If you are travelling through central Europe, don’t pass by Slovenia…. it’s definitely worth a visit. A nation of just over 2 million and with a very small coastline, it’s distinctly Alpine with many woods, forests and meadows. The dominant colour is green, and in the north the magnificent Alpine peaks of the Julian and Kamnik-Savinja Alps open out into wide basins and valleys below. Slovenia has the largest uninhabited forest in Europe, which is home to the European brown bear, wolves, wild boar and lynx. We didn’t see any brown bears (although there were bear trips on offer),

but we did see an extraordinary number and variety of butterflies.

Slovenia’s biodiversity, perfect order in apparent disorder, ranks among the highest in Europe. It is home to many endemic, rare and threatened species of flora and fauna, including 180 different species of butterfly, almost 3 times as many as inhabit the whole of the UK.

So, what else is Slovenia famous for……number one on the list must be caves! I’ve visited a few caves in my time, but never have I seen anything quite so amazing as the caves we visited in Slovenia. Slovenia’s karst (limestone) landscape, makes it ideal for cave formation and there are over 13,000 in the country, with new ones being discovered daily. Water drips through the porous limestone rock, dissolving calcium bicarbonate, forming calcite in a tiny hardened ring when the droplet meets air. It’s a slow process.… 100 years to form just 1cm of Stalacite. Stalactites hanging from the cave ceiling and stalagmites rising from the floor eventually meet to form towering columns, some of which have taken hundreds of thousands of years to form.

First, we visit Postojna Cave

Postojna Cave

(https://www.postojnska-jama.eu), a jaw dropping 24km series of cave caverns, halls and passages (as a visitor you get to visit 5km), which was hollowed out by the Pivka river some 2 million years ago. At the entrance we are loaded onto a cool yellow and red electric cave train, in the dark, which feels a bit like a Disney ride. And then we speed through the first 3km of the cave system, oohing and aahing. The next couple of kilometres are done on foot and I can’t honestly describe how amazing these caves are…hopefully the pictures speak for themselves.

Towards the end of the visit we pass through the Spaghetti Hall,

The Spaghetti Hall, Postojna Cave

where the stalactites are in their early stages of formation and hang like spaghetti from the cave’s ceiling.

Next we walk through the White Hall, where the white columns of pure calcite and quartz stone sparkle

The White Hall, looking through to the Red Hall, Postojna Cave 

in the subtle cave lighting and then into the Red Hall, where the limestone here is tinted with iron oxide deposits, ranging from deep orange to rust red. One word……awesome!

We learn about cave animals, of which Postojna has 416. There are some interesting words from the cave world. Speleology….the study or exploration of caves, Troglobites…..animals that can only survive in the cave environment, Troglophiles…….animals that live most of their life cycle in caves, but can also survive above ground and finally Trogloxenes…….who live at the entrance of caves but forage outside (e.g. bats). There is a Vivarium at Postojna, showcasing the tiny cave invertebrates; beetles, millipedes, and snails who move and grow very slowly and have adapted to life in total darkness by losing functioning eyes and their skin pigment. They often have extraordinary long-life expectancies and the largest of the cave creatures, the Olm, or cave salamander (also known as a Human Fish) regularly lives to be 100 years old and can live for 6 years without eating…. cool or what?

Next I visit Pivka Jama (pronounced Puka) and the Black cave, which are situated under our campsite and are the last two caves along the subterranean river Pivka before it disappears.

The entrance is dramatic, almost vertical, via a collapsed sinkhole.

The entrance to Pivka Jama

Our guide, Bine leads our group of Slovenian, Danish, Dutch and German (and me) visitors and talks fluently in German, moving to Dutch, and then back to Slovenian. I’m in awe of how gifted people in Croatia and Slovenia have been in their language ability. I feel ashamed that the one language I learned at school, French, is now barely good enough to ask for a coffee and the bill. Luckily the tour is delivered in English! The Pivka cave is not as well-known as Postojna but feels different as

the river still flows through the cave system.

The Pivka River in Pivka Jama

We walk along a tunnel which was carved out by the Italians 95 years ago in secrecy, in an attempt to spy across the border into what was Austria-Hungary at that time. Later in the 2^nd world war, in an occupied Kingdom of Yugoslavia, the caves were also used to store fuel by the Nazi’s. We learn that the cave system is a constant temperature of 10 degrees and with no traces of pollutants, complete darkness (when the lights are turned off) and very little noise, our guide is hopeful that a new therapy…… Speleotherapy, might hold promise for treating a range of conditions, such as Asthma.

During our stay in the Carniola region of Slovenia, we also visit Predjama Castle, the world’s biggest Cave castle. If you are visiting Postojna caves in the Summer, there’s a free shuttle bus and combination ticket that will allow you to visit both.

At Predjama, in the 123-meter cliff, a medieval castle was first built some 800 years ago

Predjama Castle

and has evolved over the centuries into the enchanted spectacle of today. There is a great free audio guide at the entrance which will take you through the castle’s rooms retelling the stories of its walls. The most famous of legends is that of Erazem Predjamski, a Robin Hood type baron, who laid siege for a year against the imperial army. The castle and the cave system beneath offered protection from his enemies, allowing food to be smuggled in via its secret passages. Unfortunately, it didn’t end well for Erazem after a servant, bribed by the enemy, betrayed his master and lit a candle when Erazem visited the toilet. The toilet was a particularly weak spot on the outside wall which meant that our hero met his maker by canon, whilst visiting the John…… a most unheroic death!

After our visits to these amazing caves and castles I am reminded of the enormity of time and of how long these caves with their stalactites and mites, and the creatures that live there have evolved on our planet. And of how our time on Earth is like a grain of sand, or a drop in the ocean, in comparison.  I wonder what future generations will think when they look back at our time on Earth and how our species will evolve in the millennia to come? But just for today I will continue to –

“Cherish sunsets, wild creatures and wild places…… and have a love affair with the wonder and beauty of the earth.”  Stewart Udall (American Politician, author and Professor of Environmental Humanism).

The town of Krk

We plan to spend 1 week on the island of Krk, the largest of Croatia’s stunning thousand islands, but end up staying for 2 (more about that later). Krk (pronounced Kirka) isn’t easy to say. 400 years ago, the Turks swept through the area, looting, pillaging, and stealing all the vowels! The lonely vowels that survived this time of alphabetic terror hid in groups of consonants leaving the island of Krk behind. The scenery is sublime. As we cross the 1430 m long arch bridge connecting the island to the mainland, we are treated to sweeping views of the Adriatic before travelling towards its verdant centre. A popular tourist destination, it is also rich in natural and cultural-historical heritage. Our first campsite in the north of the island, is near Osmjali and then we move to a campsite near Krk town.

