Rome to Rio

We've concluded the campervan leg of the journey. 10,000 miles in total with 1,350 miles in the last week long journey through Italy, Switzerland, Germany, France, Luxembourg and Belgium before arriving back in the UK.

Heading north from Rome we headed for Parma for a wander and a spot of lunch. I'd have loved to buy an entire pigs leg but it turns out they're pretty expensive.

Parma for all your overpriced ham and cheese needs

After lunch we headed for the Swiss border and stopped overnight near a beautiful lake at Tamaro. The driving in Switzerland is easily the best of anywhere we've been. Fantastic scenery, polite drivers and great roads. Nice to see they're putting all Amazon and Starbucks's taxes to good use. Our route north took us through an enormous tunnel which goes straight through a mountain. The side we entered on was a snowy wonderland and after a good half hour of driving we emerged into a rolling green paradise.

Very pretty and very glad for heating in the van

Sadly the rain kicked in before long putting paid to our plans to spend the night next to a lake in Luzern. We stopped for a while and admired the postcard views before ploughing on to the German border at Basel. We then drove north alongside the French border to Kehl, did a bit of shopping in Lidl (memorable for being spoilt for German sausage choice, for queuing behind the smelliest man in the world ever and for having child style grab baskets of fags at the checkout) and crossed the Rhine into Strasbourg. After all that driving we had a nice 2 night stay in an Aire next to the river. We caught a tram into the centre of Strasbourg, admired the Germanic-Franco mish-mash and enjoyed some great beer.

Gingerbread architecture in Strasbourg

The next day we headed north west through the bare but atmospheric Parc Naturel Regional des Vosges de Nord and back over the border into Germany. The road then followed a river past some fascinating industrial and manufacturing areas before entering Luxembourg. We stopped on the outskirts of Luxembourg City for a late lunch/early dinner and then carried on to Belgium where we stopped for the night in the middle of nowhere at Saint-Hubert.

Clearing away the Christmas decorations in Mons, Belgium

The driving in Belgium was pretty dull with not a lot to see but we did stop for lunch in Mons, a fairly nice little place. Managed to buy a couple of nice Belgian beers for the evening which we spent near the port at Dunkirque. The next day we caught a ferry to Dover and drove back to my folks place in Market Bosworth. Our first steps on British soil (excluding Gibraltar) for 9 months.

It was great to see my parents again and to join in with their retired lifestyle. It's actually not dissimilar to life in the van with a trip to Morrisions being an entire days activity. We also put our four days to good use cleaning up the van, photographing it and putting it on eBay. Within the space of about an hour it'd sold. Obviously did a good job on the photos. Or maybe a bad job on the pricing model.

Bye bye Juanita - you've done us proud

We accepted a deposit on the van and agreed for it to be picked up a week later in Stafford. So off we drove to Stafford to spend some time with Lucy's family and to plan the final leg of the trip to South America. Thank you BA for your New Year sale.

So that brings us to where we are now in Rio de Janeiro on the Atlantic coast of Brazil. We're heading for Lima, Peru on the Pacific coast. It was 30 degrees and sunny on the beach today.

Traaarabit,

Ralph xx

A few notes:

• Almost entirely certain the guy who bought the campervan was trade. What's the game of pretending you're buying something for yourself? We just wanted the cash and couldn't really care less what they choose to do with it.
• Will I feel any sorrow for selling Juanita? Does this apathy make me heartless?
• When back in the UK we also had time to see Matilda the musical. It was good fun, such a good story and such an amazing cast. Sadly I've found I can't even start to hum any of the songs. I think that means the music was pretty forgettable - sorry Tim Minchin.
  
  

  

  When I try and recall any of the songs I just keep reverting to "We Could Have Been Anything That We Wanted To Be" from Bugsy Malone

More photos: https://plus.google.com/photos/101454232293966616010/albums/5861942472039730657?authkey=CPbhwbfh1MmhXQ

Pompei to Rome (via Morocco)

Heading back to Rome we left the van in a storage place and hopped on a flight to Marrakesh. The Ryanair flight was chaos with shouting, pushing and shoving, complete disregard for luggage limits and a pervading body odour. Perfect preparation for Morocco. On the flight we met a young American who had just completed his peace corps stint and was travelling a bit before heading back to the states. Having experienced the assault that is Marrakesh a year or 2 ago on a previous trip, it was a beautiful thing to accompany and witness a newbie being torn into. Hopefully we were able to soften the blow a bit.

We only stayed in Marrakesh for the night before hopping on a bus to Essaouira for 5 nights. We had a ropey introduction fighting through the touts that mobbed the bus and walking down a crappy street past the pungent odour of sewage that leads from the bus station to the medina. Fortunately the medina and port end of town are terrific. Busy daytime market sellers and laid back evenings. Just past the port the beaches begin and they really are something special. Acres of golden sand and complete solitude only 30 minutes walk away.

The view from the ramparts of Essaouira

The beach stretching south of Essaouira

After our last night in Essaouira we braved the walk back to the bus station and began the 6 hour journey to Casablanca. This was a fascinating journey passing through many bustling rural villages. At one stage I saw a man stuffing a live sheep into the boot of a taxi. God knows where it wanted to go. It was also quite something to be seeing the use of horses as viable means of transport, both pulling people in carriages and towing or carrying loads of produce and supplies. Also on the bus was a coughing Frenchman who we're pretty certain gave us both a virus that lasted me until Chefchouen and Lucy until Malaga. Wanker.

