Epinal

Friday morning, clear, cold, the poor car is covered in frost, another promise down the tubes. Typical generous breakfast, I makeup a sandwich for lunch and take the apfelstrudel to go with morningcoffee. And off again, getting very close to home. A straight runon the Autobahn to Karlsruhe, then south towards Stuttgart, a littlecomplexity crossing the Rhine, then signs pointing to St Die. Agrowing confusion as all the signs point to a tunnel under the colwhich other signs say is closed, it appears in construction and notto open for at least a year. I get to a roundabout, the French loveroundabouts, these are pretty much the first I’ve seen since England,it has a diversion sign so I turn right and head off following theyellow diversion signs, then I get to an intersection with no sign, Ifollow the car in front, fingers crossed, he turns down a narrow sideroad, I keep going, soon my road is a tiny lane winding up and down,around, through small villages, none of which appear on my map, in afew minutes I’m totally lost. After a few more random turns theroads start to get larger, then I’m on a main road, I follow, tryingto keep a sense of direction and to head back to the main road Idleft earlier, all in all it is about an hour before I’m back at hefirs diversion sign. This time around the traffic isn’t taking thedetour, I s just unlucky, the cars in front of me were all exiting atthe roundabout with the detour sign. We head on, constantlyreminded of the closed tunnel and the detour, all ignored, then in asmall village the road is closed and there is an actual diversion,one car in a line we wander around for a few minutes, then back onthe main road. The road climbs up to a pass, it is all very lovely,woods and fields on either side of the road, down the other side,soon a little stream burbling along beside the road, I stop at apicnic site, eat my roll saved from breakfast, I’ve already eaten theApfelstrudel, very little traffic, a pleasant break. By now the roadsigns include Epinal, it is an easy drive, drive into the town ataround three, follow the city centre signs, turn left, runningalongside a canal, I pull into a parking area, across the canal I cansee a Dutch barge with the great big wings attached to the side, aquick look through the binocs and I read on the stern, “Owlpen”. Themooring area has its own parking lot, I drive over, walk down thepromenade, knock on the roof, Gill pops out, time for a cup of tea. She is looking very well, David is off on his bike, when he comesback he tells the story, that although they had called the hotel thatmorning and booked me a room, maybe he should check. So he cycledover, couldn’t find the hotel. After a fair bit of back and forth andasking around, remember he speaks quite excellent French, discoversthat the hotel has changed its name on the sign but not in any of thebrochures or in the telephone book. He goes in to talk to the peoplethere, they won’t hold the room, there is a genetics convention intown and all the hotels are booked solid. So David pays them thewhole tab, tells me, that makes the room yours.We have a pleasant afternoon chatting, me drinking tea, finally backto tea with milk, it is a beautiful day and we sit out in the opencockpit, it is an enormous craft, very handsomely done up. Fairlyearly we head off to the restaurant at the end of the promenade andhave dinner, the menu actually has, as one of the day’s specials,fish with snails and frog legs. David has a pot of mussels, I thinkhe didn’t eat the other meal out of courtesy to me. And thanks, Iappreciate it, my squeamish stomach. After dinner we walk up town tothe hotel, there is some confusion but they find me the room, David and Gill head off back to the boat and the girl shows me to the room, it’s at the very top of the building. As she unlocks the door sheasks me, how will I pay, well, I’m pretty certain that was thequestion, cash or credit card? I unsuccessfully explain I’ve already paid, decide to leave it till morning, do my physio exercises, ashower, the plumbing is weird, there is a macerator connected to theloo and every time I flush, the macerator machine comes on, soundslike a wounded chain saw, grinds all the waste up into a paste andpumps it down the tubes, well, it all works out, better it than me,and so to bed. The room looks over the river, I think it is theMoselle, I can hear the water as it runs down what turns out to be akayak slalom course, such a magic sound. I’m up at seven thirty, wondering about the coming argument over thebill, dress, head downstairs, deserted. Check out the breakfastroom, empty, the reception, unattended. Leave my key on the counter,open the door, walk out, down the street, around the corner. No problem. Another glorious day, the sun streaming into the largesalon, Gill cooks up a great breakfast, fried eggs and bacon, toast,tea, and I’m ready, "Bye, you all", it’s ten thirty and I’m offagain. As I head north towards Nancy I decide, "It’s time, time to gohome, can I make it today?". So driving right at the speed limit(after Turkey I’ve stopped speeding, France is excellent, everycouple of kilometres they have signs on the roads reminding you whatthe limit is) I head north. Nancy, then Metz, into the Duchy ofLuxembourg. I stop at a rest stop and fill the car with diesel, itreflects somehow on the French that this is the only country I’vedriven in where diesel was called anything but diesel, here it is Gasoil, and fill myself with a rather lousy sandwich and a worsecoffee, then on, around the city, on to Namur, it is clouding over,sprinkling with rain, around Brussels in a heavy rain storm, out theother side, both of Brussels and the belt of rain, back into thesunlight, around Gent, past Bruges, miss Ostende, then a long runalong the coast, past Dunkirk, finally see the ferry signs, turnright, another three kilometres, check in, a week early, it is just afew minutes past five. The ferry folk are very friendly, tell me thatthe ferry is essentially full but the theory is this early they canalways fit one more car in, later the cars without reservation will have to wait until they know how many no-shows there are. The immigration office is on this side of the channel, the lady whochecks my passport lives in Dunkirk, most of the other officers commute, she says, three days on, three days off. She misses Englandand is going back for Easter. The ferry is due to leave at eight. The facilities are in construction so essentially there is a tea andcoffee machine, an empty sandwich machine and a closed duty freeshop. I wait it out, the ferry is late, some of the more pessimisticwould be passengers suggest the dock workers are on strike and we’ll be here for ever, one or two start to make panicky mobile phone callshome on this subject. Around eight thirty we start loading, theferry leaves about nine thirty, I have dinner, fish and chips, coldbroccoli and a couple of cups of tea, find a place to lie down andtry and rest. The ferry trip is around two hours. We arrive atDover and I’m off the boat at eleven thirty, continental time, thereare absolutely no checks, no stops, off the boat, and onto the M20, Ihead home. It is like a Le Mans auto race, as soon as the cars getoff the ferry they race trough Dover and head north, driving ateighty and ninety miles an hour, closely pursued by the trucks. I’m abit tired and it is scary to be caught up in this speeding mess, itis dark, the roads are wet, all feels dangerous. As the pack drivesnorth it thins out and by the time I make the change onto the M26 itis pretty comfortable although everybody is driving bloody fast. Interestingly the carriageway heading the other direction is entirelyclosed off, filled with large trucks and flashing lights, it appearsthat the entire length of the road is being resurfaced, perhaps inone night. I guess the traffic has to follow the M25 all the wayround till it joins the M20. Well, for once I’m going in the rightdirection. I’m very tired, I can feel my concentration dropping, haveto really focus. Up the M25, at this time of night it is another racetrack, I’m doing seventy five and I’m easily the slowest car. Typical English confusion as to what the speed limit is as one of theoverhead signs says sixty, but all the others are dark. No one paysit any attention so after a while I pick up speed again. Left ontothe M4, I decide I’m too tired to cope with all the small roads onthe direct route through Henley on Thames, around Wallingford, reckonit will probably be quicker to maintain my seventy five speed all theway past Reading and then turn north up the A34, this I do, just twoand a half hours after I leave the ferry a very tired me is turningoff the A34 into Abingdon, in a few minutes, into the parking lot,shut the car down, silence. Home. A very long day, I started at tenthirty and it is now one fifty, well, actually twelve fifty Englishtime, the next day. About five hundred and fifty miles.The eclipse was spectacular and the adventure just fabulous. Alreadythinking of what tot do next. Any ideas?