Our first week is full of blue skies, crystal clear water and it’s hot.

Beaches and towns of the island of Krk

We celebrate the ‘half New Year’ with fireworks,

music and chocolate cake at the campsite. It’s six months since we spent the full New Year at Mandrem, Goa and in another 6 months, we will be celebrating 2020’s New Year with good friends and family on another island, the island of Arran. More celebrations follow and we visit ‘Rab’ intent on having some fun. That’s not big Rab fae Possilpark, wee Jimmy’s best pal……it’s the island of Rab, which sits between the islands of Krk and Pag. We’re on a boat trip and it’s a special day. It’s Johns birthday (we won’t mention an exact figure, but let’s just say he’s now nearer his eighth than seventh decade), and today is also the day I graduate (in absentia) from Glasgow Caledonian University after 10 years of ploughing through a PhD by Publication.

I don’t have my gown, but I do have a hat and I’ve had my photo taken for the occasion, so I’m halfway there.

We have a lovely day, the only complaint being that it’s white wine for lunch (John much prefers red), but we cope admirably!

We visit the town of Rab,

The town of Rab

which sits on a narrow sliver of land protruding towards the mainland, bounded by ancient city walls and 4 church towers. After a quick tour we have time for some more swimming and snorkelling. We stop off on the island of Pag and I visit the olive groves of Lun, where more than 1,500 wild, old (the oldest being 2,000 year) olive trees grow. The sail back along the southern coastline of krk, past the golden beach, is heavenly. What a lovely day we’ve had…. the only thing missing of course is our family, who aren’t here with us to celebrate. The next day there’s more celebration as my son who has been studying Mental Health Nursing and is nearing the end of his 3-year training, phones to tell us that he is successful in his first interview, a community post, just what he was hoping for. This time John has plenty of cheap red wine in the van to mark the occasion!

Two days later we hire a scooter to explore some of the island’s other towns. First, we visit Baska, at the southern tip. It’s windswept and interesting with stunning views of the islands of Prvic, Goli and Sveti Grgur. Then we head east to visit Vrbnik (not many vowels there either!). Perched on a limestone outcrop, the town is centred round a 13^th century church. Our final stop for the day is at the sands of Soline, on the North East coast, which is famed for its healing mud. Mineral laden black mud, good for skin and rheumatic problems, line its shallow waters.

We plaster ourselves, letting the black mud dry in the sun before washing off in the warm sea.

Baska, the streets of  Vrbnik and the healing mud of Soline

We hop on the scooter again and head home but as we travel uphill out of the bay, on a hair pin bend, we skid on some gravel and in an instant everything changes……. adventure becomes misadventure! John lands heavily on his shoulder and we both have cuts and bruises a plenty. We know we’ve been lucky and before the adrenalin stops flowing, we get back on the bike and make our way slowly back to the campsite, about 10 miles away. At the campsite we apply some frozen veg to our wounds and rest for a bit. It’s only later when I help John to get his t shirt, that I notice a big bump on his clavicle. “It’s clicking when I move it” he says and then I feel dreadful. I think he may have fractured his clavicle! A trip to the A &E department confirms the fracture and by the time we get back to our van its past 1am. So much for the healing mud…. I guess its healing powers don’t stretch to prevention!

When mishaps happen, there are many ways for our thinking to go. One is to say ‘if only’…. ‘If only’ we hadn’t hired the scooter…. ‘if only’ we hadn’t stopped at Soline….’if only’ we hadn’t decided to drive across Europe in a van. But if only isn’t very helpful. Far more helpful is to ask ourselves what the lessons learned are and what positives can be taken forward. John had been thinking of buying a scooter on our return to Scotland, but perhaps this has been a warning. Its only now that stories of his many accidents when he had a scooter in his teens/early twenties emerge, one of which was taking his bike test. So maybe this accident has saved his life and it has certainly saved him a lot of money.

John’s to have another x-ray in 7 days, so we decide to stay on an extra week at the campsite in Krk. The next 7 days pass in some degree of discomfort and frustration. There’s no swimming, no cycling, and no scooters, but we’re healing. After the hospital visit, I pack up (John’s on strict princess duties) and I now must take over doing all the driving of this giant motor-home for the next few weeks at least. It’s not the driving so much as the manoeuvring into tight pitch spaces that are challenging. John suggests its empowering, another positive to emerge from our situation, but I’m thinking that it’s terrifying! It’s time to leave and it’s raining. Just as I’m trying to figure out the logistics of my 10 point turn out of the pitch, our lovely Belgium neighbour, who just happens to be a lorry driver, offers to reverse it all the way up to the main campsite road. A big sigh of relief from me. The first part of the journey has gone well. This is definite case for a celebration……get the kettle on!

I’m a country girl at heart and although we have visited many stunning towns and cities in Croatia, I will remember the country in blues and greens… for its coastline and its national parks. With such a long stretch of coast, which is dappled with more than a thousand Islands, the warm aqua Adriatic Sea has never been far away.

The visibility is amazing in these crystal-clear waters,

so snorkelling has been a dream. I even plucked up the courage to go diving again after 5 years. With the sunlight penetrating the surface, it was an underwater delight to find schools of Anchovy’s, strange looking cuttlefish swimming through the sea grass and large crabs scuttling across the sea bottom. But Croatia has much more to offer than its coastline and a visit to one of Croatia’s 8 national parks takes you into another world, a green world which is also full of water. You will be in awe, there is no question about it. We visited 3 national parks whilst we were here and I would recommend you add them to your bucket list now, if you haven’t done so already!

The oldest national park in Croatia, Plitvice Lakes National park

is a UNESCO world heritage site, and a magnificent gift from nature, unlike anything I have ever seen before. Situated between the mountains of Mala Kapela and Ljesevica it attracts more than 1 million visitors a year, so, it’s very busy. There are 16 turquoise coloured lakes interconnected by waterfalls ranging from 25 to 78 meters tall. The water in Plitvice has eroded rocks over the millennia, and the dissolved calcium carbonate has sedimented to create a porous stone, or ‘travertine’ forming barriers (falls and cascades) between the lakes.

