We didn’t head for the lakes in the end. It turns out Italy is largely closed in August and the bits that are open are full of the people from the bits that are closed. This makes the bits that are open very busy and very expensive. We decided the lakes fell into this category so we should instead head for the coast east of Genoa. Unsurprisingly this area also falls into the same category but ignoring our better judgement (and the advice of the guidebook) we pointed the van south and drove across the very flat and very dull northern plains of Italy. Driving in Italy is rarely boring however. It should be remembered that Italian signposts serve as a gentle and occasional reminder for those who already know where they are going rather than as informative driving aids.

Cinque Terre national park was our destination and was a delight. The five villages, although crowded, are very small and easily visited in a day. We took the train as access by car, never mind campervan, is virtually impossible. Manarola was our favourite….,



although we did get the impression we were slightly late to bag a spot on the concrete beach….



As per a previous entry, this is also not either of us…….



The sea here was incredibly warm and crystal clear, unlike the oxtail soup we found some 50km down the beach. We had parked up in the hills from Levanto, which is the jump-off point into the Cinque Terre park. This worked well apart from finding an ant nest under a wheel arch which meant everything had to come out, everything cleaned and then put back in. On the way to the supermarket for ant powder they took over again so the van was unpacked for a second time….



Florence was next on the list but with some lessons learned we stayed in a small village about 20km away and went in on the train. As well as being overcrowded and expensive Italy had also reached temperatures of 37-38 degrees so when the heavens opened it was free shower time….



Florence was great at 8am and hideous by noon so we left. Italy, the crowds and the heat had beaten us by now so we repeated the long drive across the very flat and very dull northern plains in the direction of Slovenia, stopping only for a couple of days in Cividale del Friuli, approximately 15km inside the Italian border. This was another great town, with a small river beach which we had to ourselves….





and finally Italians whose sole purpose in life was not to relieve us of as many Euros as possible! We stayed two nights before crossing over into Slovenia into the beautiful Soca Valley….,



We are ashamed to say this is also not either of us….



We did do some walking and climbing, to the bottom of Slap Kosjak….





The top of Slap Boka.....,





Up to Fort Hermann on the Italian border…



Three quarters of the way up Mt Mangart…





Actually we drove most of that after a chance meeting with an Irish-German family in a layby. We also climbed up to the source of the Soca river high up in the mountains. The health and safety fun police have yet to get to Slovenia it seems, as the final stages of the route up were fairly tricky…..





We have found Slovenians an incredibly friendly bunch and most speak very good English. According to one local however they are not a nation of team-players and one local saying is “it is better that the cow of your neighbour dies.” We’ll leave that one with you….

We had changed our original plan of heading for Coratia and instead had decided to make for Hungary. Heading east we briefly dropped in at a busy Lake Bled and then found ourselves in the mountains north of Kamnik and parked in the garden of Mario, whose moustache and dungarees gave him an uncanny resemblance to SuperMario the plumber. This Mario ran the extravagantly-named International Picnic Centre. In reality this is a lot of benches in a field half way up a mountain.

Further east and struggling to find somewhere to stay one day we found ourselves at a small lake near the Hungarian border at the fishing hut of Earnest. He’s on the left. We have no idea who the other people are.



Earnest sells beer at his fishing hut and makes moonshine from cherries and blackberries. You can run tractors on this stuff. It is not very good for you. Earnest insisted we try it many times but then let us park by the lake for two days to recover….

A very entertaining and totally unexpected weekend all round. At the same hut we met Davor and Yaki…..



They taught us another saying. Instead of saying “I don’t care” the Slovenian will say “I have a pain in my groin.” That is the cleaned-up unisex version. We’ll leave that one with you as well…….