Belgium – A box of chocolates

Writing this after the event I’ve much to type but don’t quite know how to such is the disjointed experience that we had of the country. Perhaps a good way to start is to slightly change good old Mrs Gump’s turn of phrase, as in this case it’s a country that’s a box of chocolates. There’s plenty of conflicting flavours to be found, with our first being in the Poirot like French speaking south. Still searching for that something different we found it as spotting a huge space rocket just off the motorway provoked an 18km U-turn to what was the European Space Agency. A couple of hours of trying to find English text amongst the three national languages during what was otherwise a fairly interesting audio guided tour then followed. Only fairly as it quickly became apparent that Belgium has something of an inferior complex and takes every opportunity to put its hand in the air like some annoying kid in the classroom. On this occasion the European Space Agency was made to look like the Belgium Space Agency with the partner countries hardly given a mention at all.

With something new behind us it was something old as we stayed in the centre of Brussels and were presented with what has to win our award for the most impressive ‘old town square’ in Europe. Formerly a royal district, it showed as the architecture around the square is simply incredible although the big tourist attraction of what is essentially a replica 12” statue of a baby pissing or the ‘Manneken-Pis’ was very ‘is that it?’ like. Elsewhere the whole ‘Capital of Europe’ theme was thrust around at every opportunity with plenty of blue Euro flags around.

On our way out of Brussels it was back to something new as we visited the ‘Atomium,’ which unlike Mirka I’d never heard of and that included reading our ‘Rough Guides’ lowdown on Brussels attractions. What we found was an undoubtedly impressive structure that was part of some sort of ‘Don’t call us a poor man’s Paris’ Expo in 1958. However, after departing with €22 and a visit inside the only five spheres that are available I struggled to recall a time where I’ve been more underwhelmed which if you know me is really saying something! It comprised of a viewing area and an exhibition about how great immigration is. You could almost smell the vegan food coming from the two food areas. Other than a row with some old bag after I refused to spend €0.5 after spending a penny in a scummy toilet that was Brussels.

Bruges though in the Dutch speaking north was more like it. Strictly old style, it lacks the modern touches and attention seeking of Brussels. A medieval tower looms large over the pretty square and the place had a nice laid back feel about it partly thanks to a lack of groups of tourists. A couple of glasses of the excellent Leffe in a pub rounded off the day and pretty much the trip as an uneventful ride back home completed the six week and 6,000 mile ride. So what next then? Well a bit like having a blow out at a carvery restaurant, the past six weeks will take a little digesting. There may be though, time to sneak in a little dessert before closing. We’ll see…

Lovely Luxemburg

My ‘rough guide’ to Luxemburg promised us the most spectacular setting to any European city with difficulty in obtaining accommodation in or near Luxemburg City, which is quite a claim and just what we need after seeing so much beforehand. Except for the accommodation bit that is, which proved true as whilst following the signs for the city the GPS wasn’t having any of it. Clearly I didn’t zoom in enough on the google map showing our hotel’s location as after re-joining the lilac route on the screen we ended up 12km out of town! Happily though frequent buses to and from the city centre were nearby and so unpacked and fed we hopped aboard for the 30min ride in. Getting off at the main train station in the new town was pretty underwhelming but a short map read and walk took us to what was indeed a very spectacular setting for the historic old town. Set within what was probably a huge castle or fort the gorge encircling it is stunning.

Connected by a bridge the view down below is not one for the squeamish and you can’t help but think of how many people may have threw themselves down there over the years. Inside we found what was probably business district and a very upmarket shopping/restaurant district. Hours later with a happy Mirka sporting a new pair of leather boots we had a lovely traditional meal deep in the gorge between old and new in a cracking brasserie. Quite why I’ve never heard anything about Luxemburg as a weekend break sort of place over the years I don’t know, as it is firmly one of the surprises of the trip so far. Recommended.

