Geographically it is obvious why Istanbul, with its 14 million people, is considered the second most congested city in the world. The narrow 30km stretch of land, where Istanbul sits, is the central corridor linking Europe to Asia: it is also divided by the Bosphorus Strait, linking the Black Sea in the North with the Sea of Marmara in the South. Just two bridges span the strait linking Europe to Asia, forming two of the most hectic bottlenecks in the world. More than 116 million cars travel across the bridges every year on just 14 lanes.
You drive on the right (most of the time), beep your horn… a lot, ignore traffic lights and road signs and, generally, do what you want. People often drive without lights in the dark and no-one uses indicators. If all that wasn’t enough - It’s not only the drivers you have to worry about, pedestrians also think they have the right to step out into the road at anytime, normally without looking! Our introduction to Istanbul involved driving onto Fatih Sultan Mehmet Bridge where 14 tollbooth lanes merge magically into just 5 east-bound lanes. Here, street vendors take advantage of the slow moving traffic to peddle their wares. This involves standing in the middle of the highway, usually with a large wooden cart, as rows of traffic pass dangerously close on either side. If the traffic clears and speeds up the vendors attempt to dive back onto the ‘not-much-safer’ hard shoulder. The vendors work well into the twilight hours and are not aware of how much a hi-vis jacket might extend their life expectancy. Just to put all this information into context it took us 4 hours to drive just 16km across the city. For the remainder of our 6-day visit we decided to park up Bee-bee and use public transport. Although public transport was lengthy and crowded (with 5 million users daily), it was cheap, varied and certainly less stressful than driving ourselves around the city. Thousands of ‘Dolmus’ minibuses interweave their haphazard way across the vast expanse of suburbs. Jump on-board and pass your bargain fare to the driver via a chain gang of squashed passengers. The Dolmus drivers are possibly some of the worst in the city, but as a passenger you benefit from their skilled overtaking, brazen manoeuvres and knowledgeable shortcuts.
Metrobuses interweave the city’s streets, linking suburban overland trains with a network of modern tramways. For a more nostalgic tram journey, you can catch the restored trams which climb the huge pedestrian Istiklal Caddesi Street in Beyoğlu. Too tired/lazy to climb the steep hill from the Bosphorus up to Taksim Square? Try the Funicular ‘climbing train’ which transports you the 60 metre ascent in just 110 seconds. A pre-paid travel card is swiped for each trip, regardless of the transport method, with each journey only costing a few lira.
While we mainly explored the city by foot, the variety of fascinating ways of getting around in Istanbul, with a wonderful mix of passengers, only added to our new-found love of the city.
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Greece is a huge country criss-crossed with a gravel road network of unpaved tracks covering 75,603km. 4x4 is by far the best way to discover some of its outstanding beauty and with a little planning you can hunker down behind the wheel and pretty much cross its entirety without using a paved road. This network of roads is in constant need of repair and in the mountains landslides are common. Most of the driving is fairly moderate and unlikely to push your skills (or vehicle) to the limit. The occasional unexpected rainstorm can make conditions more challenging (fun) but generally most routes are drivable throughout the whole year (with the exception of some mountain areas). The main reason for taking these routes is not solely for the driving, with just 11 million (compared to 64 million in the UK) people living in Greece you can experience some exceptional wild areas in relative solitude. Shamefully, new roads continue to be constructed with no respect for the natural environment. Our first experience of Greece green-laning was a route from Arta to the Meteora, the main stretch of which followed the Acheloos River valley South-east of Mount Tzoumerka. Just like the other mountains of the Pindus range, the area is home to rare mammals like bears and wolves - although