Adventures of the Anonymous Two on a road trip to Austria
Unusually we had a midday departure which felt surprisingly relaxed and under control, despite some last minute rushes as Husband was at work in the morning and I periodically remembered something else we needed to pack.
When Husband got back, we loaded the car up and wondered how we had ever managed a camping trip to Europe in the 2-seater Alfa (and considerably less boot space).
The drive to Le Shuttle was quick and eventless so we arrived well within the time that Google Maps had initially suggested we needed to allow. But it did mean we could get on a train an hour and a half early. Once in Calais, we found the hotel and, after a brief ponderation (and assessment of minimal food and drink facilities in or near the hotel) we decided to do the 40 minute walk into town, which served as a reminder that Calais is a low lying, somewhat run down place with occasional smatterings of quite interesting old houses.
The town square was busy. And it soon became clear why - the Tour de France came to Calais today. So the sculptures in the square were of cyclists.
We went back to Cafe de la Tour that we had previously been to. After another delicious, and filling, dinner, we set of on the walk back via Rodin's Burghers sculpture of anguished men willing to give their lives to the English King Edward III to end his seige of the city, and anticipated a good nights sleep after all the walking.
Unfortunately that was not to be. Our hotel room neighbours provided a combination of barking dog and crying child who each made their complaints one after the other for a frustrating duration of the night. Also the mattress seemed to be V shaped and we each needed to cling on to our respective sides as though holding on to a precipice so as not to be bundled together in the middle. Consequently we were quite pleased when the morning alarm went.
After breakfast, we set off for Mainz - a mere 305 miles and 5.5 hour drive away. Much of the journey was on long, empty motorways that stretched into the distance through flat, featureless countryside. We crossed from France into Belgium without fanfare. Three hours in we paused for fuel facilities and a small bite to eat. An hour and half later we pulled off into a layby for a nap as Husband's eyes had started drooping. We arrived at Mainz mid afternoon where the walk into town promised to be shorter than that in Calais - which was made up for by the irrationally lengthy walk to the room. So I was quite pleased that the key card worked properly and we didn't need a hike back to reception.
We walked into the old town and visited the 1000 year old Romanesque Dom, which was very dark and austere inside. We ventured down into the mouldy smelling crypt where some presumably important men of old left their mortal remains.
From there we ambled around the cobbled streets and squares, lined with colourful , wood framed houses. It was hard to know to what extent it was old or re-built.
We found a bar in one of the squares and sat in the sun, next to an olive tree with a wine and beer. For dinner, we ventured into a nearby traditional German restaurant. According to reviews, the clientele were old so we felt we would fit in, and the reviews did not disappoint. We were quickly reminded that we were rubbish at communicating in German. It took a while for me to distinguish which part of the menu was drinks rather than food. Happily the friendly host was able to help us out, recommending a local wine and local food. All of which was sausage based. But we were learning that Europe generally wasn't big on veganism, and for medical reasons Husband needed to follow a low protein (i.e. vegan) diet. Unusually for Germany this restaurant's dinners were light on potato and cabbage.
There was a poster in the restaurant - all in German - but we could make out the numbers and concluded that the building was constructed in 1600, destroyed in February 1945 (probably by us) and rebuilt in 1987.
Dinner arrived. Sausage (one with a skin that could be eaten and one that needed the skin removed), gherkin and bread rolls. Our host kept the wine glasses topped up and keen for us to stay all evening, and come back tomorrow. It was probably exciting for him to have new clientele - and ones a good 30 years younger than the room full of obvious regulars.
We meandered down to the Rhine for a circuitous walk back to the hotel, outside of which was a biergarten. As it was cooling outside and the wind was getting up we went in and made the mistake of having more drinks in the bar. A particularly unwise choice was the whisky.
We went back to the room and made coffee. Then I woke up. It was midnight. The lights were on. The telly was on. The untouched coffee was cold. We were both fully dressed, lying on the bed. I got up and got ready for bed, feeling pretty awful. I woke Husband, partly to check he had his evening pills and partly to check we had a morning alarm set. He got himself ready and came back to bed, but soon got up to be sick.
I slept badly. Again. And woke several times in the night. Again it was a relief when the alarm went off but I felt just as bad being up. Perhaps worse. Quietly we got up, dressed, packed. Husband said he had disobeyed my instructions to him to have dinner pills. Then he noticed that a set of morning pills was missing. In either event, he had thrown them up. Quietly we went down to breakfast. I ate very little, not entirely confident of not seeing it again. Husband carb loaded and accidentally cut himself an enormous doorstop slice of bread. And then we set off for Nurenburg.
