Cité of Carcassonne...

Driving up from Spain in to France was quite a pivotal point in the trip. It signified the point in which we were no longer moving away from England, but were traveling back. Not immediately... but definately in that direction.

It also got pretty glum. We pulled in to a deserted ski resort in the Pyrenees. The place was beautiful, with a large lake in the bottom of the valley and huge mountains stretching for miles. On the road up we even went above the height we worked at in Sainte Foy, reaching 1800m.

Narbonne Gate of Carcassonne

We spoke with people from another van that pulled in. A large English motorhome that was only 2 years old. The owners kindly gave us a tour after we mentioned we were considering swapping the Blue Smurf for something a little more 'purpose built' with insulation, heating, running water, the basics to live. Quite whether their tour will do any good is another question. I doubt our budget could stretch to aa brand new van!

Entering through the draw bridge

Its also the first time I've worn a hoody since snowboarding :(

I read the leaflets we had been unconsciously hoarding whilst we drove down through the South of France and decided a bit of culture was in store for on the way up. Carcassonne is a large medieval settlement, strategically placed on the old Spanish/French border.

When we arrived it was all a bit crazy. There were cars and coaches and buses everywhere. But we fought our way through the crowds in search of the local Aire. When we eventually found it, on the edge on the main city, we parked up and wandered in to town. The first thing that you meet is the Narbonne Gate which is one of only 2 ways of getting in through the double layered, fortified walls that surround the city. Its very impressive and walking through the still operable draw gate system really brings home how much people didn't want other people coming in!

A few inquiries with the tourism office shed some light on the massive concert stage that was being erected next to the Aire. Carcassonne was to hold a festival of sorts, but a music festival, dotted around the city itself, outside on this massive stage and down in the more modern Ville Basse where the majority of the cities population lives. So it turns out we are camped right next to the largest stage! ALOT of classical was scheduled for most of the stages. It's a fitting place too, historical, architectural, and with a lot of old people walking around! But then we found a poster advertising the acts for the main stage. David Guetta was playing a set on the Friday night, and who were we to turn down a free dance to some electronic music?

Medieval streets inside the walls 

So it was set. We would take a few days to indulge in the history of Carcassonne, see the sights, taste the tastes... and then finish it all off with a bit of a party on Friday night. All in time for a trip to meet my Dad ... Somewhere. Quite where that was was undecided. The Dordogne... French Riviera... or even back down in Spain! It's kind of the way when my Dad takes a trip. When asked what he wanted he said "Sun and Son".

We got a guide book and did every walk, tour, experience going in Carcassonne. It's quite bizarre just how much the numerous different collections of people who lived there appeared to not like people. Even their own! The castle inside the walls is protected not only from the outside with the two huge walls, but also from the citizens inside by a system of moats, bridges and defendable embankments. Each wall is approximately 4 foot thick or thicker and separated by a road which circumnavigates the city. Inside the second wall and you are transported back in time. It appears nothing here has changed since... who knows when?!

There is a large Basilica, similar to the one we saw on Montserrat, but smaller and more ornate. Plenty of traditional Aude-Languedoc style restaurants to eat at and even a Michelin starred restaurant in a very posh looking hotel. I daren't think what a room cost to rent as the dinners were upwards of 180 Euro!

The main attraction is the castle, which is free for people under the age of 26. Inside tells the story and function of each different area and the numerous defense mechanisms built in to the design. A film showed the history of the cite and how it had been built upon over and over. A quick walk around the top of the inside most wall confirmed that. Everywhere you could see the different periods jumping out at you. From roman building techniques at the bottom, small stones laid sideways with the occasional red line of 'topping stones', to the more modern conservational buildings with bigger sandstone blocks.

View of inside the walls from on the walls

 We were treated to 2 evenings of music back at the van. One was an N-Dubz-esque rap group who's main slogan (that I understood) was Toute la Monde, toute la monde, toute la monde over and over and over again. (it means 'everyone' in a round about way. (Literally meaning 'all the world')) To be honest it was dire. But we met a cool French couple, Sandrine and Phillipe, who gave us some whiskey in exchange for wine and we partied on the bank of the vineyard next to the concert and our van.