they tend to keep safe distances from human intruders. Sadly nearly 80 years after it was first proposed, the massively controversial greater Acheloos diversion scheme is well under way and has pretty much ruined the natural beauty of the area. Firs, black pines, maples and other trees envelop the road creating a riotous canopy of reds, yellows and greens; thankfully obscuring the atrocity of the river diversion scheme. Our next off-road route looked like a scenic two-hour diversion on our rather ineffective 1:425.000 scale map. From the small village of Pouri, just north of Mount Pelion, we would take the ‘scenic’ green route down to the coast then head west towards Kerasia, just 16km away. Having tried two alternative trails and deciding they were not ‘the one’ marked on our ‘map’ we stopped at the head of a third to ask for directions (N39°28’59.525” E23°5’50.226”). With our token gesture of a map in hand and some pretty flamboyant gesticulating we questioned two old locals if we could get through to Kerasia. In typically Greek style they entered into an animated debate before offering a relatively convoluted answer. We think the gist of which was that we could but the road was so bad we shouldn’t – we pointed at Bee-bee and shrugged our shoulders, at which point, they both shrugged their shoulders and walked off. Kerasia was only 16km away, if the road was too bad or blocked we’d just turnaround and drive back, right? Two days later we emerged in Kerasia, muddied, tired, low on fuel but buzzing from our off-course off-roading. Our two-day adventure began when we decided to ignore the advice of the locals and drove off downhill towards the coast. The track was rutted and well used. We passed a few local working 4x4’s coming the other direction, the drivers all smiled politely and waved back at us as we pulled over to let them pass. After a slow winding 600m descent with some stunning views we arrived at sea level at a tiny fishing bay (N39°30’23.725” E23°4’47.385”). An immaculate little fisherman’s church on the bank of a small river poignantly marked the end of the well-used track and offered a potential safe haven to travellers wishing to venture beyond. We stopped for an opportune picnic before continuing into the unknown. The track continued up the other side of the valley and from this point became muddier, rougher and at times much steeper than we had experienced on our descent. Thankfully the ominous black clouds held off until we reached the summit. After a fairly slow 950m ascent, using instinct and a compass at every junction, we found ourselves at the top of a wooded plateau on the northern part of the Pelion Range. Once we’d reached the highland it became apparently clear that the tracks here were used by logging trucks, unfortunately the heavy traffic (weight not frequency) meant the tracks were much muddier. After 5 hours driving, the afternoon turned to evening and it became apparent we weren’t going to make it to Kerasia before nightfall. We found a clearing in the woods and set up camp. Two hours after we’d gone to bed we were woken by two cars approaching through the forest. Two 4x4’s pulled up alongside our camp and a Greek family of 7 promptly exited the vehicles and approached our camp. Much to our surprise, it turns out we were not the only ones who were lost on the mountain. The family were attempting to complete the same journey as us but in the opposite direction. We exchanged information about the road ahead; we were relieved to discover Kerasia was just 2 hours away.
In a twist of irony we told the family the same advice we received at the start of our journey; you could get through but the road was so bad you probably shouldn’t, we also told them Pouri was about 5 hours away… They shrugged their shoulders in disbelief and carried on regardless. At sunrise our dark, foggy camp became a beautiful, autumnal woodland haven. We set off and completed the last few muddy miles, re-joining the tarmac for a spectacular descent from the mountains and back to the coast.
Our tasting travels of the Balkans; unlikely to want to eat pastry for a while again but overall a unique culinary experience of the regions cheap eats. Who needs fine dining and fancy restaurants when the real specialities of new countries are found in stalls, takeaways, markets and roadside cafes.
