Can we fix it

We have had a number of things that have broken even in our first three months, but chairs have been our most common problem. The cheap telescopic chairs we bought with us lasted no more than three weeks. After some searching, we purchased expensive La Fuma folding chairs in Italy and when they had lasted for 10 weeks we congratulated ourselves on our excellent choice of chair. Then one of them broke and despite much searching it is now the time of year when no one seriously stocks folding chairs. Anthony pass-me-the-gaffer-tape Kubicki has cleverly turned the broken chair into a stool and as back up we have bought another cheap telescopic chair which is already over one week into its allotted life-span. The saga of chairs will continue.

St Johann, another Austrian town and another town festival; you have to admire the Austrian’s willingness to wear lederhosen despite the ridicule of the world.

It is the evening of the day, I sit and watch the children play

We enjoy exploring new places, but it is also good to spend time on the campsite doing normal things; washing clothes (but never ironing!), cleaning inside the van, emptying the loo, checking oil, tyres, bikes and cooking. This also gives us time to watch our fellow campers.

Campsites are fantastic places to observe people; campers feel uninhibited and free to do as they choose: This may explain some of the behaviour we have seen on the campsite at St Johann im Pongau.

We suspect the couple next door of running a car laundering ring; they have two cars [Latest news, this is now three] and a large campervan, but only two sets of number plates, one German and one Austrian; these number plates are regularly moved between the three vehicles.

A family further along our terrace play lovely elaborate games with their children; one evening Dad and son togged up in walking shoes, trekking poles, bulging rucksacks and a map and together walked briskly along our terrace and the one above, back to their caravan.

This is not to mention the naked outdoor showering. Campers arrive at 09.00, what time did they set off to get here so early? Others arrive in the dark at 22.30, what is the story there? What do they all think of the quiet (except for the rock music, the dulcet tones of the Archers theme tune from the podcast and the harmonica) English couple in the blue van?

The history book on the shelf is always repeating itself

As well as reading the history section of the Rough Guides for Italy, Slovenia, Austria and Hungary, we have also taken the opportunity to read some books appropriate to places we visit. In Slovenia we read Ernest Hemingway’s excellent and moving ‘Farewell to Arms’, which is set in Slovenia, Italy and Switzerland. As we have finished books we have usually swopped them with other campers or in the campsite library, but we were pleased to be able to pass this novel on to a receptionist on a campsite in Slovenia who read English novels when reception was quiet.

We have both also thoroughly enjoyed the history and travel book ‘In Europe’ by Geert Mak, a journalist from the Netherlands. Geert spent 1999 travelling through Europe and through the 20^th century and filled many gaps in our knowledge of the last hundred years with his informative and very engaging style. Reading about countries as we travel through them adds another layer to our understanding of these places and enables to appreciate some aspects we may have otherwise missed.

The Wieshof campsite at St Johann im Pongau is another idyllic spot. While preparing our evening meal we have a view of pink tinged craggy mountains and farmers hay-making; later we eat watching Redstarts potter about the meadow above us and swallows flit around overhead. There is also plenty to keep us occupied in this area, with a cable car to take us up to the mountains and cycle ways in the valleys.

I said do you speak-a my language. He just smiled ...

When we arrive at a campsite, it is Carol who usually visits reception. In Austria, the booking process is fairly straight forward and can be managed in German, if necessary; in Italy too we had learnt just enough Italian to get through the bureaucracy that Italian campsites required, which included photocopying passports. In Slovenia Carol's first question was always, ‘Govirite Anglesko?’ or do you speak English and fortunately this always got a positive response: One receptionist was so impressed by Carol’s five words of Slovenian, she exclaimed, ‘You speak very good Slovenian!’ This may reflect how little Slovenian most visitors speak.

After so many campsites, we have got to know what sort of pitch we prefer and we will spend a little time walking around the campsite looking for one that meets our needs. In the height of summer our priority is shade, followed by trees to fasten a washing line to and some privacy. A level pitch, a view and lush grass are important, but come further down the list. At the campsite in Grein on the banks of the Danube we moved pitches after one night just so that we could get better wi-fi reception.

The photograph shows the Danube at Grein, a pretty small town with an excellent bike shop.

This means nothing to me ...

The Donau-auen National Park is in the small part of Austria between Vienna and the Slovakian and Hungarian borders. Some of you may remember the fight to save this flood plain from a massive hydroelectric scheme in the 1980s, the legacy of which is an ecologically important area on Vienna’s doorstep. We cycled from the campsite in Vienna into the national park, through lush woodland, broken up by grassy clearings and shallow pools.

It is hot in Vienna and everyone is out enjoying the good weather. Cycling along the Danube out of the city you firstly pass through the BBQ zone, where families have set up a gazebo, a picnic table and a BBQ, watched over by the Grillplatzmeister to ensure nothing gets out of hand. After this comes the busy naturists area, stretching over a couple of kilometres. Cycling in European cities is always fun and from the campsite there are also excellent routes in to the city centre. We joined the throngs in Prater Park, a wonderful green play ground in the city, where a trip on the big wheel you may remember from the film ‘The Third Man’ is a must. … Oh Vienna!

But for now I’m down with ornithology, grab your binoculars, come follow me

The Neusiedler See is the largest steppe lake in Europe, a shallow lake prone to occasional drying out. It is surrounded by reeds and the southern half is a national park, managed jointly by Austria and Hungary.

This is not the Austria of ‘The Sound of Music’, the landscape is mostly flat with many excellent cycle routes that anyone can manage: We covered 70 kms, about half of this in Hungary. Access to the lake shore is very limited, as the reeds are protected for the wildlife. However, there are many large ponds and streams and we saw Avocets, Great White Egrets, Black-winged Stilt, Redshanks and Red-backed Shrike. Although this is a national park, it is also good agricultural land and we cycled past vines, polytunnels of peppers and tomatoes and fields of sunflowers and pumpkins.

We rely on each other aha

We have always delighted in the ability of Austrians and Germans to celebrate: Every time we visit we find ourselves amongst a festival and Rust on the Neusiedler See was no exception. These local celebrations share many of the characteristics of a wedding, with all ages taking part, even the teenagers attend. Alcohol is always in evidence, Rust was having its wine festival and you were able to taste as many as you wished of the 50 local wines; everyone sits at wooden tables and listens to a band bashing out hits from the 60s onwards; that sugary classic ‘Islands in the Stream’ was played by different bands on both Thursday and Friday night, and the dancing is always started by an elderly couple who have clearly taken ballroom dancing lessons and want everyone to know. The food at these events is usually very much wurst based. However, the Neusiedler See is partly in Hungary and we were pleased to be able to once again eat Langos, a fantastic deep-fried bread, about the size of a naan, covered in garlic; we’d not had these since we’d been in Slovakia in 1992.