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Published: December 11th 2009
It was time to leave London and begin the real testing part of our journey! Couldn't bucking felieve it!
We were kind of sad to go and excited to be on the next part of our trip already, and possibly the biggest part so far. The campervan that we received for our $AU4300/3 month hire was a Toyota LiteAce “Noah”. Obviously this is a Japanese import as it has Japanese writing all over it... And who in the Western World would EVER call a car a Noah? If our budget goes according to plan, we'll get out of the Schengen states with plenty of money to do Croatia, Egypt, AND Thailand on the way back to Oz. However - all of you, if you're reading this - send money.
Anyway, we left London after meeting Lina (one of our beautiful Swedish friends from Cairns) for a coffee in Richmond that morning. She texted us later and asked if we would like to stay the night, as she was also in Essex in the vague direction of where we were heading. At the promise of Spaghetti Bolognaise for dinner, I just about had an accident and said yes straight away.
The Ark On Its Maiden Voyage
Harwich International Ferry Terminal, Harwich, EnglandI figured it was better to be closer when we woke up the next morning; about an hour's drive from Rochford where she lives, to Harwich, to be precise - that and no London morning traffic to deal with. We really didn't want to miss the boat. We drove aaallll the way around the South of London on the M25 and arrived about half five at night. We talked for ages and the girls polished off a good measure of wine bottles, while I (for once) stayed relatively sober as I had to drive the next day. The sleep was great, the food was epic, and a big thank you to Lina for letting us crash on the blow-up double.
The next morning saw us up at 5:45am, jetting out the door into the blustery cold for Harwich. We reached the International Terminal and had our van and passports checked, and we were told by the security girl checking the camper how cool it was. After a small wait we boarded the BIGGEST BLOODY SHIP I'VE EVER SEEN. It was like an oil tanker but with 15 floors above it. 224 metres long to be precise, and we were
Nemo Hanging Out In The Bar
Aboard The Stena Brittanica, English Channel on the 7th floor. There were approximately 65 semi-trailers on board that day, along with 30 cars and bugger knows what else. The staff were complete losers, rude and haughty at even the simplest request, but I didn't care because they have a shit job and I'm touring the world. HA!
The trip over was fairly painless, at a paltry 7 hours for the 220km journey to Holland. We annihilated a couple smoked ham and salad rolls that we made ourselves, and had a sleep on the bench seats; the sleep the night before was less than satisfactory, due only I think to excitement, not the bed so much. Anyway, the time passed quickly, I took a walk around the ship (which took a very... VERY long time) and got some great photos coming into a beautiful rainbow/sunset combo at the Hook of Holland.
Once we got off the ship we made a beeline for Gouda, as it seemed as good a place as any to park our weary asses for the evening. Getting off the boat and driving on the right side of the road for the first time since America in 2005 was a little bit
Gouda By Night
Gouda, Netherlands daunting, and the road signs are all different, but in the end it was okay. Like my old Boat Instructor in Airlie used to say, “Nemo, if you're going to stuff something up, at least do it slowly.” Luckily I avoided any problems, and the TomTom GPS we had steered us to our destination.
When we arrived in Gouda it was beautiful to behold, but a real bugger to find a park in. Most of the roads were beside canals, and some of the parking being done there was truly epic; people put their cars mere inches from a watery grave. We wandered into town for a Trappist (monk/abbey brewed) beer at the local cafe (they call pubs cafes there... lots of parentheses in this blog, sorry!). It was Westmaller Trappist beer, and it was DIVINE. It was also our first effort with talking to Dutch people, and the barman was really nice, so that was fine. That night we wandered around town, took a few photos, bought/ate Gouda cheese, and bailed out to a truck stop for the evening.
We've been staying in truckstops all the way so far. Basically, most of them are attached to service
stations and they have all the loo facilities we need and sometimes they even have showers! They're free and if you can sleep through the sound of trucks driving past you all night, they're pretty sweet. Showers are very exciting these days. We've been sticking to sponge baths most of the time, but a shower goes a long way. The truck stops also often have a cafe/restaurant nearby so we can have a beer and charge our phone/iPod/laptop/camera battery. Sounds inane, but hey - this is how we plan our days at the moment. Oh oh oh, and they all have really tasty beer and cheap arse wine, but to be honest we've been off that for the last week and look a million per cent better for it 😊
The next day, we were up and off to Amsterdam, and found the parking that we were aiming for at Amsterdam Stadium. It was dirt cheap, €6 for twenty four hours including two return rail passes to the city at the train station 200m away! You can't ask for much more than that! We parked The Ark and legged it on the train, arriving at Nieuwmarket Station in the
Scene Of The Carpark Crime
Train Station, Amsterdam, Netherlands city. Amsterdam is just beautiful, totally not what I imagined. It's big, clean and pretty. That day the first stop on the map was Oude Kirk (Old Church), dedicated to the top Saint of all time, St Nick. Le Chapel was 14th century, and outstanding. Very dark inside, dark stone alternating with light stone giving a mottled Egyptian feel: the main dome was easily 40m high and beautiful!
