckon me down, I think I’ve lost my touch with the ladies, if you ask Linda she’ll tell you I did so many years ago, that apart I venture down. Every body seems pleased to see me, a few hand shakes and what your name is and it’s quite apparent that these sheep are being sheered by those rather large type scissors. They not only allowed me to photograph them but encouraged me to do so. That’s one thing I’ve found odd, just how much they all want there photos taken, which , does make life easier for me. I carry on some 25 miles along the lake to Ahlat an important town in days gone by, founded in AD 600 ish it wasn’t until 1060’s when the Seljuk sultan Alp Arslan rode out to meet the Byzantine emperor Romanus Diogenes in battle on the nearby fields and Ahlat was his base. A drive through town until you come to the well signed museum and just behind you can’t help but see this grave yard, the Seljuk cemetery. The head stones of lichen covered grey and red volcanic tuff with intricate web patters and bands of Kufic lettering with

18 graves going back to the 13th century, it’s quite an eerie experience but an extremely old and interesting grave yard well worth going to see. I have a feeling about tomorrow, from what all the guide books tell me and what I gleaned from the internet a visit to the town of Dogubayazit and the nearby Ishak Pasa Palace is going to be of two extremes. The first a dirty run down town full of soldiers and the other a glorious palace. The first thing I have to do is find a safe parking spot. I mention safety, as once again the internet has supplied me with lots of information relevant to the trip and some was to warn off touring this area because of the Iran/Turkish military problem. It was only a few weeks before I left that the Turks had a military, operation within Iran. The road I will travel takes me to within a mile of the border. I can’t help but see a large military base, on both sides of the road as I drive through Caldran, another dirty dusty small town. Now I thought this would be as good and as safe a place to park up as one could imagine. I routed out an officer, that wasn’t too difficult as when I stopped at the gates, just about half the Turkish army came out to see just what was going on. An officer in this army wears a pale blue beret, I had the best part of a dozen to choose from, which, was whittled down to 1 when I asked if any one spoke English. It was far from good English, he told me exactly where to park which I did and then asked if where I was would be OK. “No problem” says he, so I get ready for dinner, then bed. I was just about to get into bed when a knock at the door made me put some clothes on before opening it, outside was a young man in civvies told me that the commander has told him to tell me, I can’t park within the camp perimeter. I wasn’t having this and explained how I got to be where I was. This went on for a while, in the end I insisted that I see the commander, who was stood some 20 yards away but out of sight. I followed him and spoke through him telling the commander that I was most worried about terrorists attacking me during the night and that his camp and all his well trained soldiers must make this as safe a place as possible for me to stay the night as a tourist. He gave this some thought and all was well as long as I was gone before 7.00am. I suppose this was one way of letting me stay and yet him keeping face. I was up and gone by 6 and arrived at The Ishak Pasa Palace after driving through Dogubayazit, which was just as I had imagined and gave me no reason to stop there. It’s now just after 8am, I’m at the Palace and a taxi driver tells me it doesn’t open until 9 so my idea now is to get some breakfast. The teas made and the toast isn’t far off done when, one of those transit type vans arrive and half a dozen or so tourists alight and walk to the entrance gate.

19 I think to myself they’ll be back in a tick, but they weren’t, so had they got in where as I couldn’t. No time for breakfast, grab the camera, just in case and off to the gate I go, to find not only is it open but these tourists were inside, so in I went. What I didn’t know was that this small party were from Istanbul and had made special arrangements to have the complex opened up early just for them. When I say early that’s just what I mean as this site is closed all day Monday and ordinarily would be closed until tomorrow. Now with good fortune not luck like I’ve just had today is going to be a good day. The palace was excellent , easily the best stone carvings I have seen, and here, where the temperature varies from many degrees below to well over the 40s, its 36 today and its still May and 12.00 noon. I’m surprised at just how well it’s weathered the storms so to speak. It was started in 1685 and finished in 1784, the architecture is a superb amalgam of Seljuk, Ottoman Georgian, Persian and Armenian styles and an epitome of the thousand and one nights castle and fast becoming one of Turkeys main tourist attractions. We were in there for about an hour, which was no where near long enough but I had to leave with them and they had other places to go, however I think I did a reasonable job and bearing in mind I almost didn’t get in, I’m well pleased. I returned to my van and started breakfast all over again, did some washing, well it is Monday and got ready for off. Not before 3 more tourists arrived, knocking on the gate and calling for the gate man in a loud American accent, I gave a wry smile and had this sort of good felling about my visit here. I’m now through with Turkey; my next stop will either be along the route to or at the border of Georgia, as it happens there are several stops. I am now in the high mountains of Turkey and nomadic families are by no means a rare sight, in fact I see several but until now they have been too far out to go and meet or photograph. This time I’m in luck. I appears as though several families are in this encampment, they have large bell type tents for their living accommodation and I would think, as there are no pens for their sheep that the dogs, of which there are many will look after them quite adequately at the same time as being excellent guard dogs. When they see me park on the road side, I hear shouts of “hello” from young voices, and see a small group of children running up the bank to see this strange thing that’s arrived. They stop a few yards short of me, and let’s say you can’t blame them for that, it’s a sign of good judgment! And after a few words and smiles, I ask, by gestures, if I might take a photograph of them, to which they pose quite happily. I show them what I have taken and they seem well pleased. As yet there is no request for money, pens or any thing else. Its not that I mind giving things, but that’s the start of begging, which I do think is degrading. I am also well aware, for those that have very little; some thing extra must be a real bonus. 