Photos!

Our photos can be found here:

http://picasaweb.google.com/markralf

Enjoy!

Dave

M20, England

We are home, or near as darn it.

We stayed near Calais for two days in the end, doing one big day of driving, and then sleeping in the same campsite for two days in a row (a first for us).

We ate in the restaurant, sampling some French cuisine (avec pomme frites) both nights. On our final day we visited the nearby ‘blockhouse’, a massive concrete bunker hidden in a forest (think Return of the Jedi, but bigger, and with big bomb holes in it) which was used for the production of the famous V2 rockets during WW2. It was bombed several times by the English during the war and no V2 rockets were actually ever launched from that location, but production continued.

We also played Ultimate Frisbee, Dad and me versus Mother and Stephen. They whupped us. It was really very silly.

Today we woke up, ate a bacon and egg sandwich and headed out, catching the Eurotunnel on time despite a ‘last call’ scare as we were still in duty-free!

We should arrive home at 12:19 (according to the GPS), and I will be uploading the omitted photos that we have taken (there are loads!) the moment I have a solid broadband connection.

I hope you have all enjoyed reading; it has been a very strange adventure.

Dave, your blogger, signing off.

Somewhere in Germany

Last night we wandered into Prague – we took the tram from just outside our campsite (which is run by the most lovely people and their big dogs – we seem to run into animals wherever we go…) We found our way towards the main square in the Staré Mesto (all Czech names are entirely unpronounceable) and saw the astrological clock and the surrounding buildings (This being the square in which Tom Cruise blew up an aquarium restaurant and ran away from the baddies in Mission: Impossible) and then took a trip along the historical Charles Bridge. In Staré Mesto we had seen beautiful churches, large squares, narrow alleyways and sprawling buildings reminiscent of Rome, but crossing the river and looking up the hillside to the huge palaces and cathedrals lit up in the darkness – this was something entirely unique.

We then went in search of the John Lennon wall (I’d been Wikipedia-ing in the van before) and with the clue from one of the campsite ladies that it was near the French embassy, we set off. We found the Serbian embassy near the Charles bridge, then the Japanese, Maltese and American embassies before asking two nearby policemen who pointed us in the right direction.

We found the French embassy (I was a little worried that the British embassy wasn’t easier to find) and across from it was the John Lennon wall. It looks, in the half light of street-lamped late evening light a soot-blacked old wall with a couple of stray pieces of graffiti, curiously left to read. As you get closer you see that the entire wall is nothing but graffiti built upon graffiti, with pictures of the former Beatle alongside excerpts of his lyrics, peace symbols, etc. There is even a sculpture of his face set out of the wall, and a hanging ban-the-bomb symbol made of branches. A bizarre sight in a beautiful old city. The group that owns the section of historic wall allow the graffiti to exist there and be added to. In 1988 the authorities tired of it and painted over the slogans and pictures. In two days it was already covered in pictures of flowers and messages.

Today, we are appreciating the Autobahns. The kind of roads that speed you along, and are so smooth you can still sleep through them. As long as you aren’t driving, of course. We should arrive in Wiesbaden, near Frankfurt around 3pm today. (We are only one hour ahead now, of course. We sorted the whole ‘time’ lark out pretty well, didn’t we?)

We stay in Wiesbaden tonight, either France, Belgium or Germany on Friday, near Calais on Saturday, and we catch a Eurotunnel train then drive home late Sunday morning.

Austro-Czech Border

It has been longer than I would like since our last post. We have not slipped off the continent, we are still battling through, I assure you.

Romania seemed like an ever-so-slightly tiresome film to some of us. To others it felt like we had already seen it once, and now we were watching it reverse.

Certainly it felt as if someone had their finger on the pause button from Brasov to Cluj. A short day's journey via Sibiu, the European city of culture was slowed to a crawl by on-the-kilometre-every-kilometre roadworks. The road was falling back into the earth.

When we did get to Sibiu we ate Mcdonalds, having driven through what looked like an industrial park. We were told that we had ‘missed’ the old town. Then we remembered that Liverpool had been a European city of culture. We drove on.