Phillip Edmonds Snr.


Bohinj to Zusmarshausen

Bohinj and Slovenia are totally delightful. I took a day off fromtraveling. The valley and the lake and the mountains, snow covered,it was all picture book perfect. In the sheltered ground beneath thetrees the wildflowers were making a magnificent display of colour, ifonly I knew what they were, yellow, perhaps primrose, blue, sky blue,a whitish yellow plant looked a bit like Trillium form Tennessee,violets, crocuses, snowdrops, I expected to see pretty girls intraditional dress running in the fields singing the songs from thesound track of the “Sound of Music”. Tana, the girl who runs theGasthaus I was staying at was very down when I arrived, I thought itwas the thought of another guest but turned out her father had beenidentified with a heart problem just a few days before, over the lastmonth he had become more and more down, tired, depressed, finallyTana convinced him to see a doctor, his pulse rate was less thanforty per minute, he was instantly admitted into the intensive careunit, all this had quite terrified her. She was a lot more cheerfulthe next day, her father was feeling better, reading, she rattled herfingers on the table in the international sign for working on thecomputer. He was going to have an operation soon to install apacemaker. Everyone I met spoke English and German as well asSlovenian. Impressive. The day I arrived was sunny with clouds overthe mountains, I sat by the lake and watched the sun setting behindthe peaks, watched the changing of the light and shadows on the snowclad peaks, then when it got too cold in the wind, sat on a hillsidein the last of the sun and watched a small yellow brown raptor,perching in the highest spot on a small tree, searching for prey. Then a bullying crow flew over and chased the raptor away. Apleasant dinner, a little more internet, there was a computer in thebreakfast room the guests could use, really convenient, that night Iwas the only person staying there. The next day was wet, cold,drizzly with sleet. I drove up to the end of the road and took thetwo kilometre or so walk to the water fall at the head of the valley. The entire area is totally touristic, this is what supports theeconomy, skiing in the winter, the upper slopes were still open andapparently the skiing was really good, and in the summer, hikers,horse riding, you name it, climbing, just round the corner was a 100foot cliff and a climbing school, closed as was almost everythingelse in the bridge time between the seasons.Thursday. Today really cold, the clouds are even lower than the daybefore, a very chilling drizzle. Off again, almost immediately at theborder, guards take a quick look at my passport, drive on, at thenext kiosk stamp my passport, and I’m in Austria. The day is gettingcolder by the minute, a few hundred above the road the trees arecovered in snow, it is quite fascinating, the snow line is defined toless than the height of a tree, the trunk and lower branches will begreen and the top half white with snow, it is as if some great beinghad simply sprayed a white strip across the landscape. The route isquite mountainous, the road passes through two incredibly longtunnels, eight or nine kilometres long, the thought of digging atunnel that long is frightening when I think of how hard it is tosimply dig up a small plot in a garden. I stop for coffee and by nowthe ground is covered in snow and snow is falling on the longsuffering car. About the only thing she has learned from the trip isnot to believe me as I keep saying, no more potholes, tomorrow willbe warm and sunny, only smooth Autobahn, and events call me wrong,every time. She is bearing up marvelously, running perfectly, onthis cold day, warm and snug inside. All this rain has washed herclean, now one can see that, sadly, all those black spots are notdead insects but are actually spots where grit and stones from wildertimes have chipped tiny spots of paint from all over the bonnet. Andlots of tiny pock marks on the windscreen, places past, sometimes itwas really noisy with the stones pinging off the bonnet and clickingfrighteningly off the windscreen, some of the stones were ratherlarge. Then there was the large hawk that went for some meal by theroad side and made a terrifying pull up right in front of me, it musthave missed the windscreen by no more than an inch. I flinched andducked, all over in a moment. By lunch time I’m out of the mountainsand running up the valley towards Saltzburg, still a little snow onthe ground but I’ve driven through the bad weather and blue skyappears. My plan is to drive past Munich and find a hotel inAugsberg, it looks large enough to have lots of hotels and yet smallenough to find my way in. I exit the Autobahn at exactly three,follow the signs to the station, park, stand in line at theinformation for a couple of minutes, ask the clerk and he gives me abrochure with all the hotels, gasthauses, zimmers. I buy a city map,this should be easy. I find an attractive candidate close by anddrive over to check it out. Well, I have a little struggle with oneway roads and then I’m so close I park and set out to walk to findit. The reason I couldn’t find it by car soon becomes apparent, theroad I set out to drive down and find the hotel is split halfway downwith a flight of steps. I go back to the car and drive the long wayaround, find the street, ring the bell, the door buzzes and I walkin. It all looks just like a normal apartment block, no sign at theentrance, just the guy’s name. Halfway up the staircase I meet thefellow, coming down to meet me, he speaks angry English and aftersome misunderstanding it becomes very, very clear that he does notrun a Bed and Breakfast and doesn’t know why people keep calling himup or sending him faxes, I’m the first person to walk in, he isconfused and angry. I tell him the guy at the station sent me, hekeeps on saying, “What Guy?”. OK, I apologise and leave, I guess somefriend set him up with the tourist bureau as a practical joke. Sorry, mate, can’t stop. I find the next candidate B & B, it is alittle way out of the centre but easy to find. I drive the ten milesor so and discover it is, indeed, easy to find. The address is asmall abandoned farm with a collapsing farmhouse and a VW bus thatlooks like the family live in it. Dogs, chickens roam the yard. Obviously not a room for the night. Not looking good, back thebrochure, choose a Gasthaus, this should be easy to find, about fortykilometres West, in what looks like a very small town, Zusmarshausen,so back on the Autobahn, thirty minutes later take the correct exit,I took one too early and had the normal problem of finding a place toreverse, all limited access dual carriageway. Zusmarshausen looksperfect, just the right size. Driving slowly down the main street, Isee a sign over a building that has the same name as the Gasthaus,stop, go in, damn it, it turns out to be a paint shop. Open butnobody there. I tiptoe out and drive around for a little while, thetown is deserted. Finally I find an open coffee shop, and very niceit looks too, the man inside speaks English, no problem, directs meback to what turns out to be the paint shop again, now there is ayoung woman locking the door as I arrive, it is now six o’clock. Iask about the Gasthaus, she nods and says, yes, this is it, I wasjust closing shop and going home. Lucky, just made it. We go inside,she calls her mother who says, yes, fine, we walk through the paintshop, through another door, and up the stairs and there it is, myroom for the night. Took three hours. The lady recommended arestaurant but when I arrived discovered its Ruhetag was Donnerstag,Thursday rest day. Not to worry, find another restaurant, orderdinner and a beer, she turns up with a stein of beer, at least alitre and enough food to feed a family of four. To help sober up Istop at the coffee shop and have a hot chocolate, then stagger backto the room. I’ve been exchanging texts with Gill and my plan is todrive to Epinal tomorrow, where she and David are moored, in France,a little south of Nancy. And so to sleep.