Unsurprisingly Husband started to tire so we paused after an hour and a half. The service station seemed to be a gathering point for Max Verstappen fans on their way to the race. We pressed on and were soon in slow moving, then stationary traffic. Engine off, door opened and a short wander on the road. It was very unclear what the problem was. And very unGerman. Husband again kept nodding off. Which was fine as we weren't going anywhere. I hoped he would go to sleep but he was too pre-occupied with thinking that the cars would start moving again. After about 30 minutes, they did. And it was still completely unclear why we had been parked. But we were in miles of roadworks and contraflow. Briefly we though we were on the new road but quickly went back to old one that was subject to extensive roadworks and repair. It seemed a cruel trick to have a completed 2 mile stretch in the middle of the cone chaos. After a long and tiring drive through the on off roadworks and associated moving-stationary momentum we arrived at the Nurenburg rally halls.
The sky threatened rain. We went round the exhibition which had all the awkwardness the Germans have about their history. It was there. It's part in history was acknowledged. The staff working there all gave off a degree of shame. And it was kept in a state or reasonable disrepair and neglect. Anywhere else in Europe, this would now be bohemian and expensive apartments surrounded by hipster restaurants and coffee shops. Instead it seemed like an old building that had only recently been opened to the public, presumably to remove the mystery and cult status which might otherwise have perpetuated. We walked around the unfinished, enormous Congress Hall and then alongside the lake to the Zeppelin Stadium. We climbed the steps and stood on the plinth where Hitler had stood. It was hard not to feel the power he must have felt when the area in front of him was full - which now needed some imagination as it had been deliberately filled with other things.
The rain started to fall so we made our way back to the restaurant by the lake we had passed to get some food - arriving there moments before the kitchen closed. We then started the remaining drive to Passau, on the Austrian border. Again the traffic soon ground to a halt. After 20 minutes of being stationary we started moving as though there had been nothing there to halt or slow our progress. Husband was tiring so we pulled off for a nap before continuing on, only to get caught up in yet more traffic. The rain caught up with us and started to pour. We ground on, eventually reaching Passau at 8pm. We found the hotel and some nearby parking, even quite successfully downloading and using the German parking App. Then checked in.
It was late and still a bit rainy but we had a brief wander around the quiet streets of the town in the dusk.
Cobbled lanes and tall, coloured buildings abounded, There were few places open for dinner but we found a restaurant overlooking the river Danube (not that we could see it in the dark) and I had local speciality - fried chicken with potato salad. But not a potato salad like we do in the UK. This was slices of potato in vinaigrette. Husband had a burger. No alcohol was consumed.
We ambled back and moved the car from street parking into an NCP style car park that we had subsequently seen where we felt more comfortable to leave it overnight then returned to the hotel room for what we hoped would, finally, be a good nights sleep. And it was.
We breakfasted and drove to the end of town where the 3 rivers met - Passau lies at the confluence of the Danube, Inn and Ilz rivers. I had a quick scamper around between the Viking cruise walking tours who were in the process of disembarking and gathering behind their respective leaders.
As we were heading out we remembered that we hadn't got a fridge magnet. Spying a tourist information centre, I popped in while Husband waited in the car. There was a choice of one, which a stern faced woman sold to me, only breaking into a smile as the transaction concluded. A few seconds later we saw a tourist tat shop - and bought another. Then we set off, buying our vignette for Austrian motorways at a fuel station before we got onto the motorway.
For the first time on the trip the sat nav said Welcome to Austria as we passed over the border into a new country. Before long we joined an inevitable queue of cars, seemingly at the border and complicated by people needing to pull over to buy vignettes. However this decided us on trying for a different route. Even the Red Bull Ring app said in bold letters that our originally planned journey was a construction site and to expect delays. I hurriedly found an alternative that wound its ways through the mountains, a far more scenic and pleasant experience than the motorway focused driving we had had to date. And we felt particularly justified when we passed under stationary traffic on the motorway we would otherwise have been on.