We stayed once more at Cluj Napoca; enjoying a meal in the restaurant that was run by the Dutch couple who owned the campsite.

Leaving Romania into Hungary was a breeze compared to leaving Romania for Moldova – as Romania is in the EU. Member states apparently feel that ‘whatever our neighbour has, we’ve already got’.

In Hungary we met the Tőroks, Mark and his mother Monika. We spent an evening at Mark’s uncle’s house. The uncle, Auguste, is an ex-headmaster and he and his wife, Mary showed us around the house that they had designed and built themselves. We ate a beautiful veal stew that had been prepared on an open fire, were offered more ice cream than it is possible to eat, and most of us visited the bathroom ironically decked out in communist memorabilia; red banners, photographs of Lenin and communist manifestos.

We then took wine and conversation in his front room/the Hungarian national library. The final anecdote began, as they all did, like this, “During the soviet era…” and continued:

…a heavy smoker who drank a lot of vodka went to the doctor. The doctor examined him and said that he had good news and bad news.
“Tell me the bad news.”
“We have to take your right lung out.”
“Oh no! What on earth could the good news be?”
“You will have more room for your liver.”

We had a short drive to Vienna yesterday before enjoying a thoroughly inadequate two hours in the city. We did eat fantastic pizzas (right continent, wrong country) and saw the beautiful Stadt park several times, walking between the van and the St. Stephan square, with the most amazingly huge soot-stained church. Stephen (my brother) has been noting with glee the number of European kings and saints of his namesake.

My parents were looking for a hose in Vienna. Our’s barely holds water and takes three people to wind it up. They walked into the Austrian Caravanning and Camping Association shop – a huge affair in a prominent place near St Stephan’s square.

Mark: Have you got any hoses?
Saleswoman: No, you want a camping shop…

Our souvenir fruits pressed on us leaving Moldova will unfortunately not make it home, so we are on the look out for more sturdy souvenirs in Prague today. There is a strange sort of tax-free Disneyland between the border control of Austria and the Czech Republic. We wandered around the factory outlets (drawn to a halt by the Styrofoam castles that tower over the connecting road) and ate crépes. We are now heading toward Prague.

The Nedelciuc's Apartment, Chisnau, Moldova

Today we left the orphanage feeling almost entirely successful. We were able to see the teachers from the orphanage, talk with the director and explain the sports and craft equipment we had brought to the respective persons. The Physical Education teacher especially seemed very happy with the various goals and rackets and nets and balls he (and the children!) now had to play with.

We also managed to leave without too many gifts being given the other way, although we have a huge number of fresh walnuts off the trees, and bags of apples and pears. The director also presented us with an amazing cross-stitch picture that the children had made. It is beautifully intricate - I thought at first it was a photograph of a painting!

We then drove to Chisnau, the capital, and have looked around quickly. It is an entirely different place to the northern villages like Vascauti. The large (communist-built) buildings tower over lovely parks - it is reminicent of a small-scale New York or a London, but the poverty here is still evident. Many houses are run down, and there is an obvious well-off / poverty-stricken divide still.

For most of the afternoon we visited Milesti Mici, the largest wine cellar in the entire world. It is just outside the city, it is owned by the state, and there are over 1.5 million bottles stored underground there. We tasted some of the wines (we had different favourites) and ate lunch before leaving for the city.

We have penned a letter to the Compudava Foundation regarding the pump motors for the boiler system. We feel this is a pressing issue and so are hoping to set the wheels in motion as soon as possible.

I must sleep. My eyes are heavy and there is much driving and customs and driving tomorrow.

The Orphanage, Vascauti (Part Two)

GPRS internet only - pictures are pretty much out from here on in...

It has taken three days for the customs officers to finish the declarations on our giving. We have not been the ones going into the two nearby towns (to be ignored, have the power fail of us, or be told to return tomorrow) because of the language barrier, etc. but we have today finished painting the orphanage gate. So that is good news.

It is sad in many ways that it has been so complex to give to the orphanage this time around, because apparently it has been very stress-free when we have given through Compudava, the company with have links with through Norman Fraser, and Silvia’s husband, Vassily. Silvia has been a great force in getting things done, and she has worn herself out completely. All this being said, the director of the orphanage seems very pleased with the gifts and the assistant heads of the school seems excited about the craft materials.

