Friday, 13 October 2017 to Wednesday, 18 October 2017
It was Friday the 13^th… fortunately I am not superstitious. With a sad and heavy heart we checked out of our hotel on Lake Garda, what a beautiful area this is, what a beautiful stay we had, surely we will return here someday?

From our hotel we drove through Riva Del Garda and then on and away from the lake through towns such as Trento and Bolzano and crossed the border with Austria at Brennero. It was rather interesting to note, from an architectural point of view, how the houses along the way change from Italian to Austrian way before one reaches the border. This region of Italy is really beautiful and green and mountainous, rather lovely.

 

 

 

We had to get a vignette before crossing the border in order to use the roads in Austria. We stopped off at a petrol station and what a rip-off this turned out to be. We had to stop for the vignette so decided to fill up with petrol as well, the most expensive petrol I have ever purchased in my dear life at €1.799 per litre, this was quite literally highway robbery.

At this same sorry shady establishment we obtained our vignette which we had to once again stick to the windscreen. By numerous applications and removing of vignettes on this part of the windscreen it had become a right royal sticky mess, but Adri somehow managed. The Austrian Vignette costs €8.90, the surly character behind the counter charged me €9.80, maybe he was dyslexic, maybe he thought I was dyslexic…  I am not, I assumed he was not… I was pissed off being taken advantage of. This of course had nothing to do with the fact that it was Friday the 13^th… or did it?

We crossed into Austria with our vignette proudly displayed amongst the sticky mess. No sooner had we arrived in the country when we were faced with a tollgate of some sort. At first I thought this was where one could purchase a vignette if you did not have the bad sense of stopping at that establishment. I notified the lady that we already had a vignette and proudly pointed in out amongst the stickiness.

She politely explained though that the vignette was merely for the use of the roads, any road in Austria, except of course toll roads. And for the privilege of using this toll road I was going have to fork out another €9. I was slightly confused by this as in other countries, where vignette systems are used, there are no roll roads, and where there is no vignette system, you would normally have toll roads. I got the distinct sense of being ripped off by a country.

We passed Innsbruck to its south and headed west towards Lichtenstein. It was a long while later when a dumb son of a so and so came to an abrupt halt in front of me, no indicator, no hazard, no nothing. He was at a crossroads; left was a toll road and right was the long road, he was on his way to the toll but decided he needed the long one. How can one just… stop! Man, I slammed on brakes like Adri’s life depended on it and came to a standstill millimetres behind his number plate. He smiled, then turned right in front of me onto the long and winding road. I stayed put, put on my hazards just to take a while to recover and gather my courage to continue driving. Wow, that was close. This of course had nothing to do with the fact that it was Friday the 13^th… or did it?

As I caught my breath I felt another Austrian rip-off coming my way, another €9.50 flew out the window and into the welcoming arms of the lucky recipient… they must stop doing this to me. The tunnel we now drove through is called the Arlberg Tunnel and at 13,976 metres in length it is the sixth longest road tunnel in the world. This was the longest tunnel I had ever driven through, my previous longest being the Mont Blanc Tunnel in France at 11.611 km in length, the twelfth longest road tunnel in the world.

It felt like we were seeing Austria from inside a tunnel. Now this may be a slight exaggeration but truth be told, there are so many tunnels through this mountainous region of Austria, some longer than others and some shorter than others and yet still others… Apparently 67% of Austria is mountainous, I believed it.

Now I have to admit that I did not warm to Austria on this trip. I had previously been to Vienna and Saltsburg and such and loved it, but today I could not see the beauty in the majestic mountains… and no, it had nothing to do with the toll roads. I simply could not pass through this region quickly enough, there was just something about this part of Austria that I felt uncomfortable with.

We reached Germany and soon enough found out apartment in a little village called Hergensweiler where a lovely and friendly Ilonga greeted us with a broad smile, she showed us our new home, in German. We could just understand her and she could just understand us. The apartment was wonderful, spacious, brand new and clean as a whistle with all the mod cons one could wish for. Wow, what a comfortable spot we had chosen, I could easily have spent much more time here than the two days we had booked.

The village is small, too small to contain a decent sized supermarket, or any sized supermarket for that matter. We had to drive 12km or so to get to a proper sized supermarket where we stocked up on supper stuff. It was deep dark by the time we got home and I could finally settle down with a near freezing German beer, and Adri with a glass of cool red wine.

Saturday I woke up while Adri was readying herself to go for a walk in the fresh morning air. My air was just fine. Five minutes later she was back to put on another layer, the air out was cooler than she had thought.

I got coffee in bed, I was offered breakfast in bed, I decided to have it in the dining area, we had to get moving. But it was only around midday when we finally did move. Our original intention was to drive around the Bodensee, or Lake Konstanz, which would take us back into Austria, make a detour to Liechtenstein, then into Switzerland and finally back into Germany. But, alas, there was now no more time for that.

