Kotor, Montenegro

Wed 23rd July – Sun 27th July

After the past week, I can say that most of this trip has been fairly easy. We have a GPS that sits on our dashboard telling us where to go, most of the camp sites are listed in TomTom, border crossings usually involve a smile and a wave, and pretty much every situation we've encountered has had an English speaker nearby to help. And for some reason, the van has started to work again. We hope... (fingers crossed)

Approaching the border crossing from Croatia to Montenegro, everything changed. A huge queue had formed in front of the Croatian gates and good looking 20-something men wearing green T-shirts were walking from car to car collecting Eco-Tax. The trouble was, they only accepted euros and the closest cash machine was a 45 minute drive back to Dubrovnik. We'd been travelling through Croatia for nearly a month and my wallet had nothing but receipts, a few Croatian notes, and moths, so we were reduced to scrounging. After 10 minutes of rifling through jacket and trouser pockets, we somehow coughed up 10 euros in coins for the Montenegro Eco-Tax.

Next up was actual entry into Montenegro... another 45 minute queue. Note to anyone planning to drive through Montenegro or Serbia – you need Serbian driving insurance which costs 12 euros and of course, they don't accept cards or other currencies and there is no cash machine! The border official made us pull over to the side of the road while I did another serious sofa dive for euro coins. This next attempt was pathetic and resulted in several stacks of 5, 10, 20 cent pieces that added up to 1 euro on our dashboard until I'd finally reached 12 euros by some miracle. Where on earth 22 euros worth of random coins had been hiding in our van is beyond me but it seriously saved the day and pissed off the border officials. (Kristin & Pete-- we do realise you warned us about this days beforehand and it all came rushing back to us just as we joined the queue.)

A fjord in Montenegro

We carried on to Kotor which is supposed to be a more beautiful and less touristy version of Dubrovnik. We first explored the old town which is charming, embraces Eastern European dining prices (€3 for Milanese Spaghetti and €1.50 for a 0.5 litre of beer at the most touristy restaurant in town) and is filled with cute souvenir shops. Our guidebook recommended a walk up to the fortress, which appears to be a short 3-storey hike as you approach it. Do not be deceived! The path switches back and forth, clinging to the mountainside on a rocky path that would never suit flip-flops much less the crazy cork wedges or high-heels that some of the poor female cruise-ship tourists had mistakenly worn. My 4 month absence from gym memberships was shamefully obvious as I crawled up the hill, so maybe it'll be easier for you fit folk, but remember that you've been warned.

Bevan hiking up to the fortress

The view from the top was amazing, worth the pain & suffering and far different from anything we'd seen during the past 4 months. Not to brag but we've seen so many fjords, old towns, harbours and beautiful mountain landscapes, that to see something different should further emphasise the greatness of Kotor.

Kotor's old city

The next step on our Montenegrin tour was finding a camp site – our first unlisted, 'find by the seat of your pants' camp site. We asked at tourist information and they seemed perplexed but told us to drive to the traffic lights, head right and 7km up the road we'd reach the nearest camp site to town. They failed to mention that the road would be too narrow to fit two cars, much less a massive camper van in oncoming traffic and we'd be praying to the Montenegrin gods for the next hour not to let us plunge into the fjord.

Frustrated after 45 minutes of driving a narrow coastal road and listening to honking from other cars, we stopped and I asked for directions – our first real encounter with a culture that really doesn't speak English. Usually the Western European locals claim not to speak English in an effort to educate us on their local language but when you ask a question, they respond in perfect English making your 4 years of Spanish or French classes in High School feel like a complete farce. But here... well I tried to ask for directions and they just stared at me like I was from outer space. Damnit... I hate English translation books.

An English menu in Kotor (note the second dish from the bottom...mmmm)

“Pardon. Gobrite li Engliske? Trazim kamping.”

“Da! 500 metres!” said the beach bartender, pointing in the direction we were already headed. We carried on. Two kilometres later, we stopped again.

“Da! 50 metres!” said the apartment complex owner. We carried on. Two kilometres later Bevan started to pull over again and I spotted the camping sign. Ecstatic we pulled into the very narrow car park to meet an older man who appeared to be in his 80's.

“Gobrite li Engliske?” I asked. His face was filled with confusion. Note to self... must work on my Serbian pronunciation. “ONE NIGHT. ONE NIGHT. CAMPERVAN?” Like all good Americans, I reverted to my native language, turned up the volume and spoke more slowly assuming that this would magically turn this lovely little old Montenegrin man into a fluent English speaker. I am an idiot.