Phillip Edmonds Snr.



Eclipse Day

Over the last few days we've been looking for the best place toobserve the eclipse, our conclusion was to drive about fortykilometres, south and west, to an old abandoned but recentlyreconstructed caravanseri, said to be worth a visit and right on thecentre of the eclipse track. But Emilia says that people say that ifone is high above the ground one can actually see the dark shadow ofthe totality rushing across the ground. sounds unlikely but lookingat the map we find a mountain peak, Ekocik Dagi, 2137 metres ASL,about twenty-five kilometres in the opposite direction, also right onthe path of the eclipse, so we decide we'll drive back and across tosee if there is a good viewing platform. Eclipse is not till two sowe have a lazy start, the roads are good, as we approach the mountainEmilia notices what looks like a road running all the way to the topand she proposes we go explore. Now I'm not too enthusiastic as I'mworried about the car, it has been a long drive and I need it to getback, it is not good on rough roads, low clearance, generally preferscruising along smooth motorways. It has been running perfectly but abit of a mystery, a couple of days into the trip I checked the waterand there wasn't any in the reservoir. I had thought there was butit was just the residual stain line that had fooled me into thinkingeverything was fine. So, anyway, I added water and drove on. Thenext day I checked and the reservoir was again empty. Ok, must havebeen space in the radiator, the temperature gauge reads just fine, SoI added more water and drove on, a little nervous by now, this isthe third car running I've had temperature problems with. The nextday I check, the reservoir is again empty, I manage to undo theradiator cap, quite a struggle, and the radiator is full, so I assumethe plastic reservoir must be leaking although I can find no sign ofthe leak. But I'm not happy about this. all this makes me uncertainabout climbing the mountain, I imagine a terrible road, getting stuckin the middle of nowhere, and this is certainly nowhere. There hasbeen a lot of nowhere lately. But adventure prevails and we driveoff the main road and through a couple of tiny villages, the road isexcellent, recently smoothed, fine gravel surface, after the finalvillage a long steady pull up the side of the mountain, the roadworking back and forth. We are well up, maybe two thousand feetabove the valley floor when I smell antifreeze. Damn. We stop and Iopen the hood, terrible, terrible, the engine is boiling away like akettle. It boils on for ten or so minutes, quietens down, I let itcool off, open the cap, refill the radiator. Stupidly I've notrefilled my gallon jug so we only just have enough, mostly Emilia'sdrinking water, but enough none the less. She starts up normally,appears no damage, we are just past a hairpin bend so back down tothe level, turn the car around so it is looking south and west, onthe level place where the road changes direction, we'll observe theeclipse from here, looks really comfortable, lay the seats back, openthe sun roof, perfect viewing. A couple of hours to go. We see downon the valley floor a couple of cars winding up the road, they drivepast us, obviously more watchers heading for the summit, In the nexthour maybe five or six cars go by, busy. I'm dozing off when Emiliawakes me, a couple of minibuses have stopped just up the road, theyunload twenty or thirty passengers, turn out they are English, anorganised group, planning for over a year, the group leader clearlyruns expeditions to nearby mountains and acts as if this spot is his,he came exactly a year ago to suss the place out and selected theexact flat spot I'm parked on to set up his observation station. I'ma bit peeved at him asking me to move and ungraciously do, thenrealise I'm being petty and we join in the fun. Emilia has broughtover an entire slew of eclipse watching hardware, a pair ofbinoculars with built in solar filter for viewing sunspots, a pair ofbird watching binocs, spare eclipse glasses (five for five pounds, wegive the spare to a bunch of locals, by now the eclipse is wellunderway, it takes about an hour from first intersection to totality.The weather has been looking ominous, the day started mainly clear,very hazy with some very dubious looking weather west, threateningbut lost in the low haze. As the eclipse develops overhead is clearwith a few thin scattered cirrus, west still looks very doomy but isapproaching very slowly. It has become bitterly cold, there is astrong cold wind blowing from the southwest, the direction the shadowis coming from. We had a little discussion as to which way thisshadow would come, tried a little celestial mechanics, didn't seem tohave enough data, finally decided it would be along the eclipsetrack, well, obvious, ain't it. Emilia's brother has texted her fromGalicia, northwest Spain, it is overcast and raining, the Englishgroup have a prearranged text from Accra, Ghana, the weather is clearand the eclipse was brilliant, they are about an hour ahead of us. Much excitement, I project an image on the car bonnet with thebinocs, look directly at the sun, look at the darkening ground, turnsout sitting in the car all laid back isn't happening, it is much tooexciting, although it all seems to be happening very slowly, theimage of the sun is now just a thin arc of light, look up the track,it is grey, dark, cold, darker, a strange twilight, darker still, andthe thin sliver of sun vanishes, astounding, around the dark disk ofthe moon is a large white bright expanse of white light, the