Our perch for David Guetta's concert

A couple of nights later and we were all back up on the bank, partying to their legendary David Guetta. I'm not a massive fan but have seen him before at Creamfields and the set was amazing. This time around, however, wasn't as impressive. We danced and met Sandrine and Phillipe again with more of their friends.

Just as the music was winding down and everyone was leaving we noticed that the barriers on the Aire had been raised and were letting people come and go willy nilly.

This we saw as our chance. We'd been in the Aire for atleast 4 days now and at 1 Euro an hour had wracked up quite a big bill. So we took our chance and joined the crowds of cars leaving the parking area thinking we would just find a lay-by just outside and hit the road proper tomorrow. There was no lay-by and we ended up driving a few miles away from the city. Kerry picked another Aire from the book and we drove the 10 miles or so in the pitch black at 2am overshooting the aire on a small country lane. Then came the accident.

As I was completing my 3 point turn in the road to get back to the aire I reversed ever so slightly too far and our rear wheel just plopped off the edge of the road. Just enough for our front wheels to not have adequate weight on them to get traction.

A couple of hours and a few phone calls later and we were being towed out of the embarrassingly small ditch that our rear wheels were in. The money we saved escaping the aire was definately cancelled out by the tow truck charge... Karma.

Van break-in and Sonar Festival...

After a very relaxing day on the beach, one of my worst expectations was realised.

I didn't believe we'd been robbed straight away. I thought maybe they had been chased off, got disturbed or couldn't fit through the hole. Until I took the very large van vault lock off of the back doors and whitnessed the carnage inside.

There was stuff eveywhere. Every cupboard had been opened, every box up turned. In short, we'd been royally done over.

I gave Kerry a quick hug and then climbed inside to see what was missing. First thing that sprung to mind was the electronics. Laptop, netbooks and cameras were gone as expected, aswell as an external hard drive. Kerry checked her stuff and a make-up bag with hairstraighteners was missing.

I phoned the police who said we should drive to the nearest police station which was just a few miles away. I looked round the van but couldn't see any window. I expected a big pile of shattered glass but couldn't see anything. After a bit of investigation I spotted the 5 foot by 2 foot pane of glass sitting, intact, in a bush a few metres away, with its rubber trim coiled up next to it. We retrieved the window and put it in the back, driving cautiously with one window missing.

Our experience at the police station was not good. We were asked to fill in a form with our details which was photocopied and given back to us. We werent asked what had happened or what was taken. They said they'd call me if they found any of our stuff. I then asked how they knew what our stuff was when they hadn't asked and the ability to speak English was gone.

They didn't even come out to see our wounded van and we drove carefully to our favourite campsite, Tres Estrella to put the window in.

It's not so much the financial loss that annoys me. I can work hard and earn those things back, unlike the scum who took it from us. What feels really bad is the hard drive and the hours of snowboarding videos and photos from the winter and now the start of the summer.

Feast with Richard

It wasn't until a few days later that Kerry realised her Pandora charm bracelet had gone. She shed a little tear because she could remember who bought each charm and for what occasion. Again, the charms can be bought again, the memories not.

So now we have picked ourselves back up and are awaiting the arrival of Richard who had a huge delay to his flight thanks to French air traffic control being on strike.

After numerous text updates including 'If need be I'll drive down to Barcelona' and a good 8 hour delay kerry and I were driving aimlessly around the airport car park until Rich came ambling out of the terminal.

A quick stop at the supermarket and we were setup for the evening. Burgers, beers and best friends. We showed Rich around the Tres Estrellas campsite and before we knew it he was in the sea. We had a nice chilled evening and rolled Richard in to the tent we had erected for him at around 1am.

