28th May 1984 Through Yugoslavia to the Greek Border

Monday 28^th May. Apparently the road had been rough and rainswept. But here were spectacular mountains with waterfalls, bits of snow, some encrusted with necklaces of snow. The valleys were either broad and flat or narrow and flat; a narrow river carried white water through a wide bed of pebbles, and villages. A grander scale Italianate version of Taroko Gorge (Taiwan) but inhabited and more magnificent. We passed through toll gates and tunnels.

   By and by, we left the mountains and came into a flat Italianate coastal plain, went past Trieste and arrived at the border, where we had to wait a few hours for clearance to get into Yugoslavia. Light-ever-so-light drizzle. I had breakfast of ham and cheese roll and bought another one for later.

   Eventually we were allowed to continue, including our friend from Zimbabwe – his passport always gets close inspection.

   Through Yugoslavia we drove, passing any trucks on a lot of bad road – patched concrete, bumpbump,bumpbump,bumpbump.

   Run of the mill countryside on the whole, but they do have unusual hay barns. The hay is stored behind crisscross lattice walls, sometimes with unusual shaped roves. This is built on stilts; underneath are stored tractors, trucks, anti-submarine tanks, hay ricks, etc.

   Red poppies in evidence unless they’re something else. The country looks more developed – more Westernized – than Russia, with many roadside service stations with restaurants/cafes.

   However, the fields are still cultivated by hand and hoof – for the most part; there are some tractors. Old women bending down in fields in their skirts, thick stockings, boughts and headscarves; old men following their old horses pulling their old ploughs in the old soil.

   What do Yugoslavian women wear on their feet? Boughts. Definitely boughts.

   It’s also a lot greener than I saw Russia as. I didn’t really see Russia as green at all. [Obviously, it’s a seasonal thing.]

We by-passed the big cities like Ljubljana, Zagreb, Niš (might have gone through it), but actually passed through Belgrade which looks like a surprisingly interesting city, though I was terribly dozy at the time so I might have been mistaken. I think it must have been rebuilt extensively after the war – perhaps it was bombed extensively during the war. [At least twice. In 1941 and 1944.] [Niš is after Belgrade.]

   Yugoslavian condominiums are more modern-looking, avant-garde compared to the Russian ones.

  We stopped lately at a motel restaurant and I had some soup and bread with two Kiwis, Gavin and Marian. Then onward, onward until we finally got to the border. The Yugoslavian side was no problem but we had to wait a while at the Greek side. We hauled our luggage out of the bus but they didn’t inspect it. Zimbabwe wasn’t allowed through with us so we left him behind while he waited for clearance.

Probable route of our bus, being turned back at teh Austria/Yugoslavia border.

27th May 1984 - Bus through Europe

Sunday 27^th May  We arrived in Belgium at about 12.40am and waited for the vehicular movements to be complete before we foot passengers stormed into the customs office and stormed out again to collect luggage and get on board our respective luxury coaches. Ours was an unmarked orange and blue Mercedes Benz bus, barless and no toilet either – not an overnight bus, but the sort built for day trips. It was commanded by two Greeks who wanted £5 from anyone who had more than one big piece of luggage, which defied previous advice and logic as the bus wasn’t full.

   We eventually got under way and went to sleep, moving through Belgium. In the daylight went through German border. We passed Koln, Frankfurt, Heidelburg, Munich. Not so rainy, but cloudy all the same. Stopping for essentials at the whim of the drivers. Green fields, some with yellow flowers; forest, of course; German towns. We had slow-stoppiness for several kilometres because of an accident up ahead – the driver stopped the engine and glided down the slope.

   Past Munich and into the Austrian Tyrol or whatever, into those valleys, past Lake Cheme through to Salzburg (past it, actually). The mountains are somewhat spectacular, with bits of snow, the grass is green, the trees are green and parts of the sky were blue. Sailors and windsurfers on the lake.

