Wintleton Wanderings

We've been in Croatia now for almost three weeks, but get the feeling we'd need to be here a lot, lot longer to really understand what makes the country - and the people - tick. This is a country with so many layers of history: a conveyor belt of countries and empires over time have stamped their influence on the place. It's incredibly beautiful and we can see why so many people are talking about it as a holiday destination. Oh, and the 34-degree weather has been a lovely reprieve from the cold and rain of Denmark.

We have stayed at three villas in the southern Dalmatia region of Croatia (to be precise: Cavtat, near Dubrovnik; Viganj, near a place called Orebic on the Peljesac Peninsula; and a village called Dracevica on the island of Brac, a stone's throw across the water from a city called Split). It's been great having spent time in three very different locales, namely in the heart of the old part of a gorgeous town; perched up high in a sparsely populated peninsula; and smack bang in a village so old and traditional we saw a flock of sheep complete with bell being led through the town and thought for a moment that we'd travelled back in time a few centuries; the other frequent bell of course being the church bells that chime out religiously on the hour and half-hour all hours of the day and night. Anyway, the variety has been wonderful.

Spare a thought for us as we prepare to leave Croatia tomorrow, our day starting at 4.00am to catch a car ferry to the mainland, then a long drive south to Dubrovnik for our flight back to London.

We were hoping for a sense of history in Croatia, and we got it. Our last house of three is in a village that must be a thousand years old -- it feels straight out of a scene from 'Manon de Sources' with us seemingly the only inhabitants for miles (or at least the only ones making any noise). We arrived in the late afternoon on a Sunday (mistake number 1), expecting to meet the contact who would show us to our place. The village is so old and small, it doesn't seem to have street names or house numbers! Unfortunately, our phone was dead (mistake number 2), and our contact was MIA. We'd put the kids through a five-stage travel day, 8-9 hours of winding roads to rival the best of Tivoli Gardens' rides for turning your stomach inside out, plus two car ferry trips. Needless to say they, and we, were well and truly over it.  

After 30 minutes of spirit-crushing silence in the freakishly quiet local square (the thick, stone walls quell any sounds from within, and would make an excellent venue for a Ruth Rendell murder mystery), we started to consider a dreaded plan B, more travel to a nearby town to secure new accommodation. And then Zana, our local contact, arrived and ushered us to our house. As Hadley would say, "Phewish!".

The rustic charms of Croatia are everywhere: ancient, thick stone walls; narrow streets with intricate iron gateways; carved frescoes atop centuries-old churches; sunbaked terracotta roofs; and parched olive groves. Every town has a square and a church, integral parts of each community. There are Roman ruins, and the incredible walled old towns of Dubrovnik and Korcula (to name just two that we happened to visit).

But, while this sense of history is awe inspiring, there's a fine line between the pleasure of a rustic retreat versus the challenges of ancient dwellings with a toddler. We felt this pretty keenly at our second place, a house perched high up on a hillside overlooking the town of Viganj and the strait between the Peljesac Peninsula and the island of Korcula. The views were to die for, but that was after surviving a torturously narrow, snaking driveway up the hill, and then climbing a lot of steep, jagged steps. Having said that, we got to stay in a 300-year old house that was originally owned by sea captains; their houses were apparently situated up on the hill so that their family could glimpse pirates entering the cove, or so the locals told us.

Viganj was a great spot from which to access to a wide range of pebble and sand beaches, and nearby towns. The swimming was excellent, especially off small pontoons where we would take running leaps into the sea. The water was as clear and unspoilt as the Hong Kong skyline in June, and brimming with fish. We donned snorkels and masks and happily lazed on lilos and even took a small catamaran out for a blast (with Rupert, the salty seadog, at the helm) off one of the points, which was overflowing with windsurfers and kite surfers of every age and description.

We were pretty impressed with the number of agile Dalmatians climbing aboard their windsurfers. It seemed that everywhere you looked a 60+-year old grey nomad would be deftly stepping onto their board and letting the wind lift them off for some exercise. I remember trying to learn to windsurf years ago and it's tough, tiring work. These guys made it look effortless. As for the people engaging in kite-surfing and all manner of hybrid wind/water sports, their mastery of the elements was truly inspirational.