20 I have driven many miles in many countries but today’s drive is through some of the nicest I have done so far, I am heading north along the river valley with high mountains either side of me and the scenery is spectacular. Lush green vegetation, trees of all sorts with small colourfully farm houses and small villages dotted along the highway. It’s hard for me to describe the beauty in what I see. The terrain once again is continually changing from rolling hills to rough craggy sharp rock hills, there are even some lave fields which up to today I cant remember seeing. What does set me back is that for several miles their is little difference between here and the USA when we are driving through Arizona, I noted this before and commented on it but the similarity in the deep red and the brows in the mountain side is uncanny. I certainly stopped for some photos. There are along route, many army check points but as yet although I’ve slowed down at them as soon as they see I’m foreign they wave me on. All but for this one, I think this young regular wanted to make a point, I knew exactly what he meant by his gesticulations and parked up within an inch of where he indicated. “Passport” I handed it over, you tend not to argue too much when there are half a dozen such individuals, two tanks on view and may be a rocket launcher hidden away for good measure. “Where are you going” I could tell those were the only words, or may be a few more but certainly not many, was the limit of his English, so now it was my turn to have a go. I told him all about my childhood, schooling, and a few simple systems of bridge this must have gone on for 5 minuets with him nodding and saying OK until he obviously got fed up and went to see his officer, who happened also to be a gentleman. He came from his bunker and greeted me in reasonable broken English, “Would you like Turkish tea”. “Yes” says I and he ask’s me to follow him and now his junior officer into the bunker. We talked about many things; he does not want to go into Europe, not only a gentleman I think, but one with sense! We talk about families, we show each other photos of our families, he tells me of his life in the army, its not an easy one but it’s a lot better and more reliable than most. I stay for half an hour and upon leaving, with tongue in cheek I ask if it would be possible to have my photograph take with him. Not only with him but also his junior officer he requested, that’s one photo I didn’t expect as photographing army sites, equipment and personnel is strictly not permitted. The landscape just gets better, I’m between 6000 and 7500 feet up on a vast plateau that goes for miles and is as wide as the eye can see. Wheat fields galore, it’s far from being any thing like ready as that which I have seen before, but then I’m several thousand feet higher. The only other “crop” is grass, and there going to need plenty of that for feeding stock in the long winter months. The housing has changed, to being low, about 7 to 8 feet high, stone built with a quite a deep soil

21 covering on the roof, which in turn has a fair crop of grass growing on it. Is this for insulation or extra stock food, it may well be for both. I invite myself across, they come towards me as I approach the houses, waving and smiling, so I know all is well. Unfortunately nobody has told the dog. You don’t need more than one of these to protect the village let alone this couple’s house. I’m not usually scared of dogs, but this one! Looks like an irate, cross between Alsatian, Husky and wolf and has teeth that I think could tear me to shreds and what’s more I can see them all and he’s running for me at a fair pace, shall I say I was a little concerned for my well being.

I think my luck was still in today as the owner, not in the nick of time called him off, at the same time as throwing a stone at it. The combination, although as a dog lover I cant agree with but on this occasion I’ll ignore my principles on cruelty to dogs etc, and be pleased I was still able to get some more photos. I think the most moving part of the day was on leaving The Eshak Pasa and driving past Mt Ararat thinking did or didn’t Noa’s ark finish up on this mountain, my up bringing says yes, but the situation we all find our selves in now, I ask my self is the whole thing just a story, hopefully one day I’ll find out before its too late. I’m on my way to Georgia and should be there tomorrow, that’s Thursday, and I really have had one of the best days ever travelling, I’ve seen so much and met so many people, breath taking scenery and some memorable photos, to top it all, I’m now 7000 feet up in the mountains and its snowing. Good night’ I parked for the night behind a small village garage, little did I know all be it obvious now that just about the only product this village could produce was livestock, and what time do they take these animals out in the morning, no need to hazard a guess, it’s 5.00am onwards and there are hundreds of cattle and double that number of sheep, and who’s 5 star van hotel do they all come past a mooing and a baa baaing. There’s clever! Yes my van, so yet another early start, this time towards Georgia. The weather isn’t all that clever, a thin drizzle that wont keep the wind screen wipers working and too much not to be using them, it comes and goes as I head up more mountains reaching over 8000ft before I get to the border, which , in volumes of traffic is one of the least busy I’ve been through. That doesn’t necessarily mean it will be quicker. I’m some what sad to be leaving Turkey, I’ve met some charming and friendly people, not one ever objected to having their photo taken. When ever I had a problem, this time I haven’t had any but believe you me, I’ve had a fair share of them in the past and they have gone out of their way to help me with no thought of reward, in fact when it’s offered and they refuse to take it.

22 Breathtaking scenery, blue and warm seas, long sandy beaches, ancient buildings and ruins enough for any body, but I go back to the people because for me its them that make everything else so much better. The Turkish side is fairly smooth running, but when it comes to Georgia, why do they have to do things like the Russians taught them. I need 4 stamps on my passport, the official entry stamp, plus 1 for my camper, then they must be certified by the police and then the van must be cleared by it seemed any one who wants the job. Clearance doesn’t take long, but they all seem to write the same information in a similar looking ledger, having been to Russia before, and returning ( I hope) there on this trip, all this is child’s play compared to the performance and run around I will receive there. Georgia is in many ways a beautiful country and yet in other ways very depressing, it will never be a destination for tourists, which is quite sad. It has much to offer. It is steeped in history, ancient and modern it is the later that ruins the country, that and litter. The huge housing blocks, still being lived in by the majority of Georgian’s, contrary to what you can read in major tourist guide books and on that I quote “Most Georgians outside Tibilisi live in big traditional homesteads” fortunately as I wrote earlier, I don’t have to write to suit tourist boards or publishers. The fact is they do not, nothing like, they live in the huge concrete jungles which are crumbling away and the image I portray is not one selected from the best or the worst, but one from Batumi and another from Bonjomi. The first, a modern port town and Bonjomi, a large town in central Georgia. The country has superb landscapes, with the Lower and higher Caucuses mountain ranges snow capped all year round. Architecture, with its churches, castles, and its people. They are some of the friendliest and hospitable people you could hope to meet, a close call on the Turks. There are several tourist attractions, the Tsminda Sameba Church, built in the 14th century high in the northern mountains close to the Russian border, is for me its number one. Walking up to the church is one of the joys of travelling the Georgian Military Highway. Photographs of this church are used in almost all the guides and tourist brochures on Georgia Tibilisi the Georgian capital is also a city well worth a visit, the castle and its old town are an excellent way of spending a day or two, but a must is the Jvari Church, a few kilometres out of town but more than worth it. First built in the 6th century, it is probably the finest example of early Georgian Christian architecture and to many this is the holiest of holies, Georgia’s spiritual heart.

