Happy New Year from Morocco

During our travels whenever we spoke to other motorhomers who had been to Morocco they assured us “Oh, you must go!  You'll love it!”. After a crossing in a rust bucket ferry that left two hours late, an arrival at a new port that was actually 40 or so kilometres outside Tangiers, and a hair-raising drive in the dark to a campsite that was invaded by a pack of barking wild dogs at night we were wondering what there was to love! Our first impressions were of a place that was chaotic, dirty, primitive and not very appealing. But at least it was warm and sunny.

However, a week or so later and a couple of hundred kilometres south of Tangiers we now understand what people meant. We've stayed in a couple of lovely, relaxing camp sites by the coast.  In one the grass is kept short by a flock of sheep and a friendly horse. 



We've visited the beautiful and quite hassle free cities of Rabat and Casablanca as well as smaller, more traditional towns, and we've strolled through markets full of the most beautiful handicrafts.  We've eaten a tagine, developed a taste for mint tea, drunk a little Moroccan wine, and had fresh fish and vegetables sold to us at the van door. We've also worked out that the toll roads are well worth the money, and have had a go at using public transport. Oh, and it's still warm and sunny.



Christmas Day passed without any fuss at all. The German and French people on our campsite had obviously chosen to come to Morocco as they weren't big fans of Christmas, so the only signs of festive glitz were a couple of discreet mini Christmas trees on dashboards. No flashing lights, inflatable Santas or even German carols this year, quite different from last year's campsite in Spain. Strangely, when we were in Casablanca yesterday (the 29th Dec) there were a few Moroccan men dressed in Santa costumes giving sweets to children, and the checkout operators in the supermarket this morning were wearing Santa hats. We didn't ask, but we did wonder whether they have adopted some of the images of Christmas and applied them to New Year celebrations here. There are quite a lot of 'Bonne Année' signs about.

Some highlights so far:

• The Medinas of every town we've been to.  All the term really seems to mean is the old town that was there before the French invaded.  They are typically walled, traffic free, with a warren of crowded narrow streets and full of life and activity.  They have a lot in common with the mediaeval 'Casco Historico' of almost any town in Spain, but in Morocco this is still where people live, trade and produce goods.  In Tangiers they string coloured threads down an alleyway, so they can wind them into braid.  In Rabat they fry fish on a burner on the back of a bicycle.  You'll peer in through a doorway and see the diabolical figure of a baker tending a wood fired oven,  a man at a sewing machine with a stack of part finished leather handbags, or racks of new clay pots drying.

• The Hassan Tower and Mohammed V Mausoleum in Rabat. Hassan Tower is the minaret of an unfinished mediaeval mosque, whereas Mohammed V's Mausoleum was built during the 1990s.  They are both spectacular buildings, seeing them side by side emphasises the continuity between the mediaeval Moorish kingdoms and modern Morocco (and the tendency of Kings through the ages to want to show off).  The part finished mosque is a lovely and extremely peaceful place to stroll around, used by locals as a park.  The guards wear fabulous uniforms too.

• The ruins at Chellah in Rabat. It was scarcely given a mention in our guide book and didn't feature at all on the map we bought of Rabat, but for us it was a real highlight.  It is the site of an ancient Roman city, redeveloped as a necropolis by later Muslim rulers.  Today you can wander through gardens amongst part excavated Roman and Moorish ruins, enjoy great views and the clattering antics of dozens of pairs of storks nesting on the old buildings.

• Hassan II Mosque in Casablanca. It's one of only 2 mosques in Morocco that non Muslims can visit, the third largest mosque in the world, the highest minaret anywhere, lavishly decorated with carvings, tile work and marble, and quite spectacular.  Sadly no-one except the King is allowed to see the glass floor over the ocean but we did get a tour of the ritual ablutions room, the prayer hall and the hamam (baths) in the basement

We're now getting quite used to the fact that you can drive through villages that look like a historical re-enactment of life from the Middle Ages, dodging horses and carts, donkeys, goats, cows, sheep, turkeys, small children and women carrying huge bundles of sticks but then arrive in a smart town that is like the cosmopolitan areas of a modern European city. The old traditions and modern innovations seem to coexist very happily here.