His son turned up and explained through hand gestures and much better English than my Serbian that we could stay, we just had to find a place to park. Easier said than done-- this camp site appeared to be someone's front yard filled with caravans. As Bevan pulled into the yard, the old man started yelling in Serbian, I started yelling in American, the son started yelling in a mix of the two and the next thing you know, there was a loud crack and a huge tree branch disappeared. Bevan slammed on the brakes whilst I jumped into the back of the van and sure enough, the sun roof had been replaced by a massive tree limb. Leaves now littered the van floor I had just swept that morning.

Suddenly we all seemed to speak the same language. “SHIT. SHIT. SHIT. STOP!!”

Getting out of here in the morning should be interesting.

View Kotor Photo Album

Dubrovnik, Croatia

Tues 22nd July

We've been carrying around an Eastern Europe Lonely Planet book from 2003. Perhaps we should have bought a newer book... It claims that Dubrovnik is the 'pearl of the Adriatic' and that Croatia is one of Eastern Europe's best kept secrets.

I can't deny that the city is stunning and walking around the city walls was definitely worth the €12 ticket price, but the entire coast was absolutely crawling with tourists. I guess it should have been expected since it's now mid-July but it was so bad that they even had local traffic cops steering tourists through the streets in an effort to relieve what must be a living hell for the locals. But I don't feel too sorry for them – the locals must be making an absolute fortune. Nearly every apartment in Dubrovnik is hired out to tourists in the summer, restaurants are packed and charge €15-20 for simple pasta dishes and a bottle of beer was the priciest we've seen so far. So much for the Eastern Europe secret.

The view from the bus ride to our camp site

After returning from Sarajevo – a relatively tourist free town- and being suddenly faced with such mayhem, we lasted one day in Dubrovnik before hitting the road for what we hoped would be greener and less travelled pastures: the wild beauty of Montenegro.

Sarajevo, Bosnia Hercegovina

Thurs 18th - Mon 21st July

“Perhaps you should appreciate this city for its beauty and not its past.”

-- Jimmy, Waiter at Sarajevo Brewery

Jimmy, our waiter at the Sarajevo Brewery had just offered to take us on a tour of Sarajevo to help explain the atrocities of what had happened here from 1992 - 1996. He became so choked up while thinking of where to take us that he politely declined, asking that we focus on his city's beauty instead. It was a heart breaking moment, but one that clearly demonstrated the will of Sarajevo to move on from it's horrific past.

Kate, one of our Sarajevo waiters, myself & Bevan at Sarajevo Brewery in the VIP room

Spray painted across the marble slabs of the city's main shopping street are the words 'Srebrenica 1995 - Never Forget'. A few steps away at the entrance to the city's main street market where over 60 civilian men, women and children died in a shelling while trying to buy food are spray painted the words “Imagine” with a peace symbol beneath it. Just a few more steps up the marbled path is a Sarajevo Rose, a symbol in the city of how people made something beautiful and everlasting out of such horrific events. The roses are actually large scars ripped into the pavement by a mortar shell. During the War the citizens of Sarajevo would fill them with red wax resin to mark where someone was killed, leaving bouquets of roses on the ground.

A Sarajevo Rose near the city's main market

If you walked around the city with your eyes in a squint, you might never notice that it was any different from other Central European cities, but these details make Sarajevo impossible to forget. Nearly everyone from my generation remembers the horror stories on the news every night about the atrocities being committed in what was then Yugoslavia just 15 years ago. The images that beamed into our homes were shocking, but it seemed so far away that it was almost surreal – like a horror film. Visiting this city over 13 years since the end of the War has made it real.

Bullet holes sprayed across an apartment building on the front line

The rebuilding under way here is remarkable, but I can't erase the memory of how many houses, state buildings and historical treasures are still marred with thousands of bullet holes. Every single building that I laid eyes on was either newly restored or spattered in bullet holes on nearly every side. How did anyone survive such an onslaught? Who were these people that managed to hang on to hope in the most horrific and inconceivable circumstances imaginable?

Survival Map of Sarajevo. The red circles represent areas of danger from shelling & snipers. Notice the tanks, sniper rifles and heavy weaponry in the surrounding hills -- the Serb front line even stretches into parts of the city.

Visiting the Bosnia History museum put things into perspective. The museum itself sat very close to the front line on the infamous Sniper Alley, just across the street from the Holiday Inn where the international journalists took shelter. It's still in tatters, with parts of the ceiling and walls missing and light aluminium panelling secured in place to keep out the rain. Inside is a small collection of personal belongings from Sarajevo citizens, along with their vivid descriptions of how they survived the war. Small ovens made out of tin cans, vegetable gardens that grew on balconies due to the food shortage, stories of the unending hunger, school books splattered in blood when a shell dropped into the local school, photos of broken bodies lying in the city's market. You leave feeling terribly shaken but in absolute awe of every person you pass on the street, especially because they all seem so happy to be alive.