We had hoped to take in a few of the wineries in the area, as the peninsula is one of Croatia's premier wine growing regions, but a single visit to a family winery reputed to be 400 years old was underwhelming enough to put an end to that idea. We journeyed to the winery but found a total lack of signage or any other confirmation that we were in the right place. It seemed more like a rambling French chateau than a winery, and we didn't have a clue which door to enter.

We eventually found the tasting room and tried some wines, but with children bored and acting up and nowhere for them to play, we didn't linger. It didn't feel like our custom would be missed. We felt a bit surprised by the seeming lack of effort to promote the particular wine brand or welcome visitors, but that's been the overall theme here -- they do things differently to what we're used to, and everything in its own time. Let's just say the experience didn't rival the Margaret River in Western Australia as our preferred wine growing region to visit.

Having said that, the wine is very drinkable, as is the beer, and both taste even better in the heat and after a day of kid wrangling. On the food front, given the Italian influence, pizzerias are everywhere. While we've savoured the local meat (a spicy sausage called cevapcici being a particular hit with the kids), cheese, fish and pastries from the supermarkets, when dining out we've fallen into a predictable (i.e. kid friendly) pattern of pizza, usually followed by a stroll and ice cream.

They have a type of restaurant here called the konoba, which only uses the freshest, most local, organically grown produce and seafood preferably caught hours earlier. We happened upon a konoba in a gorgeous spot one early evening, but sadly it was approaching the witching hour with kids moaning about being starving (between them they'd probably consumed a tub of ice-cream that day, but who's arguing). When we tried to press the owner for some details about how long the food might take, he took umbrage and started raving about how a konoba was "more than just the food, it's a movement, a way of thinking", ... And "if time was important to us, we should go elsewhere". The adults were all imagining cocktails by the sea watching the sunset while we awaited our delicious food to arrive, but instead we had to pick ourselves up, do the long drive home (heading into the setting sun, groan) with the moan-ometer approaching fever pitch, and make spaghetti bolognaise for dinner.  Sigh.

Eating al fresco has often been an exercise in frustration, sadly, with wasps buzzing around and dive bombing the food. We've felt empathy for people who visit Australia and have their experience marred by flies and other insects, and not a little nervous at the prospect of returning to Australia and 'buzzy creatures' being the norm.  

The topography of the country has made it a challenge for us with the children. The mountainous "spine" along the coast and along the Peljesac Peninsula makes for great elevated views but also means lots of steps for Marguerite to negotiate. Our first place, nestled in the old part of the town of Cavtat, had a big staircase inside and steps outside to get to the back gate and steps down to the waterfront. The second place, as mentioned earlier, also had lots of steps, this time significantly less child friendly ones, with sharp edges and polished stone. Our third and final villa, which we went to after the Sydenhams went back to London, had only four steps inside the house, and they were broad and non-slippery.

We had been accompanying Margie up and down countless steps/stairs for weeks and this last place seemed like we might just be able to relax a tad, thinking she was in safe territory. But of course, Murphy's Law struck on Tuesday with Margie taking a spill on said steps and gashing her forehead. Maybe it will be fodder for some good story in future when she explains to people how she got the scar on her forehead. (We're taking her to a follow-up doctor's visit tomorrow - wouldn't it be cool if the scar was a Harry Potteresque lightning bolt?!) Lucky for us, the local ambulance/emergency clinic was open early and full of experienced-looking people. I found myself hoping that they had had lots of experience in the field, and would do a neat job with the stitches.  Unlike Hong Kong, no one mentioned a referral to a plastic surgeon.

The steep, rocky terrain has also made for a hair-raising driving experience. Once again, Nikki has been the chauffeur given her greater ease with manual cars. Our hire car was particularly lacking in responsiveness, turning circle, ease of gear changing and torque, so Nikki did brilliantly negotiating the endlessly narrow winding roads and hills in a people mover that seems to have the engine capacity of a Morris Minor. Given both Nikki and Olivia's propensity to suffer from travel sickness, the going was tough even when the distances we travelled were fairly modest. The contrast with Denmark continues, which after all is what we wanted.

That said, without the dramatic coastline we wouldn't have enjoyed some truly stunning views (err...that is Derek has enjoyed them given Nikki's eyes have been focussed on the pencil-thin roads and the kids have been either asleep, on their gaming devices or too car sick to notice), mainly gorgeous bays with sparkling emerald water but also villages perched on hillsides in picture-perfect clusters of old stone houses with the ubiquitous church and town square.

