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.

The Free Cities

Over the last couple of days we've visited the last two remaining free cities in Germany - Bremen and Hamburg. Both are essentially states with Federal Germany with their own Landtags (Parliaments) meaning that they enjoy the same status as huge states such as Bavaria or Saxony (Berlin also has it's own Landtag but for more recent historical reasons). In British terms that's kind of like giving Liverpool and Newcastle their own Parliaments with the same powers as the Welsh Assembly. The reasons for these cities retaining control over their own internal affairs is ancient, dating back to the origins of the Holy Roman Empire when the Free Cities were self-governing bodies that owed allegiance directly to the Emperor rather than local princes or bishops. By the time Napoleon abolished the Empire in 1806 there were only 6 remaining; now there are only two, Bremen and Hamburg, great port cities of the Hanseatic League. They are quite different.

Bremen, on the Weser, no longer seems to be much of a port, the river undoubtedly too narrow and shallow for modern shipping, but there was plenty going for it. We had a lovely time wandering around the beautiful old town square, chocolate box Schnoor district and a crazy Art Deco street, before befriending three Canadians (Matt, Monica and Thor) and sharing a few beers with them.

Hamburg, on the other hand, is very much a working Port, with the huge cranes the line the wide and choppy Elbe dominating the skyline as you approach on the autobahn alongside huge stacks of shipping containers. It's the richest city in Germany and my friend Franziska, currently living in another old Hanseatic Port, Kiel, has just landed a job there. Inviting us to tag along as she went flat-hunting we were introduced to the joys of speed-limit free autobahns as she bombed along in her Alfa Romeo at speeds of 160kph (100 english). The working nature of the city was evident in the throngs on the High Street, the huge (but attractive) brick warehouses and the Reeperbahn - the biggest red light district in Europe!

I think it's easing off....

We're in Germany now, on a campsite in Bremen. It's pissing it down and has been since we left Amsterdam.

That is all.

Doing The 'Dam

The charm of Amsterdam surely lies in its tangle of the highbrow, the lowbrow, the beautiful, the classy, the tacky and the downright sleazy. Within a few minutes walk, peaceful, picturesque canals lined with specialist shops, boutiques and cafes give way to coffee-shops redolent with the heavy scent of skunk weed and pink-lit windows full of posing, partially-clad prostitutes. A stroll through the flower market and the stalls selling antiquarian and second-hand books can, with one turn, lead to shops selling sex-toys or magic mushrooms and streets lined with porn picture palaces and theatres advertising banana shows. Even though I had a reasonable idea of what to expect, the blatant display of wares which are banned in other countries fairly takes the breath away.

But aside from its unshockability, probably the most alluring aspect to Amsterdam is its ambience. The laid-back approach that matches the gentle pace adopted by the city's countless cyclists as they pedal at joggers' speed through the streets, often chatting into their mobile handsets as they go. People smile tolerantly at the spontaneous outbreaks of group singing accompanying the gaggles of merry-makers and the tables of canalside cafes are full of people gossiping and giggling over cups of coffee or glasses of beer - tourists and residents alike. As a visitor, you aren't made to feel like a necessary evil ripe for a rip-off, but genuinely welcome with smiles and courtesy abounding. Although the endless stream of raucous hen and stag parties heady with intoxication and titillation must wear thin to Amsterdam locals, time and time again I overheard them showing around their out of town and foreign friends, describing their city in tones of pride - window hookers and dope-purveying coffee shops included.

One piece of graffiti we saw as we climbed up to the overpass towards Camping Zeeburg asked, "Why can't everywhere be more like Amsterdam?"
It's tempting to agree.

For the record, we did visit one of the coffee-shops, which provided a novel setting for yet another backgammon session. We chortled over the window displays of a couple of sex shops and read with interest the menu in a Smart Shop, but turned down the opportunity to experiment with hallucinogenic varieties of fungi. We admired the undulations of the red light girls through the glass, but passed by and likewise declined to enter any of the establishments offering live sex shows, although we're told up to a third of the audience at the classier venues tends to be women.