Back in 2012 we visited the National Centre for Contemporary Art in Nizhny Novgorod, Russia, where we watched a film by Anri Sala called ‘Dammi I Colori’. This intriguing film documented former artist and Mayor of Tirana Edi Rama’s controversial project to inject a riotous array of colour into the countries Communist era buildings. Naively we knew very little else about Albania. In the film Tirana looked horrifically run down, incredibly depressing and fairly dangerous - leaving Emma and I with the feeling that it should be avoided. Fast forward 2 years and we find ourselves at the Albanian border extremely excited at the prospect of visiting Tirana. During early 2014 I began to read more about Albania as it became a potential stop on our new route. The countries recent history was fascinating. After the Second World War the country became a Socialist Republic and was ruled from 1944, until his death in 1985, by Enver Hoxha. What was so shocking was Albania's self-isolationist policy and how it managed to exist in Europe during this period. The Communist model borrowed from the Russians led to a political allegiance that was superseded in 1960 when the Russians demanded that a submarine base be set-up in Albanian territory. Bizarrely, Albania realigned itself towards Maoist China and the country experienced a Chinese-style cultural revolution; older administrators were transferred to remote areas and younger trainees placed in positions of power. The introduction of Collective Farming and a total ban on organised religion was also enforced. The repressive political stance meant that tyrannical laws were enforced, people lived in fear of the secret police and private car ownership was banned. Until 1991 the total number of cars in Albania was only around 6000. Now the number of cars in the capital alone has increased to over 300,000 (3 in every 5 are stolen Mercedes from Western Europe). When chairman Mao died in 1976 Albania’s unique relationship with China came to an end and the country was left completely isolated. The economy was left in tatters and food shortages became common. The transitional period between Hoxha’s death in 1985 and the countries rebirth in 2000 saw much turmoil. The fall of communism in Albania, the last such event in Europe outside the USSR, started in December 1990 with student demonstrations. During this time most Albanians were unaware that the Berlin Wall had fallen the previous year! During the Balkans war in the mid-1990s, Tirana experienced dramatic events such as the Albanian Rebellion that unfolded in 1997. The unrest was kick-started by failing fraudulent pyramid investment schemes endorsed by corrupt government officials. Eventually the country descended into national civil disorder and violence resulting in 2000 deaths and the government being toppled. In 2000 Edi Rama became the mayor of Tirana. Rama entered office facing the challenges of corruption, a lack of citizen support, lawlessness and a miniscule budget. He also had the added pressure of working with European Union officials in the lead-up to Albania’s application to join the EU. Rama, a former artist, national basketball player and writer began his term by implementing his ‘Clean and Green’ and ‘Return to Identity’ projects. Rama’s deceptively simple plan to cut crime, curb corruption and win the people over was completely unique. The aim of Rama’s ‘Clean and Green’ project was to unite the residents of Tirana and to instill civic pride and a sense of security back to the city’s inhabitants. He planned to achieve this by reclaiming public spaces, demolishing illegal buildings around the River Lana and transforming the grey ‘Communist’ city into Europe’s most colourful capital. Rama’s first step in reclaiming ownership of the city for the people was to paint the drab grey Communist concrete facades in vibrant colours and geometric patterns. This simple injection of colour became a focal point and the people reacted with discussion. Despite split opinions, is was the first time there was a sense of a shared public space and community. "After communism and the events in 1997 people were lacking a sense of belonging to the country. There was a rage against everything that was a state building because it was perceived as property of the enemy… We are trying to make people understand that what is public is also yours." Edi Rama quoted in "You've got to tear this old building down" Throughout the 90’s hundreds of illegal kiosks and apartment buildings were constructed without planning on former public areas. Rama’s projects reclaimed public space by demolishing illegal buildings, which resulted in the production of 96,700 square metres of green land and parks. Within these spaces Rama planted nearly 55,000 trees, punctuating the grey of the city with lush green public areas. The simple act of painting and planting wasn’t just an aesthetic change, it was a political act, which prompted social transformation and much debate. This simple rebirth and the signs of change revived the hope of the people by making them proud of their environment; crime fell, people dropped less litter and eventually a collective responsibility crept into peoples consciousness. This painterly transformation didn’t resolve all the cities problems but it did begin to put the people first, it showed the citizens that they could have faith in their leaders once more. Despite the capitals development, Rama’s progressive efforts are not entirely understood or appreciated throughout the whole of Albania. Rama’s dramatic transformation of Tirana did however give birth to a rare breed of Balkan politician – one that drew positive interest from Western audiences. His Twitter, Facebook and TED Talk internet presence make him a PR dream, this coupled with his proven track record meant he landed the country’s top executive position, prime minister, in 2013. He now faces the challenge of shifting