On one occasion, our two families spied an incredible strip of sparkling water and beach at the foot of a vertiginous hillside. We decided to stop off there to let the children cool off in the water and to give us a chance for a coffee and a stretch of the legs. Sadly for us, this idyllic stop-off proved to be a stressful and painful experience when Olivia managed to get a half-dozen sea urchin 'splinters' embedded in her palm. Nikki performed some roadside surgery, using a needle to try to coax the spiny tips out of Olivia's hand. Olivia was howling, partly with pain but also we think from the sight of the needle coupled with her misplaced conviction that she would die from poisoning. Through her wails she let us know in no uncertain terms that she was never going back into the sea water in Croatia. Luckily, this vow only lasted 24 hours as she rediscovered the joy of being in the water but at the time it's fair to say Olivia hated Croatia with a passion.

It will be interesting to see if Croatia really takes off as a tourist destination. Little things have given us the impression that Croatia is struggling to keep up with its rise in popularity, such as supermarkets in tourist areas being laughably crowded and bursting at the seams. And, as odd as it sounds, the people themselves haven't exactly inspired a desire for a return visit: many of the locals we've come across have lacked warmth, or been indifferent or almost hostile. It's hard to imagine their neighbors across the Adriatic being so indifferent or plain blunt, but it's hard to say.  Maybe the country's history makes for a complex people who take time to get to know. I get the sense this might be a good place to settle for a while rather than visit for a short time.

Speaking of the locals, we had a couple of brushes with the police which certainly livened things up and gave us a bit of a window into day-to-day life here.

The first incident occurred when we were with the Sydenhams at our place in Viganj. An imposing shadow was cast across the entrance to our house as we were preparing to head out for a swim.  A man stood there as if we should somehow know who he was and why he was there.  We were thinking maybe he was somehow connected to the house, but when he said "police inspection", in a deep, gravelly, "don't mess with me" voice, we started to feel uneasy. He then explained that he and his sidekick police officer whose firearm was noticeably on display, had a search warrant to inspect the premises. It was all sounding very fishy and we were glad we were lawyered-up to the gills (Rupert and Eileen are both in that field). The whole process dragged on as phone calls were made to our local villa manager and the owner in the UK to establish what requisite licenses had been secured or not.

We found out later that many aspects of life in Croatia are regulated like this, and if a policeman wants to pay you a visit they will ask for a vast array of permits and probably not rest till they have sprung you for some bureaucratic oversight. The visits are conducted on a door-to-door basis as the country's database either doesn't exist or isn't up to the task of managing the billing and licensing requirements of its citizens.

The second brush with the police occurred when we witnessed what can only be described as a cat fight between two Croatian women at a swimming spot. It threatened to be nasty at one stage, when the bigger of the two pushed the other off the pontoon and into the water. There was also pushing and shoving and a stone thrown. Fortunately, no blood was spilled (especially not ours!), but as witnesses, the policeman visited us later that day to get our version of the events. These women were neighbours - we wondered what on earth had caused the levels of animosity to reach this point.

Our last days in Dracevic have been quiet and restful (as restful as it can be hovering over a toddler all day as she negotiates garden steps, walls, bee-infested paths and so on), with us enjoying our own pool and complete anonymity. We return to London at the end of the week, and while we'll miss the beautiful sunshine, blue skies and dramatic landscape, I think we're all looking forward to getting back to more familiar surroundings.  

Sorry for the long entry -- lack of Internet access and too many fun nights with the Sydenhams have made it hard to keep the blog up-to-date. Congratulations and thanks if you've read this far!

Derek, Nikki and the gang

"Is that noise what I think it is?"' I asked Derek as we settled down to sleep at the Premier Inn hotel in the vicinity of Gatwick, after a long day's travel from Germany (over three consecutive days we had been in three countries [Denmark, Germany, England], and were about to leave early the next morning for a fourth [Croatia], so we were weary). "Errr...", said Derek, straining his ears to be sure, but not really needing to as the moans floating through our window were building to a steady crescendo and we both knew what we were hearing.  "I would have paid extra for the room had I known this was available", Derek joked.