 

We drove to the lake and ended up in Lindau which is essentially a little island in the lake connected by a bridge. We spent a long while here watching the comings and the goings of the ferries and the people, a lovely little place.

From there we drove to the town of Wasserburg which seemed like a nice place but we could not find a convenient parking spot so we pushed on.

 

 

 

We landed in Friedrichshafen where we did find convenient parking and ended up walking up and down its lovely waterfront. All of Germany seemed to be out on the ample restaurants’ terraces drinking beer and eating schnitzels and apfelstrudel, everybody seemed to be having so much fun. We were still highly satiated from our late breakfast so we did not have anything to eat, but those schnitzels looked mighty fine. And let’s not forget about those apfelstrudels.

As we walked around we both felt a bout of melancholy… was it because our road trip was coming to an end…? Was it because we would be leaving Europe soon…? Was it because we did not know what we would find when we touched down in South Africa within a few days…? Not sure what it was, but by the time we settled down for a large Paulaner Weissbier and a glass of red wine out on our patio, all was bliss once again.

We had an early supper after which Adri started up the dishwasher, or tried to. Somehow she could not get the settings right and this thing kept on going Huhnnnn… Huhnnnn… but not doing huhnnn bloody thing. We started up the manual dishwasher and before too long Adri had all dishes thoroughly cleaned. I did offer to help… truly I did.

It was Sunday and we had 803km to drive back to Amsterdam, a long drive, a long day, we started out early without having breakfast. After the first 100km we were too hungry to continue so stopped off at a rest stop and had our first picnic, breakfast stuff that Adri had prepared for padkos (food for the road). We moved on, the going was slow, my brain slowed down…

I suddenly felt a surge of intelligence rushing through that very same brain. And this all made sense once Adri mentioned that we were passing through the city of Ulm which was where Albert Einstein was born… Everything became much clearer until we passed Ulm… that clarity also passed…

We drove and we drove but that speedometer just refused to tick over any faster, time dragged on, the kilometres dragged on… the road works dragged on, that trip meter refused to drop below 400km… or so it seemed… 498…487…473… every time I looked I expected more, but no… When we finally broke the 400km barrier we stopped off for our second picnic, with the remaining breakfast stuff for lunch.

Finally, after what seemed like a never-ending eternity, we found ourselves at the home of Remko and Ashley in Weesp, it was 20:30. I was almost dead, definitely a deadbeat. And how great it was to see these two again! We of course had some of those great local beers brewed right there in Weesp, there was wine for the ladies, we were fed, we talked late into the night… But, my eyes were dim, my brain dimmer, it was time for bed.

On Monday someone was scheduled to skilder Ashley and Remko’s front door. I was wondering what scene they opted to have painted on their door, maybe a Rembrandt? It was only later that we discovered that skilder in Dutch means merely to paint, but in Afrikaans it means an artist painting a painting of some sort. Pity, I was quite looking forward to critiquing that wannabe Rembrandt.

Ashley was working from home to ensure that this skilder goes according to plan. She gave us breakfast and soon enough we were once again on the road, we had to return our rental car to Schiphol Airport by 12:00. After returning the rental we had money put onto our travel cards, enough to take us into Amsterdam for a last look around and also to get us to Weesp.

After doing our last look around Amsterdam we were ready to get back to Weesp, but we could not, the turnstile said “no”. The information desk sent us to the ticketing office where we learned that we never checked into the system at Schiphol – there was no turnstile – but we did check out at Amsterdam station. The system now obviously thought we were rogue users and subtracted a hefty fine from the card, leaving us with no money on there to go anywhere. They realized it was an honest mistake but could do nothing for us; we had to pay again and request a refund afterwards. We did later on phone the helpdesk to request a refund, 10 days later the monies were paid back into my account. Great!

We got back to Weesp and soon enough Remko was also home, we went for a lovely supper in town and by 21:00 we were dropped off at the airport, ready for our flight back home. After checking in we still had two hours to kill so thought we’d take a chance and visit the Diners Card lounge, with our heavily expired cards in tow. I nonchalantly handed over our cards without batting an eyelid, and not making any eye contact, and soon enough we were allowed to enter. I don’t always agree with Diners Card’s processes, but believe me; this card worked its magic!

There were food and drinks and wifi and comfortable seats, this was heaven. Having just eaten we were not going to fall into that trap, we did have something to drink though.

It was a late flight; it only took off just before midnight. It was past midnight that we received a lovely supper and a French white wine. Not sure how we managed to still eat but the smells emanating from that mushroom pasta dish was too much to bear, I just could not turn it down. We were hoping to have a coffee but before it could arrive we were fast asleep and ready to land in Istanbul.

