a less adventurous adventure?

Despite having already visited five countries in 3 weeks (6 if you count the five minutes we were in France) this leg of our Grand European tour feels distinctly less adventurous than our last. This may be for purely superficial reasons - we're used to being on the road now and the novelty of living in a campervan has worn off, while for my part I have been to all five of these countries - Belgium, Luxembourg, The Nertherlands, Germany and Denmark - before. However I think the reasons are more cultural.

Northern Europe simply is not different enough to feel as much as adventure as, say, traveling through Thailand would (though we're guessing here as neither of us have been to Asia). The towns and cities, while beautiful, new and exciting are not alien to us despite the little differences: indeed Ribe in Denmark reminded me strongly of my home town of Cirencester, except with a Viking Museum instead of a Roman one. For all the intricate canal systems, decorous Rathauses and ancient city fortifications we have seen little that we cannot relate back to our English experience, unlike the tiled houses of Portugal, the relics of Moorish Spain or the Roman ruins in Italy and France. The landscapes we have driven through haven't evoked for us a way of life all that different from our own, pretty as there are. In the south there were countless times, in France, Spain and Portugal, when the surrounding countryside and vegetation reminded me strongly of African vistas, while the lack of traffic on the roads (unlike the busy North) increased the sensation of other-worldliness and exploration.

Plus, we have to admit, we're being totally spoiled up here in North Western Europe. We don't just mean Fran and Henning's wonderful hospitality at their flat in Kiel, but in general. Campsites have been cheaper and yet better equipped: showers hot and strong, camp kitchens available for use, and toilet seats and loo paper a given. None of these was guaranteed at campsites further south, even those in Italy and France. Linguistically we've been having no problems either, for even though we speak even less Danish, Dutch and Flemish than we do Spanish and Italian (that's to say none at all) EVERYONE speaks English. We've hardly had to try at all to get by.

So, basically, while we're having a wonderful time and have been to some brilliant places we're not feeling like we're being particularly adventurous at the moment. We're hardly heading up the Inca Trail or even crossing the Carpathians. Still, we'll be in Poland soon. And after that Slovakia and Hungary; if being vegetarian in Hungary isn't an adventure I don't know what is.

One Day, In Denmark

When I think of the Danes, I tend to imagine tall, shiny people positively radiating health and vitality, good-looking rather than beautiful and generally jolly. 24 hours in Denmark largely confirmed the stereotype, although admittedly, they're not all tall. But in the short time we were there, we were made to feel welcome (in English, good old Scandinavia), well cared-for (the campsite we stayed in was one of the most spectacularly equipped we've experienced so far) and despite the gloomy, drizzly weather, there was no denying a general sense of bonhomie.

We were also relieved to discover that Denmark isn't quite as heinously expensive as we'd feared. Fuel is no pricier than anywhere else, the campsite costs are the higher end of average (but still cheaper than Switzerland), toilets tend to be free to use and very clean (you usually have to pay between 30 and 50 cents to have a Jimmy in Germany) and it's very kind to the motorist. Service stations and picnic areas are plentiful, both on the motorways and the trunk roads. If you want to eat out, smoke or drink alcohol, costs can prove a bit hefty, but we kept our outgoings modest to non-existent in that area and spent well under half our five hundred Krone when we re-crossed the border with Deutschland. There are about 7.4 Krone to one Euro, if you want to do the maths.

As we only had a day, we took ourselves to Ribe, Denmark's oldest town and only a few hours drive from where we'd been staying with Theo's old school friend, Franzisca and her boyfriend, Henning in Kiel. Even the persistent light rain couldn't destroy Ribe's charm, sitting as it does on a small river, complete with small dams and weirs (I was going to describe the river as dammed and weired, but decided that was unfair). We saw diminutive, part-timbered houses, chocolate-box streets, a pond area a-quack with ducks and a rather splendid cathedral.

Theo and I have visited more churches and cathedrals than I can easily count on our travels so far. Mainly because they tend to be the most beautiful buildings in which you can still wander for free. The cathedral in Ribe was not only a looker in terms of its gorgeously decorated pillars and ceilings and intricately carved pulpit, but it had arrestingly combined the ancient, Romanesque characteristics with some eye-catching modern art. Expressionistic mosaics, stained glass windows and frescoes surrounded a monolithic, almost Bauhaus altar. We agreed it was the grooviest cathedral we'd visited.

Pausing only to buy a couple of Ribe Bolle - a type of local Danish pastry - we pointed Sheena south and towards the town that once dominated the Hanseatic league, before being overtaken by the likes of Hamburg and Amsterdam. But the main reason I was looking forward to Lubeck was because I'd heard it was famous for making excellent marzipan. I really must go on a diet once this trip is over. Meanwhile, BRING IT ON.