Oh, hello Autumn

Somewhere between indulging in cheese fondue in Zurich, picnicking in the Loire Valley and feasting on seafood tapas in the north of Spain, Autumn came. The leaves turned orange, the nights grew cooler and the days became shorter. Somehow, though, I missed it. We were so busy exploring - in what felt like a renewed desire to travel after an unexpected but very welcome deviation back to Cologne - that the end of summer came and went without so much as a cursory goodbye. 

But, of course, here in the north of Spain, the sun's rays are powerful: the days remain warm enough to lie on the beach and soak up the sun (which is precisely what I did on Monday to usher in the month of October - our last month on the road). 

Let me recap what we have been up to for the last two weeks...

The Loire Valley

I don't have that much to say about this, to be honest. The river is pretty, as are the iconic castles that make the area so famous. For me, though, it was quite boring. The towns that we visited all blended in to each other, and the only highlight was the freshly baked pastries we had for breakfast each morning. And the cheese... mmm. 

San Vicente de la Barquera 

We spent one week in this little town, not far from Santander, with some of our lovely friends - Rafael, Carmen and their beautiful 15 month old son Jasper. Here we surfed the waves (well, bodyboarding for me - it is much easier than surfing and requires far less courage!) and basked in the glorious sunshine. 

I must admit that squeezing in to my suffocating wetsuit for the first time in almost two years was somewhat distressing - as was the cold water and the sometimes treacherous waves - but as soon as I caught my first wave this was all forgotten. I was soaring across the sea, being carried back to the shore by the sheer force of the wave, and it was an absolutely exhilarating feeling. And I kept going back for more. 

And the other great thing? Why, the tapas, of course. For those of you who know me, I tend to be a bit of a fish-phobe, but - in the spirit of discovery - I let myself go and tried everything. And it was so, so good. We filled our hungry bellies with lightly spiced octopus cooked with potatoes, juicy king prawns sizzling in oil and copious amounts of garlic, tender grilled squids, anchovies that were like little exploding salt bombs, mussels (that, to be honest, made me a bit sick) and shiny little sardines that looked at me with their sad eyes while I tore the flesh off their little bones. The entire experience was simply divine, and we washed it down with two bottles of the house red. 

I wish I had a photo of this fishy feast for you but, alas, in our hurried excitement and hungry haste, we dived straight in without a thought for the camera. 

Picos de Europa 

We also went hiking in the Picos de Europa - beautiful mountains 20km inland from the northern coast of Spain. The views were breathtaking and, thankfully, the rain waited until we had finished. The rocky sights were dramatic and we spotted a number of caves (in which we imagine there must have been some cheese busy maturing). 

Though we only hiked for 3-4 hours, much of the way was steep and exhausting. At night, as I lay in bed, my legs hurts so much I was practically crying in my sleep - but it was worth the pain. It was simply magnificent. 

Waking up in paradise

And now we are traveling further west along the north coast. This morning we woke up at a glorious beach - the softest sand, crashing waves, dramatic rocks, fragrant trees - and the best bit? We were all alone. The beach was ours. The world was ours. And the future is ours. 

Show me the middle finger

On Monday the 6^th of August 2012 it was our very first wedding anniversary. 365 days as Mrs. Ballan. Before we had even worked out a route, I was adamant that the day should be spent in Greece – at a beautiful Greek beach, eating delicious Greek food. The only problem was that we were hundreds of miles, but only a few days, away from this goal.

As we drove through the Balkans, I was more and more convinced that our special day would be spent in Albania – a country I wasn’t very excited about seeing. Albania was very different from both Croatia and Montenegro (which were extraordinarily beautiful, each in their own way). Albania was rough – not just around the edges, but all over. The country’s poverty was visible everywhere. The roads were poorly constructed, filled with potholes and very often (and randomly) became unsteady dirt tracks. We saw countless unfinished buildings that had clearly stopped construction due to a lack of funds. Albania was not beautiful, but it was humbling.

Florian, of course, is able to find beauty anywhere and in anything. In this exhausting and difficult country, he found a lovely little place by Lake Ohrid to stop and have lunch. The lake was enormous, it was tranquil and it was beautiful. Part of the restaurant was even built in to the lake, giving the diners the sensation that they were floating. I couldn’t stop talking about how beautiful the ‘sea’ looked, only to keep remembering that it was actually a lake and that we were nowhere near the coast.

To cut a long story short, we crossed the border into Greece on the 5^th of August. I had been worried for no reason – of course Florian had taken it upon himself to make sure that our first wedding anniversary was exactly as I had hoped it would be. We drove to Sithonia, the ‘middle finger’ of Chalkidiki (personally recommended by one of Florian’s Greek friends for its beautiful sandy beaches and the fact that it is slightly less of a tourist magnet than other places in Greece).