Having said all that, we're not forgetting that it is still early days. We've not yet strayed more than 20km from the Atlantic and we're still in the northern third of the Atlantic coastline (or the northern fifth, depending on what you think of the situation in Western Sahara).  There's certainly a lot more to see.

Current location: a relaxed and slightly scruffy camp site full of French motor homes and well fed cats in El Jadida, an old Portuguese colonial town.


The Wine Blog Bit

We knew alcohol wasn't widely available in Morocco, but had trouble working out exactly what the rules were until we'd been here for over a week. Alcohol can't be sold unless you have a permit (like Britain, I suppose), but unlike Britain almost everyone is Muslim so alcohol is much more taboo.  This has some strange effects:

• alcohol is only available (according to a Boulay Mousselham shopkeeper) in large towns and supermarkets.  Shops in villages presumably don't bother applying for a license as no-one would want to buy it (or to be seen buying it).
• The boulevards of the colonial era districts all have large French style cafés with pavement terraces and dignified French style waiters with long black aprons.  In France the mirrored wall behind the bar would be covered in shelves of bizarre French aperitifs, there'd be icy Kronenbourg or Jupiler on tap and a selection of wines by the glass.  In Morocco the bar is bare, the drinks menu is only half a dozen items long, all the customers are drinking mint tea or some sort of coffee.
• During our first week in Morocco we didn't once see beer for sale, but noticed all the seafront carparks were somehow littered with crushed cans of 'Flag Special' as much as they would be in Britain.
• The alcohol section of the supermarkets is more or less like it would be in a British supermarket, with a decent selection of wine, beer and spirits … but strangely furtive. There's a special alcohol-only checkout where there's always a queue of Moroccan men staring at their shoes, waiting for the moment they can pay, put their purchases in an opaque bag and make a discrete exit through the side of the building.
• We've previously noticed that Moroccan wine (usually Boulaouane) is one of the few foreign wines commonly seen in French supermarkets, and wondered how the industry had survived in a mainly Muslim country.  The supermarkets might have given us a clue; they have a wider selection of kosher wine than I've seen anywhere else, all produced in Morocco.  As much as Islam hates wine, Judaism seems to love it, so maybe it's Morocco's Jewish minority that has kept the industry ticking over.

Imported wine is quite expensive, but domestic products are very reasonably priced.  So far we can only report that Boulaouane Rosé is just as nice as it is from a French supermarket. We brought a bottle of Spanish cava with us (plus a bottle of Torres brandy) so we'll be seeing in the New Year with that.

Cheers everyone and Happy New Year!

New! The Quick Blog bit

A really quick catch-up, with 20 minutes of laptop battery remaining and just about to get out of range of Spanish 3G internet.

The story so far.  After leaving Horta de Soriano we spent three nights in luxury in Calpe, staying on a very smart camp site and spending time with Richard's parents in a real apartment made of bricks and cement and that sort of thing.  It was great to see them again, to catch up and let them spoil us!  Unfortunately, Richard's Mum was suffering from a severe cold and Dad was getting it by the time we left, so the party was a little bit more muted than normal.

After Calpe we continued down the coast, stopping off at Santa Pola, Murcia and Almeria, then a big push past the Costa del Sol to a small campsite at La Linea de la Conception.



En route we stopped off at Malaga to revisit some of our favourite sights and to lunch on one of the most unusual and delicious tapas dishes in Andalusia – 'berenjenas con miel', deep fried aubergine with dark molasses.