Germany

Somewhat unfortunately Germany’s rapid autobahns were used in order to allow for an easier final few days. What was and will be by far our longest day of 556km meant that our stay in Heidelberg was a tired one and little was seen of the country en-route. A little ride around town while hunting for accommodation was deemed sufficient to see enough of the place as accumulated trip fatigue started to set in. With a return to normal life only a matter of days away now thoughts of this are now beginning as they usually do at this stage of any trip. Still, an early night might help as the somewhat mysterious Luxemburg awaits…

The 2011 DD Cup

The Czech Republic is of course, Mirka’s former home. Since arriving in the UK eight years ago her and subsequently our visits there to see her family have been maybe three times a year. One of these three though has been for me to take part in the ‘DD Cup’ which is a yearly tennis competition hosted by her sister and brother in law Daja and Petr to celebrate the birth of their two girls Didi and Deni. Tennis is pretty big in Mirka’s family with Petr playing professionally and several other relatives being of a much higher standard than the “Have you seen my tennis racket?” types back at home after Wimbledon has been on the telly. Thankfully though the younger and better players haven’t taken part yet and it’s up to the older and non tennis playing types like me to try to win the trophy. I’ve faired from bad to average over the years as it takes me a good set and a half to get things together and by then it’s all over. When asked if I’ve been in ‘training’ my answer is always the same...”yeah, last year.” This years effort turned out just like the rest with me finishing third (of five) but at least troubling the overall winner Pavel 4-6 in our last game.
So along with the big family turn out, tennis and food so to comes the drinking. My first visit to meet the family was to attend Daja and Petr’s wedding in 2004 and my evening was cut somewhat short after getting involved in something of a drinking contest among the non English speaking friends and relatives. I was holding my own and chatting away with such internationally recognised words as “David Beckham,” “Rooney” and “Premier League” until the Czech’s Ray Mears turned up, ‘Mira’ and ordered two of the countries national drink ‘Sliovovice.’ At some unknown time shortly after it was ‘good night Vienna’ or in this case 'good night Zámek Kačina' And it’s been downhill from there really as each visit presents a yearly challenge to my liver not to disintegrate. Usually though the hard work is on the evening of the tournament however this time it was the night before as just at the point of being ready for bed Petr and Mira headed off to a fellow hunting friend’s house for a night cap and dragged me along. A display of various guns and ammunitions then followed which was welcome respite from the drinking. These people will drink absolutely anything including the sort of stuff that does the rounds and always ends up being found the morning after hosting a BBQ. Our host on this case, another Petr, had a big grey bushy moustache which I’ve learnt is always a bad sign, the mark of a professional if you will. A new landmark was achieved when after ploughing through the previous drinks he disappeared to come back with some home brew. Now I should state that this is nothing new and is common place all around here and afar (as Steve will I’m sure, concur on the entry ‘The Trans Siberian Highway – Day 2') but this took things to a new level. Coming to think of it the first bottle of Slivovice was home brew too as it had no label, just Slivovice written on the bottle in marker pen but this new number one evil drink (I’ll discount Ayauska as even the Amazonians don’t touch it) was in a big bottle that looked like it had come straight of a laboratory and was filled little yellow berries. My god...mercifully though I was left to take on a bottle of still disgusting strawberry something by myself until I finally got into bed just before 4am. It got me thinking though...If only Amy Winehouse and George Best had come here for a holiday years earlier, think of the time that that would have saved?

Polish Geometry

Although I live near Slough in what I’ve read to be the Polish capital of the UK my views on the Poles is probably no different to everyone else’s...Poundland, Pole dancing and what I can’t make work, builders. So far though it’s only the builder’s variety that we’ve seen plenty of, with loads of building work going on that goes against the empty half built buildings seen across Europe. Maybe young Polish boys are given junior tool kits early on but the stereotype seems true.
The first of our two destinations was Krakow, a recent favourite destination for stag do’s that allows for the second of my views on the Poles to be found. This though isn’t a stag do so no pole dancing pictures I’m afraid but instead I found out that it has the largest European town square, interesting eh? That may well be true but within the town square is a huge building taking up much of it and so it doesn’t seem much like a square anymore. After all, if you made a circle and then punched out a big hole in the middle it’s no longer a circle, just a hoop. Anyway, Old Castle and town hoop (with 90° bends) explored we headed for the big helium balloon to take a look at Krakow during dusk. 120 meters or up so gave a pretty decent view with some good photos.
The second of our Polish destinations is probably the most difficult to pronounce. Wrocław is actually pronounced ‘Vratsvraf’ which doesn’t make it any easier. However you (try) to say it, this place we like as its smaller, quieter, a little more upmarket and neater than Krakow. Many of the central buildings were recently restored due to a flood which probably helps as to does the huge town ‘L’ which like Krakow’s isn’t really a square. Before we left though we solved the riddle of Slovenia's padlocks, as like in Ljubljana Krakow's pretty bridges are decorated with thousands of padlocks. A further inspection of these revealed names and dates! Wedlocks no doubt but it did make me wonder whilst looking at the old rusty ones...how many people have actually come back to cut theirs off after their divorce?