23 It stands where St Nino set up her cross above pre-Christian Mtskcheta before successfully converting the town from paganism. The inside of the church is quite bare apart from a huge cross in the centre; all in all, I found it quite moving, the experience that is not the cross. What ruin’s the country is the remains of the Old Russian rule. The derelict factories, steel and chemical works mines and all manors of industrial buildings all want dismantling; unfortunately this is a poor country, one of the poorest with insufficient funds for such things. The other need for the authorities is to control the major problem of litter, it’s every where and in vast amounts, the rivers are full of it, as are the towns and cities, it’s a positive disgrace and when I’m asked what I think of the country I comment first on this issue because it is such a major problem. I’m off to the border with Azerbyjhan and foresee one or two problems, I have no idea what they are likely to be, but it’s a pound to a penny they’ll create some. Through the gates, to they look friendly enough, a bit harder and more quizzical may be but I’ll take them as I find them. If the Russians taught the Georgians beaurocracy, I think I know where the Russians got it from. It doesn’t take the length of time to get through the border, but oh the paperwork. Why can’t they realise, that once the details are in a computer there’s little need to shift umpteen sheets of foolscap around, other than employment. The first desk is a passport check, this takes seconds and I’m asked to pay $50 which I refuse unless I get an official receipt. The amount is then reduced to $25 and when I then insist on a receipt and his identity card he begrudgingly tells me to move on. Well I travel from office to office, and my van, or as they all call it “the machine” is visited by all and sundry, one officer asked me to open the fridge, after removing a can of Efes ( Turkish) beer then telling me that all would now be OK. It was until I reached the final office for clearance of this machine. This is where it all starts going hopelessly wrong. None of the officers speak English, and I don’t hold that against them. I’m the first to say if you visit a country and can’t speak the language, expect problems. The officer at the desk make a call on his mobile, then hands the phone to me. “My friend, my colleague tells me your machine has the steering wheel on the right hand side”. I told him it had, then the bad news, “In that case I can only allow you a transit permit for a maximum of 3 days. The fine for exceeding this is a minimum of $3000 and the possibility of the machine being confiscated for a time, do you understand” The ferry from Baki, which is a full days drive away, goes once a week and then when it’s fully loaded, so here in lies my problem, I have no idea how long I want to be in Azerbyjhan, I relate this to the chief. “That’s no problem, when you get to Baki you must go to the Customs Administration and they will extend your permit to any length of time needed. I don’t need to say it but that did not happen, yes I went to Baki but no, my permit was not for changing under and circumstances. So now I have an immediate problem, there is a border crossing with Russia if I go north. The problem there would be that I would have to drive through Dagestan and Chechnya, not recommended unless you wish to join forces with the rebels there, that’s a definite no no.

24 As the only other border exit is where I entered and I have told the authorities there that I am leaving from Baki and heading towards Russia. This information is on my travel documents, what is going to be their reaction when I turn up again at the same place as I entered. That’s one for the near future, but it’s going to take some explaining! I may not be a fair assessment of Azerbyjhan due to the early problems, but it really is a depressing place. I expected a great deal better, after all it is a major oil producing country the only evidence of this seems to be the pollution caused by it. Nothing grows for miles around Baki, there are pools of oil glimmering in the sun all around the city outskirts. As well as the oil companies, much of the problem has been caused by the old chemical companies which just dumped their waste any where just to get rid of it. I read that it is one of the most polluted cities in the world, with no fresh water that you can be sure of, and babies are still being born with major defects as a direct result of the pollution. The cost of putting this right has been estimated at over $30 billion. Baki itself seems an interesting place, but with the possibility of the confiscation of my van and $3000 + fine, sight seeing is not on the agenda. I’m already planning next years trip, but then I will enter Russia at the Belarus end and drive across ,then ship to Baki at which time I will be able to sight see this city. It’s a drive straight back to the border. I find a place to camp for the night, have dinner, write up this days travel then bed. I wake up to find that through the night I was visited by several mosquitoes many of which seemed to like what they had and left me with plenty to remind me of them for a few days. The road back is a great deal better than the one coming as unfortunately at one of the junctions en route to it indicated that the road to Baki was either straight ahead or right. I took the straight ahead route, which after looking at the map was the shortest by far it was also the worst road I have been on ever, (so now Albania ranks as second worst) so with that in mind I chose the second route back, which, turned out to be about the only good decision I made about Azerbyjhan, with one exception. Driving with my arm resting on the open door window, as I do, some bee/wasp decided that it too would have a piece of this stinging action and tested it out on my elbow. I did notice it, it wasn’t a large one, but, never having been stung by one before, I had no idea whether it was large bee, large sting and similar analysis for small bees. What I can say is that if that philosophy is right, then I do not want to be stung by a large one. This sting hurt like the devil, so much so that I seriously thought about popping into the local hospital. I held off from that as you never know, you may well come out with more than you go in with, that apart friends would think I was a wimp. At the border, I was met with a certain amount of good spirit and amusement and to my amazement no real problems. I explained with drawings that there was no ferry in the 3 days I had, then after a short phone call, presumably to ask what to do, all I had to do was sign a blank piece of A4, print my name, date it and I was through. There are many who might go along with the common thought that you should never put your signature to a blank piece of paper, let alone then print your name alongside and date it. Let me tell you here and now, if I had not, then I might still be at the border. Not even a vehicle inspection