Yesterday we saw about 30 of the children from the orphanage at their holiday camp. The camp itself is reminiscent of American summer camps that appear in Hollywood films, although the accommodation far more fun and quirky (small A-frame lodges) and the facilities, like everything are more or less run down. The children seemed pleased to see their assistant head of school. We told them that we had come from England in a big van (the younger children said they didn’t know where the UK would be on a map – we told them that most English people would not know where Moldova was!) and that we had brought them some sports equipment.

However, we later found out that the children had said to their teacher that they were unhappy and that they were not being treated the same as the other children on the camp. They asked her to take them home (to the orphanage) and asked “How big is these people’s van?” We only found this out much later, and it was so tragic as we had thought that the camp looked very good, and were positive about our look around. The director’s response was, I think very sage: “Whenever they go away they always say they want to come back.” Luckily, the vast majority of the children do have a place to go; to relatives, to friends, etc. over the break.

We also saw the boiler room, which, after much pressing, the director singled out as an area for great concern. Two of the three pumps that supply hot water to all the buildings in the orphanage are broken and sit on the floor. Two of the three boilers leak. There is a possibility of a gas pipe reaching Vascauti in the foreseeable future, but there is this winter to consider with what is now a failing heating system.

We leave tomorrow for Chisnau (“Kish-now”), the capital of Moldova with Silvia and Horia, to stay with them for an evening and see the city.

The Orphanage, Vascauti, Moldova

GPRS internet only – pictures are pretty much out from here on in...

We arrived at the orphanage 17 hours after leaving Cluj, having spent four and a half hours at customs! Our friend Norman Fraser suggests that it is all about patience. Prove that you are more patient than the custom officer and they give up. As it turned out, Silvia's advocacy of us won out, and we arrived here around midnight last night, had a late dinner/tea here in the school dining room, and as we settled in to sleep (in the caravan – we may sleep in a dormitory tonight) a tiny dog began to bark; a high pitched yap that did not cease until the early hours.

Today we have eaten breakfast and lunch courtesy of the orphanage with Horia and Silvia. We have been the only ones eating, and they have prepared beautiful meals for us in an extremely basic kitchen. Our mumbled thank yous (mes-u-mescht) don’t seem to do the hospitality justice.

We have brought a smattering of rain with us, but no one seems to mind – it has not rained here for a long time, unlike home! Unfortunately, that has slowed our first work – repainting the orphanage’s gates brown and white, because the brown and white paint is rather tired. This morning we attacked the gate with scrapers, screwdrivers and hacksaw blades to smooth it out after many previous coats of paint. Now we are setting to applying the paint.

During the rain we befriended the beast of barking from last night, a cute little bag of bones that everyone on site seems to have soft spot for – its excursions into the dining hall are lightly reprimanded, and then someone takes it some scraps. We have also learnt how to shell walnuts straight from the branch; for someone who can’t stand the dried nuts, I found these delightfully watery and gentle tasting. In general the food here has been delicious; the vegetables are really gorgeous.

Sadly, the customs debacle is not over. The head of the orphanage is off today in town trying to finish the declarations that will allow us to donate the sports equipment. Also sad is the fact that we see the orphanage so empty of children, but we are reassured; they are on holiday camp, mixing with other Moldovan children from all backgrounds. Hopefully they will return to some great new equipment.

Meantime, I should be painting!

Moldovan Romanian Border

GRPS internet only – pictures are pretty much out from here on in…

We’re out of Romania, we have just now to get into Moldova. The issue, apart from our leaving the EU with all the custom troubles it brings, is that we have had to declare the sports and craft equipment we have brought from the UK.

Our friends, Silvia and her son Horia are gallantly defending us to the border officials as ‘friends of Moldova’, and to some degree the officials are happy about our entering the country – once they have catalogued exactly what we have brought into their country. The bureaucracy is a huge factor here, although the officials do seem impressed by our multi-stamped and stickered letters which are quasi-official at best!