top ofthe dark disk has a brilliant red glow, tiny dots, reaching outseveral sun diameters is the bright white corona, spectacular. Thelight is frightening, the wind has dropped, it is quite calm, aneerie silence, the horizon is lit but below and around us is thiscold strange twilight, all the atavistic fears surge in the mysteryof the mind, it is almost frightening. The red glows vanish, hiddenby the moon, and there is just the brilliant corona, the silence, thedarkness. We can look directly at the corona with the binocs, it isis really a moment, then a few red flares appear on the south edge ofthe moon, a brilliant white dot, then the sun reappears. Honestly,real relief, my subconsciousness was really worried. Was that fourminutes, it hardly seemed one. The light comes back, sound returns,our neighbours break out the champagne. We decide to head home. The event was simply spectacular. But so short, so quickly over. Bythe time we clear the mountain everything is rather back to normal,the image of the sun a half crescent, this barely shows. Morepressing problems, the car and the cooling system. Every ten milesor so we check, the radiator remains filled, an exploration showsthat only part of the radiator is warm, the rest cold, as is thereturn hose from the engine. I decide it is the thermostat, lockedsold. Apparently there is enough cooling with it closed off that theengine only overheated on the long pull up the mountain, strange, I'vebeen driving 120 km per hour, that should heat the engine up. Happened to the VW one hot day driving back from the mountains, Isimply took the thermostat out and it solved the problem, here it isstill not clear what the problem really is. We drive on into Aksaraywondering what to do when Emilia says, look, a Toyota dealership. wow. We pull in, they are, as normally, very helpful, the mechanixagrees, bad thermostat, have it replaced in an hour, we hang out inthe adjacent cafe, an hour later the job is done, apparently theradiator cap was also defective, all fixed, a team of enthusiasticyoungsters are washing the car (which was truly dirty). The bill isonly 80 YTL, about forty euro, fantastic. Soon we are on our wayagain. To celebrate I propose we drive on to the caravanseri,Sultanhani, the road is a little potholed but not too bad, in halfan hour we are there, it is been very well restored, a bit of atourist trap but as it is getting late soon they mostly leave, wewander around, imagining the camp back in the days of the silk route,then have a tea, and back to the hotel, walk around looking foranother restaurant but end up same as the day before. An excitingday, a bit more than we bargained for.I think that the car boiled as much for the lack of pressure as forthe lack of cooling, as we gained altitude the boiling point falls.The engine didn't radiate that hot cooking glow that normallyaccompanies overheating. I'm still not comfortable with theseexplanations and keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. No waterin the exhaust, no oil in the radiator water, no water in the oil,all a bit puzzling. Well, keep going.A good night's sleep and then back to Istanbul. An early start,around nine we are driving alongside the salt lake when up ahead Isee a group of police, they wave me down. Oh dear, trouble. After alot of difficulty with our lack of a common language, it appears Iwas doing 106 kph in a 100 kph area. I'm surprised as I though thelimit was 110 and you can never tell from the locals as they drivelike bats out of hell. The fine is 101YTL and I will pay it atEdirne, the Western border. something we didn't understand about a25% reduction if we did something, well, I'll find out later.Annoying but all very professional. Off we go again, only a littleslower. The rest of the trip is uneventful, we stop for lunch at thesame place we stopped heading the other way, a lovely hotel andrestaurant at the pass in a range of mountains, snow everywhere, weare still at the start of spring, a beautiful lake, tempted to staybut Emilia's flight is eleven the next morning and no way we couldmake it. Emilia proposes we should take a ferry she has found acrossthe Bosphorus, it will save us having to drive through the town. I'mall for it, somehow, needless to say, we lose our way, again, andspent the next hour wandering around who knows where. It is hereEmilia asks the armed police guard. ultimately we get back onto themotorway and crawl across the bridge in a long slow line of traffic,once in Istanbul Emilia does brilliantly and in ten or so minutes,one error, entirely mine, we are back at the hotel. Tired. Dinnerat backpacker hangout, doesn't seem all that good, we are gettingtired of all the Turkish fast food, kebabs and etc. Next morning upearly, drive to the airport, a route I know well, we hand out, havecoffee and pan chocolate, costs more than some entire nights, I seeEmilia off, back to the car and time to drive back home. I'm stillunsure as to whether drive the route I came, Bulgaria, Rumania,Austria, etc., or to strike directly West, through Bulgaria, Serbia,Croatia, Slovenia, Austria, the rest. I drive to the almost bordertown of Edirne, spend the afternoon writing postcards, visit themosque, well, walk around it anyway. continue my hopeless search foran internet cafe that will run yahoo mail, try at least three, noluck. Well, brilliant hotel anyway, it is the Caravanseri hotel andis inside the actual old caravanseri, I have a tiny room, underneathone of the many domes that make up the hostel, the centre is anoutdoor cafe, I find it really romantic. Tomorrow, seriously west.