Apartment complex near Sniper Alley. Notice the brickwork to repair gaping holes from Serbian shelling.

I'll never forget the people of this city. Every single person we spoke to in the bars had lived here during the War... and the pattern continued. Wait staff, tour guides, local supermarket staff, tram drivers... everyone we spoke to had lived here and somehow survived. But beyond being survivors, Bosnians are among some of the friendliest and genuinely lovely people I've ever met. Our waiter at La Casita tapas bar took the time to translate the entire menu to us, then kept stopping back to smile and check that the food tasted okay. He even explained the recipes to us so we could make them at home. Our tour guides made every effort to try and explain the horrors of the war and did their best to answer our questions, even when you could see in their eyes that they were fighting back the horrific memories as they showed us the tiny wooden tunnel that served as Sarajevo's only link to the outside world for nearly 5 years. They took us up to one of the hills where Serbs sat shooting at women and children in the streets below and tried to hide their shaking as they pointed down Sniper Alley describing how they had to run between buildings just to get water every day.

One of the apartment tower blocks used by Bosnian Serbs along Sniper Alley


Today the front line is filled with families enjoying a riverside walk

Yet the cafés are now full of families enjoying Sunday brunch, shoppers bustle through the pedestrianised streets and the pubs crank loud music until after 3am while people dance in the alleys. Sarajevans sacrificed their lives and the lives of their families to ensure this city survived and would one day experience peace again. I think those that died during the War would be proud to see the city today.

Walking through Pigeon Square

View Sarajevo Photo Album

Siege of Sarajevo slide show (Warning -- it is quite graphic)
Veterans of Sarajevo – Al Jazeera feature story that gives a quick summary of the war

Mostar, Bosnia Hercegovina

Thurs 17th July

Bosnia. The name stirs up visions of shot up buildings, bombs exploding and children dying in the streets. But according to Lonely Planet, the only thing you have to worry about nowadays is straying off the pavement and stepping on a landmine. Maybe camping wasn't a good idea, but it did give us an excuse to stay in a hotel for a few days.

Since the van had been acting up in Croatia, we opted for a bus ticket from Dubrovnik to Mostar, then planned to continue on to Sarajevo on the local transport. Feeling a bit nervous from the beginning, it certainly didn't help that it took six passport inspections to travel into Bosnia! (You cross each border between Croatia & Bosnia three times along the main road.)

How silly of me to be worried! The countryside is beautiful, the people are the friendliest we've met on the trip and Mostar is absolutely teeming with tourists. The bus station is swarming with locals offering you private rooms in their homes, all smiling and showing photos of housing that looks nicer than most of the flats I called home in London.

Locals cooling off from the extreme heat

Everyone is flocking here to check out the bridge, which sadly was destroyed in 1993 by Croat shelling. Mostar's story of destruction and rebuilding is remarkable and the newly rebuilt bridge (2004) is a symbol of the city's determination to co-exist in peace.

Mostar's claim to fame -- the bridge

Long story short, fighting between Muslims & Croats erupted in Mostar in 1993 during the Balkans War. The two ethnic groups had previously lived peacefully for hundreds of years but nationalism swept through the Balkans and the two groups who were fighting Serbs as a united front in other cities suddenly started fighting each other across the river in Mostar. Most of the city was destroyed, but the bridge and old town have since been rebuilt and tourism is running rampant again.

Mostar's old town along the Muslim side of the river

Despite the obvious beauty, it's still impossible to overlook the damage. Walking from the bus station into town, nearly every other building was riddled with bullet holes or barely standing with bushes and trees growing through the windows. The city's cemetery is filled with young faces on the gravestones, each with the same end date: 1993.

Destroyed building in downtown Mostar

What's even more amazing is that the same people who were shooting at each other just 15 years ago must now live literally next door to their former enemies. As of 2003, most locals still did not cross the river but with the new bridge connecting both sides it was difficult to tell if this separation still exists. Needless to say, it was mostly covered in tourists – a good sign that this city is recovering with strength.

Symbol of hope

View Mostar Photo Album

Bought me a bus ticket

Fri 18th July

Perhaps Purple was just a bit moody or maybe it was overhearing our discussions of sending her to scrap metal heaven, but she hasnt failed to start since the mechanic deemed her dead.