Searching for something different

This is now becoming harder and harder but as we checked into our little cabin in Bratislava's ‘Botel (get it?) Marina’ we knew that we’d found it. Half Indian restaurant and half ‘botel’ we were moored off shore (OK fixed to the bank) on the Danube just under the ubiquitous Starý Hrad which of course translates to ‘Old Castle.’ A walk around the very small city revealed a very nice place indeed. Cheap, few tourists, pedestrianized centre and just the right amount of nice buildings, statues etc. We considered lunch within the ‘UFO’ restaurant high above one of the cities bridges but the best part of €100 for a table with a view seemed a little excessive for something that we’ve both done before. With both of us a little tired nothing more was needed than a walk about to explore the pretty Slovakian capital. A measure of how tired I was though proved itself as during the night what sounded like an explosion followed by some quite severe boat rocking made me think that the boat may sink. Waking naturally several hours later meant that no such disaster had occurred and instead a bigger faster boat must have passed by during the night causing our smaller boat’s fixings to feel the force caused by the waves. Mirka said it happened twice apparently! Anyhow, after two nights onboard HMS Ruby (Murray) off we headed along to a UNESCO protected Banská Štiavnica in the low Tatras. Isolated up in the hills this very small town really is quiet, with little going on at all. I’m not quite sure why this place has a UNESCO status other than that it was an old German mining town (somehow) and after the gold and silver ran out all that remains are the old castle, new castle and some sort of tower that made a noise to wake up the miners.
More worryingly though is the temperature, as on the way into Banská Štiavnica it was really cold but the following morning as we headed for the High Tatras it was about as cold as I’ve ever ridden which includes Alaska. Soul’s temperature gauge read as low as -4° C for much of the way but with the windchill it must have been into double figures. This was not helped by the first 30km or so which was mostly in the shade from the tree lined road. This made for a nervy ride hoping not to encounter any black ice but thankfully as we went from low to high the extra degrees that the sunlight gave helped. So too did my choice of hotel for the night as we stayed in the very plush Grand Hotel in Starý Smokovec. With my home forming both the most western and northern part of the trip and Patras in Greece the most southern this point marks our most eastern latitude and although a little zig zaggy our so far faultless Moto Guzzi has now turned the corner and is heading for home. And so by way of a treat this place is to make up for the thankfully not so many places that we’ve stayed that have been a little disappointing. Starý Smokovec must be a hikers dream as the views are stunning and the place is just lovely. I don’t have any of those stupid walking poles though and so dressing gowns under arms we headed for the hotel’s Spa instead. It was just what we needed although the €4 swimming shorts that I’d bought the day before weren’t as due to the sauna, steam room etc being not in England it was err...‘tackle out.’ I’ll leave out the small cock jokes for now but surprisingly the most enjoyable thing about all of this was the ice cold pool straight from the hot rooms. Nice in a laugh or cry way but one thing that it constantly made me think of was of how the victims of Titanic must have felt. Horrific.