I woke rather late at 10am the next day to find Richard basking in the sun. We shot in to Barcelona on the bus and headed down through La Rambla to the Barri Gotic and George Orwell square for a tapas lunch and beers.

Richard had to meet his friends who were joining him for Sonar festival and we said our goodbyes and Kerry and I mooched around.

We had tickets to Sonar Night on the Friday with 1980's German electronica act, Kraftwerk headlining.

The festival was different to your usual big field and tents setup. This was in 5 big warehouses joined together with little outside stages. The sound was awesome though.

Whilst we meant to meet up with Rich we didnt catch a glimpse of each other all night! Probably due to us all throwing some mean shapes at different ends of the festival!

The music wrapped up with a set by Diplo at 7am and then came the aweful bus journey back to the campsite with all of Barcelona's commuters. All too familiar from our night at Razzmatazz...

First to arrive, last to leave ;)

A visit from the in-laws...

Mikes and Angie, Kerry's parents, were a little undecided on their summer holiday this year. They hadnt decided on a destination by the time we had left the UK but a few probing texts to Kerry's sister Amy a few weeks ago shed some light. They'd booked in for a week in Santa Suzanna on the Costa Brava coast 60 miles North of Barcelona.

After a peaceful day at Montserrat we made good time up to the resort wanting to arrive before them and host a surprise. We got in to the resort too late to find anywhere nice to hunker down and succumbed to a supermarket carpark just next to their all inclusive hotel.

To say I had the worst nights sleep would be an understatement! With cars driving over a nearby metal grate every few minutes and a full blown domestic argument by one pissed up English family at 3am right outside the van.

Mike and Ang were surprised and pleased to see us the next day after they'd settled in to their hotel. I was pleased to see them as well. Bar meeting a few felow campers on sights Kerry and I had spent nearly every minute of the past month together. It was refreshing to have new people to talk to.

On that afternoons walk to the beach we spotted a big piece of wasteland that was being used as a car park and decided that would be our new home for the week. Perfect location between the inlaws hotel and the beach.

Our days were spent lounging on the beach playing increasingly more competitive games of boule while supping cheap beers chilled in the sea.

At night we were treated to a few drinks in the local bars with the usual (but actually fairly good!) Cabaret acts. We introduced Mike and Ang to a card game called Shit-head. Ang seemed to get the hang of it pretty quick but Mike was struggling with the concept for a while! I think he will blame the beers and sangria!

Kerry and I promised to treat ourselves to a full English breakfast one morning after a good drink the night before. 3.50 euro for the works and coffee. Not bad at all!

On the final evening of Mike and Angies stay we played some more shithead and Mike even managed to win one! Whether by skill or fluke is a debated matter! They bought us a nice pair of raving sunglasses each that we had been eyeing up in the tourist shops and we squeezed in one last game of boule by moonlight.

The next day we said our goodbyes and were treated to a great big downpour and thunder storm that kept us in the van for a few hours. I could only imagine Mikes smiling face as he'd escaped the whole week with glorious sunshine.

Monestry of Montserrat...

Whilst perusing the various TripAdvisor posts and 'Best Picks' of Barcelona the usual attractions kept popping up. Segrada Familia, Badelona Beaches, Barri Gotic and of course the numerous museums dedicated to Gaudi, Picasso and Miro. But in between all the usual was this unusual sounding place, Montserrat.

Turns out Montserrat isn't in Barcelona, but an hours drive away inland. The various tours headed out that way were a bit pricey, but with the freedom of our van we couldn't resist going to have a look.

The word Montserrat became instantly clear as we drove along the auto-via headed West from Barcelona. Saw Mountain is a peculiar looking mountain with a silhouette of sharp teeth like a saw. It was strange because I'm accustomed to mountains being in a range. But this one, nope. Just smack bang in the middle of nowhere.

