The X-files

Great news! I mentioned a while ago that we lost a heap of photos when a German computer decided it didn't like the memory card, well now that we're home, Deena has recovered the images! I have no idea how she did it, but I'm sure there was some sort of witchcraft, and maybe a deal with the devil involved (or maybe she is just more computer savvy than me).

Anyway here are some of the recovered images.

Lunch in Dubrovnik. The seafood was awesome here, this particular restaurant sourced it's fish from the port five minutes walk away, from small scale subsistence fishermen.

The owner's brother lived in Glenorchy in Tasmania for a number of years, explaining all the Aussie parephenalia behind me.

No national pies though.

The view from our hotel balcony. The water was so warm and salty, it was possible to literally sit around in three metres of water, and you would have to try really hard to drown, even I had trouble sinking!

Just to prove we ate healthy from time to time, an anchovy and tomato salad. The anchovies around the mediterranean were so tasty, not at all like the pizza anchovies back home.

The beer is of course light, low carb, or something.

Me sitting around.

One of the many gratuitous bikini shots I've taken of Deena.

Probably the only one I can publish and keep a G rating though.

Croatian bees.

The views along the coast road were kind of ok.

Some Slovenian bees. This was on the way out a of small village, but still surrounded by houses. I guess the beekeeper bribes the neighbours with honey.

After driving through Slovenia, we spent the night in Austria, driving into Italy the next day, to find the start of the Stelvio pass.

The hairpin corners on the Stelvio were a little bit tight...

... and there were a hell of a lot of 'em as well!

At the top. The look on my face is actually pleasure, whether that is due to being in a revhead's paradise, the outstanding bratwurst I'd just scoffed, or being stoned on a lack of oxygen I don't know, but I was happy.

There was a proper big grin after driving down the other side on this road!

Me being environmentally and culturally sensitive while writing my name in the snow.

Snow in the middle of summer? This place is crazy! It was very strange to be in the snow and still comfy in shorts and a t-shirt, though my toes were a bit nippy in thongs!

Man and machine. More like stupid big kid and machine, but you know what I mean.

Some of the roads were a little bit tight, and if you missed a corner you had a choice between a bloody big bank, or a very long drop. Easier just to stay on the road really.

A couple of days later we ducked into Stuttgart to visit the Porsche museum, the first exhibit we saw was this East African Safari 911, very tough looking.

I did think at first that the museum was pretty crappy, but then I realised we were still in the carpark!

Not quite where it all began for Ferdinand Porsche, but certainly where he hit the big time.

Deena now really wants a 356 coupe in forest green, but I prefer silver.

I guess we'll have to get two then.

Two of the most iconic colour schemes in motorsport, a Gulf Racing, and a Martini 917 Le Mans cars.

I don't know how one of these would go in a Tassie winter, but I wouldn't mind giving it a try.

God I wish I had a farm, just so I could get a Porsche tractor.

If you want to hear "Oh cool, the Barbie Porsche!" said in 12 different languages by 35 year old women, this is the place to be.

Oh, and that is a really weird thing to want.

For the record, my sister had the Barbie Corvette, which was also quite cool, but it's no Porsche.

Not that I ever played with it of course.

After the tour we had a light snack for afternoon tea. The cakes in Germany were top notch, but the cream! How anyone lives past 40 is beyond me.

Anyway, as I said at the start, we're back home with the fur and feather kids, friends and family which is really nice, but we did almost cry when we went into a supermarket!

I've still got another few blogs to do in the next few days, so until then, see ya, Dave.

A lot has happened since the last post, so it's time for a new one. But first, I'm on a Czech computer, and while the keyboard isn't as bad as some (the French ones in particular), some of the keys aren't in the 'right' place, and I haven't figured out how to make some of the others work, so apologies in advance for any crap spelling and punctuation.

This is me in the bathroom of our luxury cabin on the SS Sunk With All Hands on the way to Dubrovnik. The toilet had an excellent flush, and the shower was hot, but the phone didn't work.
The luxury part was a bit of a fib, the cabin was so small, we had to go outside to change our minds.

The port in old Dubrovnik. Dubrovnik (old and new) was fantastic, stacks of beaches, mostly rocky but still nice, fantastic food, and beautiful buildings and views.