Coming in from the cold - Part 2

Despite the distraction of the prostitutes waiting for truckers on the E55 I went for the old ‘cut the corner off the route’ trick which took us properly cross country through the tiny villages and past the farms. With the panniers only half full due to the amount of clothing that we’re both now wearing it wasn’t the most enjoyable ride that I’ve had and despite following the fastest rubbish truck in the world at unbelievable speeds (surely on a job and knock) on a deserted country lane the main focus was a finding a proper hot stodgy meal having not had breakfast in Český Krumlov. A quick pull over to pick up a few bags of rubbish later and I was past but fearing a re-enactment from the Stephen King film ‘The Duel’ I wound on the throttle for the rapidly nearing border with Austria. Only just across the border and one of those ‘did I really see that?’ moments happened. After a near lock up of the brakes we turned around and read the chalked up sign saying ‘English Breakfast’ outside what looked like a pub, talk about an oasis! Once inside and finally unmasked we were greeted with an English accent as we ordered our breakfast in the warm. In one of those TV type programmes where two Brits sell up and relocate abroad (except not on TV) Colin and Patricia did just that and refurbished the huge Gasthof zum Kastanienbaum (Chestnut Guesthouse) climbing over the multiple planning hurdles along the way. What was indeed a proper English breakfast (perhaps only missing a drop of HP or Heinz?) then followed and our stories of how we got here were given over a couple of hot coffees. Time to go though and after a quick photo and farewells it was time to go, or maybe not? Having got a little fed up with some of our longer days riding the week before we decided to shelve Venice for another weekend and banked two days to be used as when and as necessary. The lure of sitting in a warm pub all day, drinking beer, eating nice food and for me to catch upon this blog was too much to turn down and so back in we went and to book a room for the night. Of course despite the 10-12 hours with my computer I didn’t get to do any typing as instead we enjoyed the wonderful company of Colin and Patricia. I rarely plug on here but have to say to any of my fellow travellers that should you be passing the area then this place comes highly recommended. Great food, good prices, Wifi and clean you’d do a lot worse than to spend some time here. Another bonus is that Colin has safe parking a huge garage too. For more details click on the link from the guesthose name above. After more thanks and goodbyes finally then at the second attempt we actually started the bike and prepared to head east towards Vienna.
As for Vienna, we opted not to stay the night and instead push on to the nearby Bratislava. Parked up within the city we then got hold of a map and went on a stroll around. After a few hours we were both of the opinion that had we come straight off the plane for a weekend then we’d be impressed but having seen so much before we were a little underwhelmed. Also odd was that the place seemed very quite but on our way back to Soul we stumbled upon a demonstration about the current global economic problems. Ten minutes or so laughing at the usual students and freaks was the last real action of our time in Austria as we tried to beat the sunset for our unusual accommodation in Slovakia...

Český Krumlov

After passing the many marinas, churches, and ruins on our route we are now firmly in the castle zone. Many of the towns and cities in this part of Europe all seem to follow the trend of castle, old town square, smell of wood burning fires (well at this time of year anyway) and sadly what seems like fewer and fewer of the old eastern bloc vehicles around. Český Krumlov ticked all of those boxes with the added bonus that these non Euro countries offer of cheap living costs. Also cheap is my preferred activity in such places as simply strolling around and looking at a few things that I feel that I should from the town map. Mirka got lucky though as during our stroll we stumbled upon a museum that amongst the boring usual exhibition of yet another ‘troubled artist’ from years gone by that enjoyed painting pictures of naked children was a history of shoes display. Maybe I’ve been watching too much ‘Sex and The City’ but I actually quite enjoyed it too. Dumplings with goulash, Pilsner Urquell and a warm sleep in what was some sort of accommodation for actors above a theatre finished the day off nicely before braving the cold yet again the following morning.

Coming in from the cold - Part 1

Having escaped from our former prison we saddled up on our ungraffitied bike and headed north into Austria for what was intended to be a couple days sandwiched either side of a visit of southern Czech Republic. Hallstadt was the place that was chosen from the map and a quick google search confirmed a beautiful lake and mountain area of the type that belongs on the front of a Christmas card. Due to yet more fairly long distance we joined the toll road but this time there seemed to be charges for using the big tunnels. Somewhat unfairly I felt as motorcycles were charged the same as any sized car which seems a bit cheeky on top of the fact that I bet that I’d already paid towards such a project through the old 'Subsidised by the European Union' sign that precede such things. It wasn’t cheap either and after it seemed like I’d spent more time with my hand in my pocket rather than on Soul’s handgrip I decided that enough was enough and turned off just as another toll loomed and set the GPS for 'avoid tolls.' What my GPS couldn’t do however, was manage to avoid a route that made me pay to leave the motorway which I ended up having to! Worse was to come though as what ended up being all of about 20km passing either side and under the expensive motorway eventually took me back onto it as seemingly there was no other option to get around the mountains that stood in our way. So another €5 was coughed up and we sped towards what is now becoming a very cold ride. Hallstadt though was a nice little find and despite the rain, mist and cold was just the sort of place to find a B&B, get clean, cosy and enjoy what is undoubtedly a slightly higher standard of food and drink.