We only stayed in Casablanca for 2 nights as a bit of a stop gap on the way north. Having watched the film only a few weeks before in anticipation we knew Rick's Cafe would be a must see but otherwise we were largely clueless what to expect. It turns out to be a huge city without a great deal to offer a visitor. We headed to one of its largest landmarks, the King Hassan II mosque. The only way a non-muslim can visit the mosque is to join a guided tour outside of prayer times. Sadly despite the impressive scale of the building there's really not a lot to see and the tour ends up being pretty lacklustre. By the end I couldn't help thinking the half a billion euros could have been better invested in a few smaller mosques and on improving Casablanca's pretty shoddy infrastructure.

Hassan II Mosque, Casablanca

Our night in Rick's Cafe was pretty good fun. Unfortunately it was the piano players night off so no opportunity to request the same song again. Also I forgot to tell Lucy here was looking at her. And I couldn't find the illegal gambling room. And no shoot outs. But I did have a nice steak and mojito.

From Casablanca we took the train for the short journey to Rabat, the capital of Morocco. Of all the cities we visited in Morocco, Rabat has by far the most to offer. We stayed right in the old medina which is a terrific warren of alleyways along with bustling souks which can be explored without hassle. On one side of the medina is the sea which had some huge waves rolling in and on the other the new town which has some good shops and restaurants.

Rabat's coastline

Burger King, Rabat style. Love the woman carrying a burger on her head.

Next up we took the train inland to Fes, a place with high demands on patience. Almost every moment in a public place is accompanied by aggressive sales techniques even the most unscrupulous of double glazing salesmen would shudder at. This is something pretty common throughout Morocco to which a polite sod off usually does the trick. However the sheer volume and persistence bordering on desperation is particularly off-putting in Fes.

The view from our hotel's terrace in Fes

Fortunately having fought through the chaos it is possible to find a few little gems in Fes. One of these was the Clock Cafe which had live music the evening we were there. It was a local percussion and vocal group. Think Hare Krishna chanting and you're pretty much there.

Looking down on the dancing, chanting hippies at the Clock Cafe, Fes

The escape from Fes was beautiful. The bus climbed into the mountains and took us to the peaceful town of Chefchaouen. It was such a relief to go somewhere so comparatively tranquil in such a lovely setting. The first day we walked around the town and went to the river where women were doing the washing. The second day Lucy went to relax at the hammam and I went for a walk around the mountain.

Lovely Lucy, lovely Chefchaouen

Waterlogged

From Chefchaouen we headed to Tetouan, a city near to the Mediterranean coast. We only stayed one night which we spent in a Riad where our room had a bath. The majority of the first day was spent soaking in the bath. The next day before getting the bus to Tangier we had a little explore and sat in the sun to have a nice cup of sweet mint tea. Wondering why our cups of tea had little hats on them it quickly became apparent when the bees swarmed to our sugary nectar.

Tea in Tetouan with added bee protection and crazy hair

We were only staying in Tangier for the night before catching our ferry to Spain. We didn't have much time to explore as we arrived pretty late and headed off pretty early, so we only ventured out to get something to eat. Tangier's not a particularly inviting place though so that was probably for the best. The next morning we followed the instructions to arrive at the port at least an hour before the ferry is due to leave. In true Moroccan style we boarded our 10am ferry at 11am and set sail at midday.

The view of Gibraltar from the ferry as we were coming into port at Algeciras

Lucy's parents had booked an apartment for the Christmas week in Estepona. With Lucy's brother Stuart having only recently returned from 18 months travelling around Australia and India this was a Beckwith family reunion. We had a lovely week with sunshine, relaxation, a few cheesy Christmas films and a few cheesy card games.

Nice Christmas stroll on the beach in the sunshine. We can confirm the sea is very, very cold.

After Lucy's family headed flew back to the UK we spent an extra night in Malaga, a surprisingly nice place, where we caught our flight back to Rome. Before picking up the van we decided we'd celebrate the New Year in Rome and stayed in a hotel. Putting our festival experience to good use we pre-mixed our drinks and completely drained our bladders before heading to the Colosseum celebrations. The walk from the metro was a bit like tackling an army assault course with live explosives. It turns out the local sport is attempting to sever as many limbs as possible by throwing lit fireworks into crowded spaces. A barrel of laughs. I felt like a dog on fireworks night shitting itself and hiding under the stairs. Anyway, after getting to the stage we got suitably oiled, watched some crap Italian pop stars, befriended a group of Americans and saw in the New Year surrounded by very stylish people.

A Roman New Year

The post New Year carnage. Another Italian pasttime is smashing empty bottles by throwing them into crowded spaces. Perhaps they'd run out of explosives.

Tomorrow we pick up the van and start the drive back to the UK. We've got a route in mind which will take us through Switzerland, Luxembourg and Belgium. I've bought some thermals in preparation.

Peace out,

Ralph xx

A few notes:

• I'm pretty sure my by now 25 year old Peugeot 205 is living on as a Moroccan taxi. God knows what holds these things together, certainly the only thing guaranteed to be working is the horn. One driver proudly showed us 500,000+ km on the clock.
• Eating Moroccan food more than once or twice a year is too frequent.
• I really enjoyed our time in Morocco but I didn't find the place romantic in the slightest. I couldn't be comfortable with the very obvious poverty and struggled to see any evidence of money from tourism being fed back into welfare. On a subsequent trip I think I'd avoid any cities and try a lot harder to subscribe to sustainable tourism.

More photos: https://plus.google.com/photos/101454232293966616010/albums/5861938607666067185?authkey=CMPM9amZnbKAOQ