this time and that’s a first at any non EU border, and I’m out. 25 I’m now backing in Georgia; one claim to fame of this country is that it was in the then small village of Gori in the southern reaches of the vast Rusian Empire that on 21 Dec 1879 Joseph Stalin was born. The guide books inform me that there is a ferry from Poti, a small shipping town on the Black Sea, so it’s to there I’m going. Every thing now revolves around the dates on my Russian visa, which had all gone according to plan would have been fine, I must be out of the country by 25th June. Lets get this ferry from Georgia sorted out. I’m reliably informed that they go 3 times a week from Batumi, a major Georgian port, calling at Poti before sailing to the Russian port of Soci. It’s not ideal but as it’s the best I can do, it’s the choice I make. I’ll drive to Poti in 6/7 hours and be ready for action first thing in the morning. I seek out the port authority building which seems pretty much asleep, it is only 7am after all, to my surprise, the door is open and upon doing just that, it wakes up the security officer at the reception with quite something of a shock, he’s bleary eyed and not happy. He can’t speak English but wanders off, leaving me in charge and within a matter of a few minutes’ returns with a young man who’s English is excellent. Now the bad news, the ferry that used to sail to Soci, does no longer. It still sails from Batumi but no longer calls at Poti. Batumi is a short drive down the coast in only a couple of hours I’m there. I meet an English speaking ships captain in his late 20’s early 30’s, pretty young for a captain I thought who, now informs me that there is a ferry but it will not take vans such as mine, it’s limited to small cars. I check this out with the port authorities and yes! The captain was right. And now I have no way of getting to Russia on this trip. To say I’m a little disappointed is an understatement, not just that I cant now get to drive across Russia but the drive back is across countries I have now travelled several times. That’s life I suppose. My predicament right now is what and where to go from here. As the Turkish border is only a few miles south of here I’ll drive down, cross the borders, find some where to settle for the night and give it some thought, get the books out to see where next to go. Both borders are crossed remarkably quickly with no vehicle inspection by either. What did help was that at the Turkish side, one of the officials seems to go out of his way to be helpful, which helped enormously. Why he did this I have no idea but this border crossing went through better than any I’d done previously, and it didn’t cost me a penny! I’ve been down this road before, it’s the main crossing point from Turkey to Georgia, it’s a good road which runs east/west along the Black Sea coast. Its high cliffs and a rocky coast line with small fishing bays. I would imagine that before this dual carriageway I am travelling on was built, the fishermen’s houses would have come as far down as the bays. But now, it’s quite odd. Small bays full of small boats and nobody living close by. Not quite the image of a fishing village I think of. I haven’t gone far when I notice at the side of one of these bays, around a smoking fire a small group of men sat around doing, well the reason I stopped was to find out. No sooner had I got out of the van than they were beckoning me to join them. I played hard to get, but not for long, I wanted to go down there a lot more than they wanted me there. I walked down quite a steep bank, and within seconds I could smell that wonderful aroma of fresh fish being fried. 26 They invited me to join them for their meal and I have to say that small mackerel, fresh bread with those amazing tasting tomatoes and a few spring onions thrown in was as good as I’d eaten in days, dinner for me was now no longer necessary. I was with them the best part of an hour, 2 teachers, one very good English speaking retired engineer and the other a lorry driver, just before leaving the thought crossed my mind, I’m back in Turkey, my circumstances can’t be that bad. We shook hand and wished one another good luck. It wasn’t long before I found a camp site for the night, overlooking the Black sea. I parked so that I could have breakfast sat outside in the sun. This life isn’t easy, it takes some adjusting too. The books are out; I have to get plan C into operation ASAP. I will be travelling west in the north of Turkey, so something along that route to explore would be ideal. I have often read briefly about the Ottoman Empire, but taken little notice of it, my interest was elsewhere. As I read on, I find that there are some exceptionally good examples of this empire en route. I’ve now decided to become more acquainted with this period in Turkey’s history and go to explore. A look at the map, it shows me I have about 120 miles of coastal road, and then head inland, following a river through the mountains, seems like a nice days drive. It was, a very pleasant drive until after turning off the main road and heading inland for 20 miles or so the road became a track and the track became impassable for a 4 X 4 let alone a camper. Once again, the best laid plans etc! I headed back to the main road, found a place to park for the night, at Sansum harbour, quite a large port and wait to see what tomorrow brings. I hadn’t been parked long, when a rather burly individual, the type you wouldn’t want to meet down a dark alley, approached the van and suggested that for security reasons I might be better parking the van next to his boat, which, he tells me he has, and I later meet his two guard dogs. I’m invited in to meet his crew, have tea, show them some family photos, after which I thank them all for their hospitality and for showing me round his tug boat; I’m back to the van, shower and bed. On the route back, I have to go through Istanbul as that is the only entry to Europe, so I am fortunate that the town of Safronbolu, named after the spice and one of UNESCO world heritage sites for its outstanding Ottoman buildings is not far off route. It’s a drive that takes me over the mountains once again, no where near as high as those bordering Georgia, this time only as high as 5000 ft, the weather’s good the road and scenery through the hills and mountains is superb, I felt like a little music was required, I found “The Four Seasons” played by Nigel Kennedy, listening to it the world seemed to be a much better place to be. Arriving at Safronolu late afternoon, I was called to a halt by a young police officer, as I’d only just got there, I couldn’t have done much wrong! Or could I, as it happens this time I haven’t erred from the straight and narrow. He was there to help and asked me how long was I staying and would I like hotel accommodation. I told him, may be 1 day but there was no need for a hotel as I had my own facilities. After showing me the way of the tourist office, he directed me to a suitable car park, all with a smile.

