9th September - Sailing to Sweden

Beep, beep, beep.

Groggily I woke and left the apartment, helping myself to last nights left overs before I eased the door shut. The northern german streets strongly rejected my presence at 5am, making themselves cold, grey and very uninviting. Some long tram rides later and I would myself feeling slightly ridiculous, hitching at the ferry terminal with no traffic whatsoever. One truck arrived, but wasn't very interested in taking me along. So, bought a ticket, hopped on board and spent an uneventful 6hrs crossing the Baltic to Sweden.

However, my arrival to Sweden had been eagerly awaited for much longer than 6hrs. I was finally catching up with Anders & Carina! I hadn't seen them in over a year and to catch up with them in Sweden was going to be awesome!

They were waiting for me at the ferry terminal and it was simply so awesome to see them again!!! They showed me around Trelleborg, we had an ice-cream on the Swedish seaside and then headed of to Carina's parents place for an absolutely delicious dinner. Washed down with a couple of beers during a soccer game. Nice day :-)

7th & 8th of September - Italian Alps to German Seaside

Where? When? What? 

You know that microsecond of amnesia that you may be afflicted with when waking up in a strange/new locale? Well, picture that for a good 10 to 15 seconds. Disorientating. Once I had figured I was in the storage room of the bar, I packed up my gear, leaving behind the Lonely Planet guides, no use to me now. I found some food which had escaped the clean up from the night before and then wandered to the internet cafe, printed my flight ticket for that evening (or so I thought), slipped on the backpack and hoisted the snowboard bag across my back and wandered to the train station (45 sweaty minutes). After some hours of the train, struggling with my unwieldy gear, I managed to get the right Milan airport. After I tried to present my ticket to check in, I realised I hadn't printed the right part of the ticket. So, my flight went from costing $20 to $80, as they charge exorbitant fee's to simply print a ticket. Fuck you Ryanair. Arriving at Felix's place in Berlin at around 11pm, I said a quick hello showered and slept like a log...

Felix woke me as left to go to work, I threw the pack on my shoulders on off I went again. To have breakfast with another German friend, the guy who I started my hitchhiking adventure with, going from Berlin to Istanbul, via Czech Republic, Slovakia, Hungary, Romania, Moldavia and Bulgaria. Who, confusingly for you, is also called Felix. Anyways, we caught up briefly and talked all about our respective adventure which had ensued since we separated in Bulgaria. After a delicious breakfast cooked by Felix, he lent me his map and gave me instructions for an awesome hitchhiking spot in north Berlin. My plan was to get to Rostock and catch the ferry to Sweden the following day. I had a CSing host lined up in Rostock, so off I went. 

I caught the S-Bahn to the north of Berlin and hopped off, wandering down gorgeous leafy streets, large houses of varying designs framing the view. It was quiet and really beautiful. I was pretty excited about this hitchhiking spot as I was required to locate a path and wander through a forest. For a bit. This is how it was described to me. Awesomeness. Actually found the path, wandered the forest, surprised some Germans and got to the petrol station. 2 lifts later I found myself dropped to the door of my host, so many kind and caring people you meet when you hitchhike. So, I hung out, got some food and cooked dinner. My host Karina kindly helped me organise the tram route I would need to take the next day. I would have loved to have stayed up later chatting, but 5.30am was the waking hour...

6th September - Party in the Alps

I woke up and left Max's place at 9 am. I would have loved to have stayed longer, but I had been invited to a party by Adam, the rafting guide who I had come to see when I first arrived in Italy.  He had just gotten married in Scotland (easier than in Italy) and was have the reception at his bar. When a rafting bar owner invites you to his party, nestled amongst the most beautiful scenery in Europe, there really is no question of accepting.

Due to the difficulty of hitch hiking in Italy, I decided that I would just catch the train. Having already been up to see Adam before, I knew what to expect in terms of scenery. Didn't matter. I was still blown away. Something magical happens as the train winds it's way up the valley. I don't know what it is exactly, perhaps the valley narrowing, the apple orchards, the castles, the camaraderie of the rafting guides, I'm not sure. I'll return one day, this I know.

After waiting some time, everyone started to arrive to the party. Seeing the caliber of clothing (this is Italy, after all), I madly rummaged through my backpack and managed to find a clean white shirt. Miraculous! There was delicious food on offer and some very nice wine. I got talking to a Dutch couple, the woman spoke Dutch, German, English, Italian, Spanish and French. Fluently. 

The evening progressed very pleasantly, with enjoyable conversation. People started to congregate inside the bar and so I wandered over to investigate. Turns out it was time for awesome MTB (mountain bike) stunts. A young Italian man was bunny hopping over a volunteer from the audience. It was the style of MTB which was seatless. He then did the same trick with two people, three people. He actually brushed the shoulder of the third person lying down with the rear wheel, pretty close call. He called for a fourth person and one actually came forward. However, from the way she snuggled with the person beside her, she seemed to be immediately regretting her decision. I waited with baited breath, but no carnage occurred, disappointingly. I spoke with the fourth person afterwards and it turned out the MTB stuntman was her hairdresser. Only in Italy. Further into the evening I was speaking German with this old German guy who was dressed in lederhosen. Alcohol started to have it's effect and sleep overtook and settled down for sleep on the mattress in the storeroom...