Yesterday we walked across the border into Gibraltar, for a look around that strange hybrid British Spanish place.  We approached town through a forest of dull dusty Spanish style concrete apartments with washing and 'Feliz Navidad' banners hanging outside.  Once through the old town walls we were in a rather picturesque but unusually sunny British seaside town.  We had a pub lunch at an outside table at the Gibraltar Arms in Main Street, surrounded by Spanish speakers.  It felt like somewhere like Penzance on the sunniest day of the summer.  On the way out we popped into Morrison's on our way back out for Marmite, Whole Earth peanut butter and rice pudding. Well, we've been away from Britain for a long time now.

In between the pub and Morrison's, we were heading for the cable car to the top of the rock when a taxi driver persuaded us that his tour was better value than the cable car.  He was right, we saw the top of the rock, the old siege tunnel, a spectacular cave, were mobbed by friendly apes and had beautiful clear views up the Mediterranean coast, up the Atlantic Coast to Tarifa, across Gibraltar and across the straights to Morocco.



Today we're striking off into that view, catching the ferry from Algeciras to Tangier and finally reaching Morocco. We were planning to cross to Cueta, but for some reason it's 70 euros cheaper to cross to Tangier today, so we changed our plans. We've pencilled in a camp site a little way down the coast in Cap Spartel for acclimatisation! We'll update you when we can.

Return to the land of oranges

Since the last blog we've made our way down the Mediterranean coast, stopping for a visit to Cadaques and a day in Barcelona. We've been passing through a lot of places we visited before, and it's odd how even after just a year it can seem like a nostalgic return!  It's been sad to revisit beaches and forests without Scooby hurtling around us.

In Cadeques we went to the Dali museum that we'd missed last time around. This was Dali and Gala's house for decades, gradually built up by knocking together a series of fishermen's houses.  It's surprisingly tidy, with strangely conventional touches, plus of course some of the outrageous flamboyant decoration that you'd expect from Dali. 



In Barcelona we got caught up in the Bank Holiday crowds (Constitution Day) whilst revisiting some familiar sights, and pushed our way through several Christmas markets before settling down for some delicious tapas.



We also got to witness the typically Catalan spectacle of children hitting a huge 'Caga Tio' with sticks so that it will poo presents.



We've now reached a beautiful free camping spot in Horta de Soriano, near the little town of Carcaixent in the Valencia province.  It's an old farm in the hills that's been turned into a picnic site, nature reserve and recreational area for the town.  We think it's also probably protecting their water supply. 



They are happy for motorhomes to stay for a couple of nights, so we're settled in amongst the orange groves next to the old whitewashed farmhouse in a beautiful peaceful spot.  We stayed here in December last year as well, just a couple of weeks later when the oranges were noticeably more orange than they are now. This morning some people were having their photos taken in traditional Valencian costume outside the farmhouse and they looked fabulous.



Last night we turned on the telly to see the news – Chanel Nou Noticias has a red and white design and a spinning globe just like BBC Wales News.  It took us a while to realise we were watching the Valencian language channel, but we understood enough to realise that there are terrible storms in Britain, that every other country in the EU wants to do something (we don't know what) and Britain won't let them, and that someone in Valencia has bought a new machine for sorting oranges according to size and ripeness. We prefer the Valencian news to the British news!

This afternoon we went to Xàtiva and clambered around their spectacular castle. The fortifications run along a high ridge occupying a strategic position between the plains of Castille and the coast. It's been a fortified site since before the Romans came, and has been expanded and improved by the Romans, Cartheginians, Visigoths, Moors, Valencians, Castillians, British (during the War of the Spanish Succession), the Spanish and most recently by the European Regional Development Fund.



Only 2.40 euros to get in – the sort of bargain that used to be routine in Spain.

The Wine Blog Bit

Just south of Barcelona we diverted inland a little way into the Penedes wine region and spotted signs for the Torres winery and visitors centre.  This is the company that is probably best known in Britain for making Sangre de Torro, and also makes our favourite brandy.