This ‘travertine’ or ‘tufa’ also coats and petrifies trees which have fallen into the lakes. So, as you walk on the boardwalk trails which wind across the lakes, cascades and waterfalls and peer into the clear turquoise water there is another world beneath…one where petrified trees and leaves form an underwater forest. Brown trout gather to face the current, bright blue butterflies and dragonflies’ dart across the surface and birdsong echoes in the forest. Around every bend is another beautiful view and despite the throngs of tourists, if you can stop for a moment and take in the view, listen to the water and to the forest, here is a place that you can be at one with nature.

In Plitvice mother nature blew me away and reminded me just what a wonderful world, we live in…. this park is a definite 10.

We bought a 2-day ticket and spent our time wandering around the marked-out walking trails……but come early, by midday busloads of tourists had arrived, stopping at every conceivable spot for selfies!

I visit Krka National park as a day trip from Trogir.

The park is focused around the Krka river and has 7 impressive waterfalls. It’s like Plitvice in that there are outlaid promenade board walks and paths, but here you can also take a dip in the lake’s cool clear waters at the base of the striking Skradinski Buk waterfall.

I’m picked up from our campsite early and delighted to be greeted by 4 ladies from Paisley in the minibus. It’s been a while since I’ve heard Scottish voices (apart from John’s obviously) and even longer since I’ve had female company. So, we have a good natter on the bus, and enjoy some girlie banter!

After boarding the boat at Skradin we glide across one of KrKa’s emerald green lakes

and arrive at the Skradinski Buk trail. As a day trip my time here is limited and there is so much more to see in the park; 47km of walking and 470km of biking trails, 6 more waterfalls, 2 traditional watermills, 5 medieval fortresses, a roman military fort, 2 monastery’s and an island in the middle of one of the lakes! So, next time I will have to come for longer!

The final park we visit is Kornati National park,

which is a spectacular archipelago of 109 mostly uninhabited islands, islets, reefs and craggy rocks scattered like jewels over an area of 320 square kilometres. So, we need to do visit by boat from Zaton.

As we glide along the water the early morning sun dances across the surface of the ocean like a symphony of sparkles.

In contrast the island terrain, karst-limestone is dry and dust yellow and there is little vegetation to be seen. These islands arose from sediment from the sea many millennia ago, forming stark, almost lunar like bizarre shapes, unexplored caves, areas of flat rock and towering cliffs. It’s a sailor’s paradise.

Below the surface there is a seascape of caves, tunnels and walls that host an incredible variety of marine life, an underwater diver’s paradise too. We stop at the south-eastern end of Dugi Otok, in the Telascica Nature Park near Mir Lake. This Salt Lake is fed by the sea which seeps in through underground cracks. We swim in the water, which is always at least 6 degrees warmer than the sea and walk to the cliffs reaching height of 166 meters on the other side of the island.

After a late lunch onboard, we slowly head back criss-crossing through the islands, the wind in our hair.

I sit here writing this blog as the sun sets and watch a luminous green Italian wall lizard as it scuttles across our path and a blackbird couple, who frequently join us for the evening, dart in and out of the bushes with their necks stretched forward, collecting grubs and extra nesting material for their family. And I reflect on what a truly wonderful world it is that we live in. I believe that we are the custodians of this planet, and as such have a responsibility to protect Earth and to limit the damage, we as humans are inflicting on it. There are changes we can all make individually, but we need to work together at a global level and start taking our responsibilities more seriously. Spending time in these national parks has underlined how amazing our planet is and has given me some hope for its future. We can protect our natural habitats and wildlife in the parks, so with a big effort surely we can start making a difference on a larger scale…….maybe I’m just a dreamer, and sometimes dreams come true.

The beach on Baia e Cala Campi, Gargano

We arrive safely in the port of Salerno and had planned to stop at a campsite near Pompeii to visit Herculaneum and Vesuvius, but a tip from a friend who had recently visited and was disappointed, made us rethink. So, we are off on an adventure again – definition; an exciting experience that is typically a bold (sometimes risky) undertaking – with only half a plan. We need to head to the east coast to catch a ferry to Croatia in 4 days, so following a recommendation from someone we met at a campsite and a quick review of our Italian guidebook, we decide to drive to the Gargano coastline in Puglia, with no particular expectations. The Gargano Peninsula juts out into the Adriatic Sea and is the spur in the heel of Italy’s boot. For the last 20 miles of our journey we snake along its coastline, where rocky limestone cliffs rise above the crystal-clear aqua sea. We arrive at our campsite and I can feel a smile rising.…we’ve come up trumps with this one. Situated in an Aleppo pine wood, where the only sounds are the forest birds chirruping and the waves swishing on the pebble beach, I am in heaven. There is also a fantastic restaurant overlooking the cove, a well-stocked shop, a small fruit and vegetable stall and free (all the showers in Sicily were token-ed and timed), hot, roomy showers. What more could a girl ask for…this is one of the campsites I will remember.

John doing some yoga, the campsite beach

Gargano is a popular beach destination for vacationing Italians but seems relatively unknown to other Europeans, except the Germans who seem to have travelled everywhere. The area has small resorts with lovely beaches, hilltop towns and seaside villages. Here, you will also find the UNESCO site Sanctuary of Monte Sant’Angelo, the Umbra forest known for its ancient oak trees (500 years old) and an unspoilt national park. Over the next 3 days we cycle along the coastline into the nearby town of Vieste (no mean feat as the road rises above the cliffs), kayak around the little islands from our drop-dead gorgeous beach and generally unwind from the assault to the senses which was Sicily. The scenic small town Vieste sits on a white cliffed peninsula jutting into the sea. The old town is an atmospheric maze of steep staircases with washing dangling from the simple white houses and there are restaurants and small shops along every alleyway – just perfect for wandering.

The Gargano coastline, the town of Viesta, lunch with a view 

We slowly cycle around the edge of the town where there are stunning sea views and stop at a lovely little restaurant for lunch with a gorgeous view. John was also on a mission……to find a barber. It had been 10 weeks since his last haircut and he was beginning to look like a 1970s hippy. The barber spoke no English, but with a few gestures going on between them, John managed to come out looking a whole lot better than when he went in!