We paused for a loo break and became quickly aware of the cool mountain air. The only small hold up was as we came into Lizzen, due to poorly scheduled traffic lights in town. We carried on towards the Styrian mountains which loomed around us. Soon we were at the track. Fields either side of the road glistened with cars but there was no traffic on the road, despite all the warnings we had been given (and our usual experience from any other F1 track we had been to). The signage to camping however was non existent. Realising that we must have gone past it, we turned around and came off at the only possible exit. Even then, signs were bad, sending us in the direction of other camp sites. Eventually we found our way to Camping Rot (Red) and joined the queue at the entrance. After a few minutes a hot (as in sweaty, rather than attractive) attendant explained the campsite had been over sold and there wasn't any room. I tried to contact the F1 camping people we had booked with. It may or may not have linked to that contact, but a woman came over and asked if we were Red camping or Camping F1. We said the latter - and we soon guided around the queue to our pitch. Our prior practice in the back garden putting up the tent proved invaluable as we quickly assembled it, got the blow up mattress ready and walked to the circuit entrance in time for sprint qualifying. We hadn't realised it was a sprint weekend, so that was a bonus.
To get to our stand we walked up the steep hill alongside the track incline into Turn 1, through a second fan zone and up some steps to the Red Bull tribune, just beyond the pit lane exit. We had an amazing view across most of the circuit and a particularly good view of Lewis Hamilton spinning off in sprint qualifying 3. Once over, we meandered slowly back. The party in the race track fan zone had started with oompah pah music and dancing girls. We had view down the hill over the camp site and could pick out our tent. Some people in the campsite had set up huge party areas, complete with swimming pools and I suspected this is what had caused the campsite to be full rather than being oversold.
Once back and settled by the tent, we had a beer and chatted to our neighbours before going to explore the nearby food stalls. A band clad in leiderhosen were on stage, and then started climbing onto the tables and playing there. A couple of girls - one wearing little more than a bra, pants and fishnets - got on tables to dance. The band's eclectic set went from Bon Jovi to very German oompah songs. But oddly it seemed to work.
As the sun set and the evening cooled we decided to go to bed, not necessarily to sleep as the disco (with reverberating bass that pulstated through the pillow) was still going strong. Along with about a dozen other parties in extremely close earshot. Eventually we did sleep as the noise stopped, waking again at 5.30am. At 7am the camp site announced that 'silent time' was over by playing through the speakers the catchy German song Guten Morgan, Guten Morgan, Guten Morgan Sonnenshein. Three times. It was a warm and sunny morning. We emerged from the tent and cleaned our teeth. The queue for showers was huge and really only catered for men, partly as you had to come out of the shower cubicle to get your towel and dry things. With the open door into the shower trailor I saw a reasonable number of naked men. According to men in the tent near us they were cold as well.
We could see the circuit from our tent and watched people start pouring in. We could also see the bungee jumpers in the fan zone. On either side of us were people planning to visit all the F1 races in a given period of time. One was doing it with his wife so they had bought a caravan. Another was doing it with various male friends - so he was in a tent.
After sitting in the morning sun and having a bit of a snooze we amble up to the track, this time going via the entrance near the campsite rather than through the main entrance. We found somewhere to sit in the shade of the fan zone while eating, somewhat miraculously, a salad lunch. We watched the Porsche qualifying session and jet bus - which was basically a vintage VW camper van that had had the back removed and a Rolls Royce jet engine put on there instead. He set off, sounding like a Vulcan bomber, but it could only power him for 16 seconds. Those 16 seconds, however, were right in front of us. This was followed by Red Bull drifters at which Husband gave a suitable expression of not being that impressed.
We went to sit under the trees for the gap between that and the sprint race. While sitting there, we watched hundreds of people come out of the stand, and go up the hill to fan zone. It seemed endless. Husband noted that he didn't know why they bothering given that in half and hour they would all need to come back. And sure enough, in a single moment the flow of traffic was heavier coming down the hill, back into the stand. All you could see was orange army and Red Bull tops. Some people wore whatever orange they owned. Even if that was a jumper. And it was a hot day. 'It's an over reaction to one Dutch driver' commented Husband.
We eventually followed them into the stand to watch the sprint race. Orange flare smoke filled the air with its distinctive smell and thick orange haze. The race began. Red Bull cars were getting all the cheers. Also Hamilton got cheered every time he failed to make an overtake. The race didn't result in many changes of order from the qualifying line up.
We walked back to the tent and spent some time chatting to our neighbours - who seemed keen for us to join then - before cooking dinner. The neighbours were making sausage sandwiches for the morning as they planned to be up at 5am to do the long walk to the general admission zone at the top of the circuit and secure the area they wanted.
There was not band in the campsite this time, just a relatively uninspiring DJ. But again, a smattering of girls wearing only bras, knickers and fishnets.
In the absence of much else to do, we went to bed early. The bass of the DJ and occasional fireworks provided the usual background din but I slept reasonably well. We both work shortly before the DJ finished his set at 2am, needing the loo. It had now started to rain, but this didn't dampen the party revellers.