As the plane prepared to land in Istanbul the kid behind me cotched a dik (thick) stream of something rather toxic, or so it seemed and smelled. I was hoping that load went into something or other and not down my back. Man, this was awkward. As I looked behind me at the kid, with no doubt a scowling face, he started barfing all over again. We needed to land, like fast you know…

We arrived in Istanbul at the ungodly hour of 03:30 and yes, we had a very long stopover as our flight to South Africa was scheduled for around midnight, yes midnight. But, of course we planned is this way. We had been to Turkey on a number of occasions but have never been to Istanbul so the intention was to do a quick city tour. And then we found out that Turkish Airlines offer their clients a complimentary city tour for such long stopovers. Quite cool.

One has to register at the relevant desk at 08:00 for the tour that starts at 09:00 and finishes at 18:00, so we had some four hours to kill. Because we were successful in getting access to the airport lounge on our expired Diners Cards in Amsterdam last night, we gave it another try, and yet again that wonderful card worked its magic…

We tried to get some sleep, we had some coffee, there were lots to eat but once again we made no attempt, we just wanted to rest and relax, which came easy.

It was just before 08:00 when we left our lap of luxury for the unknown. We found passport control; the electronic visas made our passage into the country seamless and soon enough we were at the counter booking our day trip into Istanbul.

The bus with another 30 or so tourists, and our tour leader Emre, left the airport for our day of walking the city. Throughout our travels we have seen too many tour groups but have never been on one, so this was going to be a new experience for us… we never did like the idea of group travel though.

First off it was breakfast at a rather nice restaurant. The breakfast was a rather plain affair but very good with even better coffee… I was just starting to wake up.

From there we went to the Blue Mosque, the Hagia Sofia, the German Fountain,the Serpent Column, the Obelisk of Theodosius, the Topkapi Palace after which it was time for lunch at a typical Turkish restaurant. We had a fresh green garden salad with plenty kebab meat and rice, peppered with a chilli sauce and some fresh light green chillies that had an awesome bite to it. How Adri and I longed for fresh chillies, this was great!

After lunch we walked down to the Grand Bazaar where the group split up, we had about one hour of free time. This place is amazing; you can find anything here, from a bat to a dead police horse… I’m sure.

Finally we made our way to the Museum of Turkish and Islamic Arts after which we returned to the bus for our journey back to the airport. This group thing was not bad at all and we got to know many of the people and their stories, rather delightful. I felt sorry for Emre – he was such a nice guy – or any other tour guide for that matter as they spend their lives trying to keep everyone together… Some people just don’t listen and wander off on their own… Some never to return…

 

 

 

We arrived back at the airport at 18:00. Once we passed through immigration it was around 18:30, we still had some six hours to kill. With trepidation in our hearts and in our step we approached the same airport lounge where we checked into this morning. My heart sank into the ground five feet below by feet when the guy swiped my card, frowned and said “Were you here earlier today?” I explained our situation and with no more than a raised eyebrow both Adri and I were checked in. Wow, what would we have done without them Diners Cards.

First up for me was an Efes draught which was accompanied by something small to eat, and then I passed out for some time. It was much later when I took another snooze that I woke up to find Adri gone. Maybe she’d gone shopping, I thought, which made we worry more. But it was not long before a reinvigorated Adri appeared in the seat next to me; she had gone for a shower.

I could not pass up on this opportunity, never even thought that I would attempt such. I was presented with a large shower room with everything you need, even a thin throwaway towel which worked surprisingly well. I felt like a brand new me… this is highly recommended.

It was shortly after midnight that our flight took off for our long-awaited homecoming.

Wednesday morning at around 10:00 we touched down at Oliver Tambo International Airport in Johannesburg. We were finally home after two and a half years away. We picked up my car from Indressan who has graciously offered to store it while we were away, even taking it for a drive now and then to ensure the Merc kept its sanity. Man, it was great to be behind the wheel of that well-loved car.

I’d be dishonest if I didn’t admit to feeling a bout of trepidation coming back to my country of birth. It’s one thing to read the gloomy news and to receive information about the country from friends and family back home; but it is a completely different kettle of fish experiencing it once again firsthand.

Truth be told, I was pleasantly surprised. When we left, we left many potholed streets behind, some parks and building were sorely neglected, general disrepair was prevalent everywhere. But, driving around today one got a sense that things had actually improved somewhat, despite all the government corruption and state capture that has its tentacles spread across state departments and industries, things were actually looking up.

The Merc kept steering in a direction and after a while I gave up and gave it free reins. It stopped not surprisingly right in front of the King’s Deli Butchery, where else could be my first stop? The King’s Deli probably makes the best biltong in South Africa, and therefore the world. As one enters biltong hangs from almost the entire roof, busy drying itself out, an amazing site. I ordered mine, one kilogram of soft-ish, red-ish in the middle biltong, cut up in slices this thick, ordering the thickness by holding my thumb and index finger roughly 5mm apart. Not having had biltong in two years, Adri and I sat in the car devouring slice after slice of that deliciousness until we could no more. Now it was time to visit the family… and friends… and everyone else…

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