Montserrat in all its glory

After a few wrong turns and some VERY steep climbs that the Smurf Mobile struggled with, we finally reached the town of Monsterrat. A relatively small town dominated by the Basilica and clutched in between tall, column like rock formations. Millions of years ago this area was under a very large river bed. The mixed sedimentary rock that formed because of the river deposits was then eroded away over time leaving the harder rocks behind, giving the mountain its distinct serrated silhouette and weird, tubular rocks separated by tall thin channels.

The Basilica at Montserrat is basically a great big church that holds the image of the Virgin Mary. Legend has it that in the year 888 AD a group of children saw a bright light in the sky plunge in to the mountain. A week later the same event happened but this time the children's parents witnessed the spectacle. A search party was launched to find out what the light was/had done. An image of the Virgin Mary was found at the top of the mountain but all efforts to bring the relic down from the mountain was thwarted. Divine intervention. So it was decided that pilgrims would have to travel up the mountain to worship her.

Now I am in no way religious. I do, however, have a weird and encompassing fascination on all religions methods and especially their wealth.

Arriving at the Monestry shortly before 1pm we ran up to the basilica to catch a glimpse of the oldest Boy's Choir in the world. The place was heaving with people pushing and bustling to get in to the building. Big signs clearly stated that the use of flash photography was forbidden yet thousands of white pulses shot off every second as the boys started singing. There were too many people and Kerry and I had to leave for fear of being suffocated. The singing was nice but the fresh air when we got out was even nicer.

Whilst wandering around the fairly small town we noticed little paths leading off from the main square and up through a sculpted garden. Turns out there's a variety of walks ranging from a 20 minute stroll to an hour and a half hike to the top where the lady was found.

Not feeling very strenuous we opted for the shortest walk which took in 13 different Christ associated monument things. A nice walk.

We passed some time looking around but the town was just a few hotels and shops to accommodate the pilgrims. We were waiting for 6pm when there was due to be another rendition by the boys choir. We got in to the Basilica just before 6 and had to sit through an hour of Spanish preaching by one of the 100 Benedictine monks that live at the Monestry. Then out stroll the other 99 monks and start singing. It was't the boys choir but the senior choir! Well we didn't stay long. A bunch of old blokes singing. I want to hear cherub like boys.

So we made a hasty exit, only to notice that the 3 hour queue for the Virgin Mary had been reduced to nothing. We went through the side of he basilica and through some old corridors until we were upfront with the image herself.

Apparently you must touch the globe she is holding in her right hand whilst also holding out your right hand to receive her blessing. I didn't do that.

Being in Montserat was weird for me. In the middle of no-where there's a huge, weird shaped mountain with a small town and people praying to an image of the Virgin Mary. Which was really just a statue that someone made, not found. The whole thing sounds bizarre yet its happening, right now. I find it hard to understand religion, yet up here theres a whole industry about it and this statue.

By the time we walked back down the hill we were some of the last people remaining. Most of the tour busses and coaches had gone and it was nice and peaceful. What was going to be a 10 minute drive down to the bottom of the mountain soon turned in to an hour an a half trek to our next destination... Santa Suzanna, Costa Brava!

Fun in the sun in Barcelona...

Whilst getting up at 10am everyday and lounging on the beach in Gava is appealing, its nice to hit the city and  get some partying done.

My memory of Razzmatazz, a nightclub, was one of bright lights, loud music, getting lost and a 70 Euro McDonalds bill at 5 in the morning. So I was determined to go back for more debauchery!

Kerry was keen to go and see what all the hype was about and we caught the bus in to town late evening knowing that the Spaniards are usually waking up when us Brits are normally eating dinner. Everything seems to be 4 or 5 hours behind. The club only opens at 2am! 

We strolled around and indulged in some tasty Ice cream made in a 'laboratory' in the back with big glass windows so you could see it being made. I couldn't resist trying the Marijuana flavoured one which went well with pistachio and mint. It had a subtle but definitely weedy type taste. 

 We grabbed a few drinks before walking across town to the more industrial side and consequently Razzmatazz. Its basically 5 warehouses all joined together by overhead walkways and rooftop alleys. 