On Monday morning, we hopped on the ferry to Split then drove 4 hours south to Dubrovnik, preferring to be stranded in a new town so we could keep ourselves busy while the mechanic checked her out. We pre-apologised to anyone parked behind us in the ferry queues but there was no drama -- she started everytime!

Still not feeling entirely confident, we decided to take a short break and hop on a bus into Bosnia rather than risk breaking down in a country that might not have the latest in road side assistance services. Meantime, old Purple is sitting back at the campsite in Dubrovnik awaiting her fate.

Bosnia is nothing like I expected, and unfortunately this computer doesnt have a USB port to upload photos so I ll have to do another update when we get back. (I also cant find the apostrophe key anywhere.) We made a one day stop in Mostar and it was one of the most beautiful old towns we ve seen but with such a harrowing past from the recent Balkans War. I had visions of encountering a country still torn to pieces, and while there are still signs of the fighting and devastation, this is certainly a country quickly on the mend.

The plan is to spend the next two days here in Sarajevo and then catch a bus back to Dubrovnik to pick up the van again. Still not sure what we ll do from there, but the decision is leaning towards driving her until she breaks down again and the starter spray doesnt start her. (I asked the mechanic if he thought she would last another 2.5 months on starter spray and he laughed pretty hard but here is hoping.)

I also wanted to say thanks to everyone for your encouraging emails and advice on the van!

The purple beast is dead

Sat 12th July

I don't know whether to cry, laugh or drink more beer.

"The" mechanic turned up around 6:30pm last night, just hours after Bevan and I gave up for the weekend and had started on cocktail hour(s). After thirty minutes of pulling various bits out of the engine and setting them on the dirt, he threw both arms in the air and shrugged. Luckily one of the camp site staff was there to translate.

Last night's sorrowful cocktail hour at the campsite

The compression in the engine is bad, which we hear is really expensive to fix. The mechanic couldn't do anything for us on the island other than teach us how to start it (which involves a hefty push and a hill), so we're stuck here until Monday when the shops reopen. Our plan is to drive the van back to the mainland (restarting it on the ferry should be fun!) and get a quote for fixing it. If it really is too expensive... well RIP Purple.

I have no idea what we'll do from there. Hiring a replacement van is ridiculously expensive and it seems kinda silly to drive all the way back to London to get another van on gumtree. But neither of us is ready to call it quits when we're only 1/2 way through the trip.

Hvar Island, Croatia

Wed 8th July - ???

Our luck with the van may have just run out – we're currently stranded on a Croatian island in the middle of the Adriatic Sea. The van will not start so we're stuck here until someone within a 2-hour ferry ride radius can fix it. It's been 3 days and we're not even sure when the most hopeful mechanic is due to arrive back from Zagreb.

Things could certainly be worse than getting stranded at Croatia's best camp site of 2008. We have a seaside view from our pitch, a cheap and yummy restaurant/bar within a stone's throw and the most beautiful aqua blue swimming lagoon is less than 30 seconds walking distance from the van. For a bit of shopping or night life, there's a cheap shuttle bus that runs from our camp site straight into Hvar, the swanky old town that defines why Croatia is considered the new "Riviera.”

Life could be worse. Check out where the van died! This has been our home for the past 3 days while we search for a mechanic.

Meantime we're making the most of a frustrating situation by enjoying the paradise where we're stranded. Bevan is diving in the morning, whilst I swim about in the lagoon hoping to hear back from the mechanic. There's no telling how long our stay in Croatia could last now, but we're just thanking our lucky stars that it happened here instead of Albania. Kristin and Pete may have to go on ahead through Albania without us but we'll keep our fingers crossed that we're out of here within a few days.

Half Way Round

Mon 6th July

It seems like we've been away for absolute ages, and at the same time I can't believe we're ½ way round Europe. Looking back on that very first day of our trip, when we started the purple beast on Belsize Crescent amongst the snow drifts then stopped by Anton & Tania's place to say goodbye to the Bearsley's and Andrew & Mal, I remember how terrified and unprepared I felt. I had never ventured on a trip anything like this before and my biggest worries were that we'd forgotten to pack something very very important, and that the van would never make it.

So here's a flash-back to how far we've come.


Number of days travelling: 92 days

Van repairs required: 5
Two flat tyres in Portugal = €5
Exhaust came loose from the mandible, causing smoke to pour into the driving cabin in Cannes, France= €10
Tune-up and bottle of power steering fluid in Klagenfurt, Austria (only to find out that there is a hole in the power-steering fluid tube so Bevan had about 15 minutes of driving heaven before we realised he wouldn't have power steering again the rest of the trip!!) = €65
Flat tyre in Slovenia = €15
Van wont start in Croatia = ????