With so much still to see in this area we would have loved to stay for much longer, but with a ferry to catch, we must leave. The spur of the boot has left a lasting impression, a little piece of paradise, that sometime in the future I hope to return to. But for now, we are leaving Italy and make our way to catch the ferry in Ancona. There’s no stopping off to visit coastal towns and the journey goes smoothly, no hitches, no stress and before we know it, we are on our way to Croatia.

Evening ferry from Ancona to Split

“Is that another glass of wine?” I say to John as he pours his third red. 

“Well, we’re on holiday” he replies, as he’s stated repeatedly since we set off on this road trip. I usually reply by reminding him that we are not on holiday, but on our senior’s gap year and that if he treats this like a yearlong holiday then his liver is not going to hold out! But, here in Croatia, for the first time since we left our base campsite in Spain, I feel that we really are on holiday. Perhaps it’s the non-stop sunshine, the heat (by Thursday it rises to 35 degrees), the endless miles of coastline and aqua blue sea? Sorry guys, I know it’s not been a good Summer in Scotland so far, so I really should stop there! But I have to say that so far Croatia has been amazing. Our first stop is the Island of Čiovo, next to the medieval town of Trogir and not far Split. There is so much to do, and the campsite has its own beach, so we decide to stay for a week. It’s the longest that we’ve been in one place since mid-April and it’s nice to take a step back from all the travel planning and unwind.

The town of Trogir, is squeezed within its ancient walls and is like a mini Dubrovnik.

It lies on a small island connected to the mainland and the island of Čiovo by bridges. We take a water taxi from our campsite and as we arrive at Trogir’s seaside promenade lined with bars, cafes and yachts you can’t help but be impressed.  The 13th-century Cathedral of St. Lawrence houses the Renaissance Chapel of St. John and I climb the bell tower which offers sweeping views from the top. The maze-like marble streets glint in the sunshine, but just around the corner a cool courtyard restaurant is waiting to offer a refreshing beer, and a dalmatian or mixed sea food platter for two!

We visit Split on one of the hottest days so far.

Split’s impressive promenade

I download a free walking tour of the old city (www.split-walking-tour.net), but not before we head to the nearest shopping mall. I’m on a mission…. for hair products! Being a frizzy haired girl, I use a certain brand and I’ve just about run out. I’ve not seen this particular brand so far on our travels and disaster is about to strike any day now. But as we enter the cool air-conditioned mall, I see it, a kind of Croatian Boots, and yes, they have it. I am soooo excited…. this has made my day! John has brought the rucksack and we load up.

Back to the old city. Most of the main attractions sit within the walls of the Diocletian’s Palace, the residence of the Roman Emperor Diocletian, built in 305 A.D. The old city now contains a unique mixture of Gothic and Renaissance palaces and squares built over time within the city’s original defensive walls.  Our walking tour starts at the Golden Gate (Zlatna vrata), the Northern entrance to the Palace.

Nearby stands the impressive statue of Grgur Ninski,

Statue  of Grgur Ninski and the Golden Gate

a Croatian bishop famed for his promotion of Christianity and the Croatian language. He has a shiny left big toe and legend has it that luck and a return to the city will befall those who touch It. I have touched his toe before, almost a year to the day…. spooky….and here I am returning. Perhaps this means that this is not the last time I will be visiting this city.

The main square of Split, The Peristyle is surrounded by Roman columns, arcs and temples, the Cathedral of St Dominus and Gothic palaces.

The Peristyle, The Vestible and the ‘Let me pass’ street 

Not far from the square in The Vestibule, the entrance to the Emperors apartments, a Capella male choir sing under its circular dome……lovely. After passing through the Pazar (the Green Market), the biggest open-air fruit and veg market in Croatia, we arrive at the Bronze Gate (Broncana Vrata) and walk through the Diocletian’s cellars, the substructure halls of the palace. Today local crafts and souvenirs are sold and In a deeper part of the cellars there is a treat for Game of Thrones fans – their lies the dungeons where Daernerys Targaryen’s kept her dragons. We visit the Temple of Jupiter and slip through the ‘Let me pass’ street (the narrowest street in the world??) into the charming Fruit square. We have only got to #16 on our walking tour and it’s time to walk back along the city’s palm fringed promenade to catch the ferry back to Trogir. A whistle stop tour, but I hope this has given you just a flavour of what this fabulous city has to offer.

The following week, we visit the small town of Nin,

The town of Nin, ancient Roman ruins and the Church of the Holy Cross

and lo and behold there is another shiny toed statue of Grgur Ninski. I later learn that this small town, built on an islet (500m in diameter) was Grgur’s birthplace. Nin is a very old town (> 3,000 years), was a sea and trade centre of the Romans and the first Croatian capital in the 10^th Century.

We visit on the Summer Solstice, and watch the sun disappear on the floor of the Church of the Holy Cross,

The arrival of midsummer at the Church of the Holy Cross

signifying the exact arrival of midsummer. I feel privileged to be here in this ancient town on this very special day.

We visit more islands on a boat trip.

The crystal clear waters of Croatia, and Solta

First, we stop at The Blue Lagoon, famed for its shallow crystal-clear waters and the islands of Solta and Drevnik Veli. We swim and snorkel in the intoxicating blue Adriatic Sea. It’s warm (about 21 degrees), and the combination of the blue skies, sunshine and the white shingled shores mean that these waters are just too tempting not to dive in.

The rest of the week we spend time cycling, exploring the Island and its stunning coastline, swimming and soaking up the sunshine. “Is this time well spent?”, I ask myself, “should I be spending my time more productively?” In this modern world all of us lead such busy lives. Some squeeze everything into their waking hours, some take more of a ‘maṅana, maṅana’ approach. Being more of the former type allowing myself the time to truly relax, is difficult and feels alien. I have a theory about time that the first day of any holiday is the longest, and then as the week goes on the days are over much faster. So, by moving on every 3-4 days, I have been trying to slow down time. But I begin to realise that none of us can slow down time, and that quality is more important than quantity. Here in Croatia, on this holiday from the holiday, I am reminded that time is one of life’s most important commodities and that our time on this planet is limited. A good friend once said “Life is like a toilet roll. You keep checking and there always seems to be plenty of paper left, but before you know it, just at a crucial moment, you’re at the end of the roll and it’s all gone! So, I try to savour and enjoy every square of my toilet paper, not looking too far ahead or worrying about when my last square might be. And, what better place to contemplate life’s toilet roll than in the land of a thousand islands, crystal-clear aqua sea and with a glass of red in my hand. Cheers!