There were only 3 of the 5 warehouses open with DJs playing some interesting Euro-stomp type electro music in the main room. It was a quality night which If I'm honest I can't remember much of! It was only when we got out at 7am that we remembered the long walk back to the main square, Placa Catalunya, and had to sit on a 20 minute bus ride with that mornings commuters while we got groggier and groggier.

Finally getting back just before 9am we were grateful for our bed and collapsed in the van for the rest of the day.

One day whilst walking through the Parc de la Cuitadella we came across this type of festival with water activities for the kids, music on a stage and all sorts of Catalan traditions like 'giant' people made out of papier mache walking around and a group who were building a human tower.

Walking around the park we came across a group of 4 or 5 African guys playing on their native drums, just casually. Kerry and I sat down on the grass to listen at about 4pm. There was probably about another 20 people appreciating the music and chilling out around the drummers. 

Then an amazing thing happened. Over the next 5 hours the number of drummers nearly doubled and were joined by tambourines, didgeridoos, maracas and castonnettes. The music never stopped for more than a minute between 'songs' if you can call the improvised music that. 

The crowd swelled to well over 400. Of all ages, nationalities and ethnicities. It was amazing. The atmosphere was electric, there were people up and dancing, singing. The African dancers would get the attention of a drummer and then they would kind of 'battle' with each other, one dancing, the other drumming. But they seemed to know when the other was going to move/drum. I'd learnt about the dances they did on TV years ago. They were imitating the animals that they would encounter in Africa with big bold moves like a big cat, or an angry wildebeest.

Kerry and I sat there until 9 o'clock, totally awestruck by this impromtue performance. It was so organic and spontaneous. 

The drummers and dancer were so passionate about their culture. They displayed it with their music with so much vivacity I began to think what traditions we have in England? How would we show off our culture in a park in a foreign country? Strap on some bells and do a moris dance? Drink ourselves in to a drunken stupor on a Friday? Cripple ourselves with as much debt as we can?

Barcelona city and our History tour...

Our trips in to Barcelona are very pleasant. Not rushed as when I have previously visited a major city. Nice and relaxed, knowing we had an indefinate(ish) amount of time. 

Having been to Barcelona, and generally a few European cities before, I knew the importance of getting a jist for the sights and attractions on the first day. My previous visit was primarily to see Barcelona FC vs Valencia in a football match with 'the lads'. An annual ritual that ensued in copious amounts of drinking and being hungover. On the last day of our 4 day trip we took the open topped 'Bus Turistica' only to find we had discovered about 5% of the city and only around our hostel!

View from the top of Monjuic towards Placa Espanya

So after a morning of ambling aimlessly down La Rambla I thought we better get on the tourist trail and attend a walking tour. Something I've found to be very informative and educational in other countries. We grabbed a 'free' one from the 'Travel Bar' just a short distance from the main street.

The tour was great. Everyone of the 6 or so couples in attendance were from totally different ends of the earth. And our guide, Hannah, was Finnish of all nationalities! She took us on a brilliant tour of the Barri Gotica (Gothic Quarter) to the east of La Rambla. Her knowledge was second to none. My world renound lengthy and probing questions were met with concise and relevant answers and afterwards she sat with us in a bar and answered all the other questions I had on Barcelona and where to go. For a Finnish bird she sure knew her Barcelona!

Ceramic 'dolia' vessels for holding garium (Fish sauce)

The history of the city fascinates me. How it was swelled over the years from something barely the size of a small hamlet to the vast, sprawling metropolis it is now. There are remnants of the old city walls and buildings that, unless you were told about them, would just be walked past as if they were any old building.

The History museums of Barcelona and the separate museum of Catalunia were an excellent way to enjoy the last Sunday of the month. Turns out they're free then as well!

The History of Barcelona museum occupies just a small building in the center of the old Gothic Quater but once in the lift a digital clock counts down the years from 2013 to 0013 and you walk out to a maze of excavated ruins 5 metres below the present day city.