Total Van Repair Costs = €95 + ???

Countries visited: England, France, Spain, Morocco, Italy, Austria, Hungary, Slovenia, Croatia
View the map

Favourite spot so far:
H: Can I state an entire country? If so, it'd be Austria. If not, I'd say Innsbruck, Austria. The town just seemed to fit with everything that I'd look for in a city to settle in and it felt like home. Stunning mountains for hiking, a river running through the valley with cycle lanes to make your morning commute beautiful and peaceful, a gondola to take you skiing from main street and an incredibly charming old town to wander through while shopping. Plus it's smack dab in the middle of Europe with Munich, Vienna and Milan so nearby. If only I spoke German.
B: Klagenfurt, Austria cause it was cool. More on this later.


Least favourite spot so far:
H: Braga, Portugal but it was probably more due to the experience of getting there and leaving rather than the city itself. We had the harshest rainfall in this area, then decided to stop in town to see the local market as we were moving on to Porto. Parking the van was a nightmare and we finally ended up paying a local to guide us in between two huge lorries. The market was a lot smaller than we'd expected so we only stayed long enough to get lunch food. When we got back to the van, the local had parked another car directly behind us so there was no way to get out. We had lunch in the van and waited until the driver turned up – luckily it was only about 45 minutes!
B: San Sebastian, Spain because it rained so hard that we couldn't enjoy the seaside resort, our camping location was miles from town and transport was terrible.


Favourite camping location so far:
H: Lake Maggiore, Italy. Oddly enough, it's Como's neighbour and we went here first which could explain why I was so disappointed by Lake Como! Our first camp site had perfect grass for walking around barefoot, great facilities, located right next to the beautiful and uncrowded town of Cernobbio and best of all – you could camp right on the shore of the lake. Some of Bevan's most stunning photographs of the trip were taken from the foot of our camp site here.
B: Hvar, Croatia because the swimming is incredible and we have a seaside view. Last night I had a midnight ocean swim and just floated on my back staring up at thousands of stars.

Our current home on Hvar Island, Croatia

Least favourite camping location so far:
H: Lake Como. The facilities were from the 50's and the entire place was disgustingly dirty. The sites were tiny and unkempt and the place looked like a deserted run-down trailer park. I hated being there and just wanted to leave. Not exactly the dream holiday to Lake Como I'd been picturing.
B: The beach side town before we reached Barcelona. Our pitch was nothing but a huge gravel pit, no services, no shops anywhere near it and the whole town was closed, but they were charging over 25 euros per night.

Favourite day so far:
H: Port tasting in Porto. This was a really hard question to answer as we've had so many amazing experiences so far, but I finally picked Porto because I loved every memory from this day. We spent the morning in Porto itself, then the afternoon indulging in port tasting. It was cheap, the weather was finally sunny and warmer, and we ran into our first English speakers after feeling a bit lonely for weeks. I started to really love travelling in the van on this day.
B: The mountain hike in Klagenfurt. We started the day by hiking the mountain in Klagenfurt, had a beer in the mountain hut, a swim in Worthersee Lake afterwards and finally we ended up at the Oktoberfest tent next to the camp site. Perfect day.

The Corinthian Mountains near Klagenfurt

Worst day so far:
H: Trying to find a camp site near Braga, Portugal. It was early in the season so not many places were open, even if the camping book claimed the opening date was April 1st. What was meant to be a 7 hour drive turned into more like 10 hours of scary driving on the worst roads we've seen on this trip so far. When we finally found a camp site, we noticed our tire going flat and then the rain started. I was miserable, scared and felt completely alone.
B: Tomorrow when the rank sausages that Hillary cooked come back to haunt us.

Best item you packed:
H: My Reef flip-flops. I knew I'd end up living in them this summer and sure enough, I wear them pretty much every day.
B: My camera.

What's just taking up space in the van: H: I'm embarrassed to admit that I packed these, but my hair products. I brought deep conditioning treatments, hair straightening gel, styling mousse and hair shine products. What a waste of space but I feel too guilty throwing out nearly full Aveda products!
B: My jeans. I didn't wear them when it was cold and it's far too hot to wear them now.

What do you wish you'd packed?
H: At the beginning of the trip I would have said my BU hoodie but now I'm so glad that I didn't because it'd take up way too much space and it's miserably hot! Now I'd have to say I wish I'd invested in a more comfortable day pack.
B: More camera bits that I would have bought in London.