We moved on from the kirk and found ourselves a hot dog stand advertising HUGE Hot dogs for €2.50 each. Let's just say that if that's a HUGE Hot Dog, then I was feeling pretty macho and self confident after I saw it, and maybe in need of bigger underwear.
Get it?
Anyway, we then went to Begijnhof, which is basically a quiet, enclosed area of the city that used to be (and still is) occupied by a group of nuns that used to work in the city. The place is so amazing - when you walk in the front gate, there's no loud city bustle, just quiet and peace. It really was like someone had just pressed mute on the remote control. We also walked to the Royal
Palace, but like everything else in Europe at the moment, the bloody thing was under construction and inaccessible by the average punter. I'm going to move over here and become a construction worker, I'm guaranteed a frigging fortune. Then we decided it was time to do what we came here for. It was time to get well and truly fecking stoned at the best of Amsterdam's coffee houses, Abraxas. Oh boy.
Listen, I hate pot at the best of times. I hate the high it gives you. But hey, I was in Amsterdam.... i.e. it's legal, and you've just gotta do it.
We were sold a €3 joint called “skunk” by a guy with the BIGGEST lips I've ever seen in my life. It was like a deformity, they covered half his head. I reckon it was something to do with smoking way too much pot. Anyway, the joint was the size of a baseball bat, and came in a pre-made packet with Abraxas stamped on it. After ten minutes and half the spliff, we were off our heads. My feet caught on fire, my head fell off, and Aleks turned into the cookie monster from Sesame Street.
I've smoked a lot of weed before when I was 18 or 19, and know reasonably strong stuff when I smoke it. And I don't care what my nicotine-addicted girlfriend says, this stuff was way stronger than anything I've ever had, especially for lungs not used to smoke.
We walked out and walked around... for four hours. I don't remember much of it. I remember going to the toilet at McDonalds and feeling absolutely stumped by the concept of stairs. No joke, I thought I was surfing down them and held tightly to the railing. On the street, I felt like my legs were attached to the shoes of the people in front of me. If you'd asked me at the time, I would have sworn blind there was LSD in that weed. And holy munchies, I smashed some fries (fritjes, a national treasure) and beer and god knows what else, begging for hours for the bloody high to wear off. It took a lot of alternating sitting around and pacing around the streets, I tells ya.
We also wandered through the red light district whilst completely smashed (now THAT was a sight) and saw lots of very
bored-looking dames dancing in the windows of brothels. The sex shops were numerous and extensive in their range, and catered for everyone. I won't go into it, but they gave me a good laugh. Aleks took a photo down the main strip, and one of the hookers left her window to come out the front door and admonish her. I don't know how she saw it, we must have been a hundred metres away. Must be that crazy advanced hooker-vision.
It was at this stage that I toyed with the idea of eating a magic mushroom or two while I was already well and truly wankered. Unfortunately the mushrooms are, as always, far more expensive than the pot, about €15-18 for a batch. But God knows where I would end up if I ate some of those. There was always peyote (cactus, hallucinogen if you don't know) and herbal LSD, but I decided in the end that I would never make it out of the place alive if I got into it. Smart guy, that Nemo. Maybe next time I'll go back and give it another go. HA. Oh, and check out the photo of the front window of
the Condomerie, a place where you can sort through condoms like fruit at a market: there are HUNDREDS of types.
And... well... That's one of about 10 photos that we actually took of Amsterdam because we were completely incapable of getting the camera out of the camera bag, let alone turning the bastard on and taking a photo. Sorry about that.
That was about it for Amsterdam, we got back on the train slowly getting unstoned, and tucked in for the night in the 24 hour car park, determined to get our value for money. At 2am though we were rudely awoken to the sound of a big fecking dog barking right outside. I opened the door (with nothing but my undies on) and the security guard and his large German Shepherd told us that we couldn't sleep there and it would cost us €350 if we wanted to. We said feck that, and told him we'd leave. To be honest, he was pretty nice about it, so that was cool. We used the opportunity while I was wide awake to drive to a truck stop outside Kinderdijk, which is a place famed for a good number of
mid 18th century windmills in original condition.
We slept late that morning after a crap night's sleep, and then drove into town and checked out the windmills. They were really cool, and the placards with information were in English so we learned about how the floodplains in the area had been controlled as far back as the 15th century, and how the water was sent to different places and moved about. It's hard when half your country is below sea level and prone to flooding. The walk along the floodplain was great, and we saw a white German Shepherd dog too which I loved. But apart from a castle that didn't exist when we asked our GPS, that was it for Kinderdijk, and then we decided it was time for us to drive to Bruges!
Woohoo! It was time to change countries again, and see what we originally went to Benelux for. FECKIN BRUGES!!!
That's all for now, I think I've covered a fair bit here, we can't let these bloody blogs blow out to 5000-6000 words all the time, people age a few years just reading them.
See you soon.
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