Phil Edmonds Snr.



Finally managed to find a connection that works, there seems to besome evil synergy between Yahoo, Explorer and XP, I had this problemat home and the Yahoo guys told me to clear my internet temporaryfiles, well, I could hardly do that at the internet cafes, notbecause I wouldn't have, but because the system was in somemysterious language and I couldn't sort out how to delete thehistory, cookies, etc. But today everything is working fine, thecomputer and connection is in the dining room of the Gasthaus I'mstaying at. It has been well over a week since I last wrote, I'm wellon my way back, staying in Bohinj, in Slovenia, at the head of avalley, mountains, snow, lake, totally beautiful, very civilised, I'mtaking a couple of days off so will have time to get my memoriestogether and continue the tale of the trip. It all tends to runtogether, driving seven eight hours a day, everything ends up in therear view mirror. But, to pick up where we left off, Istanbul,Sunday evening, Emilia has arrived, it has been another long day.Monday, we headed off East to Ankara and Aksaray. But first to getout of Istanbul, the traffic congestion is unbelievable, the town hasa population of seventeen million we are told, enough have cars thatevery street is jammed solid. We cross over to the main part ofIstanbul, following the signs to Ankara, cross the new bridge toAsia, long queues, then somehow we lose the route and are drivingthrough some suburb, completely lost. If I slow down the cars behindblow their horns and try to overtake on both sides, it's reallyscary. Nowhere to park so we have to keep on going, Emiliadesperately trying to work out where we are with the map given to meat one of the information booths, most likely we are not even on itany longer. It is like being stuck in Streatham, or maybe it isLewisham, when one is trying to get to the North Circular, only twiceas bad. Occasionally we stop and ask, one time, much later, Emiliaasks a policeman with assault rifle and all, me, I'm terrified,Emilia, not fazed at all. The Turkish are amazingly hospitable,initially we thought it was the introduction to a hard sell, butslowly realised that although often the conversation was struck up,as in, "Are you interested in carpets", everybody was happy just totalk, to make contact, to know each other. So, if you ask the way, acrowd gathers and after a lot of pointing, normally in manydirections, a kind of consensus is reached, we are given a set ofdirections, it took us a while to discover that people couldn't say,"We don't know", so usually the directions were hopeless. Buteverybody was trying to be helpful. Finally we see a sign which is ablue colour, don't know what it says but lets assume it saysMotorway, or maybe Ring Road, we follow the signs, they seem todescribe a random route, but sooner rather than later we realise weare approaching the suspension bridge across the Bosphorus, but nowheading West. Sighs of relief, signs pointing to Ankara, finallyback on route, each of these excursions into the streets of Istanbulcosts an hour and ages me a year. We're off again, on a motorway,good surface, my max cruise is 120 kph and we hold it steady. Peoplewe asked said it would take maybe eleven hours to drive to Aksaray,nine if you were Turkish. So we expected to overnight at someintermediate spot, presumably Ankara as there didn't seem to be muchbetween Ankara and Aksaray. And I've discovered that, driving, donot overnight in the large cities, find some small place with ahotel. Finding one's way, and the exact place, in a large city, oneway roads, congestion, a nightmare. Happily the road all the way toAnkara is excellent, we decide to take the plunge and turn south,expecting the road to vanish in a sea of potholes, but no, we whizon, soon we reach the Salt Lake, still dual carriage way, skies stillblue, very hazy, impressive views, on the left a range of lowmountains, on the right the lake, nothing growing on its banks, thefar side lost in mirage and haze. Just after five we reach Aksaray,a very easy run. Park in the centre, Emilia hops out hoping thetourist office is still open, we have a candidate hotel from theLonely Planet, I sit in the car and watch the chaos of Turkish citydriving, all seen through a cloud of dust. Emilia returns in towbehind a waiter from some nearby cafe, vanishes in a maze of tinystreets, reappears, she has found the place, the waiter was simplybeing helpful, let me say again, we really were impressed by thehelpfulness of the Turkish people, I follow instructions, not easyas it would appear they are that day rearranging all the streets inAksaray centre, we find the hotel, another comfortable landing. Itis fine, we check in, then head out, there is a lovely patisserie, wehave tea and delicious Turkish sweets and pastries. Fabulous. Thenwe move on to the restaurant where Emilia found the helpful waiterand we have dinner. Excellent. Then on to the next patisserie and wehave more tea and dessert. So far, so good.Tuesday, we drive off to Capadochia, this area, in Western Anatolia,had been recommended as a place we shouldn't miss, about seventykilometres north and east of Aksaray. It was spectacular. A realtourist place, and I'd never heard of it. The entire area isvolcanic tuff, a very easily eroded (or carved) rock formed from thedust cloud emitted by a volcano, we had seen similar geology in NewMexico, near Los Alamos. Sprinkled in among the dust cloud are rocksof lava (called bombs by the geologists), as the ground erodes therocks protect the tuff beneath and so the erosion produces huge conesof tuff with a large rock precariously balanced on top, these conicaltowers are fifty or a hundred feet high. Called Fairy Towers here inCapadochia, Tennt Rocks in New Mexico. Back in the Byzantine days,thirteenth or so century, the local Christian community carved housesand churches in these rocks, entire villages, complete monasteries,these have survived to the present although many of the caves havebeen severely eroded, inside the churches many of the wall paintingsare still brilliant and alive. The whole place was fascinating, werented two bicycles and went on our own two hour tour of one of thevalleys filled with cave dwellings, wall paintings, "Sword Valley".Down in the valley floor are small fields in cultivation, plowed by asingle furrow plow, pulled by a horse, standing nearby the cart thepoor horse pulled to the field and will carry the farmer and his wifeback to their home, everywhere cherry tress in blossom. It was agrand day, we drove back to Aksaray, naturally became lost trying tofind the hotel, I'm very unfair on Emilia, desperately trying to findthe way, no road signs, nothing looks like the map. Aksaray is anexcellent example of city planning, although the city is very new, ormaybe because, it has two ring roads and radial dual carriageway roadsconnecting them to the city centre, quite brilliant. Unfortunatelyto our untrained eyes they all look alike. But eventually we get itright, find the hotel, needless to say all the city centre roads arerearranged again, my goodness, they are fast at road work here, teaat the same patisserie, dinner at the same restaurant, tomorrow iseclipse day.Good luck to all and hope for good weather

Phillip Edmonds Snr.