Tank stained by cobalt whilst dyeing fabrics

Walking around you can see the old city wall along one edge next to a road and small courtyards dotted around where giant egg-like ceramic vessels called dolia were set in to the pavement to store garium. Garium was a popular sauce made from fish and salt that was mushed up together and left to ferment for a bit. Doesn't sound very nice to me!

Further along the now underground city remains we walked through to a building full of large tanks dyed all different colours from the materials used to colour fabrics including bleaching them with urine!

Dolia were used to hold pretty much anything liquid including bigger ones that were red from the wine that street sellers sold their stock out of. Next to them were miniature sized ones that held seas salt and honey to be mixed in with the wine.

We walked through the pre-historic ages in the History Museum of Catalunia, located down near the new harbour area. It was amazing to see how, as times moved on, a piece of flint the size of a tennis ball had 10cm of cutting edge which had grown to nearly 2 metres a few thousand years later.

It was interesting to see contraptions that were made before electricity or even steam power was around. I was especially engrossed in this simple device used to bring water up from a well to irrigate the farmers crops. An animal, usually a mule or donkey, would walk around the well (demonstrated by me) and turn the set of cogs what lifted a set of cups strung together to reach down in to the well. The cups deposit the water in to the trough at the front which trickles down in to the fields

Barcelona is an amazing city with loads of history to offer. I just wish it had moved on from the olden times a little with respect to pick pockets. They are everywhere and you can't stop to look at a map or a piece of architecture without instantly grabbing every pocket to check the contents are still there. 

Gavamar - Our basecamp for Barcelona...

We've made it down to Barcelona. The drive from Girona was pleasant as we took the coast road (N-11) pretty much all the way.

The driving when we got to Barcelona! Jeez! I was taking wrong turn after wrong turn before cutting up 8 lanes to get to the next wrong turn. It was nuts. All while Kerry is quizzing me on when the Sagrada Familia was started!

But the sat nav wasn't taking us to Barcelona. We were given an ACSI Camping Card by a very nice motorhoming couple back in Le Boulou, France. It is a Dutch scheme where you purchase the book and receive a card that entitles you to discounted camping rates at 20, 000+ sites costing either 12, 14 or 16 Euros per night per van with 2 people. The couple were so nice and I think they made our card using a photocopier and thick card but it looks relatively authentic. It does, however, get some level of scrutiny at the 3 Estrella campsite where we are staying.

The chap on reception commented "oh, another new style card" in a thick Spanish accent as we checked in on the first day.

The campsite is situated in a small town just outside Barcelona called Gava. Backing on to the perfect beach it has everything you could want. Proper showers and toilets, laundry facilities, internet, swimming pool, supermarket, bar ... the works. And the 2 Euro bus to Barcelona stops right outside the campsite.

We have been a little naughty though and tend to stay here one night. Get all our affairs back in order. Have a much welcomed shower and replenish the water before checking out and parking a couple of hundred metres down the beach on a residential road. Then we can kind of get away with sneaking back in for the odd shower, toilet etc. It works and means that our accomodation for a week is only 17 Euros!

We continued to use the facilities when we dared. Spending one day in Barcelona and two on the beach. Each Monday we would check in to the campsite as a sort of 'thank you' gesture. A way to negate the guilt we felt walking in to the campsite from the beach for a shower and a poop.

Its a nice campsite and perfect for trips in to Barcelona if you want to avoid the costly hotels and hostels in town.

From small towns to Big cities...

Moving on from Montpellier was difficult.

We had found such a nice beach and could have easily stayed there for a week or two, but we wanted to keep exploring.

Le Boulou from near our van

After a mornings drive and a few minutes perusing the Aires directory we chose an aire we could find to stay on, which included showers, stumbling upon the small French port town of Gruissan where we were able to hand wash our clothes, fill up with water and watch the French play their Boules so passionately.