In case you're interested, a spliff rolled with organic hashish or pollen costs from €3.50, a dose of Mexican mushrooms (the mildest type) will set you back around €12, a live sex show costs around €30 (including a free drink), oral favours or a quickie is €30 and a basic session with one of the hookers is €50 for 15 minutes. If you want to know the price of a gramme of weed, you can always ask the city's mayor.

Culture Vultures

As a rule, we're not big on museum and exhibitions. It's not so much a lack of interest in art or culture (current reading- Theo : "A History of Europe" J. M. Roberts, Kate "The Master and Margarita" Mikhail Bulgakov) as an unwillingness to pay the high entry fees, when there's beautiful architecture to admire outside, or to be indoors when the weather's nice (and there's beautiful architecture). Plus, too much gallery gazing would clearly impinge on our European-wide backgammon binge.

However, yesterday we vultured the culture to the max. Picking up an Amerstdam Card each (€33 per card which included free public transport for the day) we hit five museums, as well as availing ourselves of the free canal tour, multiple tram rides and a tea & coffee the card also entitled us to. While we haven't totted it up, the card probably saved us in the region of €30 each, which strikes us as a big of a bargain and probably means we now wont feel too guilty if we don't go into another gallery this side of Venice.

As to those we visited yesterday, I think we both preferred the small Vermeers in the Rijksmuseum to the major attraction, Rembrandt's The Nightwatch, remarkable though that is. I think we both find more affinity with paintings executed according to the artist's own desires, rather than those painted in order to flatter the vanities of the commissioning patron(s). Neither of us is particularly sold on Van Gogh, though it was interesting reading about his life and seeing the progression of his style though the years; Kate found the Fauvist paintings in the Van Gogh Museum's permanent collection far more captivating. The digital map demonstrating the growth of Amsterdam over the centuries in the Amsterdam Historisch Museum was fascinating as were many of the displays, despite their obsession with cesspits. They may be archaeological treasure troves but they are still a pile of old shit. Give me maps goddammit!

In the Nieuwe Kirche - itself a gorgeous attraction - the temporary exhibition, Black is Beautiful, was fascinating from a cultural viewpoint, showing the differing roles and representations of black people in art, even if some of the art itself was fairly mediocre. Finally, we made it to the FOAM Photography museum where there was a retrospective of photos by the Dutch photojournalist Jan Van Ekom, a wonderful juxtaposition of social realism (striking builders, immigrants from Surinam), escapism (theatrical portraits) and intimacy (photos of his, apparently naturist, family).

And so ended our day of ultra-culture. We didn't think much of the restaurants offering a 25% discount with our Amsterdam Card, so plumped for a delicious South Indian restaurant instead. Yum!

Oh, and we still found time to play a few trios of backgammon. Most of which Kate won. For a change.

Frustrating Times in The Netherlands

The Dutch are lovely, helpful people. We've found this everywhere we've met them (which is everywhere) on our travels. One of the reasons why we've met them everywhere, we've come to realise, is that their own country can be a deeply frustrating one - they clearly just want to get out of it.

Take shopping for food for instance. Now, neither of us is a huge fan of supermarkets generally, and in an ideal world we'd shop at farmers' markets or have organic, seasonal vegetable boxes delivered to our bumper. However, as we've yet to find a campsite providing such a service, we've found supermarkets have been an invaluable source of our daily travel rations. This would also be the case in The Netherlands - if we could ever find one. Elsewhere in Europe our shopping technique is simple - get on the ringroad or bypass of a sizeable town and, voila, (or, presto, as the case may be) there's a Carrefour. Often they are signposted from a good 10kms away. Not so in The Netherlands. If big, out of town supermarkets exist here, we haven't found one. Instead we've been reduced to finding tiny town centre mini-markets (which means, of course, finding parking) which have a small range of produce and aren't easy to find in the first place. Then we have to pay. Environmentalists would probably salute this hypermarket-sparse landscape, but we certainly burn a lot more fuel trying to do our shopping in the Netherlands than in other countries.