The view from the campsite near Scopello

From our quirky campsite near Scopello we travel South, visiting the ancient Doric Temple of Segesta on our way. Perched on a hill in unspoilt rolling green countryside with views that stretch down to the sea, passing motorists may indeed wonder whether they’re hallucinating. The temple which is over 2,500 years old (430-420BC), was built by the Elymians, an indigenous people of Sicily, but was never completed, following an attack on the settlement by its rival, Selinunte. As I gaze up at this surprisingly intact temple through the hazy sunshine, I can’t help feel that this remarkable and peaceful site is a complete contrast to the Parthenon in Athens which although built around the same time, is crammed with tourists taking selfies.  At the Segesta site, on top of a nearby hill (Monte Barbaro) 400m above sea level, there is also a semi-circular theatre dug into its walls. The 360-degree vistas of the surrounding countryside provide a natural backdrop to the stage. Originating in the 5^th century BC, the theatre was altered during the Roman period, but retains its 4,000 seats, and is still used as a venue for Greek plays, concerts and other events.

The temple of Segesta and Greek theatre on Monte Barbaro

After our visit to Segesta we settle into a campsite in the South West of the island near Selinunte; the largest archaeological site in Europe. In 409BC Selinunte was one of the most progressive and eminent cities in Magna Graecia, but following an attack from its old enemy, the Carthaginians, the town, including its numerous temples, acropolis and agora were reduced to dignified rubble. The site is huge and most of what remains is still in ruin, although an attempt to rebuild several of the temples has been made. You get a sense of the size and importance of this ancient town, and after walking around most of the site, as well as both there and back (as there was no sign of any public transport), we were absolutely shattered. We walked back through neighbouring Triscina which felt more like a town from a Spaghetti western, than modern Sicily. Searching for a cafe to quench our thirst and rest our weary legs we stumbled across what seemed like the only saloon in town. After two beers and free tapas (balsamic pickled onions, bruschetta and some crisps) we were replete, but well and truly ‘templed out’.

The temples of Selinunte 

Next, we head to the South East corner of Sicily. After a very long drive and several diversions we treat ourselves to a lovely meal in the pretty seaside village of Marzamemi. Its renovated tonnara and fishermans houses are now lively bars, restaurants and artisan shops which sit round a charming piazza. What a contrast to Triscina. Our next stop is Catania, Sicily’s second biggest city and we visit Siracusa, rich in Greek, Roman and Norman history, on the way.

Fountain of Diana and seafront view at Siracusa, Piazza at Marzamemi

We have one more ‘must do’ before leaving Sicily, and that is to visit Mount Etna, so we arrange a trip with Escursioni sull’Etna, a small tour company offering trekking experiences on the volcano. Our tour guide Marco speaks excellent English, is an accomplished mountaineer, member of the mountain rescue team, volcanologist extraordinaire and has first-hand experience of living on the volcano. Mount Etna, 3,300 metres high, is the biggest active stratovolcano in Europe. It first erupted beneath the sea some 500,000 years ago, and the original crater is still visible on the coastline to the North of Catania. Etna’s most destructive recent eruption was in 1669 and the resulting lava flows destroyed 10 villages before reaching Catania’s city walls, destroying much of the city of Catania and filling its harbour.  More recent eruptions in 1991–1993 saw the town of Zafferana threatened by a lava flow, and although the lava flow stopped short of the town it destroyed our guide Marco’s family farm. “We are lucky today”, Marco says “Etna has been very active and has started erupting in the last few days”. But although we hear the eruptions in the distance (just like quarry explosions) there is low cloud at 1,800m and as we walk over the rocks of the old lava flows, there is an eerie mist which shrouds our view. Marco points out a lava cave, formed as a result of surface solidification of the lava flow during its last stages of activity. A frozen crust forms as the surface cools over actively flowing liquid rock and volcanic gases from bubbles in the lava collect under the tunnel roof and support it, forming a cave. Strange rock formations remain from multiple eruptions leaving a landscape that feels more like mars than earth. As we travel back towards the sea Marco reminds us that the city of Catania sits on the volcano, and its people accept that the volcano both gives and takes and by living here they accept this gamble every day.

A lava cave and walking on an old lava flow of Mount Etna

Our last day in Sicily and we have an overnight ferry to catch. Just enough time to squeeze in a visit to the coastal town of Cefalũ (bad decision number 1), or so we thought. We’d forgotten it was Sunday, and the Sicilians seem to go a bit crazy on a Sunday…… it’s the lethal cocktail of religion and drink! They head to the coast, spend the day lunching with family, filling up all seafront parking spots and cause chaos on the roads. By the time we arrive at Cefalũ, we only have 45minutes to visit one of Sicily’s prettiest coastal towns, before we need to make our way to Palermo for the ferry. We set off in time, but after a series of wrong decisions we find ourselves chasing the clock. We miss the turning for the autostrada (mistake number 1) and by the time we get back on to the motorway there are roadworks and the traffic is down to one lane. We decide to come off the autostrada hoping to catch the quiet coastal road (bad decision number 2), only to find that we have to go back to Cefalũ in the opposite direction. At Cefalũ we decide to take the coastal road to Palermo which then climbs into the mountains (bad decision number 3) and by the time we hit manic Palermo, packed with Sunday revellers, we decide to follow google maps instead of the satnav (bad decision number 4) and the route takes us through the middle of the city which includes a 90 degree turn after a very tight stone bridge (not easy in a 7.5m motor home). Stress levels are high and by the time we reach check in, we have only 40 minutes before the boat leaves (latest check in is 90 minutes before!). We resign ourselves to missing the ferry, but by some miracle they let us check in and join the queue. So, we leave mad, wonderful Sicily behind and we are on our way back to mainland Italy, where our adventure continues………..

The streets of Catania

I’d always planned to spend some time in Italy on this trip, so after our time in the South of France we drive across the border and travel along the North Eastern coastline of Italy. As soon as we cross the border there is a noticeable change – there are many more potholes and roadworks are ‘a plenty’. In this part of Italy, the scenery is stunning, but the driving isn’t easy. The motorways are built above coastal towns and bays and the lush mountains are to the North, which means there are tunnels, followed by viaducts, followed by more tunnels.  And as we enter Genoa, everything goes a bit ‘pear shaped’. There is major roadworks across the city and the satnav lady gets herself in a bit of a pickle, taking us round and around in circles. We pass through the same Piage 3 times, and as we head in the wrong direction again, my stress level begins to rise. I pull over at the next Piage, where we stall and cause more havoc, and John takes over the driving and I do the navigating (a better combination!). I switch to google maps in the hope that we might find a way out of the city and eventually after 90 minutes going around in circles, we break free and head in the right direction……. welcome to Italy, where road chaos reigns!