27 My timing seemed to be good; I walked down to town and thought the light was going to be good to me and the photos. It tells me in one of my many guide books that this town is popular with Turkish tourists at week ends but not foreign ones, they’ve got that wrong, and no one has told Japan of this. A large group of Japanese tourists, you just know they are, came from the Mosque, all very smartly dressed and all with hats or sun umbrellas taking all manner of photos, mostly of them selves. I walked on, up the narrow streets I ambled, taking the odd snap or 2, nothing really to shout about but interesting none the less. I call in at the tourist information office, the young lady there tells me there are over 1127 tourist sites to be seen in the town, mosques, tombs, bridges, a caravansary (I couldn’t find where this was or exactly what it was) and baths, what they don’t tell you is, that any side street seems to have over 100 of them. It didn’t take too long to see what I’ve come for. She also told me that when I leave here there is another town Baglar which deserves a visit. The Ottoman houses, were all tall, large and square, with 10+ rooms, some with what appear to be small swimming pool inside, these are in fact part of the water heating and cooling system. Some houses have a very low front door, so as to need to stoop to enter, they have many shuttered windows, no glass in the original ones and all the houses made from timber, mud and straw. When I return to the car park I meet a Swiss couple, with their dog, which they found as a puppy in Africa, stood next to their converted Land Rover, obviously built for desert/African travel. They usually travel alone, but this time they are in a in a group of 5 travellers. We chat about all sorts of travel related matters, what, where, when and what happened, what they tell me stirs my imagination for my next trip to include Syria, Iran and Jordan. Those that have travelled there all seem to tell you, this is the place to go, so much to see in almost every town, and with so few tourist’s you are welcomed by ever body, it’s a travellers paradise, but be careful of the Jordanian police, they all seem to have traffic speed guns and use them regularly. We say our farewells and its time to move on. As Baglar is on route it would be foolish to give it a miss, its a few miles drive through the hills and at this time of the morning there’s little on the road. In fact, last night, I parked on a small lat by and had very little sleep, I’m sure this was because there was so little traffic and no noise. I’m not used to peace and quiet. Baglar turns out to be well worth the visit, it’s a very old town, many wooden buildings, I’m not sure there as old as Ottoman but never the less very interesting and photogenic. The town centre has been well thought out, as its streets are very narrow, many are pedestrian only, now that’s a first for me in Turkey. 28 I’ve driven up some narrow street, no idea where its going or where I’m going for that matter but find myself behind a bus, now as I don’t now where to go or get out of here, I may just as well follow this bus, as it must be heading out of town, which, is exactly what I do. I manage to have got out of the town centre, and am waiting at a set of traffic lights when a police car pulls along side of me, which, I make out I haven’t seen as one of the officers inside is beckoning me to pull over. The lights change to green and I move off, only to see the police car alongside me with the officer telling me to move over and stop. I haven’t been in town long enough to break too many laws, or have I. Bus lanes; one way streets jumping traffic lights, who knows what, I pull over. As I get from the van, so does the officer, I put my hands up so as to give in and await arrest when with a broad smile and excellent English, he welcomes me to Turkey. Telling me of the time he spent in England, 3 years working as a security officer at the Turkish embassy, his son was born in London and did I know where he used to live in Barnet. He introduced me to his 2 colleagues before we had our photo taken and he wished me a happy time in Turkey. I’m pleased I went to Baglar, it’s a very pleasant town, I took a few photos, nothing special, more record shots, now its time to leave. I’m heading towards Istanbul, but as I haven’t taken on fresh water for the last couple of days, and as my tank gives me little more than 2 days supply, I must fill up. As I approach one of the countless garages on route, I notice a hose pipe with water running from it, that’s for me I think and pull in. I enquire with a sort of sign language to the pump attendant, is the water OK to drink, he nods his head so I start to fill my tank. Within a few seconds he’s over, shaking hands and talking about what, I have no idea. I tell him, like I’ve told many before him, I only speak English. He suggests that the van needs cleaning, I know that only too well, and not just the outside, however, I gesture that all is well and he gestures that it is not and will I please drive the van over to the washer. The last time my van was washed in Turkey it cost me $7, so I thought, if he cleans it and charges me a similar amount, it won’t be the end of the world. He spent a good 10 minuets with the pressure washer getting it as good as he could, before telling me he’d finished and it was time for me to drive away. I asked what I owed him, nothing he replied, when I took some Lira out he simply turned away, shook my hand and wished me well. I felt as though I ought to mention these incidents, as I will shortly be leaving this great country, and wonder how long it will be, or where will it be before I meet such warmth and hospitality, the next time I come to Turkey no doubt! I genuinely will be sorry to leave. With plan A and now B scuppered, I have decided to pay a call on the huge Parliament buildings in Bucharest head on down to the motorway, which I know from previous 29 experience is a toll road but the levy is so small in comparison to the time it takes not using it. The scenery is spectacular on the way down, a good road carved out through the mountains, it’s the road the 3 Americans I met earlier, those that arrived on a Monday and the monument was closed, they seemed to agree that this was probably the finest scenery they had seen. Now it’s not the best I’ve seen but it is special.