Funniest event:
H: We were drinking wine with our new Aussie friends, Peter & Kristin in Zadar, Croatia and around 1am, we heard a loud crack and saw what looked like ½ of a huge pine tree come crashing down, barely missing two caravans parked beneath it. Within minutes, nearly 15 people were gathered around taking photos and congratulating the German couples that they had survived and their vans weren't damaged. I can't imagine what would have happened if a tent had been set-up there.

B: When I forgot to put on the handbrake and the van suddenly started rolling towards a lake in Slovenia. The sink bucket that sits outside was crushed underneath the rear tire, but I managed to jump in the front seat before the front tires got wet.

Favourite newly discovered food:
H: Fresh mozzarella cheese. I made very very simple pizzas in Italy with ½ a ciabatta, fresh mozzarella, slices of tomato from a local veggie shop, fresh basil and oregano on top. It was GORGEOUS and yet so simple.
B: Austrian potato salad.

Least favourite newly discovered food:
H: The off sausages I just cooked for dinner. The expiration date was still 2 days away and I don't usually cook sausage so I thought the funny smell was normal. The heat is penetrating our chilly bin so expiration dates must be irrelevant and I think Bevan and I will be very sick later tonight.
B: Hillary's sausages.

Favourite element of this lifestyle change:
H: I was so apprehensive about moving into an old van for 6 months but I'm loving it. We've never been so tidy & clean and shared chores so evenly. Bevan cooks, then I do the dishes and vice versa. He cleans up the van to depart in the mornings and I clean up the van when we land at our camp site. Then there is the relaxation time from around 5pm to 11pm where you just sit outside with a glass of wine in hand, watching the sun set over your latest new neighbourhood. We've had amazing mountain alpine sunsets, beautiful lakes, stunning city skylines and right now we're overlooking a small lagoon in Croatia. What a summer.
B: Fewer showers

Least favourite element of this lifestyle change:
H: I miss friends and a sense of purpose in life. I've never cleaned so much in my life and I think it's because I just can't sit still and just enjoy being on holiday for 6 months. Some guilt trigger just will not turn off and let me enjoy this experience unless every chore is done!!
B: The lack of space in the van and the fact that our house wont start.


Favourite thing about the van:
H: I was preparing for the worst in terms of storage space. It's been a huge adjustment but seeing other vans makes me realise how good we have it and how many clothes I still managed to bring with us!!
B: The back single bed. I can sleep stretched out in the sun with a breeze through the van. We haven't seen another van with this feature.

Least favourite thing about the van:
H: Sometimes this is a blessing but the van really stands out and people STARE everywhere we go. You start to feel a little self conscious, but I've learned to laugh about it and yell 'It's the purple beast parade!' out the window every time people stare when we're driving through town.
B: It wont start and we're stuck.

Zadar, Croatia

Sat 5th – Tues 7th July

Walking up from the beach on Sunday, we nearly doubled over in laughter as we spotted the Badger parked next to us. The Badger belongs to Pete & Kristin, two Aussies that we'd met in Lake Bled a few weeks ago. They had spotted our purple van parked at the camp site and we were reunited once again.

There's no description for the ecstatic feeling that you get when you actually recognise a friendly face after 3 months of encountering strangers and befriending them for mere hours. Kristin and Pete are from Sydney and have been on the road since April (same as us!) in a white and black camper van nicknamed the Badger. They're the type of travellers who meet friends wherever they go and their photos tell stories of the individuals and locals they've met along their trip, whereas our photos tend to tell more about the local architecture. Along with their hilarious stories from meeting bikers in Poland and being hit by a semi-truck on a German autobahn, they also shared the harrowing news that Albania has a slightly bad reputation for travellers.

One of the churches in Zadar's old town

Albania is the next stop on our itinerary and whilst I didn't expect to be living in luxury camp sites, I felt as though the wind had been knocked from my sails as Kristin & Pete described the horror stories they'd heard from other travellers. Evidently there were only around 600 cars in Albania during the Soviet occupation, so the roads are now in terrible shape. Lonely Planet warns against driving there and advises carrying a flash light at all times, as the pot holes are large enough to lose small children and the power outages average once an hour.

We were all sceptical of the stories. After all, we'd heard that Slovenia was uncivilised and it had turned out to have more Western shops and services than most of the countries we'd visited so far. But there were also reports of guns and banditry in northern Albania... were we just plain stupid to be driving old vans into such a country??

Bevan is worried that I'll take better photos than him so he's running a sabotage campaign of dancing in the background

Kristin & Pete have little choice. They had planned to drive to Greece and Turkey through Albania but choosing another route would mean driving all the way back to Italy to catch a ferry to Greece. Australians need a visa to travel through Macedonia so it was hundreds of euros and hours getting back to southern Italy, or risking the short drive along the Albanian coast.