the West’s perception of the country. Some critics (mostly Rama’s political opposition) say that the facade of new Tirana is just that, a facade. Albania is still Europe’s poorest country and is plagued by drugs and arms trade, power-cuts, murders, corruption and organised crime. It may be true that not all of Albania’s ingrained problems can be solved with a lick of paint but it is certainly a good start in lifting Albania from its historical abyss. Rama’s legacy and vibrant attitude has had, and continues to have, a lasting effect on the country. New buildings are equally as colourful as the old and not only has he restored civic pride, he has inadvertently created cultural tourism to help the countries economy. Albania completely fulfilled all my expectations and I can confirm that Edi Rama fulfilled his goal of creating the most colourful capital in Europe. "Tirana has become the good news from Albania and has changed the image of the country. People that come here are surely surprised, because the stereotype is very strong, and is very different from the reality. And it's nice to see foreigners coming and being amazed, just amazed." Edi Rama quoted in "You've got to tear this old building down" As British passport holders we are incredibly privileged to have access to 174 countries and territories around the world either visa-free or with visas on arrival. These stats rate the British passport #1 in the world (tied with Finland, Germany, Sweden and the United States). In comparison, the Russian passport is rated #38 in the world with access to 100 countries and territories. Throughout Europe there are only a handful of countries that allow Russians in visa free, as a result Montenegro is an incredibly attractive country to visit for Russians. Unfortunately the divide between the rich and the poor in Russia is vast. This is reflected by a survey conducted in 2012 by the Levada Centre. Only 17% of Russians possess an international passport; 78% of those surveyed had never been outside of the country and only 3% had travelled outside of Russia more than once a year. Travel (or leaving the country forever) is exclusively for the rich in Russia. It’s not unusual for privileged Russians to ‘up sticks’, according to the UK’s most reliable source for unbiased information*, The Daily Mail, Russian millionaires now buy one in five of London’s most expensive properties. For Russians who prefer a slightly warmer climate than London, Montenegro is an obvious choice, they’re both Orthodox and, as Slavs, their languages are related. Montenegro is an exceptionally beautiful country, sadly many of its visitors don’t see beyond its 72km of beaches. The verdant interior is lush and dramatic and offers some outstandingly stunning driving. The coastline around Budva, is the heart of tourism, and is lovingly referred to as the Budva Riviera and occasionally Moscow-on-Sea by our British counterparts. According to some newfound friends in Budva, Russians now own nearly 50% of properties in Montenegro. Unfortunately this substantial Russian investment in Budva means that it is developing rather hastily in a fairly unplanned fashion. High rise apartments, casinos, open-air nightclubs and gaudy hotel complexes fight for attention along the ever-expanding coastline. The beautifully quaint old town, a treasure chest of cultural heritage and well worth a visit, is now sandwiched between the rather obnoxious Avala Resort & Casino and the Duckley Marina, which can now thankfully accommodate yachts up to 70m. Perfect for those Russian Oligarchs who don’t want to be out-done by the multi-billionaires with their +100m yachts. Unfortunately just 400m away from the old town is the Russian playground; gaudy is the prevalent style along Budva’s ‘Bar-Street’. Open-air nightclub sound-systems battle for your attention trying to lure you in to their uniquely themed bars. Who could resist a bar that looks like a pirate ship or if you were feeling continental maybe a Paris (complete with 10m Eiffel Tower) themed bar would be more appropriate. The old phrase “money can’t buy you good taste” is apt, and that is Budva’s problem, it is confused. It is a holiday resort that wants to punch above its weight with 5-Star luxury but unfortunately enters the ring to the theme tune of Serbian ‘Turbofolk’ (possibly the worst genre of music ever!) wearing a bright pink real mink fur coat and 6-inch heals necking shots of Vodka. This Russian investment is obviously creating jobs and revenue for Montenegro (although most of the people we met working in hospitality were from Serbia) and the tourist industry is clearly thriving. Using Budva as a base we spent 10 days exploring the surrounding coastline and documenting the beaches outside of the typical tourist season. The resulting photographs tell a story all of their own and to some degree answer the question – Is Russian investment going to have a long-term detrimental effect on Budva? *Sarcasm Two worlds of war and peace are forced together in Western Kosovo where a 700-year old Serbian Orthodox Christian monastery quietly nestles amongst chestnut groves in a mountain valley. The approaching road displays evidence that racial tensions still exist here- Serbian Latin writing on every road sign has been scrawled over with paint. We were heading for Deçan not Dečani. This was the first religious site we have visited where we had to drive through checkpoints, around roadblocks and submit our passports to gun-wielding military before entering. Visoki Decani Monastery has been described as "the largest and best-preserved medieval church in the entire Balkans" with several thousand Byzantine frescoes adorning the interior walls. The paintings took 6 groups of artists ten years to complete and cover an area of 4,000m2. 25 monks live within its heavily guarded walls, although the last direct attack was grenades in 2007, the threat of ethnic violence remains.