Many small towns and several stone crushing factories, gravel pits cement works small villages with their farmers, only this time its rice, I didn’t know until now that rice was a Turkish crop. I do now, and big time apparently, I I drive through vast plains and much to my surprise; the main crop growing is rice. I’ve seen small fields in Turkey before, but nothing on this scale, over 60 miles of little else for maybe half to1 miles wide, I know it’s not up to that of China, but it is a lot of rice. It goes on for as far as the eye can see. Small paddie fields at least that’s what I think they are called, or is paddie strictly for the Chinese. The fields are about 100yds square, some with rice growing, others just flooded and some where the farmer is up to his calf in water and mud sowing the seed. It’s all rather interesting but after 60 or so miles things change dramatically as I drive down off the mountains and their plains to the motorway. Its now just a drive to the border with Bulgaria2/300 miles away, and how things do change , from green and golden fields to the enormous number of high rise apartments of Istanbul, where, very few live in any thing other, there are few houses as we know them. Very few own their properties in Turkey, let alone here in Istanbul. As I drive towards the city there are many new apartment buildings being erected. It’s sad for those that live in the shadow of them as their views have been almost wiped away. What they will then do, or at least those that can afford it, is to move into one of the new apartments. That’s what happens and I think one of the benefits of the rental system and seems to works well. It takes a few hours to get to the border and there I have no problems, strait through the Turkish side, only 2 windows at which to show my passport and no problems with the Bulgarian side, but how things have changed here over the past year. At the Bulgarian border, it used to be necessary to visit several windows for seemingly all sorts of reasons with much paperwork to be written up, no longer, progress and the computer have taken over. At the first window is the passport check, he fills in all he needs into the computer and hands me back my passport, a small pieces of paper that still require filling in by some one I presume and as its all in Bulgarian I assume its for one of them. He also hands me one of those small storage keys from his computer and tells me to move on. I drive to the next window, hand my passport, driving documents and the key to the official who now adds more information to his computer stores that on the key, hands it back to me and tells me to move to the next, and so it goes on. The penultimate desk is where I have to obtain my road pass, once again the key must be handed over, he does what he has to do, hand’s me back the key and the pass and 30 tells me to go next door, 2 yards away to pay for the pass. This again requires the key and this time 8 Euros, and I’m finished, not yet. On my first visit here, I had to drive through a disinfectant dip, about a foot deep and receive a certificate to say this had been done, the dip is still there, but nobody drives through it any more. However, at the last desk I am given a stamped certificate issued by The Republic of Bulgaria National Veterinary Service, for the desinfection (spelt with an e) and mechanical spraying of motor vehicle type 1. And told I am now all clear to go. I can’t understand why 1 person could not enter all the information required into a computer at the first window, but it’s the same at almost all border crossings. I have to restrict what ever it is I am writing to my observations and thoughts, my observations on Bulgaria is that it is nothing more than a depressed country, far worse than I had imagined. This surprises me some what as I have travelled through Bulgaria every year for the past 4 and taken little notice, the difference now is that I have to take note of what I see to complete this exercise. Granted I am only driving through it, I am not going to the coast line with its 5 star hotels and holiday accommodation. No, I am driving through the country, the farming community and the small tows and villages. There isn’t one of them that don’t look as though it ought to be demolished and rebuilt. There hasn’t been any repair, restoration or any thing done to the houses, flats or factories for years. They are in a terrible state of disrepair, there are old factories by the score, some very large, many looking like those of the old Russian regime, unused, falling down, all with broken windows, those that aren’t are black with grime, they look and are terrible and there are lots of them. The housing and living accommodation isn’t much better, large, 12+ storey blocks of flats, grey, old, in need of repair, just as was Sandy Beach, a holiday resort on the Black Sea I took the family on holiday there some 30 years ago. What I was seeing now was not dissimilar to the type of buildings and state of repair as things were in then. The only difference I think was that we expected Bulgaria to be a bit like that 30 + years ago. In all my travels, Bulgaria is the only country where I have seen a woman, milking a cow by hand in the middle of a field. The churns of milk are put out at the farm entrance awaiting a lorry with a tank to come and collect the daily take. Fields are still being cut by scythe and it’s invariably the women doing it, donkeys and horses being used in large numbers for farm work. The people, look just like the country, miserable, hard faced and solemn, but what reason have they to smile. I hope that membership to the EU does for them what they want! On one of my trips I think I’ll go back to the Black Sea resorts, I have friend with property there, it must be better than what I am seeing. I’m not sorry to be leaving, the only problem I have with doing so is that Rumania, where I go next, is, I believe in a worse state than Bulgaria. 31 Now I’m in Europe, there are no more border checks, mores the pity my belief, but there we are. I’ve been here before but once again not taken too much notice only of the places I’ve been. How wrong were my thought on what to expect, Romania may not be the wealthiest of our E U countries, but it looks a whole lot better than where I’ve just been. Its trying its best to get over its past and move on, and in doing so leaves Bulgaria way behind. My main reason for this visit is to see the parliament building in Bucharest apparently it’s a monster, built by Ceausescu referred to as The “Mad Dictator” by Romanians. Before I get there I’ve a few miles to drive, through tidy villages and “prosperous” looking towns, I look forward to seeing the city. I’ve toured the countryside on this and other occasions, I think I’d like to see the coastal resorts on my next visit to give me a more complete picture. Enough of what I may do, I’m in Bucurest now and asking my way to the parliament buildings, I’m told by the taxi driver “first left” I was nearer than I thought and got there on my own steam, impressive navigation. Mind you I did happen to remove some ones car mirror when some Romanian driver cut me up. Nothing serious, I stop and fix it for the owner and she seems quite happy, no real