After this is the three hour drive to Soroca, and the orphanage, in convoy with our new friends. The roads have got dramatically worse since Cluj Napoca (the main town near last night’s campsite), so much so that I was awakened by the bumping before noon, a first for several days. Sadly, we do not expect any better from here on in.

The internet could drop out at any point. If and when we lose a connection, I will update you on the return journey.

We arrive at the orphanage tonight (hopefully!) and we leave Saturday.

Near Cluj, Romania

GPRS internet only – pictures are pretty much out from here on in…

…which is a huge shame because today we found in Romania a land that is completely different in almost every way from home. And we've taken loads of photos. Whereas in France, or Germany, or Austria the countries are so developed as to remind you of the UK, and the Hungarian countryside is somewhat reminiscent of home (apart from the huge sunflower fields that mother reminds me to mention) – here everything seems strange and foreign.

Hungary bears the scars of its communist past but hides them well – on the Romanian border, we were thankful that the armed guards were relaxed, but still took more notice of our passports than any other foreign officials since Britain.

We have singularly failed to buy a road tax sticker for Romania – the Austrian and Hungarian stickers are still on our windshield, but no one wishes to sell us one here. We have been on one road since entering Romania, the E60. It passes directly through the towns, which consist only of this one main road – houses on either side of the road open onto the street. The villagers are rural people; they sit and talk – the children wave at us in the van as we pass, and hitchhikers try to flag us down along emptier stretches of road. There really are aged, wrinkled ladies who wear black cowls and walk along the sides of the road. We passed a village which had lined its street (singular) with rows and rows of woven baskets with intent to sell. We passed a bare-chested man hacking at his crop with a scythe, whilst 50m away his horse waited patiently, still harnessed to its cart. Indeed, not far into the country we had to brake suddenly to avoid a family of horses (with two small foals) galloping into the road in front of us, a small boy with a stick following fast behind them.

Rising above the ramshackle houses are the impressive church spires of infinite variety often coated with shiny metal (tin?) and in the richer towns, where the houses are more substantial – the churches are fantastic.

However, we were confronted by rather pushy beggars not long into the country – of the windscreen-washer variety – banging on the side of the van when we refused to pay, and shouting. And the drivers! Almost half of the road signs in this country are NO OVERTAKING signs (you know, with the red car and the black car; symbols are universal) and you can see why after five minutes of driving. Our maintaining the speed limit (in most places) causes absolute outrage, and elicits the most outrageous overtaking manoeuvres; not just from cars and bikes, but from huge coaches, at frightening speed, and proximity to cars coming the other way, not to mention proximity to our van…

Now we are at ‘Camping Eldorado’, a haven of organised and seemingly safe camping. Guarded by an Alsatian with a lead the runs all around the site, everyone seems to speak English, and we arrived early enough to play Swingball, and having eaten and showered, are getting ready to play some matchstick poker.

Near Mesokoveshden, Hungary

GPRS only internet - pictures are pretty much out from here on in...

Left Germany, crossed into Austria. Claire and Mark decided to leave Germany as they found the Mercedes advertising just too much. Then Stephen and I woke up. This was around 12pm. (We know the local time, hurrah!) We are informed (and there is photo evidence to prove it) that we missed quite beautiful scenery as we left Germany. Lunch on the go – this we knew would be a heavy driving day, and so we have kept moving. Almost directly through Austria, stopping only to refuel and swap drivers, we hit a traffic jam leading out of the country, into Hungary. We believe that this is due to the Hungarian Grand Prix scheduled for tomorrow – I’m sure Mark would really like to be watching tomorrow, but Claire would never allow it!

The first bad weather hit us after we trawled through Budapest, Hungary’s capital – a quick but torrential burst of rain. We saw one nasty car wreck during this time but no one appeared to have been hurt. Not much later the rain was gone.

The most important in-car achievements were a three-hundred point win at Scrabble by Claire against Stephen and my completion of Joyce’s Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. I’m glad both Joyce and I got that out of our systems.

We are now looking for our campsite which is near Mesokoveshden. The place name has vowel accents all over it – I have not attempted them. Our Hungarian friends, the Tőroks informed us that it was pronounced thus: Me-su-ku-ve-sh-t.