For us.... well my sole goal for this trip was to see these places before a Starbucks springs up on every corner. I travelled Western Europe in 2000 with my sister Teresa, and I've been devastated by how much it has been commercialised and wrought with tourism in just 8 years. I wanted a taste of this place before it was turned into just another copy of a Western European holiday destination.

So we've decided that a convoy is the way to go and we're meeting Kristin & Pete in Dubrovnik in a few days to get started on the adventure. Safety in numbers...

View Zadar Photo Album

Plitvice National Park, Croatia

Fri 4th July
This has to have been the most surreal 4th of July of my life so far. Around 5:00pm this afternoon, I happened to look down at my sports watch to check the time and my eyes caught 4.07 in the upper right corner. “OH MY GOD! It's the 4th of July and I didn't even know it!” Pretty much every American I've ever known was currently in the middle of a barbecue, drinking beer and lighting off fireworks and I completely forgot my nation's most important holiday. Well I didn't forget it, but it's pretty easy to lose track of the date when you've been on the road for 3 months. Bevan often asks if it's Thursday and I'll laugh when he's 4 days off and it's actually Monday. Yes, we're living in La La Land and it really is grand.

At this time last year, I was sitting in a ballpark watching the Colorado Rockies baseball team at Coors Field, drinking beers with Sarah, eating hot dogs and singing “Well I'm proud to be an American, where at least I know I'm free,” in drunken tears. This year I'm sitting in Platvice National Park in Croatia having a pretty damn good holiday, thanks. Of course I miss home and wish I had friends and family around me right now, but that'll be next year once this whole life changing trip is just a distant memory. Meantime I'm just going to gaze out the back doors of this van at the open meadow behind us filled with wild flowers and breathe deeply... cause chances are I'll never be here again. But chances are pretty good that I'll get drunk at Coors Field again very soon.

By the way, Platvice was incredible and not a bad way to spend 4th of July: sixteen crystal clear lakes cascading into one another through a series of waterfalls. Check out the pics.

The amazing final view of the 4 hour hike

Zagreb, Croatia

Wed 2nd – Thurs 3rd July
Zagreb is supposedly the hippest European city to visit this year. Well at least that's what Time Out and the airlines who just opened up routes to the Croatian capital from London Luton would like you to believe.

Bevan loved Zagreb. Well perhaps love is a strong word since this is the vocabulary that I'd prefer he saved for me... I'm getting spoiled having so much of his time, aren't I??

Anyway, he really liked Zagreb and said he'd definitely recommend it to Londoners as a weekend get away. I think he's right – it's a good weekend getaway. But I can't figure out why we drove 3 hours out of our way to stay at a camp site straight out of the 70's (actually that was pretty cool to step back into time) only to melt in the heat of a city that is infatuated with the West and still trying to find its own identity.

I give it one or two more years and this city will really be amazing. Maybe that's why it's so hip to visit it now? Maybe later in life I'll feel lucky to have witnessed a city before it's “discovered”. Long story short, the sightseeing is light as there's not heaps to see but the enchanting outdoor cafés and bars make it easy to spend hours just pretending to be a local.

View Zagreb Photo Album

Istria Peninsula, Croatia

Sun 29th June – Tues 1st July

Flat tire numero three! While parking at a supermarket near the Croatian border, a friendly Slovenian pointed to our front right tire and said, “Kaput!” Well that's pretty clear in any language and we knew we were in for a lovely afternoon of standing outside yet another car repair shop. Once again, we've been impressed with the efficiency and complete honesty of mechanics on this trip. The tire was resolved in under 2 hours (just enough time to eat lunch in the shade) and ₤15 later we were cruising towards the Croatian border once again.

Street dancers in Porec

I'd like to retract my earlier comment that it was hot in Austria. At the time, I had no comprehension of just how hot it could get and now I can safely say, it is really and truly damn hot. We're talking the type of heat that makes it impossible to move. Our first morning in Croatia, and we were dripping with sweat at 8:30am just from packing up the van. Trying to be tourists is an absolute joke, and we're only lasting until 2:00pm before we are back at an ocean-side camp site swimming in the Adriatic just to keep from passing out.

Clearly I had chosen the wrong outfit to wear into the basilica

Bevan is not coping very well and the heat makes him behave like a Labrador. He just sits down in the shade mid-stride and refuses to go on, panting from the heat and begging for water. I end up walking off in search of a cold drink and ice cream just to lure him back on to his feet long enough to cycle home to the van. (He doesn't actually eat the ice cream – he just holds the cool wrapper to his forehead.)