damage done! This place I’ve come to see is called “The Palace of Parliaments”, it’s a monster, built at the height of Nicolae Ceausescu’s rule, he bulldozed one sixth of the city including 26 churches, 2 synagogues, a monastery in the cities most historic quarter to build his palace with 70000 people being made homeless. The approaching “avenue” The B-dul Unirili was intended as a Champs Elysees style axis for his criminal civic project which he made 6 meters longer than the real Parisian boulevard. This all happened only some two decades ago and how this country has got over this ugly face of communism created by its bloody counterpart Nicolae Ceausescu is nothing short of remarkable. It’s not all that special; in the city I’m seeing the large, drab and depressed looking apartment buildings but none of the old disused factories. Once outside the city centre, its vastly different, there are many new factories, supermarkets, very much in line with our own, warehouses, large car show rooms with new cars, mostly German, large garage fore courts with their parks full of lorries, mostly new looking ones, all going to make Rumania a country of the future. I know from previous visits, there is much to see here for the tourist, it’s deep in history, and the people welcome you with friendly smiles and are only too pleased to help in any way they can. It’s a dull day so taking photos was not the priority, just seeing it will suffice, that done I drive west out of the city towards Budapest in Hungary. On the map, it looks about two days driving until, that is, I find out that Romania has few if any motorways. My previous driving here has been from north to south, which has substantially less traffic than travelling west. This may seem odd, until Romania’s position in Europe is looked at more closely. Its northern neighbours are the Ukraine and further north Russia, neither of these two countries does much trade with Romania, let alone the transport of goods by road. On the other hand, from east to west and visa versa there is a vast amount of trade from western Europe to its eastern partners, to which must be added Turkey and further on, 32 Syria, Iran ,Jordan and beyond. Consequently, Romania is a very important and busy route in that direction. This all means that with no motorways the roads are busy and a great deal slower than I would have wished. Until, that is it becomes very apparent that speed becomes unimportant. I am driving through some beautiful country side, and enter the Romanian National park on route. It’s a super run with the road following the course of the river through a narrow gorge, carved out between high cliffs and forests; it goes on for some 40 odd miles. When through the park, I travel along rolling hills with small farms and villages, all looking in good shape, and far better than I ever imagined. I wouldn’t want to rush this drive; in fact I was allowing others to pass when I could. The Romania I’ve seen, which is now quite substantial is a real tourists paradise, which as yet not too many tourists and travellers seem to have found, yet! It hasn’t stopped raining all day, which, as I was driving along made me think of something that we generally take for granted as being OK. At home when we drive on wet roads, we drive more cautiously which is only proper, but out here, it’s vastly different. With road conditions as they are, I’ve remarked previously many roads are full of holes and deep ones at that, which, when it rains fill with water, when this happens I have no idea what I am driving into. The same can be said when driving along a tree lined road towards evening time, when they cast black shadows over the road, once again I cannot see, until often it is too late just how deep some of these holes in the road are. So far no damage has been done, that’s more by good luck than good judgment! Today makes it 5 weeks since I left the UK, how time flies, when I think where I’ve been and what I’ve seen and yet, it seems in many ways to have been a long time since I last saw friends and family and yonks since I last played bridge. I wasn’t much good at the game when I left, am fairly certain I’ll have a lot of practice to do to catch up when I get back. Its still raining as I’m looking for a place to camp for the night, it looks very much like another motorway service station, as by now, I’ve come through the border with Hungary and they have a very good road system with excellent motorway facilities. I stopped about 40 miles from Budapest, ready for an early morning wake up. I needn’t have worried about an early morning call, just like Austria, I seem to attract car mechanics in their droves. It’s 2 in the morning and a fleet of cars, all makes, all ages but mostly old, pull in close by my van. The registration plate tells me they are from any where between Lithuania and Bulgaria , all have as many people inside as could be got, and they all pile out, what a racket. It would appear as though one of the cars has developed a mechanical problem, developed, my foot, I’m amazed it got this far, none the less, I now have about 10 would be mechanics, all seemingly giving their loud opinion as to the problem and stopping me from going to sleep. I wasn’t too pleased, but with the odds well in their favour I thought I’d let them get on with it. At 6 am and with them still arguing the toss and trying to get the hopeless cause running again, I decided to get up and start off to Budapest I arrive early, which, was my plan in the first place, one of the so called secrets of staying in major cities is to arrive early, preferably on a week end as the office workers have gone home , and generally speaking there are no charges for parking. 33 Exactly the case in Budapest, my AA road atlas of Europe takes me directly to where I want to be, in a car park right outside the Hungarian national museum and 20 yards from the main bridge into the city, couldn’t be better. My first observation is that a great deal of restoration is going on, many cranes against the sky line are visible, there is so much machinery, diggers, cranes etc working on the bridge which I am parked next to, I think they are rebuilding it. I’m told that it’s a 2 year project to strengthen the bridge to take todays, and hopefully tomorrow’s heavy traffic. Lets face it, when they were built, the famous Chain Bridge, the first permanent bridge to be built over The Danube in 1849 was for horse and cart. One of the major problems for today’s travel photographer is that all publishers require modern photos of all the major attractions and are not in the slightest bit concerned about the problems of taking those photos without cranes, scaffolding and that netting that many of the old buildings seem to be wrapped up in. Thank goodness I’m no longer at the beck and call of those publishers. Budapest must, like many other old cities be a photographers dream and nightmare, the Stabadsag Bridge, Matyas Church, The Royal Palace and Parliament buildings all have major restoration projects under way, making a good job literally impossible, and yet, there is still plenty to be of interest. I will return another day to finish off what I’ve started The photo I’m after is almost possible, but the weather is against