The Croatians are mad for meat (who can blame them), this is a selection of local specialties, pork, chicken, beef, duck, livers, and vegetables. Chips are made from potatoes, and potatoes are vegetables, ok.

All of Croatia turned out to be fabulous, it was a real pleasant surprise, especially as it wasn't part of our original plan. The people were really cool too, with amazing accents, and a very blunt way of speaking (from an Anglo perspective) that reminded us of movie villians from the cold war era. The scenery was just amazing, even inland on the motorway, and the coast road was one of the best day's driving of the trip.

After Croatia we drove through Slovenia and into Austria, to Italy, and back into Switzerland over the Stelvio and Galvio passes (both over 2500 metres altitude), pausing to play in the snow, before heading to Germany.

This was probably the most scenic four or five days so far, and amazing driving on iconic alpine roads. Unfortunately I can't put any photos up, as a bastard German computer decided it didn't like the memory card, and disappeared them, along with most of the Croatia photos.

Apparently when we get home they are recoverable, but it requires geeky black magic beyond Deena, much less this Luddite. By the way, if anyone feels the need to tease Deena about this, I wouldn't (this means you Watson).

On to our current location, Prague, in the Czech Republic. A very nice place, with a beautiful old quarter, which is a bit like Paris.

A bit wet though, what with the constant rain (and I mean rain, not drizzle) since we arrived. Could we worse though, I'm still wearing shorts, and the car is the cleanest it's been since we picked it up!

On the highway on the way in we passed this old Skoda, good to know the classic car sickness is international.

Our first Czech meal was tea, courtesy of the hotel. We normally avoid hotel eating like plague, except breakfast of course, but decided to give it a run, mostly because it was free, and we are cheap.

I went for the roast pork shank, with coleslaw and potato pancakes (veggies again), while Deena picked the mixed plate of local specialties, duck, pork, ham, potato dumplings, with pickled cabbage.

When I read 'Pork shank' I didn't envisage half a bloody leg.

The picture below proves that I managed to finish it off, only so I didn't offend anyone, of course.

I will say that it was quite a struggle, with the meat sweats making an early appearance, but I just rolled up my sleeves, had another sip of beer, and pretended it was shearing time at Colebrook. Plate clean, me full of porky and cabbagy goodness, and nobody offended. Result.

I will say that I didn't think I would eat pork again for a very long time.

At least until lunch the next day, pork ribs, sausages, and garlic bread, all washed down with beer. Yummo.

Anyway, only a bit over a week until we leave, although there has been talk of shipping the dogs over, selling up and keeping on going, but the possibility of us supporting ourselves by selling our bodies becomes ever more distant with each meal.

Mind you if we could get a price per kilo, we'd be set.

As the Czech's would say, nashledanou. I think that is goodbye, either that or I may have said something really bad to a nice old lady today.

Italy

We've left Italy (by way of the world's crappiest car ferry) and have stopped in Dubrovnik for a bit.
Anyway, I've now got easy access to a nerd-box, so time for a few Italy photos.

This is my first Italian pizza (I'm happier than I look, just bloody melting!). Almost all the pizzas we had in Italy would leave D'Angelo's and Paesano's for dead. They are just fantastic!


In the main food market in Florence. We got there a bit late for the fish, but all the other traders were still going. If you showed an interest in a product, a tasting was very often offered. I spent a lot of time looking very interested.

Check out all that proscuitto.

A whole, roasted pig, to be carved for sandwiches. Good lord I wanted to grab that head and do the bolt!

Unsurprisingly, the rolls here were bloody awesome, but one of the best meals we had in Italy was a roll from a side of the road place, mozzerella (the real stuff), tomato, and roast pork,with a drizzle of oil. Every ingredient was so good it could have been eaten all by itself, but put together, magnificent! That seemed to be case a lot, there didn't seem to be a lot of variety from one area to the next, with the exception of regional specialties, but the ingredients were always top notch. The tomatoes in particular, were always perfectly ripe, tasting as though they had just been picked from Nonna's garden.



No, we weren't served stout in a wineglass, that's iced coffee, made in a cocktail shaker.

The Colosseum. We hung about for ages, but didn't see Russell Crowe. He must've been on a day off.

