Italy

Travelblog Slovakia -> Spain

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LONG READ

The pictures in this story are completely random, unless they make sense.

Travelblog Slovakia -> Spain

 

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I don’t know where I’ve ended my last travelblog, but am now drinking cappuccino at the Barcelona beach and finally have time to write and wifi to upload it. So many things have happened, I probably will forget half of it and get back to that in a next blog.

Where the first 5 weeks on the road I had rain 24/7 (except for one day) and was praying for sun, the last 4 weeks have been 30+ every day and I’m praying for some rain. I love the sun, but it turns out the car gets really really hot and it’s almost impossible to sleep in it. I get it to cool down to maybe 25 degrees at night, but it’s still barely doable. Why do I share this? Because with heat and lack of sleep you make weird decisions. One of them is cutting your hair.

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I was in Bratislava, so tired, so hot, esports bar was not open, having a drink around the corner deciding what to do next and that was cutting my hair. I don’t know why I decided that, but at the time it was the best idea ever! Although in Eastern Europe, Bratislava is practically the west I thought, so I asked one of the girls that worked there what was the best hairdresser in Bratislava and off I went. I had a picture in my phone and although a difficult cut, it would be manageable for the best hairdresser in town. Well, let’s just say when going to the hairdresser in Eastern Europe, you get Eastern European hair. It’s not even close to the picture I showed her and way too short. Never mind, it was hot, who cares.

 

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Went back to my car and just lay there, doors open, trying not to be boiled alive. That’s when a man approached me and asked me to give him a good fuck for money. This is what short hair gets you into apparently😊. I politely declined, he reluctantly accepted and it was time for me to go to Vienna. (I would go back and forth between Bratislava and Vienna because of Black King Bar not yet having opened).

 

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what a nice way to pee!

Crossing the border to Austria, what stands out immediately is the neatness of everything. The streets are clean, the houses are well kept and people great each other on the street, everything is kind of scary correct. I had stopped for the night just passed the border at a small village called Hainburg. At the Donau I had found a hotel with a small camping site, perfect for the night. I had installed myself, was talking to the guy next to me (Al) and started to relax. Than the hotel boss came to me. “Do you sleep in your car?” “Yes”. “Well than, es tut mir leid (I’m sorry) but you will have to leave, because you’re not a tent!” Are you serious? Yes, very! She was even getting a bit upset, a car is not a tent, it’s not correct, you must leave. Al and I looked at each other, she was waiting and getting more aggravated, I said bye to Al and left to park at the nearest swimming pool I could find so I could shower in the morning.

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our feet (evi and mine)

I always park near a swimming pool cause it’s an easy way to get my morning shower and it always works. In most countries you’re not allowed to sleep in your car on the street, but nobody really cares until you’re in Austria that is. Two days later I was at another swimming pool, got back from my shower and saw this man looking at my car. No worries there, it has ‘insane game’ written on it, a lot of people look at it. I went inside, fed Evi and put on my make up and then (15 minutes later) the police arrived. They had had a report of a person sleeping in a car. This is not allowed! Why am I sleeping in my car, what am I doing in Austria, how long am I planning on staying and so on. No point in denying it, my car is a mess and it has a huge matrass inside, but if I promised not to do so again and leave straight away, I would not get taken to the station (for real). Ok officer, bye officer. I was on my way back to Bratislava anyway, so no problemo.

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By the way, by now my hair was painted red. You see, after another hot night in the car, I decided my hair now needs color because it’s boring. I was in Austria, so what could go wrong. Sat down, said I wanted it colored super white and got the advice not to do so and instead, go red, it would suit my eyes. Yes!, I said, let’s go red! (it was the lack of sleep talking) My hair was now not only very short, but also very red. I felt like a feminist lesbian. Back in Bratislava I found another hairdresser and it’s now brown with some red glow to it. Let’s not go to the hairdresser again until I’m back in Amsterdam!