5th September - Vicenza Villa

In the morning, after tasting some delicious local wine, I departed the house to check the sights and sounds of Vicenza with Linda, one of the Couchsurfers staying at the house. Passed first through a carnival, this was pretty much the same as they have back in Australia. Sound, sugar and suckers. Hearing it in Italian did somewhat muffle the effect the carnies had, although I thought that I could still detect the faint smell of cabbage issuing from their small hands, even at a distance.

After this diverting stroll, we ended up wandering through a rather affluent area. I was however, unable to judge the quality of the houses and ended up admiring many a well constructed wall. The well-heeled of Vicenza would seem to be experts in constructing quality, view obstructing walls.

creepy villa

After the wall viewing extravaganza, we decided to follow a path into the forest, without any ideas of neither how far it ventured nor indeed if it would lead us even remotely back in the right direction. With such obvious points in its favour, it was impossible to resist letting my feet led me amongst the trees. The foreboding air permeating the forest increased rather severely, as I spotted a building nearly completely obscured through trees. As we walked closer, the origin of the building became clearer. It had at some distant point in the past, been a hotel, the dilapidated exterior and plant penetrated interior betraying it's age. Intending to plumb the darkened depths, I grabbed a sturdy branch lying nearby and ventured in. However, once inside, my bravado was countered by both my powerful imagination and the signs of semi-recent habitation. Deciding that backing slowly and turning that into a run would be the best way out, I executed said plan perfectly.

Back on the path and in the brighter light of the afternoon, my actions did seem slightly silly...Anyway, the path twisted sinuously down the hillside, small patches of distant houses appearing intermittingly through the network of tree branches. Eventually the path guided us around the other side of the hill and into the town. It was an enticing glimpse into the side streets of Vicenza, just the sort of activity that lures me to path less tread...

4th September - Italian Encounter

Trieste

Rijeka appeared out of the mist as the ferry approached the Croatian coast. Disembarking, I saw 2 hitchhikers trying to hitch a lift with the exodus. Good idea, but I was committed to coffee with Toby and Kathrin. So, we wandered into Rijeka under a leaden sky, the drizzle dampening more than just my clothes. However, finding an umbrella left at the coffee shop did lift my spirits. Somehow, with a combination of wandering and asking we found ourselves on boat. Which had computers, free internet and a lot of polished wood. Cheap, tasty coffee. Ah, bliss for the traveler. Sent an emergency couchsurfing request, did some shopping, said my goodbyes to Toby and Kathrin, hopped on a bus to Trieste. Quite a nice city. However, I didn't have such a long time to look around. Was wondering around the seafront, met some nice people and then checked the internet. Someone had responded to my request, so I printed out the directions and hoped on a train to Vicenza! It is pretty close where I needed to get to so, no worries.

Although I did forget to validate my ticket! Freaked out a bit, but then met an Italian hitchhiking guy called Elia, who had also forgotten to validate his ticket! So, together we went and talked to the controller and everything was sweet. Had a great talk with Elia and he gave me his personal recipe for vin brulé.

I arrived in Vicenza with the memory of the Google Maps street layout and some printed directions. At 9pm. I found my way, navigating overpasses and back streets. I get there only to find Robino! He was one of the guys who organised the 789 meeting in Odessa! Was even more funny, because the host wasn't there, just all his guests! So, Max (the host, but don't let him hear you call him that) has pretty much one of the most open houses in CSing. Usually hosting 4 people, but has hosted 17 in the past! He gives you a set of keys and says "The house is yours". Truly fantastic. We even used my recipe for mulled wine that night. Met Linda and Charles, couple of cool CSers. Slept on a bed for the first time since Greece...

3rd September - Crossing Croatia

I open my eyes. Pure, azure sky welcomes me back in the world. I look around. Where am I? Ah yes, Croatia. It all comes back to me. I sit up in my sleeping bag, surveying the scene. Tucked away, hidden from view I can see the bay, in all it's glory. Feeling rather satisfied with myself, I decide to celebrate by eating. The previous day (or was it the day before?) I purchased a loaf of bread, which I proceeded to eat, washed down with flat carbonated water. Ah, the simple joys of travelling on a shoe string budget. So, hampered in my desire to shower, by the distinct lack of a shower, I packed up and walked to the highway.

I crossed the bridge, finding a rather small (read: exactly large enough for a small car to stop, if said car was outfitted with rally brakes) pullover area, decided to stand in/on/beside the railing and try my luck. Whilst I was waiting for someone with exceptionally good brakes, I noticed a cruise liner doing a 180° turn. After approximately 1 hour (I travel without phone or indeed a watch), I managed to get a lift with a driver going all the way to the Bosnia and Herzegovina border. Didn't know that Bosnia and Herzegovina had a 'small' strip of the coastline? Well, neither did I until the driver informed me that he was turning off just before the border. Ah. Well, as Felix and I had looked at a map of Moldova just a few weeks before, where we were able to discern that it was only 2km to walk, I decided that this distance was also the same. Little did I realise that the map I now had was at a much larger scale. Blissfully unaware of this, I set off. First, tried to hitch in the border area, but got moved on the guards. An interesting feature of hitchhiking north along the Croatian coast is that there are no rest areas for traffic. Like none. They don't exist. So, walking in the wrong lane, or more frequently, teetering on the side of the railing which offered protection from the traffic and trying to avoid falling down steep slope. Once I walked along an overgrown pipeline. After about 5hrs I ended up walking to a supermarket thing. Lucky for me they accepted my Croatian money in return for a delicious chocolate coated ice-cream. So, so hot outside...