Been a couple of days, had a lot of trouble finding internetconnections that would let me send email. Appears that if they use WinXP then they have a problem, perhaps because the cookies andhistories are overloaded. Well, this one is working.Veliko Turnovo was simply a delight, such a beautiful town, hangingfrom the hillside, well, perhaps mountain side, at the junction oftwo rivers. The day was the town's saint's day and was a publicholiday. The streets were filled everybody happy, on holiday. Atthe East end of town, throughout the day, in the main square, was acontinuing party, with singing and dancing, in the morning folk andtraditional with the singers on an impromptu stage in traditionalcostume, in the afternoon more contemporary, noisier, not to thetourists taste. AS dark fell the skies overcast, the first time forthe trip, and it began to rain. As the rain began I was sittingoutside in a cafe, overlooking the gorge, and watching a groupcollecting on a bridge, maybe half a mile away, the bridge sittinghigh over the river. then a person leaped off the bridge, they werebungee jumping! Then the rain fell heavily and I found myself aninternet cafe and sent the last message. As I finished there was ashouting and singing and whistling from outside and like a propertourist I went out on the balcony to see. First was a large open sidedtruck filled with laughing cheering girls, waving balloons andcalling to the crowds in the street, and following the truck, forperhaps two hundred yards, the road was filled, from wall to wall,with a surging crowd, flowing around the cars like stream of water,shouting, singing, and making the most terrific racket blowing onwhistles which were on sale from street vendors. The processionvanished to the West end of town, by the time I had signed of andfollowed them it was raining very heavily, no one paid this anyattention, and as I came over the top of the hill it was to meet thecrowd, completely blocking progress, watching a fireworks display, Icould barely see it for the rain, and the crowd, it was over almostas I arrived, and the crowd turned and headed back to the town centre.It was so much fun, blundering around with the crowd, in the dark. I stopped off at a couple of restaurants but they were completelybooked, so ended up sitting with some locals on a bench hiding undera paltry shelter, had kebabs and a beer. A brilliant day.Next day off late, the rather dour lady at the hotel, which was alovely hotel, as the earliest I could persuade her to providebreakfast was eight thirty, and it was a rather simple breakfast atthat, Welsh rarebit and tea. Still off and away, aiming for Turkey. Driving on across the apparently endless fields, Bulgaria is verytidy, no litter, in the villages people cleaning the debris from thewinter from the roadside and pavements, very few broken and abandonedbuildings, the surface good, making time excepting the villagesthemselves which are cobbled, a marvellously effective speedcontrol, and cobbles are a very lasting surface as there areno pot holes, just the uneven surface of the rounded cobblestones. Whatan immense labour, I'm sure the cobbles are laid by hand and they run onfor miles in each village. Signs of spring, green verges, little pocketsof colour as the first yellow flowers after the snow bloom. Thenback into a mountain range, a long series of climbs, very slow,surface dreadful, ever cautious of meeting overtaking traffic,finally reach the top, averaging about thirty miles an hour, thiswill be another long day. But the road down is all new, a gloriousblast. These roads are a real environmental disaster, huge scars onthe mountain side, piles of rubble diverting the stream, but theymake the driving so much quicker and safer. Then out of mountains,back onto poor roads and fields, villages, the sun shining off thebacks of a flock of sheep in the distance, the calls and whistles ofthe shepherd, the skies clearing, I stop and much on some fruit I havebought, a great moment. On south, some hours later I realise I'm offtrack, somewhere, maybe an hour ago, I missed a turn and am headingtoo far west. I'm stuck at a railroad crossing waiting for thetrain, discover where I am, not too bad, I can join the main SofiaIstanbul road in thirty or so miles. It takes a long time, once moreI have to wait for half and hour for a train crossing to clear, theroad is very minor and in poor shape. Early afternoon I'm back ontrack, back on motorway, now a lot of traffic, then past Svilengrad,next stop Turkey. The Mamarma Sea to my right, very much spring,warm, I'm driving with the sun roof open, cherry trees in bloom. Thenthrough the border, the Turkey side is very complex with a successionof booths, at each one I have to stop, show my papers, thenon to the next, wait, then on again, buy a visa, no problem,just time consuming, everyone very helpful. I get a map from theinformation centre, finally, I'm on my way, blasting down themotorway to Istanbul. Yes, Turkey, made it, the car has just beenwonderful, added oil in Rumania, and water in Bulgaria. I exit intothe first town, Edirne, to change money, there is a huge mosque withtall minarets, later I discover very famous, but right now I'm targetfocused, on, on. I'm tired and decide that I'll stop early, pick atown, Silivri looks good so drive back on to the motorway, here it isa toll road, take the Silivri exit, get stuck in the wrong lane andhave to back up, everybody patient and helpful, then in the town, amaze of small streets packed with traffic, very impatient, the bussesblow their horn to try and make me go faster, I ask you, any minute they'llbe at the next stop. I spend the normal half hour finding a place topark, I have a lot of trouble even finding a hotel, the town has alovely sea front so surely there will be a hotel there, well, no. Iend up at a very large hotel at the intersection of the two mainstreets, noisy but convenient, they have a car park. So I've landedfor another night, I rest a couple of hours, get out on the street, walkaround, the streets are crowded, lots of street side cafes sellingTurkish fast food, I have a plate of kebabs, pita bread. Find aninternet cafe but can't get yahoo to work. never mind, to bed. Thenext day, the hotel has a fantastic breakfast, I'm only sixty milesfrom Istanbul, decide rather than stay where I am, Emilia has decidedto come join me and is flying in the next day, well, actually at twoam the day after, and wait for Emilia, I'll drive into Istanbul. Icall a hotel recommended by "Lonely Planet", and head off. Theweather has turned terrible. It is bitterly cold, raining a grey mudand the wind is blowing as hard as I can ever remember it. There is abush just like American tumble weed and fragments blow across theroad, when they hit a car or truck they simply explode in a shower oftwigs. A really brutal day. I exit too soon and spend an hourbumping over tiny crowded streets before I get back on the motorway,then get instructions, when I follow them I am instantly locked intoa set of one way streets, totally locked up in traffic. It takes metwo hours to get within walking distance of the hotel, constantlystopping and asking directions, I just park the car and walk off,when I find the hotel it is to discover they are fully booked. so Ijust walk on, find a nearby hotel, they are terribly helpful, find mea spot to park, give me tea, a room. The sixty mile drive has takenmost of the day. I spent the rest just exploring the neighborhood. Ifind a cafe, a tourist hangout, sit in an upstairs room with anAustralian couple, the owner, Nisram, she is quite lovely, then aftera couple of beers, bed. Late up next morning, still bitterly cold butit has stopped raining, spend the day wandering around, visit thepalace gardens, walk around the mosques, in the evening attend aperformance of Sofi Music and dance (the Whirling Dervishes),remarkable. Then up at one in the morning to collect Emilia, I hadmade a dummy run in the morning, by daylight, so the trip wasuneventful, Emilia arrived on time, it was very very good to see her.Up late this morning, walked over to the SultanAhmed area, saw theBlue Mosque, the Sofia, good tourists, now look, the skies hadcleared, it was a loved day, typical Emilia's luck. A grand outdoorslunch, then walked down to the Spice Market, filled with people,Sunday strollers, birds for sale, a lot of vendors selling pet food,pets for sale, even spices. Walked across the bridge and stood on theAsian side. Back to the hotel, then a rest, this email, Emilia hasjust arrived and is looking hungry. So, tomorrow off to Aksaray.

Phillip Edmonds Snr.


Another long long day.