All over the place were blokes selling fruit and veg on the side of the road, this bloke was on the Amalfi coast, with a Fiat hatch loaded to bursting point. The stuff looked and smelt so good, even a salad (and fruit) dodger like me was tempted!

The Gelati at Bar Pallone, in Calabria. Deena had a number of samples, I fortunately held back, as our visit was used as an excuse to stuff us with food at one of the family homes. Every time I thought we were done, another home made dish or treat was presented. It was sheer hell, but to be polite I ate it all. I felt like a boa constrictor that had eaten a goat at the end, but it was well worth it.

Just to be polite, you see.

Someone was a bit naughty with the Renault and broke a tyre.

I did tell her to take it easy!

The dude below seemed to crop up everywhere, must be a soccer player or something.

Actully, he may be a bit pissy with me after I cut off one of his nuns at a roundabout. Not as pissy as the nun mind you, talk about the 'stink eye'!

Mmmm, Pizza oven.

One of our last meals in Italy included this starter for one, antipasto. The portions were rather generous.

More updates soon hopefully.

Goodbye, Dave.

(We haven't bothered trying to learn any Croatian, too many z's and y's, and eveyone speaks english anyway.)

Into Italy

We left the UK a couple of days after Goodwood finished, which gave us some time to check out some awesomely interesting Jane Austen museums. I must say after the tedium of Ferraris, F1 cars doing burnouts, and sideways rally cars, the chance to stand next to costumes from 'Sense and Sensibility' in one of the houses that Ms Austen lived in for two weeks was a welcome shot of adrenaline.
Deena found it a bit boring, but loving and devoted as she is, managed to suffer through with only minor, muttered grumbles.
One high point of the Austen chasing was a visit to the Cathedral in Winchester where she is buried, which is an amazing building, both inside and out.

The food in the UK was a lot better than we expected, just a little bit more work to find really good stuff than in France. Some of the standouts were the fish and chips, beef and stilton pie, ploughman's lunches (proper English cheddar is really good), and the curries. One of the most impressive things about the food was the emphasis on regionality, which extended to beers. A couple of pubs went so far as to name the butcher, baker, and grocer on their menu, and every town we went to seemed to have a different brand of crisps on offer.
One of the few food brands we saw everywhere was Fosters, they really do actually drink it! Talking to one barman, he was very surprised when I told him that we wouldn't dream of drinking it at home.

We hopped on the ferry back to France after having our car not searched at the terminal by a lady who was more intent on having a natter than anything else. Evidently Deena and I don't look like arms dealers or anything. We were just relieved she didn't find all the Jane Austen souvenirs we smuggled out.
While it was good to get back to France and it's abundant good food, coffee and a croissant, in my opinion, will never stand up to eggs, fried tomato, sausages, bacon, fried bread, and black pudding with brown sauce.

Once back in France we made our way to the Champagne region, stopping a couple of days to take in the Tour de France between tastings and lunches, even staying in a hotel run by the president of the local truffle society, we even got to pat a real live truffle dog!

One lunch in particular stands out, a set menu including buffet salad and dessert, with a serve yourself cheese cart that would've been at home in an expensive restaurant back home. What tipped us off to this place was the tractors and beat up Citroen vans out the front, mind you how any work gets done after a big lunch, a quarter litre of wine, and a digestif, is beyond me. I suspect everyone drove off at the end to have a nap among the vines.

From France we went into Luxembourg, a tiny country jammed in between France, Germany, and Switzerland, and having more awesome roads and beautiful riverside towns (complete with fairy-tale castles) than any country has a right to.

While in Luxembourg we ducked into Germany for the afternoon, for the highlight of the trip for me so far, laps of the Nurburgring Nordschleiffe (Northern Curcuit)!
The 'ring (as we veterans call it) is the 21 km race track that in it's last inclusion in the F1 championship almost ended Niki Lauda's life, and in the years before and since, has killed a lot of people.