Le Boulou was the next town we were to stop off in. And it was so beautiful we stayed for 2 nights. Our plot was 100m from the side of the river, 3 minute walk in to town where we enjoyed stuffed squid and rice for lunch. Le menu d'jour. On the way back to the van we passed a butcherie and got 2 nice big burgers minced straight from the steak in front of us.

Kerry entering the Greek settlement of Emporium

These were enjoyed on the BBQ on the edge of the river with a couple of bottles of wine that evening. Afterward we played Boules with our quite amateurish set of plastic balls. But I did win all the same :)

Heading further down the coast passing through the French/Spanish border at le Perthus and spending the afternoon on the beach in Roses (where I took my first very cold dip!)

That evening around 5pm we drove past some Roman Ruins and took a look inside. Luckily the entrance was free on that particular day but it would shut in an hour so we felt a bit rushed. The settlement used to be called Emporion (meaning Market in Greek) as it was a major trading town even as far back as 9th century BC. Items were shipped here from all over the med including as far as Phocaea (modern day Turkey).

The 'Romanisation' of the Iberian Peninsula began in 195 BC when Marcus Porcius Cato setup a military camp at Empuries. The Roman and Greek settlements physically and legally became one in the 1st century AD called Municipium Emporiae

Eventually it was superseded by the rapidly expanding cities of Girona and Barcelona and was deserted in the 3rd century AD with only the Northern part being used as a cemetery for the nearby town of L'Escala.

We settled that night under a castle propped up on a hill and I wondered what life would have been like centuries ago compared to now. Probably not alot different in Europe. People milling around, chatting in squares, spot of shopping then lots of food and maybe a beheading. Ok... theres the difference.

Girona seemed to entice us in. Every time I asked kerry if she thought we should stop there, she nodded and we felt good about it. Parking up was fairly easy and there seemed to be a stream of people all walking down the rivers edge towards town. We followed until huge floral displays started popping up in ally ways, courtyards and staircases. It was a Festival of Flowers.

The weather wasnt too good so we abused the shelter of the Girona history museum and the old Jewish 'Call' which was now showing off its relics. In the History Museum I was pleasantly surprised to see some large industrial machinery including the first three phase motors and generators pioneered by engineers during the early use of electricity and the Girona led industrial revolution. Girona being one of the first cities to try electric street lighting.

Leave a message after the .._.

This machine intrigued me. From what I could surmise by looking, it would print out morse signals being received on to a roll of very thin paper for the operator to read later. A kind of early answering machine I suppose. 

The Eastern side of Girona was protected by a very large (I'd say 15 metres in places) wall with encampments and fortresses along it. The city has spilled out to the otherside of the wall now but walking along it gives brilliant views of the city and the snow topped Pyrenees behind. It was kind of surreal that you could go from the hustle and bustle of the crammed medieval streets to the relative calm and open space on the wall.

My Girona

The beginning of our tour of Europe

We have finally started trucking around Europe!

Driving out of Horsham was a bit weird. It was like hitchhiking for the first time again. Anxiety, fear, excitement, wanting, not-wanting, all with a little touch of panic.

Waiting at the ferry port

We aren't put in these situations very often. And Ive always found it weirdly addictive. Having a total unknown ahead of you. Its addictive because its scary I think. Kerry on the other hand is just dandy with it all!

Having made good time to the ferry port we were put on an earlier crossing (which was meant to be £32 more!) and drove in to Calais at 6pm French time. We knew we couldn't stay in Calais for long as its pretty dodgy. And as soon as we drove through the town we were shown why. There was a group of about 100 asylum seekers of different ethnicities at the side of the road, scaling a 10 foot high fence. God knows where they were going but I wasn't going to hang around to find out.

We drove South along the coast road, over rolling green fields and between the sand dunes at one point! France isn't like England. This puzzles me as you'd have thought they were connected at some point and may be a little alike? … maybe

Aire on the riverside near Limoges

After a few hours driving we grabbed our copy of 'All the Aires - France' and knuckled down to finding a suitable Aire. An aire in France is a designated Area for motorhomers or 'Camping-Carz' to pull up for the night, replenish any fresh water, dump any grey water as well as plug in to recharge batteries and watch tv etc.