We woke again at dawn and could hear the rain on the tent. Then at 7am Guten Morgen played through the speakers, which provided the evidence this was the campsite signal that noise could begin. It didn't. The rain fell more heavily. We lay in bed, warm, dozing and in no rush. Eventually it eased. I got up and fill a bowl with warm water to bring back to the tent for a wash and hair wash. And felt much better for it. The sun came out as we cooked up breakfast but more grey clouds loomed over the hills behind the circuit. Fortunately they came to nothing and we had another hot day at the track.
Perez was interviewed right in front of our stand and then the driver's parade came round, followed by a range of air displays - men in wingsuits, skydivers on snowboards, then a fly past of old aircraft and modern fighter planes who, by the sound of it, had recently got their jet engine back from the VW camper.
An acrobatic helicopter and plane followed. It was a Red Bull plane - probably linked to the Red Bull air displays as it flew at low altitude along some sections of the track, including two low passes along the start line straight. The formation of old air craft returned, as did the jets. The national anthem played while skydivers carrying the Austrian flag landed in front of the Max Verstappen stand and a further fly past happened.
Flags had been put on our seats and we were instructed to do much flag waving, only realising when we saw the big screen that we were making a flag across the whole stand. Sing along songs were played which we were invited to join in with. Obviously that only thing stopping us until that point had been the lack of an invitation.
Then the race started. Perez's good work in qualifying all came to naught as he got nudged off the track by Russell resulting in an early pit stop and ultimate retirement due to damage. It was clear that the Ferrari's were quick. LeClerc overtook Verstappen and Sainz wasn't far behind. It had been expected to be a one stop race but tyres were degrading quickly so cars were pulled in for an early stop. As a result the lead changed between Verstappen and LeClerc. Our seats were by the pit lane exit so we had a great view of where cars were being filtered back into the pack, suddenly popping up from the brow of the steep hill out of the start straight. Each time LeClerc came back in behind Verstappen he soon managed to overtake him. A few laps from the end Sainz seemed close to doing so as well. Then at the top of the track Sainz went straight on rather than making the corner. It was initially unclear if he had made a mistake. Then a small burst of flame came from the car. He was rolling backwards, unable to stop and therefore unable to get out. From our seats we could see the glow of the fire. The big screens showed his car engulfed in flames and him waving his arms about, needing help to stop his car and get him out. Which finally happened when the marshals put chocks under his wheels. Then LeClerc seemed to have problems which we later found out was due to his throttle being stuck down. However, he held on and won, with Max coming in second.
We started on our walk back. The men at the campsite near us who had left early arrived back shortly after us. On their way in earlier that day they had apparently been held for an hour at one of the points they needed to pass through which was presumably annoying but at least they had been near the front end of that queue.
Some campsite residents were already packed or in the process of packing up and forming a queue at the campsite exit. Campers weren't allowed to leave until 8pm, presumably so that the day visitor car parks could be emptied first. So the join the camp exit queue at 6pm seemed slightly pointless. We hadn't until then known about the leaving time so were pleased we had booked for 3 nights.
We had a beer and dinner then went to one of the bars near the campsite. It was virtually empty inside with deafening music being played, such that we worried about the safety of the tiles on the roof. We had a drink and watched the orange army celebrate, singing along to the Max, Max, Super Max Max song, and jumping up and down on tables and benches that seemed likely to give way at any moment. They tried to funnel fans coming out of the circuit into the bar, partially blocking the path to do so. Then they tried to take the Red Bull gazebo's which sat across the ticket check entrance. But that caught the attention of security who then moved available barriers into a more defensive arrangement. A couple of older men came and sat at the table with us and we chatted to them for a while. They were staying in Green campsite as they knew that Red was quite a noisy one. But they had found Green to be too noisy for them as well. They were from the Netherlands but weren't going to the FI race there as it was expensive, and sold out within seconds - and they thought it would be too orange. Austria had been pretty orange.
It was getting chilly to we made our way back to the tent for a coffee, passing the thumping DJ music, and lay down until the music quietened.
We woke early to the noise of people leaving and started to pack up. Once on the move there was some heavy traffic until the motorway junction for the Netherlands, and a long line of vehicles with NL number plates. Once the Dutch had filtered off, the roads cleared a bit so we stopped for breakfast and then - a little further on - for a sleep.
Before long we arrived at Vienna and took a somewhat circuitous route into town. This involved coming in from the other side of the Danube, which wasn't blue. It became even more complicated to get to the hotel as roadworks has closed off most of the surrounding roads. So we decided instead to make our way straight to the car park that the hotel had suggested which took a moment or two to navigate our way to. As we were too early to check in, we decided to locate the hotel and then locate lunch.