I have never seen Andy’s jaw drop as it did as we entered the church, stepping across the original marble floor at the foot of angular, stone columns. The frescoes greet you like a window from the past, where several thousand Byzantine paintings depicting 1,000 portraits of Saints stare silently from all sides. Their intricate, colourful detail cover almost the entire interior of the church. Uniquely, the religious depictions include the only existing image of Jesus with a sword, Petar clarified “this is a spiritual sword, representing the Word of God, in which the sword is cutting sins”. Nearby, on the ‘Crucifixion’ fresco we noticed what many people believe to be two UFO’s with men inside. “Not so” Petar smiled “in Byzantine iconography, these two ’comets’ represent the sun and the moon, and a man inside is the personification of the heavenly body of the sun and moon” We felt incredibly privileged to have such a personal, knowledgeable insight. “Can you identify all of the frescoes inside here?” I asked him “After 13 years… almost” he replied humbly. The Monastery was established in 1327 under the instruction of Serbian Medieval King St. Stephen of Decani. The monastery is both his life’s work and his mausoleum; his 684 year-old body remains in a coffin at the head of the altar. Petar informed us that 10 years after his funeral, the body of St Stephen was found intact in his grave, perfectly preserved and undecomposed, with a sweet smell which exists until today. “We do nothing to preserve the body, it is forbidden in the Orthodox Church to do anything with a human body after death- we don’t even know any technique to do it! We have no interest to preserve the body, because this is not an important factor when considering someone as Holy”. Petar explained “The body is still whole and fragrant, even when constantly exposed to air and kissing. We believe this is because God’s energies are still present in it.” Every Thursday, the coffin is opened to allow worshippers to show respect, say prayers and offer Thanks to St Stephen. Petar invited us to join them for this service in 5 days but, with people awaiting our arrival in Montenegro, we regrettably declined the offer. We were however, fortunate enough to accept his invitation to join them for their evening worship.
The feeling that so much had changed outside of these walls in the last 700 years, yet inside the marble walls the rituals, words and music were untouched by time. The candlelight flickered the walls, making the gold tinged frescoes glimmer- our eyes were seeing exactly what worshipers saw 700 years previously. The heavy smoke swung from incense thuribles. Ceremonial devotion frozen in time.