 

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Having seen Black King Bar and Respawn, I was on my way to Milano to visit 404 esports bar. I wanted to reach Italy that day and had to ride through bloody mountains again. It was taking forever, but at least it was a 2 lane highway. I reached the Italian border and drove to the first town/village I could find, because for sure they would have good wifi availability, especially so high up in the Alpes, so closer to the satellites. Not true. I had to stream the LoL game between Respawn and Black King Bar, was all set on a parking lot in the shade, got my hotspot on and started streaming. It lasted for about 10 minutes. Miraculously, the moment the church bells started clinging, everything went down instantly and never came back. I had a look around me and noticed all the houses had satellite dishes. The next morning when I wanted to leave, my phone still had no signal, so no route planner. How difficult could it be though, finding the way back to the highway. Let’s just say I drove through a lot of small Italian mountain villages before I did and ended up in Austria again where I finally found the highway back to Italy.

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In Italy, you have to pay toll to be on the highway. No matter how many times I put into my route planner or google maps I don’t want to be on the autostrada, you end up on it all the time, which is very annoying. The first time I had to pay, I put in my card and all went well. The second time I was waiting in line and noticed the couple behind me arguing. The woman couldn’t find the ticket and the man was angry. When this would have been a Dutch couple, you could have seen the man saying something like ‘Stupid Bitch’ and the woman ‘asshole’ and then they would both look out of their windows, not saying another word. This is Italy however. What followed was a very lively discussion of some sort with a lot of body talk and aggravation, the woman going through her purse frantically, the man raising his arms to the sky (why God, why?), both yelling at each other and all the Facebook mimes on Italians were showing to be true. Finally she finds the ticket and now they have a discussion on why it took so long (I guess, cause I don’t speak Italian, but it just looked like it). I was enjoying myself and felt lucky I had my mine.

(storie continues below the foto’s, you can have a small reading break if you want to)

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However, it turned out my bank card was not accepted this time around by the machine and I didn’t have any cash. The whole Italian way of expressing themselves now turned against me. I pushed the help button several times, no help came and the barrier didn’t open. The line behind me was building up, it was hot, people were annoyed. The blowing of the horns started. Not one car, all the cars, each taking their turn, so all you heard was one very long noise of horn blowing. Windows opened, arms were coming out making gestures, words were screamed, still no help arrived. Then finally this highway man comes, sighs, tries to enter my card several times, not working, in the mean time he’s screaming and gesturing back to all the cars behind me and asks if I have cash. nope. He then decides to write me a delayed payment receipt so I can pay online when I get home. Great idea! This process takes another 10 minutes (not kidding), the whole line behind me is about to kill me, the couple behind me are now joined in shouting at me and finally, finally, the man opens the barrier and I can escape.

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After a very short visit to Venice (where I got lost again, by foot this time), I finally got to Milano. Great city and full of Italians. They never seem to sleep, especially since it was hot even for Italians, so they stay up at night. Wherever I parked the following days, I always seemed to be at some place that was open far into the night, even in residential areas. It was fine though, cause above everything, Italians are fun and love making jokes and I couldn’t sleep anyway, so I spent my nights listening to laughter and joy.

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Leaving Milano, my destination was Barcelona, where I am now. Again a long ride through mountains, it never seems to end, but first a stop for the night just outside Genua. I parked directly at the beach alongside the road. It was a weekday, so not very busy and the wind was fresh, so chances on getting a good night’s sleep. There were only 4 more cars parked and by the time I wanted to go to sleep, only one more. My hopes were up! I closed my curtains, listened to the sea and heard a couple arrive. There was some chatting and giggling, all fine so far. Then they got into their car, rest would come upon me soon! At that exact thought, the music started. It was rock music leaning towards Hardrock and the guy had super speakers installed. I wasn’t even surprised anymore. It’s kind of stupid, cause the only reason you would play very loud music in your car is to suppress the only kind of noise you don’t want others to hear and I was right, they were having some good old fashioned car sex. Stupid though, because now everyone that passes the car looks at it because of the loud music, so all it does is attract attention and by the moves the car makes, it’s not hard to figure out what’s happening inside. Anyway, it took them about 8 songs to get the job done, or at least for one of them to be satisfied and then they drove off. I could finally sleep.

2 Days later I arrived in Barcelona. The only thing I want to write down about that drive is the way Spanish prostitution works. I was riding the B-roads and every now and then you can see a girl in bikini under a parasol sitting alongside the road. The thing is, where do they go if a customer arrives? there’re no buildings, no bushes/trees to either lay down or park the car and get along with business. How do those girls work? Maybe I’ll ask one of them on my way to Lisbon.

For now, I’m enjoying the beach and the cool breeze!

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to enter

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or not to enter