It's a huge family run business.  The visitors' centre at Mas de la Plana is next to the house where the current head of the family lives, and next to the winery which makes all their Spanish wines (they also have vineyards in Chile and California).  We were given a tour in a little train around the vast winery – hundreds of towering stainless steel tanks, thousands of oak barrels in racks in cool concrete cellars, maybe millions of bottles in wire cages.  Supporting this, they have cooling equipment, water purification plant, laboratories, a huge bottling plant, a field of solar panels …. clearly no expense spared, and plenty of courage to try out new things.



As well as the familiar mass market wines, the Torres family make a wide selection of high end estate wines.  Their 'Mas de la Plana' wine, made entirely from Cabernet Sauvignon grapes grown around their home, has won many awards and is priced well above our range.

After the tour we had a taste of 'Gran Sangre de Toro' and were quite pleased to find we preferred the younger, cheaper wine for once!

The Patisserie Blog Bit

When we were previously in Catalonia I tried to summarise their distinctive national characteristics, but there's one extra that I forgot; they like their baked goods very long and flat.



The Catalan 'Coca' comes in a wide variety of sweet and savoury versions.  The savoury ones have a thin flat base, like a pizza, but about ten centimetres wide and as long as they can make them.

The sweet ones sometimes have a similar flat base, sometimes a puff pastry and sometimes they are stuffed with a sweet filling.  The coca above is a 'Coca De Llardons' topped with sugar, aniseed and pine nuts.  In the Christmas market infront of the old cathedral in Barcelona we saw 'Coca de Vidra' (a flat crisp coca with a hard sugar glaze, pine nuts and aniseed) that must have been at least a metre long.

NEW! The Meat Blog Bit

Spain has a surprisingly distinctive butchery tradition.  Often, this seems to mean cutting up meat with a mallet instead of with a knife – their chicken pieces always seem to be full of bone splinters and there are never two pieces the same size.

However, there are some things they do superbly that we've not found anywhere else.  Last night we fried some pieces of Iberian Pork (Cerdo Iberico).  These were ugly tatty looking cuts of fatty fibrous meat from traditional Spanish pig breeds. When fried they give off masses of smoke and pork fat, and spatter it all over the room, but the result is delicious, richly flavoured, with crisp edges and a sweet juicy interior.  Maybe some of the old traditional British breeds might produce something similar, but we've not found it anywhere else.


We have almost reached Calpe, where Richard's parents are staying in a flat overlooking the bay.  We've paused here as we've been warned that Mum has a bad cold and would rather not have visitors for a few days, but we'll see them soon.  After that, we'll press on south and west along the coast heading for Algeciras and lands beyond.

On the Rhône again

We're back amongst the French vines and olive trees again, and it seems so familiar and unchallenging it's almost like coming 'home'.



After crossing back into France we spent some time in the Rhône Alps region, enjoying the scenery and the sunshine. The valleys were often misty but when we climbed up into the mountains it was clear, with blue skies, warm sunshine and spectacular views of jagged snowy peaks in the distance.


The nights, however, were as cold as you'd expect, and we found our stock of propane got depleted very quickly just keeping the van warm enough to stop the pipework from freezing. Fortunately it's easy to find places selling LPG in France.  We're very glad we've got the refillable bottle here rather than having to use expensive Camping Gaz.

At the pretty little town of Nantua we spent the night right next to the lake, and the view from our 'bedroom' window was quite fantastic.



Then we headed up into the Alps on the French / Swiss border and visited the ski resorts of Morzine and Avoriaz, which Richard remembered from a skiing holiday many years ago. Some things looked familiar, but obviously without the snow and the skiers the area was quite different.