I asked Petar what he hoped for the future of the Monastery; “We hope it will survive because it is under God’s protection. He has preserved the Monastery during seven centuries under very difficult circumstances. We are determined to stay and live here no matter what happens, trying to have love also with our enemies”. Back in 1991 I visited what was then called Yugoslavia for a holiday with my parents. At that point the media in the UK hadn’t really focused on the tension that had been building in the country. My mother’s only concerns were that Tito’s lingering communist regime might not allow her to sunbathe topless (Tito’s in or out). Naïvely we got on a plane and headed east; unbeknown to us at the time, and then made apparent quite quickly when we arrived, the country was on the brink of collapse. We stayed just north of Dubrovnik and visited the attractions in the area. The highlight for me was a day trip in our white Yugo 45 hire car up through the beautiful Neretva River Delta and into the Neretva Valley towards Mostar to view the spectacular 16th Century Ottoman bridge, the Stari Most. Just a few months later war broke out and the country began to dissolve in what was a complicated tangle of political and ethno nationalism in which many different factions fought for territory. Prior to the war, Mostar was probably one of Yugoslavia’s most ethnically integrated cities, its mix of Croat, Muslim, Serb and Yugoslav communities were evenly spread throughout the city, with many mixed neighbourhoods and inter-mixed marriages accounting for one third of all unions. Around 6,000 Croats lived among the East bank’s 30,000 predominantly Muslim residents and 15,000 Bosniaks (Bosnian Muslims) resided among the 45,000 majority Croat populace of the West Bank; the awe-inspiring Stari Most bridge symbolically joining them together in the middle. In 1992 Bosnia and Herzegovina (BIH) declared independence from Yugoslavia, with the EU and the United States recognizing it as a sovereign nation state. Immediately Serbian units of the Yugoslav People’s Army attacked BiH. The city of Mostar was then subject to an 18-month siege. Initially, it involved the Croatian Defence Council and the 4th Corps of the ARBiH fighting against the Serb controlled Yugoslav People's Army. However, as the conflict deepened and as the political landscape changed, the Bosnian Croats and Bosnian Muslims began to fight against each other. 2 years after visiting Mostar I watched the television in complete shock as the iconic 427-year old bridge was destroyed by Bosnian Croat artillery fire. A Sarajevo-based newspaper reported that more than 60 shells hit the bridge before it collapsed. After the destruction of the Stari Most, a spokesman for the Bosnian Croats admitted that they deliberately destroyed it as a target of strategic importance. Most people argue that the bridge held little strategic value and that its destruction was a deliberate act of wiping out a shared cultural heritage and a memory of a peaceful co-existence. The bridge that once stood as a sign of unity and diversity now became a symbol for the senseless destruction of war. As a teenager this mindless act had a profound effect on my life. This was the third ‘televised’ war I’d witnessed as a child, but this one was different. I remember watching news reports of the Falklands War, without really understanding the politics, but knowing that something horrific was happening due to the reactions of my parents and frequently being told not to look at the television. In the early 90’s I watched the Gulf War unfold in a style not to dissimilar to the computer games I was playing at the time; disassociated cockpit views of laser guided missiles! For whatever reasons I was removed from the reality of those two wars, but this war was different, it was the first to happen during my lifetime that I could empathise with, if only slightly. I had walked across that bridge; it was a real place, with real people, some of whom I had talked to. It really brought home the reality of war. The next day I saved the newspaper spread covering the destruction of the bridge and until this day it is folded carefully and stored in a box in my parents attic. Taking that drive again, this time in Bee-bee, brought to the surface many of the same emotions I felt watching the war escalate on television 20 years ago. The bridge has been rebuilt but Mostar still bears the scars of a bloody battle. It is impossible to ignore the bullet hole ridden walls as you walk around the city. The former front line, which runs parallel to the river, Bulevard Narodne Revolucije, still remains the dividing line which splits the city into a Muslim/Bosniak East and a Catholic/Croat West; many of the buildings here are completely ruined from the effects of heavy fighting. Walking around the streets and seeing the empty shells of buildings it’s difficult to digest what happened here. Mostar’s past has not been plastered over, the remnants of war are far more obvious here than in Sarajevo, where nearly 9 billion Euros in foreign aid has been used to repair the city. The abandoned buildings here still act as a poignant stark reminder and a memorial to the countries conflict. The tourists have returned with a vengeance but the air is still charged with tension. One thing that is clear is that not much has been resolved, each side still has its own service providers and universities, Croat and Bosniak school children attend separate classes and study from different textbooks. Further north in Croatia the town of Pakrac doesn’t have the luxury of tourism to carry it forward. Pakrac was the location of the first serious skirmish in what would become the Croatian War of Independence. The incident had a lasting