Needed to stay on schedule, which I am, well,ten miles ahead.Good start, left the Gyor hotel at 7:30,impossible to get away earlier, then across the most tedious flatlands, it looks like a flood plain, simply goes on and on and on.Totally flat, sometimes a gentle swell, maybe five feet top tobottom, a mile or so wavelength, mostly just dead flat. Very littlehappening, much of it underwater from the melting snow, huge fields,must be mega coop farming. A range of hills just before Budapest,then the same again. Once past Budapest no more dual carriage way,two laneroad, filled with heavy trucks grinding along, I had a lot of troublekeeping a reasonable speed, was very careful overtaking, this couldnot be said of anyone else, several times I had to hit the shouldertoin save scraping sides. The Romanian border is a shock, first aseveral mile long queue of trucks waiting, I sidle down the outsidelane, then two simple passport checks and I'm on my way. The easternside is terrible, ugly as can be, the road is lined with hugeabandoned rusting factories and disintegrating concrete buildings,the road is potholed, after several miles I reached Orlea (orsimilar), here the road went from bad to terrible, the poor Corollaand I struggled in and out of the potholes, the driving is terrible,the Romaniums are very impatient, will overtake under anycircumstances, or undertake, from the road signs this is no pun aseach stretch of road has a list of accidents last year, scary. Theroad was so bad the potholes had potholes and what surface there waswas littered with the debris from the potholes, flicked up into thewindshield. Terrible. After about ten miles things improved alittle but I was constantly dodging potholes. The via Michelinassumed I'd make sixty an hour, I reckon, whereas I barely madeforty, theday went on and on. We reached Cluj about four thirty, it was adisaster, terrible traffic, an ugly town like some nightmare of postsoviet culture, everything slipshod and now falling apart, dusteverywhere, horse traffic mixed up with all the trucks and cars,Trabants smoking everywhere, some of the most battered cars I'veseen since Ghana, in fact I felt a lot in common. One huge trafficjam. Finally I couldn’thandle it and turned south and fled out of the town to the next townon my itinerary, I think it is called Turda, maybe Turdu, and amstaying in another four star hotel. The HotelDracula. It is pretty awful, all mock gothic and dark but has offstreet parking. Expensive (56 euro) and not worth it but too tiredto hassle and find a cheaper place. Just had a cup of tea, livelooking up, now willfind dinner, I wonder if I have changed time zones yet?I can read the writing but can not understand anyone, neither canthey understand me. But so far enough English or sign language andit all works out.Another essentially dark internet cafe, can barely see the keyboard,very smoky, at least last night I had a very nice beer, here justthe clatter of keys.Then up early and on, everything is now starting to run together,still really reckless driving, intermittently potholed road, itbecomes quite mountainous, in the distance are some huge mountainsthe tops pure white in haze, another day of cloudless skies butvisibility very restricted in haze, the driving gets really dangerous,trucks grinding along at ten miles an hour, oncoming trafficovertaking at every opportunity, smoking trabants try to get past meand the truck I'm following and just run our of steam, just jamthemselves in front of me, I get very careful. Up and down and upagain, in the first hour I make a hundred miles, just a little overthirty miles an hour, this is going to be a long day. I haven'tworked out the currency, it is lieu, probably Rumanian for Lion, butsix months ago they moved the decimal point over four places and thenew lieu or maybe ron, I'm very confused, really have no idea of thevalue. In the middle of nowhere, there is a lot of that, I stop forfuel and after I've filled the tank discover they don't take cards,miraculously I have 120 ron and the fuel bill is 115, on, on,nothing else to do. I drive into Sibiu and find a bank, change money,they have a machine but it faces the sun and I can't read the screen,fortunately someone from the bank comes out to help me. Driving inthe Rumanium towns is really frightful, the drivers have nopatience, shoot the lights, incidentally they have a count down timeron them, telling you how long till it changes, a brilliant idea,drive three wide, make random direction changes, follow a few feetbehind. Another run over mountains separated by high plains, reallylovely country, deep dark valleys, constantly fighting the traffic, itgets better, the long uphill stretches are three lane, two up hill,so just drop back and wait for the next hill, then scream upovertaking everybody, however I still occasionally get caught out andfind myself winding up in fourth in hurry-up-and-overtake mode. It islike driving in the old days except much faster. At Pitesti there isa motorway, so a quick steam to Bucharest. But an odd motorway, peoplewalking across it, woman by the roadside selling mysterious things inplastic bags, occasionally the road just disintegrates into a messof tarmac plates floating on mud, hitting these is like hitting a lowkerb, we are doing seventy, not good. Then smoke drifts across theroad from one of the brush fires which are everywhere, it is totallyopaque in the white smoke. Do I slow down and get hit by the guybehind or keep going and hit the guy ahead? It can not have been morethan five seconds, felt like forever. Getting later and later, arrivein Bucharest, overshoot the exit, turn around, take the bypass, it isclogged, every side road has precedence and so the long lines oftrucks stop at every intersection while a horse and cart trotsacross. It takes me two hours to drive the ten miles to get back onthe main road, then another long drive across the mountains toGiurgui, the border town. Looks like the first attractive town I'veseen in Rumania, mostly the country seems to be at a hard hard crossroads between rural third world, post soviet block disintegrationand, like spring shoots, developing into the western world. I wishthem luck. I drive through Giurgui looking for the border,find what looks like it but slowly understand this is a free trade zone,drive back, find another border crossing, a scam artist tries to get me topay him 50 euro to get me across, does he know something I don't? Iignore him, the border guards tell me it is the wrong border crossing,go right and try again, finally I follow a Swiss car to the border,then a terrible hassle as it appears when I entered the country Ishould have bought a road tax disc, no one told me, now they say, pay150 euro, no penalty, what are they talking about. Finally thesupervisor, I presume arrives, still no common language, he says,pay me 70, what the hell, so I do, presumably a bribe, too old toworry, then the next person charges me six euro for road tax and alsosome unknown amount of lieu for I don't know what, when they sit in alittle kiosk at the border and ask for money with the armed borderguards standing by, I guess one pays. The Swiss have been pulledover and have a problem. Tough luck. But I was right pissed. It tookan hour to get through. Then drive across the Danube and intoBulgaria, everyone terribly helpful, stamp my passport, sell meroad tax, no problem at customs, pay two euro, everything in euro, fora disinfection which consists of driving through a disinfectantfilled trough. It is late, sun setting, by the time I've finished allthis it is on the horizon. Drive hoping to find a hotel by the road,instead follow the road signs, horror on horror, they’re in Cyrillic,have to I find my destination as it is two works, the firstabbreviated to one letter and a full stop, hope there is only one, ashort stretch of interstate, no signs of hotel, I've no local currency,getting dark, then on the left is a sign for a campsite with apicture of a bed, I turn down the lane, the place is open, run by atough looking fellow on crutches, brilliant, he speaks German, as doI, God, I'm so tired, he will take euro, sun long down, he has ayoung girl helper, stunningly beautiful and charming, could be fifteen,could be twenty-five, fascinated by me. not a word in common. Thesite is filled with tiny little caravans, wheels long removed, justbig enough for a bed, mine is right moldy but has a heater and alight, linen and blankets - perfect. He offers me foo9d, I have twobeers, sitting outside, it is quite dark, area lit by mercury lamps,he brings me a steak in a mushroom sauce, chips, bread. "Who couldask for anything more?" I take a short walk, so happy to have found arefuge for the night. It is pretty cold, very quiet.Morning, I'm off at seven thirty, I bought a carton of orange the daybefore and the end of it is breakfast, my plan is to drive the sixtyodd miles to Velika Tarnovaand take a rest day. It is a lovelymorning drive, very little traffic, Bulgaria is quite a contrast toRumania, well, the part I've seen is, neat, tidy, very rural. Find V,Tarnova, drive into it, can’t find my way, drive out, when I try toreturn the police stop me, I wait, puzzled, for an hour, then they letme back in, I park in what seems to be the centre (bloody space bardoesn't work properly) park, start walking. The city is lovely,perched on the side of a mountain over looking a sharp bend in theriver, the point is a medieval fortress. I find a bank, now I havemoney, Liva, then an estate agent selling property to the Englishspeaking peoples, they are so helpful, give me a map, tell me wherewe are. Today is a holiday, the town's saint's day, festival, theroads were closed for a precession, I think, or maybe a VIP. I walkthrough town to the festival, a stage with folk singing, a verycheerful crowd swirling and grouping into eddies of folk dancing, Isit in the sun and rest, Then head off looking for the hotel, findout the reason I can't find the two I planned to look at is becausethe entire block has been razed for development. So go upscale andstay at a hotel with adds all over town, it is very pleasant althoughbetween arranging for it and arriving with car and luggage, they'vegiven my room away, we have a bit of an argy-bargy and they give methe room above, actually a small suite but she asks me to only usethe one room. Then another walk about town, traveling involves a lotof walking, to find lunch, then back to the hotel and finally, arest. Then a cup of tea (green), it has become overcast as theafternoon aged and we have a small shower, then a lot of noise and ahuge procession down the road following an open sided truck loadedwith pretty girls, and let me tell you they are pretty, a goodchallenge to Prague, and very smartly dressed, waving at the crowd. Presumably a part of the festival, I join in and walk along for awhile but then see an internet cafe, and we've arrived. VelikoTarnavy is lovely.So cheers to all, tomorrow Turkey. Car and I doing fine, tired, the car has picked up a few rattles from all the pot holes we've hit, butotherwise no problems.