Bevan at the Roman ruins in Pula

So our sightseeing has become sort of a heat stroke blur of events rather than an educational experience over the past few days. I think we spent a few days in Porec and Rovinj, exploring some world heritage basilica and watching Croatian dancers perform in the streets. Then all I remember is plunging head first into the ocean with my mask and snorkel on, where we spent the remainder of the day. We finished up the Istrian Peninsula in Pula and had the common sense to wait until 5pm before venturing into town to check out the Roman ruins. What a difference it made to avoid the heat of the day, and we actually cycled all the way up the hills to the camp site without stopping for a break on the way home. Either the heat really makes a difference or we may just be getting fit from all of this cycling.

Skocjanske Caves, Slovenia

Sat 28th June

Slovenia's number one tourist attraction is the Postojna Caves, just south of Ljubljana. We had arranged to stop through on our way to Croatia until I read the rest of the description in Lonely Planet. There are loads of stalagmites and huge caverns, but there are also hordes of tourists stampeding through the caves and a human fish (what the ??) riding a train that follows you through the caverns on your visit. It sounded cheesy and downright creepy so we opted for the far less touristy but much harder to reach Skocjanske Caves a few miles up the road.

The description of the Skocjanske caves was enough to make my palms start sweating. “With relatively few stalactites, the attraction here is the sheer depth of the underground chasm which you cross by a dizzying little footbridge.” I begged Bevan to keep on driving but he was already hooked. Tickets in hand, we set off on what would be my “mountain summit” of the trip so far.

The cave is now a UNESCO World Heritage site so only a few tour groups are allowed each day, the paths are well paved, and they're conscious of light damage. Making the visit more eerie and real than other cave tours I've done in the past, our guide actually switched on the lights as we entered each cavern, then switched them off again behind us. Getting accidentally separated from the group would mean being stranded in absolute blackness until the next tour group came through an hour later.

Trail through Skojanske Caves. Photos aren't allowed inside, so this was borrowed from their website.

The first hour of walking to and through the cave entrance is pretty tame and even boring at times, so the grand finale is really the only reason why you'd visit Skocjanske. But it's well worth the effort. Thunder from the river resonated through the entrance to the final cavern and when our guide switched on the final set of lights, the entire tour group gasped in awe. The path was lit by a series of small yellow lanterns that switched back and forth into a tiny trail of luminescent ants as it crawled down the cliff side in front of us. In the black distance we could see the dimly lit path continue on the other side of the chasm, clinging to the rock face with what appeared to be nothing supporting it for hundreds of metres further back into the darkness. Clouds of mist from the river pounding below hung in mid-air as if this dark subterranean world had its own clouds.

Looking at the trail across the other side of the chasm

I gulped in fear, knowing that somewhere between here and the other side was the very narrow footbridge. I felt like I had stepped into an Indiana Jones movie and half heartedly hoped a group of savage cannibals would turn up just to motivate me onwards.

How they managed to carve the path into the side of the cliff is beyond me, but I was incredibly grateful they had also taken the time to include a metal handrail. Throughout the cavern were the remnants of past cave explorers who had carved narrow steps along the steep walls at terrifying heights with dangling rope foot bridges over thousand foot crevasses. These men must have had serious balls.

After several switchbacks, we were standing eye-level with the path on the opposing side. The cave hole where we had entered now looked no bigger than a large doorway, even though it was big enough to drive 5 caravans through at the same time. I turned to my left and there stood the infamous bridge... a thread of pearled dots precariously hanging over a 45 metre chasm of misty darkness. Damnit – why do they always have to make the handrails on these things transparent??

The terrifying foot bridge

Surprisingly, the lack of light actually made the whole experience much easier than I had anticipated. Walking over the bridge certainly made you dizzy, but it was nowhere near as scary as staring at it from a distance, knowing you'd soon have to walk over it. The hike along the other side took ages as we all stopped every few steps to peer back over the cliff side into the chasm, and I heaved a huge sigh of relief as daylight at the other end finally became visible. Thinking the fear was over, we walked into the bright sunlight only to find ourselves once again perched precariously on a sheer drop off to a waterfall below. Above us the town of Skocjanske teetered on the edge of the surrounding gorge and the guide steered us towards a rickety old funicular which eventually carried us back to the top. It may not have been the same as Bevan's mountain summit in Austria, but I was still patting myself on the back for not collapsing into a panic attack after 180 minutes of vertigo torture.

View Skocjanske Photo Album