Here's the next annoying thing about The Netherlands. While good old chip-n'-pin has worked everywhere else - meaning we can use our no-charge-for-use-overseas Post Office credit cards for groceries - very few places in The Netherlands seem to take Mastercard (or Visa). The Dutch have their own bankcard system (also, ironically, called PIN) and thus many places only accept Dutch cards. This has included campsites, aside from the one in Amersterdam which I presciently booked in advance. This wouldn't have been such a huge problem if: a) cash points were easy to find - total mission and b) both our Nationwide debit cards hadn't been swallowed by ATM's. This latter occurrence is no way the fault of The Netherlands of course, but it has naturally added to the frustration and means we'll have to pay commission every time we withdraw cash (from our Alliance & Leicester account).

In addition, Kate has caught a cold, the weather is rubbish and our laptop screen has developed a big white line down the middle. Again, none of this is the fault of The Dutch. But we're having a bit of a frustrating time of things here in The Netherlands.

The Luxembourg Lergy

Actually, we hadn't planned on visiting Luxembourg at all. Theo had been there before and wasn't too worried about going back, but suggested we might as well call in as we were in the area and as I had never set foot in the third Low Country I agreed. After all, no harm in completing the trilogy of Benelux lands, a mini European hat-trick to pop in the portfolio. A few hours wandering around Luxembourg City, one night's stay and a trip back through the Ardennes to the Netherlands ought to do it.

But my innards had other ideas. On our last night at the Grimbergen campsite near Brussels (much nicer than the name suggests, although it brings back painful memories in some respects) I was suddenly struck down by a urine infection. To spare the more squeamish I won't go into the details, but it was deeply unpleasant. Theo was alarmed and wondered if I should be taken to hospital, but by morning I'd managed a few hours sleep and although I wasn't 100% in the pink again, most of the uncomfortable symptoms of the previous night seemed to have cleared up. We set off, as planned, for Luxembourg.

The city itself has a few grand buildings and some pleasant squares, but its old ramparts and tree-filled surrounds are probably Luxembourg's most interesting features. Most of the shops were closed and the streets around the city centre were virtually traffic-free, which made us wonder if we'd got our days mixed up and it wasn't Friday at all. In fact, it was the feast of the Ascension and a public holiday, which helpfully meant all parking was free.

The Kockelscheuer campsite where we pitched up, despite having sparkling facilities, was the cheapest official place we had yet stayed on. A pair of French travellers, who invited us back to their fantastic lorry conversion for aperos, told us the comparatively high wages and low cost of living made it an excellent place for a working sojourn. They were funding their itinerant lifestyle (complete with two dogs) by working in one of the local bars.

That night, urgent and feverish bladder-emptying had me tumbling out of Sheena every two hours and in the morning my back was aching and I was passing blood. This time when Theo suggested a visit to hospital, I acquiesced.

As Theo pointed out to buoy me up, it was interesting to sample another aspect of Luxembourg culture - its health service. Generally, I would prefer to sample a country's culture by sipping a drop of its local tipple from a hospitable cafe than providing a drop of my own urine in the city hospital, but Theo had a point.

Despite the inevitable wait to be seen, the hospital had an air of calm, courteous efficiency and like most Luxembourgers, the staff were multi-lingual. I was assessed first by a nurse, then a doctor, had some blood taken for a test and was eventually told I had developed a fairly serious kidney infection and was prescribed some strong antibiotics, which I would have to take for the next three weeks.

My prescription cost an eye-watering 60 Euros, but the helpful pharmacist told me I could get most of the money back via EU health agreements and even wrote down the address of the place where I should go.

So, bearing in mind the doctor's instructions that I should return if I got worse over the next 48 hours, Theo and I returned to Camping Kockelscheuer, requested a pitch near La Sanitaire and settled down for some convalescence. At least it's meant I've finally finished A Suitable Boy. And I'm feeling a whole lot better too. But next time I have to do any water sampling in Luxembourg, I would rather it was in the spa.