It became quickly apparent that Vienna was largely rebuilt after the war in its elegant, baroque style. It had suffered 52 accidental allied bombing raids - on top of whatever deliberate attacks had been directed at it. Also, it seemed to fancy itself as the new Milan. High end fashion brands lined wide, pedestrianised avenues, and people in the street wore exotic designer (and consequently odd) designer outfits.
We went into St Stephen's church where mass was in progress but we admired the nave and ornate pulpit steps. Initially we though it was all original and then found out that a 1945 fire caused the roof to be destroyed and fall into the church. Although some items (including the pulpit steps) were saved from destruction as they had been bricked up for protection during the war.
For lunch, we went to a trattoria that we had seen up a side alley. On our way back to the car we went into St Peter's which was incredibly ornate with gilding, paintings, statues and sculptures covering every inch. We ambled to Judenplatz where a sign referred to the voluntary death of Jews in the face of Christian persecution, and vague apology from the Christian church about that. But our real destination had been Am Hof, in the steps of The Third Man film, and place where Harry Limes disappeared down into the sewers.
Bags collected from the car, we walked back up the hill in bright sunshine to check in, showered and slept.
Mildly refreshed we set off to see the ferris wheel. Initially I had though it was a tram ride away but actually needed a trip on the underground. We bought 24 hours passes and successfully navigated the system, in which Covid era face masks were still expected. We less successfully navigated the best exit to use but ended up being only a short walk from the wheel. It was surrounded by a somewhat gaudy amusement park, primarily being used by Asians. We went for a ride on the Ferris Wheel which was of course extremely exciting. Alternate cars had been removed from the Wheel and used for displays in the museum.
The views across Vienna from the Wheel told us two things. Firstly, Vienna generally had low rise buildings and secondly (which we had already identified) it seemed to be largely modern.
We decided to carry on to see the Danube and noted that underground stations near it were called Donau - which was also the term used in Passau for their bit of the Danube.
So we returned to the nearest available underground entrance, which was primarily for Line 3 and we needed Line 1 which could be accessed from underground, via a few steps. The system relied on honesty as there were no ticket barriers. We found the right platform and set off for Vorgartenstrasse. When we emerged we were definitely in the down beat end of town. Cheap fast food shops lined the street, filling the air with a smell of fast food. The homeless were plentiful. A graffiti lined concrete walkway led us to the Danube. Which still wasn't blue. The evening light made the Donaustadt church glow resplendently. A Viking cruise boat was moored - the tourists all visibly sitting inside. I almost couldn't blame them. There was nothing doing in the area. It seemed like an opportunity missed. Even the river was empty and unused. We walked back, and made a mistake in the underground as we went in the entrace for the wrong direction and you couldn't change platforms from the inside. However as no ticket barrier were involved it was easy enough to come out, cross the road, and try again. Obviously it would have been even easier if the whole world made underground systems as efficiently as London.
We returned to Stephenplatz where even buskers wore face masks to sing, and went to a beer hall we had noted in our earlier wanderings.
We settled down for a beer and wine respectively. A small fly landed in my second glass and swam vigorously until I rescued it and put it on the table. Initially it wandered around a bit dazed, confused and drunk and then scampered more vigorously but still wasn't flying. Husband blew at it, and it vanished off the edge of the table. Which seemed a shame.
By now Husband was peckish but fast food was hard to find. There were a lot of ice cream parlours though and Husband wondered what the world was coming to when you could buy ice cream and cake in the evening but not pizza. After all, all the the children were (or should be) in bed now. Then we happened across a pizza and kebab place which accommodated take away. Now all we had to do was sneak it into the hotel, which we managed fairly successfully.
There was a programme on TV with Max Verstappen and his dad, which was probably very interesting. But was all in German. We went to bed for our first quiet night in a while. Suspecting we might oversleep and miss breakfast (we have priorities) we set an alarm,
Breakfast was a sumptuous affair after the beans and egg on toast we had been having at the campsite. Although it did include a slightly less desirable apple and carrot juice. By way of background information which will become relevant, I was due to start a new job in August. They had a quarterly planning session due in Estonia, where part of the business was located. I had been invited, if I was free. The dates were part of the dates scheduled for this trip. Our initial objective for the day was to find a swimming costume as the new job event I would soon need to go to had advised 'pack warm and bring swimwear'. But that message had only been sent after we had left the UK. It was easy to find something which wasn't quite right for 100 euros, but hard to find something acceptable for sensible money. The majority of shops were designer - which didn't help.