Italy is very different from France. While France is on the chic side of shabby chic, its neighbour, Italy on the other hand is definitely on the shabby side. Being more on the shabby side myself…. I just love it. I have always found Italy to be ‘untouristy’, very up front, yet unpretentious. It’s somewhere where that’s easy to blend into the background, to disappear even. Our first port of call is Sestri Levante, a beautiful little town on the Ligurian Riviera and the campsite has stunning views over the bay. We take a stroll into town and

Enjoy lunch on the beach. It is Wednesday after all, so why not!

Lunch at Sestri Levante

Our plan is to then move to Tuscany and visit Lucca, Sienna, Florence and Bologna. But there’s a problem. The weather forecast for Tuscany is rain for the next 10 days and we start looking further afield. On a whim, we hatch a plan to head south, as far south as you can go in Italy……to Sicily.  Some might say why Sicily? Well, there’s the weather, the scenery, the Greek, Roman and Norman heritage, the food etc, etc. But then on the other side, there are plenty of reasons not to go. It’s too far, we will need to get a ferry or drive a long way, what about the Mafia etc, etc. And so, like most people, when I make a decision, I tend to weigh up the pros and cons, the why’s and the why not’s. There isn’t a right or wrong decision of course, as I try and tell myself when I’m, struggling to make a decision, so that’s when the other why not can be helpful. This isn’t the reason not to do something why not, this is the open why not, the spontaneous why not, the ‘you will never know until you try it’ why not, the ‘embrace new things with open arms’ why not. And I have learned on this trip that if you listen to this why not it helps to challenge indecisiveness and it has taken me to places, I’d never dreamed of. After all, that’s what travelling (and maybe life itself) is all about. Isn’t it better to be open to life’s possibilities, I hear the helpful why not whispering, rather than shutting out opportunities with our fears, before they even have a chance to get going?  So, we take an overnight ferry from Livorno to Palermo (Sicily) and

We stop at Lucca on the way

The streets of Lucca

sharing the most amazing Margherita Pizza for lunch. We arrive on a Saturday evening (in the dark) in the chaotic city of Palermo, where the driving is Mental, with a capital M. Over the next few days we begin to explore this island of contrasts.

We take a train to Palermo

and visit the Royal Palace, where under the rule of the Norman King, Roger II (1130) the Palatine Chapel was built. The chapel represents an extraordinary fusion of Islamic, Byzantine and Romanesque architecture which has been awarded Unesco World heritage status. The golden mosaics covering the walls and the Moorish wooden ceiling are mesmerising.

The Royal palace and inside the Palatine Chapel 

After a lovely Sicilian lunch, we spend the afternoon wandering around the city centre, visiting Piazzo Pretorio and Quattro Canti (1608), the historic centre of the city. More stunningly beautiful baroque church interiors – don’t miss Chiesa di SS Savatore and Chiesa del Gesũ, – they stopped me in my tracks, not something that happens with churches very often.

Inside Chiesa del Gesũ, Piazzo Pretorio and Quattro Canti

Outside Chiesa del Gesũ there is a wedding party, waiting for the bride to arrive. Everyone is immaculately dressed and smiling but turn the corner and in the dirty back alleys, full of litter and graffiti there is a sinister edge. Here, I wouldn’t be surprised to meet those men in dark suits and sunglasses carrying guitar cases!

As we travel across the North West coast of Sicily,

we take in the Capo Gallo and Zingaro nature reserves and visit la Tonnara di Scopello (a medieval tuna-fishing estate). We walk along spectacular coastal paths, with wonderful spring flowers (yellow thistles, bright purple clover and red poppies), crystal clear turquoise waters and idyllic pebble coves.

     Capo Gallo, la Tonnaro di scopello and Zingaro nature reserve

But in contrast, as we travel through some of the small towns, there is a definite air of neglect. Roads full of potholes, pavements strewn with litter are uneven with weeds and trees roots and many houses seem in a state of disrepair. As other parts of Italy have moved with the times, Sicily somehow seems to have lagged behind. Perhaps Sicily, considered the most conquered island in the world (Phoenicians, Greeks, Romans, Moors, Normans, Spaniards, Northern Italians, mafiosi, fascists….), dominated by outside forces and lack of investment for so long, has resigned itself to accepting its lot and has moved a little more slowly? As we tuck into a Sicilian tapa, followed by Cannoli (tube-shaped shells of fried pastry dough, filled with a sweet, creamy ricotta), I wonder what the answers might be, and so I am looking forward to exploring this fascinating island and finding out more.

The view from Antibes sea wall

We’re in the French Rivieria, where the rich and famous mingle and the it (no, not information technology) crowd strut their stuff. Only, we’ve got our timings slightly out. We’re 2 days early for the Cannes film festival and 2 weeks too early for the Monaco Grand Prix. However, being one of the not crowd, it means we get to see these beautiful towns without the beautiful people (apart from us of course).

Our first port of call is Antibes,

famous for its 1920’s American Jazz scene and inspiration to the surrealist painter Pablo Picasso. It’s a beautiful sunny day and just a 5-mile cycle from the campsite. We wander through Vieil Antibes (the historic quarter), with its narrow cobblestone streets festooned with flower boxes. We visit the towns impressive 16^th century ramparts and sea wall where there is a spectacular view across the bay to Nice and beyond where in the distance the impressive snow-capped Alpes Martine complete the vista. We soak up the atmosphere and enjoy a beer in the sunshine.

The historic quarter of Antibes

Next, we take a local bus to Nice

I have wanted to visit this city for some time, and its impressive. I’m surprised at how much it has to offer. The city centre is pristine and there is certainly plenty of money here. We head for the Cours Saleya (market Square) for a cuppa and wander along its stalls; flowers, vegetables and local produce. I buy some Provençal herbs, tapenade and aromatic jasmine tea. We continue along the tiny alleys of the historic quarter which are brimming with delis, bars, boutiques and restaurants and visit the Musée Masséna, an Italian neoclassical villa which retraces Nice’s history from the 18^th century. A walk up the hill through the leafy Cimiez district to the Musée Matisse, a French painter who spent most of his life in Nice, is not be underestimated, but well worth the visit.