Phillip Edmonds Snr.


I am sitting in a smoky darkcafe in Gyor, in semi darkness, trying to interpret the Hungarian keyboard, most of the characters have been overwritten with Hungarian, for instance the y is the lowest left key, took me a while to find it. For those of you who do not know, I decided about a week ago to drive to Turkey, at present to aksaray, to see the eclipse, oner, arrivedtwo hours early and so managed to catch the earlier ferry, funpassage as the seas were high enough that the waves were breaking overthe bows and the spray reached to the top of the superstructure. The chap in charge of the restaurant took to me and insisted that I be seated and he served me as if I was some important fellow, well, Idid feel like one with the total success of the surgeons visit, hesaid I was the best job he had ever done (note I can not find theapostrophe) and signed me off for anything. He was most enthusiasticabout this trip. Dunkirk was cold, bleak, grey skies, sand blowingwaist high across the sea front, in the gloom of evening on this totally ,miserable day was one enthusiastic windsurfer, barely visible, darting back and forth like sea blown foam. I had an earlyItalian dinner, it was delicious and right next to the youth hostelwhere I stayed, it is a rather basic place and reminds me of the olddays, slept badly, mind going whizz whizz, breakfast was basic French, bowl of tea and half a loaf with butter and jam, fine by me,I was on my way by eight. straight up sun, the day a clear white blue, very little traffic to start with, across the dreadfully boring flat scape of the Low counties, just before Brussels, pulled over to check my route and picked up a Polish hitchhiker, an economicsstudent on an exchange in Holland for a year, that morning his familyin Berlin (do not ask me) called and he decided to head out, he had six euros. We immediately took the wrong turn and headed intocentral Brussels but a quick one eighty solved that, then a stop fora coffee and orange juice, I dropped him just before Cologne, as Idrove past the city I could just make out the cathedral in the haze,the day turned out very blue and very hazy, not too cold. Approaching Nurnberg thee is some high country and the ground becamesnow covered, ass I drove on into Bavaria, more and more until theground was covered in twenty or thirty cm of snow. Now Emilia was going to be in Munich and I had planned to stay over with her but just before I left the tokamak there broke and her trip was cancelled so my safe haven was taken away, I headed directly to Regensburg, exited the Autobahn at five thirty, a very helpful chap at thestation information desk gave me a hotel to head for and after a bitof wandering around found it, right on the bank of the Donau,typically Bavarian, dark, filled with dwarfs and rabbits and otherkitsch, they were very friendly, I was pretty tired it was a long day,at five hundred miles and nine and a half hours on the road, walkedacross the river, had a chocolate and apple strudel, watched the fireengines rush by, it was a false alarm, then back to the hotel, a hugecarnivore meal, pork medallions, smoked ham, roast potatoes, potatocakes, fried crispy things, enough for four, and a half litre ofbeer, to much, fell into bed. Another murky night’s sleep.Today, lateish breakfast, served at eight, a typical Bavarianfrustuck, half a litre of orange juice, pot of tea with lemon, lovelybuns with ham and cheese, and jam to finish, I took the chocolateiced cake with me for elevenses.Today was just magic, a lovely white light from a cloudless hazy sky,the ground white with snow, the air warm, late winter, spring justaround the corner. Took me a while to get out of Regensburg but onceon my way kept stopping just to stand out and enjoy this fantasticday. Met a Berlinner and after he took a photo of me he explained hewas off to South Austria as he could not stand Berlin any more, itwas turning muslim with all the Turkistani immigrants, I hadforgotten how much many of conservative Germans hate the immigrants. Poor fellows, escaping the wrath of the Iraquis and the Turkish. Still he was a very friendly fellow. Then I stopped a few milesbefore the border to get all my papers in order to discover to myhorror that my passport was not where I had put it, it appeared to begone, must have fallen out of my pocket. I ransacked the car, myclothes, panic. Then found it in an inner hidden pocket in mysuitcase, I never put anything there because I will never find it. Panic over. Did not need that.Then on, stop for a tea, then through the Hungarian border, reallyharmless, stamped my passport, that is all. Fifty kilometres toGyor, wandered around the city for a while, finally found mycandidate hotel to discover they were full. On a Sunday evening inlate winter. Buggeration. The entire centre of the town ispedestrian, I ended up having to reverse out of the area, stilltrying to find the hotel the full one had recommended I found a hotelwith parking lot, a whole slew of stars, time to go first class, cannot be bothered, so tonight I am staying in a rather classy (i.e.,expensive, after all, what do they have, a bed, a shower), headedout, the internet cafe in the lonely planet is closed, found thisdingy bar with a terminal, all in a half light, I can barely see thekeyboard. Now time for dinner, tomorrow, on, on, on. None of this is meant to make sense.

Phillip Edmonds Snr