Husband saw a Tchibo and suggested looking in there. I was initially not convinced, thinking of it more as a coffee place. But they somewhat randomly also sold nightwear, headphones, underwear and one style of swimsuit. It was brown, but was 25 euros and perfect in all other respects. That sorted, we took the underground to Volkstheater to walk the along the Ringstrasse round to the Opera. The road, a grand boulevard encircling Vienna, felt like the equivalent of London's Exhibition road, lined with large, ornate, baroque palaces and opulent buildings designed to display imperial grandeur but now housing various museums lined the road. A squat building housed a memorial to the war fallen. But it seemed, from information provided, that in a recent lifting of the sculpture of the dead soldier a metal container was found underneath, placed there by the sculpture and containing an national socialist statement which was removed (and then separately displayed next to the monument). The government had since distanced national mourning and remembrance from this location.
We ambled on, passing parliament, a statue of Mozart and a statue of Goethe to the Opera and then on to Karlplatz to see Karlskirche church, passing the rather impressive underground station on the way.
The church was stunning, the windows above the alter brilliantly designed so that the light tumbled in, making all the gilding above the alter glow. A large scaffold in the nave for restoration work was open to visitors. We took the lift up, which was a surprisingly alarming experience, to a platform at the base of the dome from where we had stunning close up views of the artwork and gold cross hatching used to create the appearance of sunlit shine when viewed from the church floor. We could also look out of the windows onto the top parts of the two columns at the front of the church which reminded us of similar style columns in Rome and Istanbul as they had carved images circling up them. Indeed the two flanking columns were inspired by Trajan's column in Rome.
After coming off the scaffolding, we then climbed the steps up to the organ and then along the roof above the front of the church.
The guidebook indicated that Saint Charles Borromeo, to whom the church was dedicated, was the patron saint of plague sufferers due to his reputation for healing the sick. And the church was built by the emperor after the 1713 plague as a vow to the saint.
Back outside a woman asked us if the church was worth the entry fee as she had already blown her budget on museum entry fees. We assured her it was, then sat outside with a drink where there was a small pond and a dog just sitting in it, clearly warm after a long walk.
After our pause we went by underground to Heitzing to see the Palm House and Schloss.
We strolled around the immense, structured gardens. From the Schloss there was an impressive vista across formal gardens, to a fountain and the Glorianna at the top of the hill.
Knowing we wanted an early dinner (as I had an early alarm for my flight to Tallinn) we stopped at an Italian restaurant for a snack. The arancini was so delicious that Husband ordered one to take away, to have for his lunch the next day. We took the underground back to Stephensplatz to sort out bags or my departure the following morning.
That done, we went out for dinner which proved challenging to find somewhere with non meat options, given Husband's new medically enforced dietary requirements, and which wasn't full. We tried one, quite empty restaurant and were told, with lashings of condescension, that they were fully booked. I suspect we just didn't look polished enough to be acceptable clientele. After some further ambling we found another Italian. Husband was disappointed in not being able to tuck into local or traditional food. However, we had a fantastic dinner and wandered back to the hotel, avoiding the horse poo covered cobbles from the multitude of horse drawn carriages that clip clopped through the streets carrying tourists, intent on filming the whole experience.
Thinking about my early alarm I slept badly. It was strange and sad to leave Husband at 6.15am to go to the airport while he was to check out later and drive across Germany alone. Post Covid travel surges were causing huge delays across European airports so I had been advised to leave in plenty of time, and got through the system with an hour to go before the gate was announced and two hours before my flight.
The previous evening we had looked at the weather for Vienna and Nurenburg, which showed upper 20's, even touching 30's. And then we looked at the weather for Estonia. Rain, cool, thunderstorms for the foreseeable future. Husband giggled at the pictures.
The flight boarded on time but then sat there. And sat there. For a while. Usually I wouldn't have minded but I had a fairly tightly timed connection to make at Riga. After half an hour the pilot informed us there was a bit of a delay because the sky was 'busy'. Shortly afterwards we finally taxi'd to the runway and got going, flying over Poland and into Riga. My limited observation of Latvia was that it was mainly forests and water.
Usefully the information screens in the plane advertised the gate numbers for connecting flights and the in flight magazine had a map of Riga airport so I was reasonably well informed about where to go. We offboarded onto a bus. A woman with children managed to hold up the bus departure by getting into a heated discussion with a member of the cabin crew at the bottom of the aeroplane steps. However, the chaos didn't end there. When the bus arrived at the terminal the driver's pass didn't seem to work and he couldn't open the terminal doors. So we all waited, sweltering on the bus, for several minutes.