 
Suddenly we seemed to be surrounded by Brits. We could hear English voices in the shops, see British vehicles on the streets; one day Stella counted 30 British registered cars before she gave up counting. We're not sure what they were all doing there but it was weird for us – we've hardly seen any other Brits since the end of August. The resorts were gearing themselves up to the Winter season but weren't quite ready yet;  Avoriaz seemed to be being completely rebuilt, the streets were full of dust, trucks and builders, it didn't look possible that it would be ready for Christmas.



We took the opportunity to walk on what are usually ski runs and admire the waterfalls and the other more unusual water features, which show that it gets pretty chilly at night in this area.


Next we paid a brief visit to the lovely town of Annecy, where we decided to treat ourselves to a meal out. The main specialities of this region (Savoy) are all cheese based and we shared a fabulous, bubbling fondue which was delicious and very boozy. We were quite inspired to dig out our own fondue set when we get home, though we're not sure we'd find the right combination of cheeses (and wine) to make an authentic one.



We then made a practical trip to Mâcon to get some work done on the van. Nothing serious, but we'd been getting letters at home telling us that Fiat were recalling Ducato vans to fit new spare wheel brackets. We found a friendly Fiat garage and while he was fixing the bracket we went and had well overdue haircuts. Not the best haircuts we've ever had, but we look less like people who live in a hedge now! Next was Lyon, which was surprisingly good (we didn't know what to expect as neither of us had been here before). The Basilica de Notre Dame overlooking the town is magnificent, and we loved the streets of the old town which were packed with crooked mediaeval and renaissance houses, quirky shops (more antiquarian book shops than the whole of Britain), lots of restaurants vying with each other to be the most authentic, and a busker with a 15th century hat, a hurdy-gurdy and bells on his legs.

For the last week we've been enjoying the gorgeous Provence region. Richard remembered it fondly from childhood Summer holidays and was keen to show it off to Stella, who had never visited the area. Even though it isn't Summer and the lavender isn't in bloom it is still a beautiful area, and we've been lucky with the weather, enjoying clear skies and sunshine.  Some of the vines still have orange leaves clinging on, and the pretty towns with their Roman remains and medieval centres are peaceful and interesting to stroll around.



We're almost down to the Mediterranean coast now and have enjoyed wandering around the walled city of Avignon with it's impressive 'Popes' Palace' and our first French Christmas market, the  mixture of Roman and medieval remains in Arles and the almost intact Roman amphitheatre and temple at Nîmes. Today we had a wonderful walk in the woods around Pont du Gard, the fantastic  Roman aquaduct that used to carry fresh water to ancient Nîmes.



The Wine Blog Bit

Of course since we're in the Rhône valley we've also been visiting a few wineries for a 'petit degustation', well it would be rude not to!

We started off at Mâcon where we stopped at a winery which fortunately had places for motorhomes to park for the night so we could taste a range of their lovely white wines. They ranged from pale, light and fresh (to have with plain steamed fish according to the lady who gave us the tastings), to dark yellow, strongly flavoured and more complex (to have with salmon and herby sauces). Considering that we usually drink red wine, we enjoyed them very much.

As we followed the Rhône south we passed a sign announcing that we'd entered the Côtes du Rhône wine region, and suddenly the road was surrounded by vines.  We soon found ourselves spotting road signs to villages whose  names were familiar from wine labels – Valréas, Rasteau, Châteauneuf du Pape.  The press has recently reported on how keen interest from rich Chinese buyers has pushed up the price of the top Bordeaux and Burgundy wines.  I'm not sure if they also have a taste for Côtes du Rhône or if it's just that we (us, but also Britain generally) aren't as rich as we once were, but even at 'factory gate prices' a lot of these are definitely special occasion wines.

Before we left Britain we'd noticed wines from the adjacent Côtes de Ventoux area were starting to appear.  There is of course a huge choice here, and the quality has been reliably good, very similar to the lighter, fruitier Côtes du Rhône.  It'll be interesting to see if the hike in price of  Côtes du Rhône gives their Ventoux neighbours a chance to under cut them and increase their exports.  I hope so, as we're going to have to leave the Gigondas to the plutocrats.