The market square and a little bar in the historic quarter   

Henri Matisse is known for his bright colours and his work continually evolved throughout his career, though painting and sculpture and in his later years through decoupage. I’m still not sure about his more abstract pieces after my visit to the museum and as I descend the stairs, I find John in the main foyer staring up at a supersized Matisse decoupage picture. “I don’t understand” John says, “it’s like he had too much blue paper and ran out of the other colours. That bit in the middle just doesn’t make sense” I look up and the finished work could be the giant-sized painting of a 4-year-old, but I guess the mystery of modern art is that it leaves you with more questions than answers. As they say beauty really is in the eye of the beholder. We finish our day in Nice with a lovely meal washed down with a Picon biere (a caramel coloured bitter made from a base of fresh dried oranges). It’s what I would call interesting, an acquired taste, but it’s a perfect match for the sunshine.

Central Nice

We visit Cannes,

and we’re early for the famous Cannes Film festival. The Palais des Festival et des Congrés and some of the beach front restaurants/stages are still under construction, but there is a definite buzz about the place. We walk along alles des etoiles du Cinema, a path of celebrity hand prints, and the boulevard de la Croisette, past the legendary art deco Carlton International hotel, and soak up the atmosphere. The prices are jaw dropping, one beach front restaurant offers an Aberdeen Angus steak for 99 Euros! We quickly walk past and stroll along the marina, full of impressive yachts of the rich and famous. I spot a rather shiny yacht, called Glow. I’m sure that’s the name of Jennifer Lopez’s perfume, but alas, she is nowhere to be seen!

Outside the Palais des Festival, celebrity hand print, Carlton International hotel

We make a snap decision and take a ferry to Ĩle Ste-Marguerite, a tiny island just 15 minutes away from Cannes and it’s like stepping into a different world. We grab coffees and a sandwich from a snack bar (12 Euros 50!) and walk one of the many well marked out paths across this tranquil castaway Island, its clear blue shores fringed with pines and eucalyptus.

The shores of Ĩle Ste-Marguerite

On our last day we take the train to Monaco

View of the bay of Monaco from the Jardin Exotique

Squeezed into 200 hectares Monaco is the world’s second smallest country (principality). How do they do it, you may ask …well it’s because it literally hugs the cliffs. So, if you ever visit be prepared for the hills and the steps, the ups and the downs. We start off with Jardin Exotique which hosts the world’s largest succulent and cactus collection – you guessed it, it’s up a hill, but the views of the bay from the top are spectacular. Next, we head to the Musée Océonographique de Monaco (down one hill and then up another) with its centre piece being a 6m deep lagoon.  On this pistol shaped rock (called le Rocher) the private residence of the Grimaldi dynasty, the Palais du Prince and Cathédral de Monaco is also worth a visit (although we didn’t as I was absolutely shattered by the time, we made it up there).The roads in this city snake their way up and down the hillside and you really get a sense of what the atmosphere would be like with the Grand Prix……maybe next time! 

Getting ready for the Monaco Grand Prix, Jardin Exotique & on le Rocher

And there ends our visit to the French Rivera, and we are on the move again, heading for Italy. So, for now it’s Au Revoir France, Ciao Italy. I’m looking forward to visiting a new country and a new adventure.

“This doesn’t feel right. Are you sure we’re at the right campsite?” I say, as we drive up to reception. It had been an interesting 24 hours. We had extended our stay at the last campsite due to 60 km/hour winds, with gusts of up to 100 km which, on the top of an exposed hill near the picturesque Luberon village of Gordes, caused a lot of rocking and rolling in the van. In the hurry to get away in the morning I’d put the co-ordinates of another campsite into the satnav and we were now just north of Orange, about 180 km North West of where we wanted to be. Never mind, as they say good travel has no fixed plans and is not intent on arriving. The sun is shining, and we get to drive through even more of the stunning Provence countryside. Peter Mayles had A year in Provence (I think he ended up staying much longer), but we only have 10 days to sample the exquisite delights of Provençal life.

I could live here,

I think to myself as I sip some Châteaneuf-du-Pape on a terrace overlooking another breath-taking vista, in the oh so French village of Rousellin. And it’s here that I bump into an old friend of mine – a Citroen 2CV. I had a blueberries and cream D reg rolltop in the early 90’s and never quite got over the loss when her king pin crumpled!

We start our whistle stop tour of Provence at a campsite near to Aix (pronounced Ex)-en-Provence. On our first day we take a local bus into Aix-en and

I step into the epitome of shabby chic cafe life.

Around every corner sits another little square surrounded by plain-trees casting flickering light and shade on the pavements. There are countless art galleries, lovely coffee shops and bistros and when you look up, although there is still a chill in the air, the sky is the most amazing blue colour and the air is crisp and clear. It’s no wonder many artists have been drawn to Provence and one of France’s most famous, Paul Cezanne lived and painted in Aix-en for most of his life. We visit his studio and favourite outdoor painting spot where he completed more than 80 paintings of the majestic Montagne Sainte-Victoire, his muse. Luckily for us our campsite is right on its doorstop.

                      The centre of Aix-en-Provence

We spend the next few days walking in the Sainte-Victoire natural reserve   

There are many well-marked walking routes and the scenery is breath-taking. On our second day, as we walk towards the Zola damn and lake, and we here a deafening squawk of what sounds like birds, but as we grow closer, there are no birds. It’s then that I remember I’ve heard this sound before, and I think it must be frogs. Later I learn that its male frogs calling for a mate, all croaking, whistling, chirping and ribbiting. We sit by the lake and listen and within 10 minutes the noise dissipates and then stops. Simply amazing!

Montagne Sainte-Victoire in the evening sun

Sainte-Victoire nature reserve

From Gordes, we cycle to the picture postcard villages of Luberon

– Rousellin (where ochre is mined), Lacoste and Mors. The only problem is that every one of these villages are built on top of a hill, which means that visiting them requires a slow climb to the top. I’m not good on hills, not on foot, and certainly not on a bike. So, by the time I had cycled back to the campsite, which sits 500m above the valley floor, I felt like my face was going to burst and it was the colour of a roasted lobster. The only way I managed to get up was to focus on the dashed white lines at the side of the road, no looking ahead, no thinking about my burning thighs. Next time I’m in Provence, I’m thinking a small sporty cabriolet would be a much easier way to visit these villages.