It was our very own paradise. And we spent the 6^th of August swimming in the warm sea, cuddling on the beach and looking back at our first year of marriage – recounting all the wonderful bits and everything we still have to look forward to.

My wise friend Charlee, during a moment of despair, once told me not to worry, because ‘the best is yet to come’. I held on to this like an anchor, and still do, only now I think of it in both good times and bad. Florian and I have had a magical start to our marriage – 365 days of love, of fulfilling dreams, of making plans for the future – and, yet, this is just the very beginning. The best is yet to come. And so the 6^th of August was a day to take stock, as well as a day to look to the future.

 

We have spent the last few days doing much the same – swimming in the sea, lying on the beach, eating amazing Greek food and appreciating everything we have. In this state of absolute freedom, we are still creatures of habit. Our body clocks automatically wake us up at 8am and meal times are respected. Each day begins with a refreshing and revitalising dip in the sea, and each day ends with us gazing up at the stars (because our campervan is awesome and has a skylight above the bed) – and thanking our lucky stars for this feeling of unburdened, true freedom. 

Sizzling in Croatia, cooling off in Montenegro

“What do you have in the van?”, asked the man at the Croatian border, with a face so serious it was as if he’d already decided we must be carrying a load of cocaine across the border.

“Just our camping stuff”, replied Florian, offering up one of his warmest smiles for good measure.

Seemingly satisfied, Mr. Croatian Border Man replied with a simple “okay”, but no smile. This must be the first time someone didn’t give in to my darling husband’s infectious smile. We decided that, with a face as straight as that, he must be an excellent poker player.

The rest of the people we met in Croatia, though, were warm and welcoming – giving Florian as good as he gave in the smile department. There was the waiter, for example, at a Croatian restaurant near the beach in Brela who gave us some Croatian plum whiskey on the house and told us how lucky we were to live in London and be close to the Chelsea football team. There was also the fruit-seller by the side of the road (selling the most delicious nectarines) who happily gave Florian directions and a mini Croatian language lesson.

All in all, what a lovely bunch of people.

And Croatia itself? Well, it is simply stunning. We spent most of our time driving along the dramatic coastline, admiring the views of the many Croatian islands (of which there are, astonishingly, more than a thousand). The heat was almost unbearable, though, and so we generally stayed away from the cities.

We first visited the island of Krk, accessible via a huge bridge from mainland Croatia. This island, in all its beauty, was completely unspoilt. It was dry and rocky; remote and desert-like; rough and wild. Untouched by the commercial hand of tourism, accessing the beach required climbing down some steep and unsteady rocks. The beach itself – a pebble beach – was tiny. A handful of fellow travellers had discovered it and were soaking up the last rays of the evening sun.

Driving across the island was very telling of the climate – it was extremely dry, with very little greenery. Some of the trees that we did see had been left blackened and bare by devastating bushfires.

Returning to mainland Croatia, though, the land became greener and more welcoming. We travelled to Sabunike beach, not far from the small city Zadar. Unlike Krk, the beach was sandy and packed with locals. Upon arrival, we promptly got in to our swimming gear and splashed our way straight in to the Adriatic Sea. The water was cold, but nonetheless a welcome refreshment given the unrelenting heat. We spent the night at the beach, and went back for another swim the next morning – it was amazing.

We then carried on to Brela, where the beach was pebbly and tourists were everywhere. Our final stop in Croatia was Dubrovnik, though it was more an attempt than an actual stop. The city was hot and not particularly vehicle-friendly. We decided that we would one day return to Croatia to discover the cities – by foot – in a more agreeable climate.

And so we carried on south – but instead of chasing the sun, we were starting to feel the intense weight of every single one of the forty degrees of heat bearing down on us. The plan was to carry on to Albania, but driving through Montenegro was so unbearably beautiful we felt compelled to stop. The Bay of Kotor, framed by grey mountain walls, is magnificent, and the crystal clear sea is the deepest blue-green imaginable.

We found a great little campsite offering a perfect location right by the sea, electricity and (cold!) showers – and all this for only €14! Once again, another pocket of beauty completely hidden from the tourist radar (I wonder how long this will last).

Arriving in the early evening was perfect timing – the air was starting to cool down (though I use the word “cool” loosely, noting that it’s all relative – anything below thirty degrees right now is able to provide us with some feeling of relief), but the sea was still welcoming. Florian dived right in, whilst I stole a few quiet moments alone, taking in my surroundings and appreciating every ounce of luck I have.

Our aim is to reach Greece as soon as possible, and to spend a couple of weeks relaxing there before heading back to Italy to discover Sicily with friends. And so we must say goodbye to this new-found treasure of ours, and hope that we continue to discover many more beautiful secrets of Europe – some well-kept, others not so much.