me, it’s still hissing down, I’ve had thunder and lightning but hopefully by this evening, it may have passed over enabling me to get the shot I’m after. It does stop raining, so mid day I venture out, over the bridge into what turns out to be a very interesting and old city, I walk round the huge indoor market, a few snaps there before doing a walk round back to the Danube, two bridges from where I started and as its starting to rain. I speed up my walking pace and just make the van before the heavens opened. Campervaning in wet weather is not to be recommended, getting cloths dry can be a nightmare, the van steams up and spending time gazing out of window with precious little happening outside is not my idea of fun. So, I sit and wait, see what happens and as it looks like a long term wait, a little shut eye won’t go amiss. I wake up, that is if I’ve ever been to sleep but time did pass quickly so perhaps I had 40 winks, and it’s stopped raining. I make dinner, there’s no rush as its another 2 hours before the evening light is as I want it. The rain holds off, and all looks promising, I load my camera bag, tripod all ready and I’m off, over the bridge to get my spot. When I get there, I seem to have been beaten to it by some one who reminds me very much of myself some years ago. Young, all the gear, obviously knows what to do with it, nobody brings large format gear if “A” there not keen and “B”, if they don’t know what there doing. Like myself, not all too many years ago he also has a very able assistant who turns 34 out to be his wife, just as my assistant was. He was Swiss and his wife German, a splendid couple, speaking excellent English. I’d seen the photo I wanted but unfortunately that is no longer available as some private floating hotel is directly in front of where I wanted to take my picture. Next time I/we will have to have dinner on board to get what I want. I’ve done the best I can do so can’t do any better. After a few pleasantries and photos, we wish each other our farewells and its back to the van for me. I wake to much the same weather so decide to move on, its time to head for home, do I cross Austria, which is the shortest route. That 120 Euros fine still greaves me but it’s a lot quicker than going around the country and with the price of diesel, it’s a whole lot cheaper to buy the road tax disk than drive round ( don’t the Austrian’s know it ). It’s now a run for home, the sooner the better. Once the object of the trip has been completed, it now holds little of interest, so the quicker the better. Its all motorways, to Dunkirk then the ferry to Calais. Several hundred miles later, its time to pull in for the night, the choice is vast, I have a lay bye or service station, this time a choose a well laid back lay bye. There aren’t too many vehicles parked up as yet so I have almost prime spot. This means that I may hear less of the traffic thundering past than I would if I parked else where. I haven’t been there more than a couple of minuets when a small white van, with English plates and an S registration pulls in behind me. It’s a small Dhiatsu, 998 cc; it looks more like a padded roller skate, but without the comfort, with two young men inside. They are as pleased to see me as I am to see them, I haven’t spoken to an English person in yonks, it turns out neither have they. If I think I’ve had problems, mine pail into insignificance. One of them either lost or had his passport stolen which took 2 weeks to get replaced, which in turn meant they had to adapt plan B. Their original plan was to go from Turkey to Russia, but as they were now two weeks behind schedule, Russia was not an option, I told them I knew the feeling only too well. They have had a front wheel bearings go, reverse and first gear no longer work, the wheel nut on one front wheel came off in Romania causing big problems, requiring major mechanical surgery. It’s not quite like England out here, where the receptionist would tell you it cant be done until some day in the future, oh and by the way, we may have to get the part delivered. The garage out here told them to come back, or wait and all will be well in a couple of hours or so, they said it took 5 hours. Apparently the front wheel spindle required re threading to a smaller size and nuts and washers found to make it good for them to get home, and when they asked how much they owed, they were waved away. This may seem to the reader a little far fetched, but in Turkey 2 years ago, I needed work done for the camper, the time taken was every bit as long and when I asked how much it was, they only asked for the cost of the part, I remember them telling me I was a welcome visitor. That changed their opinion of the folk out here. I was also pleased to have their opinion of the Turks and the Romanians, freely given and not asked for. They couldn’t speak highly enough of them both. I’m very much into home mode as I drive the highways, I should make late Wednesday early Thursday, it all depends on the ferry availability. I’ve found Norfolk Line most

35 accommodating in the past and with no extra charge for changing my return crossing date. I have plenty of time to think whilst driving back, as there’s many a mile, I switch on the music, put on my head phones, is this against the law? In any event I drive relaxed. I’m really a fortunate person, to be able to travel as I do, I know its far from every bodies cup of tea penned up in a small camper, sleeping in noisy surrounds, driving all day at least most of the days and being away from family. It’s the latter which gets to me, but as I’ve chosen this way, if I cant hack it so to speak then I shouldn’t do it. But I am looking forward to getting home. I’m grateful to have a super wife who never once has suggested I don’t do these sorts of trips, and a family that support her whilst I’m away. Also, with modern technology it’s now far easier to contact home than it used to be many years ago The trip, I think has been a great experience, disappointing in that I couldn’t get to Russia, but I’ve met some super people, travellers, locals, holiday makers and down right adventures, all with interesting things to talk about. The double decker bus going to India, the 6 folk going across Africa in their specially equipped Land Rover and last of the travellers those 2 young lads in the “bag of nails “ they were in I can’t help but admire their enthusiasm. I’m at the ferry terminal as I write and even now I’m meeting all sorts of travellers, a six berth van with a family of Mom and dad with 4 children, the oldest of which is 12, they have a “base” in Wales, which the youngest aged 3 has never seen, they haven’t stopped travelling for 10 years. Another older couple, Ken and Les from south Wales whose first trip this is overseas in a camper van, so excited about what they have done and where they have been, to them, and quite rightly so the trip to Spain and France was a real adventure. There sad it’s all over and looking forward to the next trip, I arrive home after 6 weeks away and 9500 miles on this trip, and like them, I’m looking forward to the next adventure, and those who suggested I do this exercise maintain their anonymity.

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