   Late at night we arrived at the border. They let us through at the Austrian side, but not the Yugoslavian side. This was not due to the looks of our untrustworthy faces or anything, but to some officious Slavian [Slovenian?] border official who wouldn’t let the German-registered bus through because it didn’t have a permit to get through. According to the Greeks it’s never been a problem before.

   A decision was made; we turned around and made our way towards Italy, passing through the border at about 4.30 on the morning of Monday 28^th May.

A Postcard I recently received from Slovenia, the little European country with LOVE in its name.

26th May 1984. Off to Greece from London, by bus.

Saturday 26^th May 1984  Well, I suppose I ought to do one for this trip. To Greece, I mean, a diary. During the previous week, since Tuesday, I had been staying at the Colonial Club’s clubhouse in Willesden Green with I don’t know how many others (Kiwis and Aussies). This was all right by me as I only had to pay £12 for the four nights I was there instead of about £10 per night at the hotel. During the day I occupied myself by wandering around the streets of London. There was much queuing at the Tower of London so I didn’t go in there; I went over the Tower Bridge instead. They’re repainting the suspenders and the railings on the northern approach to the bridge.

   I also paid the full £65 return fare for Athens and bought a sleeping bag for £35; sent Riikka’s money (£72) to her through the Post Office; rang up Catherine Pritchard; and went to a madame’s place.

    Madame Tussaud’s. Bob Hawke looks dreadful. Both Ian Botham and Tom Baker have terrible teeth. Lenin looks healthier (and younger) than he does in his own mausoleum. Elton John is the only talking wax-work in the world (a film loop of him talking is projected onto his face). Dame Edna Everage is resplendent in her sequined Aussie Flag/Opera House gown. But I’m not particularly impressed with the way they show age (wrinkles) in old men’s faces – vis-à-vis Sir Francis Chichester. Henry VIII’s VI wives all look very Roman Catholic.

   I also had a quick look in at the Victoria and Albert Museum (I didn’t know it was so big. I had thought it was just a small toy museum.) after I had been to the Yugoslavian Embassy to get my visa.

   And of course a visit to the National Gallery, being most interested in the Impressionists, of course. Also, downstairs, they have all the other paintings that aren’t on exhibit upstairs. They aren’t in any particular order and are hung in every available space (close together). It’s very gratifying to see the originals of paintings seen mostly as reproductions on prints or in books.

   The Post Office Tower is temporarily closed to visitors for the moment, which is a pity because Wednesday was quite a nice day, even though it was actually Thursday at the time. It started raining again on Friday arvo.

   There are a lot of German and French school children in London at this time.

   Well, I spent the day of Saturday until 2 o’clock in the house not doing much, then I caught the Tube to King’s Cross/St Pancras and left the pack there while I went walking in the rain to buy some food. At an appropriate time I went back to the station, collected the pack and sheltered with others in a bus depot thing on Midway Road. We got on the bus, twenty-one of us with our Scandinavian courier and left early because we were all there. We made our way through London to Dover in the rain. After a wait – not a very long wait but a wait all the same – we eventually embarked upon the “Private Enterprise VII” [or was it the "Free Enterprise VII"?] of the Townsend Thoreson Line which turned out to have fewer seats inside than passengers, most of whom seemed to be Brits on their way to Austria for a week (Bank Holiday on Monday).

    Although we were amongst the first on board, I didn’t reserve a seat, but I found it better to sit outside anyway because of the atmosphere inside. But not all the time, though, as it does tend to get chilly-to-the-bones after a while. I started The Adventures of Mr Verdant Green, an Oxford Undergraduate, a book I had bought in London for 75p.

   We waved goodbye to the White Cliffs of Dick, low clouds and into the glooming darkness. During the crossing to Zeebrucke/Zeebrugge I changed £12 into 42 Dr.(drachma) - an education at the Phlippot School of Magic does wonders – and watched the best ever Warner Brothers Looney Toon cartoon – Daffy Duck at the mercy of his animator (Bugs Bunny). [Duck Amuck, 1953] That’s all, folks!