  Hilltop villages of Gordes, Rousellin and Murs

Our final stop in Provence is near the village of Moutiers-Sainte-Marie, in the Verdon Natural Regional Park. This is our chance to do some Kayaking and we cycle to

Lac de Sainte-Croix and the Gorges du Verdon

The Verdon river flows into the lake after passing through the limestone Gorge, considered to be one of Europe’s most beautiful. The lake is stunning, a startling turquoise-green. Water from its glacial source contains suspended rock flour minerals, which create the colour.  We paddle towards the opening of the gorge itself and this is a wow moment for me, a definite 10! The limestone rockfaces which have been sculpted by thousands of years of rushing water, the first green of Spring sprinkled across the trees clinging precariously to the rock faces, and the turquoise-green river ever flowing.

 The Gorges du Verdon

So, after 10 days in Provence, all I can say is I loved it for: its exquisite hilltop villages; the colours – the greens, blues and ochres; the amazing wildlife – brightly coloured butterflies, crickets, chirping frogs, amazing birds, and don’t forget the sunshine – I’m definitely coming back!

Expectations…. where do they come from, and how do they affect our emotions? I have been looking forward to this ‘gap year’ since I first started to think about travelling in my late teens, but my life turned down another path and so, to be here on my ‘seniors gap year’, 30 years on, my expectations are high, perhaps too high. For the first 3 months we travelled in organised small group tours and once we had decided which trips to go on the rest was easy, no decisions to make, we just followed the crowd. Now as we move from our initial base in Costa Blanca, there are decisions to be made about where to go next and what we want to do when we get there. However, in the week we spend in Roses (pronounced Rusas) near the French border and Adge (like edge but with an a) I struggle with trying to make the ‘right decisions’ and this challenges what I’m expecting from the next part of my trip. As you are all aware, a lot of the time reality can be quite different from what we expect. In Roses I’d expected sunshine and blue sky, but instead we got rain, strong winds and mainly dull, even cold (11 degrees) days. I’d spent hours pondering over the lonely planet guide book, planning a boat trip from Roses to Cadaqués, a cycle along the canal du Midi in Adge and canoeing on the Gorges du Tarn. Great, that’s a plan, I’ve made a decision! I’ve always struggled making decisions, possibly because I want to make the most of every moment and don’t want to miss out on anything. However, things don’t always go to plan. Our boat trip in Roses gets cancelled because of the weather and a visit to the Gorges du Tarn is out of the question after one of the wettest Easter weekends in decades.

I have theory, a formula that seems to influence my happiness, and perhaps others too. The formula is: happiness equals experience divided by expectation. So, if I score my expectation and experience of a certain event out of 10, there’s an overall score for happiness ranging from 0-10. Let’s say my expectation of visiting Roses was 8, but my experience was 2 (cold, wet, windy and I couldn’t do anything I’d planned to do), then using the formula my happiness score is ¼ or 0.25. However, on our last day in Roses which was cold and windy, John planned a bike ride, something which wasn’t on the itinerary. My expectations were low (1) and it took a lot of coaxing to get me out of the van, but it was surprisingly enjoyable. We cycled through a nature reserve which was sheltered from the wind and watching the house martins dip and dive in front of the bikes was a real treat. I’d give the experience a 6, so my overall happiness score for the bike ride was a 6.

And so, as the week goes on and we settle into our next campsite in Adge, I try and work out how I can get the best out of my gap year. We plan another boat trip but it’s cancelled again, this time because of the strong mistral winds. We console ourselves and go out for our first proper French meal. The menu is in French of course, and the waiters speak very little English, so I keep safe and order salmon and crème caramel. John’s been practising his French and fancies some veal (expectation 9). However, when his plate arrives there is a roll of fat with something pinkish in the middle. He nudges it around his plate and disappointment was written on his face – he couldn’t eat it. It wasn’t until we translated the menu on the way out that we noticed the dish he’d ordered was Tête de Veau, a local French delicacy consisting of calf’s brain…. happiness score 0. The next day we cycle to the Cape d’Adge aquarium and spend an afternoon gazing at the tropical fish. I’d forgotten how much I love aquariums. The tropical fish gawp back, full of colour and character and I easily slip into a scene from Finding Nemo, vowing to watch the sequel, Finding Dory soon. The visit to the aquarium gets a 7 on the happiness scale, it was an unexpected enjoyable afternoon.

After the second day of strong wind (still no boats running), we make a snap decision and take the train to Montpelier. Feeling rather grumpy on this day that felt more like a cold blustery Autumn, rather than a Spring day, and not expecting much, we walked into the open square of Place de la Comédie, dominated by the opera house and was blown away by the cities 17^th century architecture. We pick up a great map of the city from the tourist information centre and work out our own walking route around the cities old quarter. We walk along the plane-tree lined narrow streets past many grand hótels particuliers (private mansions in their day, but now many are hotels or museums), the neoclassical courthouse, the Cathédrale Saint- Pierre and La Faculté de Médecine, which in its  day (late 12^th century) was one of the first operating medical schools in the western world. Montpelier even has an Arc de Triomphe, a copy of the gates from Paris erected in honour of Louis XIV, an Aqueduct (Saint-Clément) and many parcs, green spaces and a fabulous esplanade. And let’s not forget the artsy shops and workshops; puppet makers, old book repairers, carpet weavers and potters, and amazing cafes and restaurants. At the end of our tour of the old quarter we find a Moroccan tea house, unremarkable from the outside, but with an incredible tea menu (I’m in heaven) and delicious crepes …. I give our day out in Montpellier an 8!

The old town in Montpellier

So, I’m still trying to work out how to manage my expectations on this trip and I’m confused as to which way to go. Should I expect nothing and sometimes be surprised…. “Blessed is he who expects nothing, as he shall never be disappointed” (Alexander Pope) or expect everything and often be disappointed. Perhaps there’s a middle ground and that is to accept that all experiences good, bad, happy and sad have value and are to be treasured. And as a wise old sage keeps reminding me…. “We have a choice whether to be happy or not (most of the time) in whatever we are doing. By choosing to be happy we will have more positive experiences, no matter what our expectations are” (John Renfrew).