Bettingen (near Frankfurt), Germany

We are well established in our first real campsite – although our ETA of late morning was woefully ambitious! We arrived early this evening, after a relaxed journey consisting of a short time in the Netherlands, and then most of the day on the Autobahns. We met a lovely administrator at this campsite, who rules with a benevolent air from atop his electric scooter. After a beautiful meal previously cooked by Claire (and now reheated by her fair hand) we navigated the shower arrangements and now look forward to an evening of film and Scrabble entertainment.

Funny sights on the road today; various pretty churches including a motorway stop chapel, a lovely Honda motorbike (with sidecar!), the Rhine and Mum at the wheel!

We’re very sad to hear about the Eurotunnel accident and subsequent delays, but thank God we didn’t suffer too badly at such an early stage in the journey!

It’s not as if we can report a huge change in lifestyle between here on the continent and back home as we sit in our furnished campervan replete with Sony Vaio laptop computer and 3G internet courtesy of Vodafone, a microwave, a gas hob and more music than the average HMV which allows us to experience all the joys of home with none of the space!

However it is truly incredible to watch the countryside and the roads change before one’s eyes through the windows between impromptu naps and Monty Python watching, (although each service station looks depressingly similar to the last!)

Thanks to everyone who is in touch with us, today's friend being Norman, for his heads-up about the Tunnel. On the left: the Rhine

On the road to Germany...

We survived our first rest stop.

As we race towards the Autobahns, Stephen hasn't yet reappeared from his bunk at the back of the campervan. Where I sleep, in the main living compartment, when people (parents) start moving, you wake up.

Spurred on by the bad truck-stop one-euro cappucinos, I have realised that I have some people to thank for stopping by to see us off yesterday. Thanks to Sean and Anasuya, our next-door neighbours for treating us to a wonderful meal Wednesday night, for agreeing to help with bins and the like, and for waving us off so energetically yesterday. Thanks to Norman and Sarah for coming around to wish us well, and swiftly pray "God help 'em"! Thanks to Bonnie and Keith for the music (the songs we're singing...) and thanks so much to Gerry Slessenger for cleaning the van before our departure, and giving us a verse for our journey:

"My Presence will go with you, and I will give you rest" Exodus 33:14



Gerry, I hope you can see that in the picture on the right, we have held it close to our... heads.

Claire would like me to warn everyone that if they are expecting a birthday or anniversary card whilst we are away, she mistakenly took said cards with her, and that unless we find some Britisher-type heading in the opposite direction as us that could act as carrier pigeons they will see Moldova before seeing their respective recipients. We only hope that the lateness will be overshadowed by the curiosity value. We certainly hope that this will be the case with the cheque for our accountant that has also found its way along with us...

Belgium!

We are on our way!

We left Cheam, Surrey, UK at approximately 8.30pm, Thursday. I think it is now Friday. It must be. On the right is a photo of us leaving, praying we will see home again!

We caught an earlier Eurotunnel train than we were booked onto, and so we consider ourselves well ahead of schedule.

Mark found us a copy of Magnetic Scrabble, as you can see. Two games in, and cheating is already rife! I could tell you how many points the word ‘Belgium’ would be if thusly positioned, but as it is a staged pictoral reference to life in the van I shan’t bother.

For Belgium is where we are! Yes, after arriving in France we did the only British thing and decided to get out sharpish. 37 miles later and we find ourselves in the land of Hercules Poirot and posh chocolate.

As the scrabble board indicates, we are uncertain of the local time. It is a funny little thing to realise that, having arrived during the night, on the rather anonymous large vehicles carriages of the Eurotunnel that in fact, given BST and downright ignorance we don’t know what time it is. At the moment in England it is around 3am. By the time we get to a campsite tomorrow lunchtime, we should be in Germany, via the Netherlands.

As I write, we have stopped and plan to get a couple of hour’s kip (seeing as we are so ahead of schedule) and so I will sign
off now – I will leave you with a view from father’s cockpit. (That’s a GPS on the left, and a rear-view camera on the right. Hardcore get-away-from-it-all-camping this ain’t!)