significance with the fighting in this region between Croats and Serbs being exceptionally fierce. The United Nations' presence here has now gone, the mass graves in the valley below have been excavated and many, but not all, of the estimated 10,000 land mines in and around Pakrac have been cleared. Less than half the town’s population remains in what, in places, still looks like a war zone. Every building carries the scars of war and many buildings are still empty, either as a remembrance or abandoned by evicted Serbs who never came back. The landmine warning signs remain in place, and like Western Sahara, put pay to our off-road adventures. According to UNICEF, Bosnia and Herzegovina and Croatia are the first and third most heavily mined areas by square mile in the world. I talked with our Workaway host and friend who lives in the predominantly Serb village of Gornja Šumetlica, just 10 minutes from Croatian, Pakrac, about the effect of the war on his life. I asked him if it was painful to see the bullet-holes, landmine signs and abandoned buildings on a daily basis. He said, “This is only a small reminder of the war, the people are constantly reminded on a daily basis that they are worse off now than before. The people are poorer, the countries resources are being mismanaged and the politicians are more corrupt than ever.” His sentiment is ironically reflected in the empty shell of Budućnost (The Future), Yugoslavia’s answer to ‘Woolworths’ in the centre of the town. The empty building, near the former frontline, just across from the bullet-ridden church, stands as a visual metaphor of what happened here; a once bright vision of utopia, now standing scarred with an uncertain future. Re-visiting these countries gave me the opportunity to acknowledge the atrocities that I saw on TV, and to try to empathise on some level. In meeting the people I witnessed the strength of humans to overcome the most inhumane actions committed against them, from a Croat, Serb and Bosniak perspective. After talking with my friend I left Pakrac with a sense of optimism about the future for the Balkans. The people are struggling financially and the infrastructure still needs work but the younger generation is seemingly willing to work toward restoring love and respect for one another; to overcome ethnic prejudices and heal the wounds that are still visible on the walls of Pakrac, Mostar and countless other cities and towns. It’s predominantly a German motorist tourist’s playground but if you have the time to drive the thousand miles necessary to reach Rijeka in Croatia you have a country of spectacular coastal roads to enjoy. Unfortunately this is only really an option for overlanders or travellers with an extended time period for their trip BUT an alternative is to hire a car from around €12 a day. Our first stop was the inland National Park of Plitvice, a worthy diversion from the shimmering sea roads. 18km of wooden footbridges and walkways weave through the lakes, giving you a ducks-eye view of the magnificent waterfalls and cascades, close enough to leave splashes on your sunglasses. Hitting the coast at Senj, we spent our first night Croatian coastal camping. Wow. The small, basic campsite was a tiny cove with just a few tree-shaded terraces. Only the bubbles of a few morning Scuba divers broke the mirror-like surface of the sea. We headed South, the road clinging to the coast and traversing every curve and turn of the natural coastline. With the forested Velebit Mountains on our left side we cruised through quite, uninhabited stretches and sleepy fishing villages.
From Zadar south you enter the Dalmatian Coast where numerous verdant islands dot the offshore waters. From here onwards the wow factor moves up a notch, with every corner revealing another postcard picturesque view. A road atlas highlighting these roads in green as ‘scenic routes’ is an enormous understatement. An inland diversion at Sibenik took us to Krka National Park, another stunning system of lakes, rivers and cascades. The area was made even more impressive by the recent heavy rains, creating thundering waterfalls with rainbows arched above. Back on the shoreline we wound our away along the headland, never tiring of the endless ocean panorama shimmering in the sunlight. We arrived to the city of Split, the highlight of which is ‘Diocletian’s Palace’, one of the world’s most impressive Roman ruins. The palace is actually a fortified town, these days packed with tourists buzzing around museums, shops and restaurants. We climbed the towering, winding steps to the top of the Romanesque belfry of St Dominus’ Cathedral. From here you can enjoy a 360° vista of the city’s historic centre; a labyrinth topped with red roof tiles surrounded by church spires, modern environs and a busy Port. No trip to Croatia would be complete without a voyage to or around some of the country’s 1,244 islands. A spontaneous hop on a boat about to leave Split Port and we were sailing into the sunset past pine-covered islands and through sea canals to the Island of Korcula. A peaceful, olive-covered haven of secluded coves and superb coastal drives. A short ferry crossing from Korcula to Orebic and you are back on the mainland. The landscape adjacent to the coast has now become a rocky, mountainous ridge, descending sharply to the sea with just a ribbon of road cutting through the sheer rock sides. We ended our Croatian journey in the elegant and ancient city of Dubrovnik, a must-see for its ancient city walls and marble streets. Logistically, Croatia is well geared-up for tourism, particularly motorists thanks to the deluge of campervans. There are campsites everywhere, from fancy all-singing mega-sites, to makeshift pitches on beaches with just a tap and toilet.