Another security man, inside the door, opened an adjoining door to ask what was happening. It seemed that we could not use that door though, nor could the man indoors open the correct door for us. The driver persisted and eventually it worked.
I wasn't the only one running for the next flight when the doors opened, and in the event got the gate several minutes before boarding. I now regretted not quickly buying something to eat as I rushed past the food outlets. The onward flight to Tallinn boarded and left on time and I was met at the other end by some of the new job team.
Meanwhile, Husband was arriving at Nurenburg after having an amusing time at check out explaining that he needed to pay for both parking and my airport transfer.
In Estonia, we drove to a holiday park near Rummu - a collection of houses and central building, plus lake side pods which were all ours for the next couple of days. Estonia was also largely forested, and fairly flat. As we drove collection of high rise flats on a small mound were pointed out to me, Blossom Hill (apparently the hilliest it gets) which was described to me as a Russian built housing estate, from the time when Estonia had been part of the USSR.
The roads were virtually empty but of good quality, thank - so I was informed - to EU money. The road quality deteriorated as moved further away from the city as EU money hadn't reach this far yet apparently. The park itself was fantastic. The log cabins were scattered in the wood which nestled up against a lake. The team had been describing Rummu as a prison town. The lake was an old quarry, worked by prisoners and subsequently filled with water, submerging an old prison building which could still be seen from the surface.
I was introduced to various people and then we had dinner, followed by what can only be described as a very Estonian evening. At the end of the jetty into the lake was a sauna, currently registering 100C degrees. There were also paddle boards, which were taken out by some of the team, while other headed into the furnace of the sauna. I, and a few others, went straight into the lake for a swim. The water was beautifully, and surprisingly, warm. The paddle boarders returned and a couple of us swimmers climbed onto one as our paddler nobly rowed us along. But it got overly wobbly and tipped us up.
There was a cycle of people going into the sauna, then coming out and jumping into the lake. One team member felt his wedding ring slide off his finger which then fell to the bottom of the lake. Others tried to dive down to the bottom, about 4m, to find it. Without success. There was quite a lot of greenery on the bottom.
There were no mosquitos over the lake, but everywhere else were hoards of them. And they were massive.
Meanwhile, Husband dined on a veggie curry in Nurenberg.
As the evening cooled in Rummu, we went in, dressed and came back to the party house for beers and a disco. As other girls returned to the log cabins for bed, I went as well. From my room there was the faint boom boom boom of the disco from the party house which took me back to our recent stay at Spielberg. I called Husband to say goodnight.
I had a meeting starting the following morning at 7.55am. My alarm was set, just in case, but I woke up shortly before it went off as the floorboards above creaked with others getting up. I messaged Husband, only realising much later in the day that we were in different time zones, I was an hour ahead, and had woken him up.
We went to the boys cabin and launched the EU business into 19 countries, then drank champagne. Waitlist customers were alerted, country by country. Then we sat back and waited for press covering and customer sign up. As a new customer onboarded from a different country a gong was rung. Luxembourg went first. During the morning all 19 countries had customers signed up and investment trades starting to be made. I was aware that this was one of those moments where, if the business did become big and successful it would be looked back on as an 'I was there when this started' moment. I was pleased I had made the effort to break into our holiday and come to this event. We worked through the morning and lunched on a very Estonian meal - meatloaf, saurkraut, potatoes and cucumber pickles covered with dill and garlic, and served with a cream or yogurt sauce. White sauce was served with everything. Sometimes hot. Sometimes cold. And no one could actually say what was in it. The chatter was a mixture of Estonian and English and one team member described Estonian as an elf like language.
The managers of the park had commissioned a scuba diver who valiantly started searching for the lost wedding ring. As we sat outside having lunch, the drive stripped completely naked and then jumped into the lake to put on his diving gear. Even the Estonians thought that was odd - and these were people who beat each other with birch branches in a sauna.
The afternoon was a planning session, shortened because of the EU launch, during which the diver popped in to borrow a wedding ring that he could calibrate his metal detector to (and reduce the number of bottle tops and other scrap he was finding instead. I wondered if this might create the opportunity for two rings to get lost. Miraculously as he was on his last gaps of air from the oxygen tank, the diver found the wedding ring. One of the team paid up on the bets he had lost. The diver also showed the pile of debris he had collected - watches (including an Apple watch), coins, ring pulls and lumps of iron ore. Photos were taken of the diver reuniting the ring with its owner, which looked a bit like a gay marriage. But this became a momentary life lesson - all the time you have air, keep going.