Destination Part Two: Vascauti

The orphanage that we have links with in Moldova is named Vascauti (pronounced "Vascoot")

We don’t know very much about this orphanage in particular, other than there are around 250 children aged 7-17. They live in large dormitories with little to no personal space, young with old.

This is not uncommon amongst the 63 children shelters in Moldova, in which 11,482 children across the country are living from birth until the age of 19.

There are serious, country-wide issues with:

• Shelter facilities – roofs, walls and doors that leak, lack of bedding, lack of hot water, or even cold water, lack of space to let the children outside, lack of toiletries and hygiene products.

• Illness in the orphanages – huge percentages of children have diseases of the nervous system, deformities or mental illness.

• The fact that young adults leaving these orphanage leave with little support, and few job prospects.

• The huge number of children who are not orphaned through parent death, but through the poverty-stricken Moldovan parents who leave the country by to find work.

(There is much more information at Clipa Siderala, who are a charity that are raising awareness about the state of children’s shelters in Moldova.)

When we go to Vascauti

We think we will do some painting of the walls in the orphanage, but we hope to go in a spirit of willingness to help in any small way we can, make some links with the orphanage, both staff and children, and to share something of who we are and where we come from.

We also plan to arrive (customs permitting!) with some sports, stationery and art equipment to give to the children, much of which was donated by our friends at Christ Church Ewell (http://www.christchurchewell.com/).

We leave in two days time, and things are still very relaxed here. Apart from the terrifying amount of declarative paperwork to be filled out, things to be weighed, and camping arrangements to be finalised. The relaxed bit may have been an exaggeration.

The Destination: Part One

The BBC's Country Profile on Moldova is very useful to those of us who couldn't find Moldova on a map!

Here are a couple of choice extracts:

Sandwiched between Romania and Ukraine, Moldova emerged as an independent republic following the collapse of the USSR in 1991.

Two-thirds of Moldovans are of Romanian descent, the languages are virtually identical and the two countries share a common cultural heritage.

Moldova is one of the very poorest countries in Europe and has a large foreign debt and high unemployment. Its once-flourishing wine trade has been in decline and it is heavily dependent on Russia for energy supplies.

• Population: 4.3 million (UN, 2005)
• Capital: Chisinau
• Area: 33,800 sq km (13,050 sq miles)
• Major languages: Moldovan, Russian
• Major religion: Christianity
• Life expectancy: 64 years (men), 71 years (women)
• Monetary unit: 1 leu = 100 bani
• Main exports: Foodstuffs, animal and vegetable products, textiles
• GNI per capita: US $880 (World Bank, 2006)
• Internet domain: .md
• International dialling code: +373

Last year, Moldova was in the international press following a dispute with Russia over gas prices and suffered for a time without its much needed gas supply before compromises were made on both sides.

The players, the map, and the van.

Only very few days remain until we set off on Thursday!




Mark and Claire (third and second from left) have been busy planning the 'out' journey. We will take the Eurotunnel late Thursday night, and then we have only about three days to get to the Romanian/Moldovan border - where we should be met by friends Silvia & Horia Nedelciuc. Upon reaching the northern area of Moldova, we will spend several days at Vascauti, an orphanage near Floresti, Saroca. We will then have an opportunity to take a more leisurely return journey, seeing the changes as we move west, toward home. Mark and Claire will alternately take care of the driving.

Stephen (15, right) is on a camp at Lymington until Thursday so his preparation for the trip will be short and hurried, no doubt. Stephen has already staked out his place in the van, and is updating his music collection to reflect the gravity of the journey required.

David (17, left) has been placed in charge of this blog, impromptu morale boosting and moaning about laws that restrict him from driving the van.


The Van (behind the family!) is a Ford Rimor Superbrig. It sleeps seven, sits six, and is now very cool within, we hope - after installation of several fan-like devices! As a family we have had one overnight stay at a campsite in it - an experimental jourey to see good friends for an anniversary party, and other good friends on a longboat (their journey, around the canals of the UK is documented here: www.shoponpier.co.uk/Week1.htm)

Information about Moldova, the orphanage, and what we are doing there will follow soon.