Pay 22 euro and you can do a lap at unrestricted speeds, in your registered road car, or bike, with only a seatbelt for protection, how awesome are the Germans! In the interests of safety, prior to our lap I put my thongs on Deena's side of the car, so they didn't move around and get caught in the pedals, then I swiped the card, the gate lifted, and away we went, dicing with Porsches, Elises, other normal cars, and motorbikes (crazy!).
Twelve minutes later, we finished, me bathed in sweat and shaking with exertion and adrenaline, to be told by the boss to get ready for another lap, as she was off to get another ticket. Second time round we went a touch quicker, but called it a day, as the brakes and tyres were about stuffed, and my confidence and aggression levels were increasing, meaning an interaction with the armco wasn't far off. Besides, we still had to drive 'home' on some of those great Luxembourg roads.

Back into France next for a couple of days in the Alps, including watching the Tour on the Col de la Colombiere, cheering on as many Aussies as we could pick out, and of course snacking lightly from time to time.

With all the eating we've done, we have put on a little bit of weight, so decided next to head to the international capital of small, light meals, Italy. We drove through the Mont Blanc tunnel to get here, stopping at the exit to stretch our legs and take in our first view of Italy, and the first thing we saw was a stick-film left at the lookout. Italy really is a full- service country. The second thing we saw was a Pizzeria, they are as thick as fleas on a dogs back here, and really good and cheap.

One of us may have over indulged a little, as the other day, when putting on a pair of shorts, the button exploded off with some force, it wouldn't be right to say who it was. Besides she said she would kill me if I told anyone!

So far we've been to Venice for the day (beautiful buildings, lots of canals and boats, so hot even Deena felt it!), the Ferrari museum, which both of us really enjoyed, stayed the night on the shores of Lake Como, and eaten.
Boy, have we eaten! The aforementioned pizzas, with their thin crispy bases and minimal toppings are so good we could eat them all day. The Venetian speciality, fritture pesca, is bite size pieces of sardines, prawns, occie and squid, and langoustines, coated in a perfectly light and crisp batter, served in a paper cone for a strolling nibble, and salads of buffalo mozzarella and tomatoes so good you can smell them from across the room. Then comes tonight's meal, a selection of salami and hams, followed by risotto, and pork scallopini in a white wine sauce, ricotta cake and affogato for dessert.

Our bellies will soon need their own postcode!

Tomorrow we go to the Lamborghini museum, then head for Tuscany, and Rome in a couple of days, and on to the south, which everyone tells us is so much nicer than the industrialised north.

Apparently the food is ok too.

Ciao, Dave.

Cars

Righto, first things first. If you are not a motoring enthusiast, whats wrong with you?
Oh, you might want to turn the page.

This is part of the racing cars display at the British motoring museum at Gaydon, with the three Monte Carlo minis in the background.
A truly magical place, kind of an Anglo-philes wet dream.
Off in a corner there is a door marked 'Reading Room', I opened it to be confronted by bookshelves full of motoring books. I didn't go in, as I know myself well enough to know that I would probably never get out.
Would have been perfect but for the lack of a toilet and a coffee machine.



While driving along the motorway after leaving Gaydon, I spotted a Warehouse with Prodrive written along the side, we took the next exit and found our way back to the headquarters of one of the world's top rally and race preperation workshops.
For a one pound donation to charity you can go in and look at their collection of important cars, including on the left above, one of Colin McCrae's tarmac cars, and on the right, Richard Burns' Safari car.



On to the three days of Goodwood. Above is a Paris-Dakar truck. Wouldn't need a hoist to do a grease and oil change on that bad boy. A ladder maybe, but no hoist.

One for Garry. If you ever decide on a respray, matt black definately does not suck.

A quartet of genuine works minis ready to hit the forest rally stage on top of the hill. They had everything from current spec WRC and S200 cars, a Paris-Dakar landcruiser, through to a 50's Saab doing timed runs on a 3 kilometre course through the trees, including a jump.

Paddy Hopkirk in one of the above minis, giving it heaps! All the drivers, among them several world champions had a proper go, making the rally stage the most enjoyable to watch.

As with a lot of motoring events, the carpark was as interesting as the action inside, with Ferraris, Lotuses, Maseratis and Morgans just some of the exotics sitting around.

And one Austin campervan.

The Rolls Royce course car. No sense of style these people.

His and hers Veyrons perhaps? The one in the background had a chrome effect paintjob, tackier than metalflake, but I could still have it.

The poor little Renault after three days of Goodwood. Did I thrash it through narrow, winding lanes in the English countryside after all that inspiration? Who, me? Never!

Toodle-pip, Dave.