More walking later, I found myself at a service station. Little traffic. I have made it about 50km. I walked about 10 of those kilometres. Feeling like I may not make it to Italy on time (all explained in future posts). Fairly dispirited, waiting in the 32°C sun. About 1 hour later, I actually get a car to stop. Who should be driving it but a Kiwi? Not only that, but an interesting one, who gave me a crash course in the troubled history of the Balkans. He had been here 17 years ago as a war photographer and stayed, now speaking Croatian and even had a Croatian passport. Actually, he was on his way to a funeral. This wouldn't be the last time that I would be picked up by someone on their way to a funeral. Strange, but also a testament to the kindness of humans, irrespective of their country of origin. So, he wasn't going any further north and so he ended up dropping me on the highway.

Further walking, I found a reasonable place to hitch from. After a brief wait I got a ride with two Croatian guys. They were both drinking a beer (the European 0.5L kind of can. Once you have had it you can't go back). However, based upon my observation of no other beer cans, a working seatbelt (still a novelty) and my extreme desperation for a lift led me to feel pretty relaxed about the situation. Especially when we dropped in to visit a friend of theirs and they gave me a beer (they also partook of another). Interesting guy, an artist. Was invited to go walking the mountains around the next day (implicit in this, the offer of accommodation and food. For a random guy. I am coming back as soon as I can Europe), but due to my rather tight schedule I had to refuse. We ended up back on the road, now taking some amazing country roads. So that it would be quicker? Not at all, was purely to show me the Croatian countryside. Fantastic winding roads. They had told me previously that they were heading to Split, which mean I had in 12hrs of hitchhiking gotten 150km. In conversation, it turned out that there might be a ferry leaving for Rijeka, 400km more north. He called and it would all work out! So, we stopped for more beer, the driver informing me that he wouldn't drink any more. "Good idea, could maybe affect your driving", I suggested. "No no", he replied "If I have anymore, I will stay partying in Split and won't catch my ferry to my island". Ah, of course, I thought. Anyways, we parked and I changed money, bought a ticket and walked on as the last passenger, before they departed. Perfect timing!

So, I walked around, wrote in my journal, but still felt restless. Walked outside and felt the cool spray of saltwater on face. I spied a group people, who looked like travellers. Were. Two were couchsurfers. Broke out the raki. Good chats and would end up going on to stay with Tobias and Kathrin in Heidelberg, Germany towards the end of my trip.We all chatted into the early hours and then turned in. The distant rumbling of the engines and the gentle rocking of the Mediterranean waves lulling me to sleep...

2nd September - Stealth Camping King

After trying to pretend for some hours that Budva was my home for life, I eventually got the bus to Kotor. A beautiful town, with some amazing architecture. There is a stone wall which goes straight up the side of a mountain, impressive. However, the sense of wonder was hampered by the large amount of rubbish blowing around in the streets. After a failed hitchhiking attempt, I ended up getting the bus to Dubrovnik with other 'travellers', people going from hostel room to hostel room, going via organised timetables. Not for me. Arrived in Dubrovnik in the early evening, the soft light of the afternoon sun enhancing the fading colours of this beautiful town. I wandered the backstreets, amazing to see that people really live their life in such an amazing setting. Wrote in my journal in the main square, listening to street performers just around the corner and relaxing. I hadn't organised any accommodation and after having a few beers with a new friend, was no closer to a bed. It was 1.30am. I said my goodbyes and jumped on the bus, to go back to the bus station and sleep there the night. That was the plan....

I woke up to the bus winding it's way up a mountain. 'Hang on', I thought to myself 'I don't remember this on the way in'. For the very good reason that I had slept well past my stop and was now about 20km in the middle of somewhere else. Fortunately, I was able to recruit an English speaker to get the bus driver to drop me off on the way back. Unfortunately, the bus stop was completely closed. Plan B. Time to stealth camp. So, as I was already on the outskirts of the city, I proceeded to walk along looking for a suitable place. Glancing over to my right I spotted a narrow staircase, winding up into the Croatian mountain side, into darkness. Why not? So, I wandered up the mountain, getting nearly 3/4 of the way to the highway, right beside a huge cable bridge. To my left, after a few metres scree like of steep slope I spied a rusty railing, skirting the steep incline. Perfect. Safety schmafty. A short slide later I found myself on a narrow path, cliff face one side, rusty railing on the other. I pushed through some scratchy bushes and found the most perfect of stealth camping spots. Halfway up a cliff, hidden from view (but with an amazing view). I lay down my sleeping bag, drifted off to the sleep, content...