Choose your timing wisely, arriving at the tail end of the season we witnessed tourists’ en-masse in several places, this burek-devouring plague dispersed by the middle of September when the still sunny country quietened dramatically. Driving etiquette could be improved considerably; speeding is universal, tail-gating frustratingly common and basic courtesy is severely lacking. Don’t let that put you off- most of the smaller, coastal roads are much quieter than the main routes. For the last 54 years the people of Ptuj in Slovenia have been celebrating the end of winter with a festival called Kurentovanje. The 11-day rite of spring and fertility is most likely connected to Slovene mythology and Slavic Paganism. The original organisers were strongly convinced that this event could help prevent what they perceived as the extremely rapid disappearance of traditional carnival customs in the area. The Museum at Ptuj Castle houses a large collection of traditional Kurentovanje masks and costumes. We were lucky enough to visit and learn more about this fascinating tradition and it’s costumes. The celebrations feature many different characters including the Ploughmen, Bears, Fairies, Cockerels, Log-haulers and Mourners. Undoubtedly the stars of the festival are the Kurents dressed in elaborate masks and heavy sheepskin coats. The Kurent’s primary roll is to scare away winter by jumping from side to side, bell ringing and performing rituals.
For the participants, the festival permits a certain amount of anonymity, allowing for much tomfoolery. The greatest disgrace a Kurent could face was to have his mask taken off.
Over the years the festival has grown, with many surrounding towns in the region also contributing. In 2013 the largest population of Slovenians outside of Slovenia, in Cleveland, Ohio, have started to run a smaller Kurentovanje event. For more information about the carnival and it’s characters please visit http://www.kurentovanje.net/en/ The Toyota Hilux is renowned for its tank-like qualities, despite this, a trip like ours really takes its toll on the vehicle. Our time back home has gave us the opportunity to do some essential work on poor Bee-bee and get her prepped for the next phase of our trip. The 40,000+ miles we’ve racked up already had really started to show; wandering steering, pulling brakes, rattles and shakes. Regular maintenance is essential whilst travelling, but some jobs are just too large to undertake on the road, especially by a novice like myself. The high mileage meant that Bee-bee’s second cam-belt change was due imminently and rather than trying to do it on the road it made sense to do it prior to our departure. Any moving parts on the running gear really get worked hard off road. The rubber bushes on the anti-roll bars, track rod ends, steering idler and spring cups all required replacing as did the rear springs which had really started to sag due to being overloaded and overworked. The brake system had a full overhaul with new discs and pads/shoes all round. Whilst we had the wheels off it made sense to replace all the wheel studs as 70% of them had been over tightened and cross threaded by an over zealous tyre fitter with an air-gun. We changed all the wheel bearings at the same time. The ECU Doctor came up trumps and has repaired the faulty ECU (Electronic Control Unit). My diagnosis, with a little help from the Hilux Surf Forum, was correct and the ECU is back in Bee-bee and she’s running fine. The ECU problem coupled with a few family legal matters that required signatures had delayed our departure for an extra few weeks. A quick service – all the filters, belts and fluids changed and Bee-bee is fit for the road. Regular readers will be pleased to hear we’re currently on the French/Swiss border and heading southeast to eventually pick up our original route in Kazakhstan early next year.
If you are new to our adventure you can get regular updates on our Facebook page. (Don’t forget to click ‘Like’) You can also check out our YouTube channel (don’t forget to subscribe) for short films of our exploits. It’s wonderful to be wandering again and we are looking forward to making new friends on the road. |
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