The Patisserie Blog Bit

Not long after we met, we got reminiscing about fabulous pastries we had known.  Richard was getting nostalgic about a long thin almond pastry made in a wood oven by a patissier near Buis les Barronies, and Stella was mourning the passing of a French cake shop in central Cardiff that used to sell something very similar.  We realised we were both hunting for the same thing – the Provencal Sacristain.

A quick search online found an American blogger also nostalgic about the same pastry, and saying it was only available in Provence.  That was the clue we needed.  As soon as we got far enough south to smell the lavender (at this time of year, only the gift shops of course) we started looking out for sacristains.  So far we've tried about ten ... make that twelve.

The man who made the Sacristains that Richard remembered is unlikely to still be in business.  He was quite elderly at the time, probably twenty five years ago, very overweight and a heavy smoker.  He worked at a huge wood fired oven, producing an endless stream and a huge variety of bread loaves and pastries.  He was always leaning over the pastries with a cigarette in his mouth, but somehow we never found ash in our tarts.

The Sacristain we both remembered was a long strip of puff pastry twisted around a layer of almond flavoured custard.  The top was sugary and caramelised, covered in flaked almonds.  Around here we've found quite a lot of variation, many very good but not exactly what we remember. Some are covered in meringue and shatter when you cut them, some are filled with custard that isn't almondy, others have no custard, one even tasted of coconut. The best we've had so far was the first one we tried, from a patisserie in Nyon, with a filling of almond paste and a generous frosting of caramel and flaked almonds.


We are currently in Remoulins, parked next a field containing a couple of lovely donkeys.We have a few more days left in France and then we're heading into Spain again; chasing the sun and maybe catching up with those geese that passed us in Poland.

Back to France

Well we got on just fine in the Czech Republic. In fact we had a great time! The language wasn't a problem as those people who didn't speak English spoke slow, clear German. It was a bit of a problem finding places to stay as we'd read that wild camping is forbidden and police enforce fines, and most campsites close in September or early October. However, we found places that were open (just) and we don't mind being the only ones on a campsite – we're not very sociable these days.

A quick run through our itinerary follows:

• First we visited Cheb (formerly Eger) and the nearby pretty spa town of Františkovy Lazně (formerly Franzensbad). Very elegant Victorian buildings and a very relaxed atmosphere.
• Next we marvelled at the fabulous buildings in Karlovy Vary (formerly Karlsbad) and tasted the waters there (warm and salty but not as bad as we expected, certainly more palatable than Bath Spa!). We had a look at the Grand Hotel Pupp (used in the James Bond film Casino Royal) but didn't feel that we were rich or elegant enough to go inside.
• Then we went to Prague, which was just as lovely as we remembered it from previous trips. We revisited some of our favourite sights (including, of course, the mechanical, astrological clock in the town square – still impressive but not as fun as the butting goats of Poznan) and even managed to see some new ones. The observation tower up in the woods around the castle was interesting and gave us lovely views over the city, despite the mist.

 

• From Prague we did day trips to Karlštejn and Kutna Hora. Karlštejn is a fabulous 14th century castle built for Charles IV, Holy Roman Emperor and King of Bohemia, as a palace and a safe place to store his treasure.  It has been sensitively restored and is largely intact,  and very pretty with its pointed towers, galleries and coloured timberwork.

•  Kutna Hora town  is very lovely, like a mini Prague in some ways. However, it is the remarkable ossuary which is the biggest attraction.  The inside of a small chapel is festooned with human bones; stacks of femurs interleaved with skulls, suspended garlands of skulls and femurs, urns, decorated candelabras, a coat of arms, and the famous chandelier, which apparently contains every type of bone found in the human body. A couple of cabinets hold skulls of soldiers from the Hussite Wars and here you can see visible injuries, some which had healed and some which were fatal. Gruesome, but we liked it.