Well this is all geared for BIG motorhomes. The Aire we arrived at in Ault was full of these. Mahoosive ones, all up on all kinds of leveling ramps with full sized satellite dishes on top. It was nuts. We pulled up in the blue smartie van and seemed a little dwarfed. We dont have leveling ramps so no sooner had we reversed up then we were down to the beach front to watch the sun setting. I wasn't scared anymore.

The next few days were full of driving. We wanted to get South and consequently heat! On the way through the Dordogne we stopped at a small, quaint town called Martel. The municipal camp site was a nice little green with showers and proper toilets. All for EURO 6.44.

Rocamadour from a distance

We had seen a few brown tourist signs for Rocamadour and I remembered my Dad saying he'd been there when touring on his motorbike. We drove along a windy road which opened out to a gorge where Rocamadour sits, clinging to the edge. The town was nice and we climbed the 200 odd steps up to numerous chapels and sanctuaries devoted to various religious icons.

The scenery started to change from big open, rolling fields to the gorges and canyons of the Pyrenees and then opened up to big blue skies and lots of heat!

We fought our way through Montpellier and out to a tiny spit of sand where we found loads of other camping cars all parked up metres from the beach. We used this to our advantage and spent a day lounging on the beach before heading in to Montpellier for a spot of sight seeing.

On the way we used McDonalds' wifi and stumbled across 5 chaps on tricked out 600cc motorbikes pulling stunts and ricks worthy of their own show. All in the car park which seemed to be well tolerated and made for some good pictures.

Beach just South of Montpellier

As we parked up on the outskirts of Montpellier we could hear a huge booming voice flooding over the city. Walking in, the sound got louder and louder until we found a great big skate and BMX comp was underway.

The next day we walked around Montpellier until we were tired and then retired back to the beach.

6am the next morning and I'm jolted awake by someone hollering outside the van. It's a French guy jabbering something I can't decipher. I explain in my best French that I cannot understand him. But he continues with his jabbers until I poke my head out of the window and see his car a little futher down the beach road, stuck in the sandy ditch next to it.

Myself and a passing motorist helped him for 30 minutes and eventually got the car out using branches and the van that had stopped to tow him. I don't know how he'd done it because the road is dead straight and in no way dangerous. I wonder whether the guy was on drugs, and nearly asked. Then thinking it'd be better to leave it.

A week of R, R, R and Aghr...

Sun sun and lots more sun

Tenerife is hot! I mean I knew it was hot. I've been before. But in August, mid season, with my parents. So when booking a last minute holiday in April I knew Tenerife would be one of the hottest places within our budget. Hotter than most places on Europe.


Kerry and I had such a good time on our ski season. We skied and boarded to our hearts content but all inbetween some very hard work. I didn't realise quite how much work it would be.

So in order to relax and unwind we decided to blow our wages from the ski season on our first all inclusive holiday. Unlimited beer, wine, food and sun. To get us ready for even more sun during the summer you see?

I was a bit taken aback when we were met at the airport by an empty transfer coach. To me this could mean one of two things. Either the hotel is crap, no ones else is going and I'm in for a week of cockroaches and chicken nuggets or we are going to be the only two people in the chalet being waited on hand and foot with massages and gourmet food.
Well it wasn't as Id expected. It was alovely hotel with marble everywhere and plants hanging from every floor. Water features were liberally sprinkled everywhere like Hundreds and Thousands on an ice cream.

The week consisted of nothing... There is nothing I can say except we sunbathed all day and then ate and drank at night. And thats what we wanted. I read 6 books as well and got a touch of constipation half way through. But we won't go in to that.

The poolside thermometer read atleast 30 degrees C every single day. That coupled with a beer tap that you pour yourself (!!!) and I was in my element.


The sunbatheing was a good opportunity to put down a base layer of tan ready for touring. And boy am I ready!