After planning, it was party time. Drinks, dinner (with cold white sauce), a celebratory cake and then sauna time and lake swimming. I should add that every day a couple of chinooks flew over and fighter jets flew past at least twice a day. There was a NATO airbase nearby but this increased activity was a reminder of how close we were to the Russian border. Here they saw the Ukraine war as having last for 8 years - from when Crimea was annexed - rather than 5 months. But there was concern about how far Putin would go and the danger of a stray missile. I asked whether they thought Putin wanted the USSR back. 'We're not going back' was the defiant reply.
Meanwhile, Husband was at Monschau, drinking alone. It was a town famous for mustard, and he bought a pot of very nice local mustard from an enormous range of flavours.
It was too windy for paddle boarding. The sauna once again reached 100C. After a little while of people coming and going in it, an Estonian sauna expert announced that it was now tolerable, or normal. Still in the 90s mind.
After swimming in the lake, to avoid getting cold in the wind, we squeezed an excessive number of people into a wood-fire warmed hot tub. Once we thought the hot tub was full, the CEO got in but managed to fit, saying you just need to have confidence.
The mosquitos were out in force around the hot tub and I tried to keep as much flesh below the water and out of mosquito access as possible as the hot tub occupants vied for the greatest number of HR violations while passing around a tequila bottle. The Estonians didn't help by teaching the Brits how to say 12 buses, which basically sounds like cock taste pussy.
The disco got going and my good intentions of an early night went by the wayside as I watched multiple games of beer golf. When the beer ran out, champagne was used instead. At midnight I finally turned in and woke at 3.57am, just before the alarm went off. The 4.30am taxi to the airport did not appear. Fortunately I was due to share the journey with another team member. He contacted someone else who had been collected earlier to get the taxi firm's number. It seemed that they had messed up the order. Timing was already tight. I wondered if one of the Estonians who had driven here could take us. My fellow traveller went in search and found one. He needed to do a couple of things before we set off and then obeyed every single speed limit. There was an insane number of cameras for empty, EU quality roads. We arrived at the airport at 5.41am for my 5.55am flight. The security queue was not massive by any normal standard, but too long for my schedule. For 7 euro you could fast track, which was next to me, I asked the woman if I could pay for it now. But she just let me through. I quickly piled my stuff into the security boxes and waited to walk through the scanning gate, which seemed to be buzzing everyone. But not me. However my luggage was pulled to one side. I wondered whether in my panic I had forgotten to take out some liquids. The security lady then said she wanted to check it for explosives. Which I happily let her do. Perhaps my general sense of panic had made me look suspicious. Or my wet swimsuit tightly wrapped in a plastic bag in my luggage might have looked like semtex. I tried to stay chilled and not at all in a hurry. Naturally everything was all clear and I ran off to the gate, arriving 4 minutes before boarding commenced. I've got to train stations with more time to spare.
We boarded and set off on time on my flight to Brussels to meet Husband, having a seriously good coffee on the plan. It was a long walk from the arrival gate to the car park and I sort of figured out the best place for Husband to meet me as the drop off zone was now a Covid testing centre.
I was at Brussels well before Husband was due to arrive so popped into an airport bakery to grab a baguette for breakfast. Unfortunately there were no croissants which resulted in a Belgian storming out of the cafe in disgust. I had however, accidentally got a beef tartare baguette which was tasty but a mouthful or two too much, so I felt a little nauseous.
Husband arrived and we set off for Dunkirk to visit the Dynamo museum, which had an amazing amount of aircraft, vehicles and personal effects taken fro the sea and sand, even until quite recently. In the museum a daft Englishwoman was surprised about the evacuation and talking about having been on the beach only the day before without a care in the world or any thought about the events of 1940. It seemed unbelievable.
We walked down to the beach which was filled with sunbathers and swimmers, but gave thought to what had happened on this very sand. What had created the freedom for today's sun worhippers.
We had planned to have lunch before getting the tunnel back but wanted to get nearer to Calais, and remembered too late that it was impossible to get food as everywhere shut at 2 or 2.30. So we went straight to the terminal and ate there while we waited for our earlier train. Even that left late, but by now I was barely awake.
Back in the UK Husband said Operation Stack was being initiated as he spied a lorry load of portaloos being delivered. So it seemed wise, in hindsight, to have left early.
We got home, unpacked the car, watered the garden and house plants that had not completely survived the UK heatwave then made for the pub and a curry.