Last of all we visited Plseň, home of the famous Pilsner brewery. We were lucky enough to catch the first day of the town's Christmas market, complete with craft and food stalls, people dressed as medieval knights, stalls selling hot Glűwein (as well as beer of course) and a band comprising very old men playing accordions. The day would have been perfect if we hadn't been wheel clamped and had to pay a fine (only the equivalent of £17.50 fortunately, and they turned up to free us in super – quick time)

Since we left the Czech Republic we've been travelling across Germany, swathed in cold misty weather. We've been to some interesting places such as  Nűrnberg and Ulm, but the buildings, though striking, never look quite as good when it's murky and you have to take your gloves off to photograph them. The Minster at Ulm apparently has the highest spire in Europe, but we couldn't see the top of it.



We made a decision to flee south (I know we keep saying it, but we really are going now) but decided to do a bit of walking in the Black Forest before we left for France. We're so glad we did!

As we climbed the twisty, mountain roads we were aware that there were glimpses of sunshine peeking through the clouds. Suddenly we broke through the clouds and found ourselves in dazzling, warm sunshine. The view from the peak of Belchen (1414m) was spectacular and there were dozens of people who had travelled up the mountain top to walk, sit in the sun and enjoy looking down on a landscape that was like the view from an aeroplane or an ocean of cloud, with mountains peeking out like islands.





Current location – parked up in Hartheim, Germany, just short of the French border, our last chance to use our German 3G internet access to post this blog.

Fal-de-ree, Fal-de-rah...!

A friend has said that our previous blog entry gave the impression that we may be getting a little jaded, or perhaps are not that keen on Germany. That's far from the case! However, as we're now travelling without a dog, we're spending more time in cities and towns instead of interspersing all our city visits with beaches and forests; this can sometimes result in seeing too much, too quickly and leaves us a bit breathless. Since writing the last blog we've slowed down a bit and taken the time to do some walking in the mountains and see some of the beautiful countryside in this part of the world. We are refreshed and enjoying it very much.

Before reaching the mountains however, we had one more big city to visit – Dresden. If we were starting to think that one big city was much like another, Dresden soon changed that.

The name Dresden has some grim associations.  One of Germany's most beautiful cities, a centre of music, art and literature, it survived undamaged until almost the end of the war.  In February 1945 British and American bombers carried out a series of raids specifically designed to set the city ablaze.  It worked a treat.  The result was massive loss of life and destruction of the beautiful old city.  After the war, parts of it were rebuilt, but we wondered how much we'd really find left to visit.

Still a centre of musical culture (thought the Aussies would like this as much as the Ossies)

We entered the old town via the old market place, a rather bleak square overlooked by a few old buildings and the communist era 'Palace of Culture' (a concrete and glass rectangle with a heroic mural on the side).



From there, the architectural thrills came thick and fast.  Every corner we turned revealed a spectacular new scene, one flamboyant building after another. Someone once referred to Dresden as 'Florence on the Elbe', but we thought that was somewhat wide of the mark.  Dresden's fine buildings were erected by Saxon royalty in a baroque style, much more frothy than Florence, but 'Catania by the Elbe' maybe doesn't have the same ring.  Just as the buildings started to remind us of the baroque towns of Sicily however, we'd notice the ornate façades soaring up to a very German looking stepped gable or an onion dome – Dresden is very much its own place. The main thing that it has in common with Florence is the overwhelming number of gorgeous buildings in the centre – sometimes we didn't know which direction to photograph first.



The Frauenkirch is an extraordinary building with an extraordinary story.  Which of these buildings is the oldest and which is the newest?



The spectacular seventeenth century church in the centre, that looks like it has been freshly cleaned, has in fact been freshly built.  From 1945 until the 1990s it was a heap of rubble, kept as a war memorial by the DDR.  From 1995 they started rebuilding it just as it was, much to the delight of Dresdeners. Now the Frauenkirch soars over the town, which has finally regained it's pre-war skyline.  The Dresdeners love it – the distinctive silhouette appears everywhere from sweet boxes to beer labels to Christmas decorations.

From the north bank of the river we watched the paddle steamers docking and the sun setting behind the old city.  From there we could see the results of the wartime damage more clearly.  Directly opposite us, and for ten degrees right and left, we could see a beautiful, intact baroque skyline. Outside this arc it's concrete rectangles to the horizon.



After our tour of Dresden's old town we headed off to the mountainous country on the Czech border, the mediaeval towns along the Elbe and the 'Saxon Switzerland National Park'.  We've been back on the track of the German Romantic landscape painters, we've clambered over castles and looked out over cliffs so high it felt like an aerial view. Just the sort of thing we like.

Our first stop was Bautzen - a town so perfect for photos that it must be a delight for postcard makers. 



We wandered around enjoying the scenery and lack of crowds. We even managed to catch the town market and bought 4 enormous bilberry filled steamed dumplings which we've been eating ever since.  This part of Germany sits on the ancient frontier between the Germanic lands and the Slavs.  In Bautzen the streets are named in both German and Sorbian – the language of the local Slav minority.



Another pretty town that we had a stroll around was Hohnstein, (though actually it was more of a 'clamber over' as the town is very steep). We climbed through a series of mediaeval gateways and passages into the castle (now a spectacular youth hostel) and it was strange to emerge at the top into the open – no battlements.  When you look over the edge however you can see why – sheer or overhanging cliffs plunging about 40 metres into the forest.



 The next stop was Bastei, which is the most visited place in the National Park for good reason. It's a spectacular site. Autumn may be the perfect time to visit as the trees are glorious at the moment (though it must be fabulous at any time of year).   It has viewpoints looking over a side valley of the Elbe that is full of spectacular sandstone pinnacles. 



At some stage there was a castle in these pinnacles; there's a fenced off area which has a reconstruction of part of it. Now it's part nature reserve, part climbing centre, with a hotel and several cafés.  We loved it, though it was pretty chilly being so high up.



After Bastei we spent the night in Stolpen and had a wander around town next day.  It's famous for its sandstone and basalt rock.  At the base of the castle we could see hexagonal columns of basalt lined up like organ pipes.



We're currently settled in a comfortable campsite in the forest near Bad Schandau, surrounded by bulbous sandstone crags and dense forest incandescent with autumn colour. 



We spent today walking in the forest – catching a hundred and thirteen year old tram up to a famous waterfall, then taking a roundabout route back to the camp site.



Someone's also been missing the wine talk.  I'm sure we'll get back to it as we head south, but for the moment we're not in wine country.  Every town has its local special hooch, but around here it's all herb schnapps with pictures of goblins on the label.  Every town also has its own lager – it's amazing how many local breweries have survived here (and in Poland) compared to the UK.  As for the food, it's distinctive and unfamiliar but hearty, filling and delicious. We've often wanted a lunchtime snack and ended up eating so much that we're full for the rest of the day. The many different types of bratwurst are very popular indeed.

Sauerfleisch mit remoulade und bratkartoffeln in Dresden

This part of Germany is fascinating, with the influence of the Slavs to the east, its history as central European frontier territory and its more recent experience under communist dictatorship.  This area also feels in some way like the German heartland, somehow more German than Hamburg – a taste of the good old Germany of Prince Albert, JS Bach or Herman Hesse.  They love their apfel strudel, the shops are full of wooden Christmas decorations and little wooden figures, they still use elaborate Gothic script and occasionally dress up like the chap at the top of this page to go for a walk. We've also found that we've had to dredge from memory and use our limited German (accompanied by pointing and gesturing) as we've found very few shopkeepers or campsite owners who speak any English.

The language is going to get even more fun tomorrow as we're planning a short trip into the Czech Republic. We'll let you know how we get on.