Lucky for us, the kids were asleep, so we didn't have to contend with any tricky questions.  We just lay back and enjoyed the entertainment.  Funnily enough, earlier in the evening, we had had dinner across the gravel drive at a gastronomic pub attached to the inn.  It had a lovely beer garden, and while we were there a wedding party and guests arrived for their wedding reception.  We got to see all manner of bodies squeezed into dresses that were a size too small, and the groomsmen were wearing aqua silk ties with white jackets. Noice! Later that night as we listened to the horizontal gymnastics, we couldn't help imagining who from the wedding party we might be listening to. We marveled at their stamina, as things continued for some time, but we were soon oblivious to it all, sleeping heavily as only the travel weary do. (Nikki)

"She offered her honour
He honoured her offer
And all night long it was honour and offer"

(Derek)

As we zip down the E45 highway and cross into Germany, with Nikki doing a sterling job of driving in the wind and rain, I thought I'd add a few anecdotes based on our trips to two fantastic amusement parks in Denmark, the Tivoli Gardens in Copenhagen and of course Legoland in Billund.

First off, though, a recap of why we decided to travel to Denmark in the first place.

We decided early on to focus on just a couple of countries in Europe, rather than try to pack in lots of countries at a hectic pace. Our 'bible' was the Lonely Planet book 'Travel with Children' which suggested Denmark, Portugal and Croatia were top of the list, all things considered, in terms of child friendliness. We excluded Portugal as we thought we had time for two, not three, countries, and liked the contrast that Denmark would offer in terms of culture and climate.

Climate was an important consideration given Olivia is a real summer bunny but Hadley much prefers cooler weather. It's early days with Marguerite but given her (Dad's) milk-white complexion she might find too much sun hard going. We knew packing for different climates was less than ideal, but thought it would be worth the effort.

Another factor in Denmark's favour was the presence of two places guaranteed to be a hit with the children: the Tivoli Gardens and Legoland.

The Tivoli Gardens, in the centre of Copenhagen, was superb. It has plenty of rides, like any amusement park, but also, true to its name, lovely trees and gardens, plus a wide mix of restaurants, a concert stage, bars, quaint shops and exhibition spaces. The rides made maximum use of the limited space (limited, I imagine, because it was a park originally and the rides had to fit into the natural environment not the other way around).

In terms of rides and entertainment, Tivoli catered very well for all ages. I am a bit of a roller-coaster fan and had a go on The Demon, a ride described - quite accurately as it turned out - in our guide book as 'short but terrifying'. Major adrenaline pumper, that one, with two full loops of craziness thrown in. (Amazingly, we didn't witness any vomitous ejections from passengers throughout the day.)

Speaking of crazy, one of the craziest rides we saw was called Vertigo and involved a WWII-style fighter plane with four brave souls strapped in. The plane then proceeded to do full, 360 degree loops, slowly at first, then building up to a crescendo of rapid loops with a Kamakazi-type sound growing ever louder and the plane looking decidedly small at the end of a giant metal arm. If that wasn't enough, the plane also twisted around, independent of the loops it was performing. Needless to say, none of us worked up the courage to give it a go.

The children loved a couple of mini roller-coaster-type rides, a ferris wheel, gentle model T Fords, a brilliant train ride called Odin Express, a pirate-themed ride, an octopus...my goodness, it was non-stop.

While none of us went on the Vertigo ride, the award for bravery/stupidity was jointly awarded to me and Liv for going on a ride called the Golden Tower. This saw us sit side by side on basic plastic seats, albeit with a much needed safety bar on our laps, suspended by very long, thin metal chains, with about a dozen other pairs of foolhardy thrill-seekers. The chairs started swinging around, fanning out in an ever wider arc. Fine...except that they were also being lifted ever higher...up and up we went, still spinning around, up and up, for equal doses of sheer butt-clenching terror on the one hand and exhilaration on the other.

There were unforgettable views to be had, in between the times my brain was hammering out a very clear message to me: Why on EARTH did yo go on this ride?! Anyway, it was a huge buzz to have Liv wanting to try out such a terrifying ride. We exchanged views as we were being swung around high above the crowds; she was also scared but held it together amazingly well for a seven-year-old whose first properly scary ride was the roller-coaster at Legoland a few days earlier.

We left Tivoli Gardens at around 8pm after pizza at an Italian restaurant (could well be a recurring theme given imminent Croatia trip and the Italian influence there) and didn't get back to our campsite till around 10, shattered but nonetheless happy after an exhilarating day.

We had gone to Legoland three days earlier. Unfortunately we were regularly doused by rain throughout the day, but overall we had a blast. That said, Legoland didn't cater as well to all age groups as Tivoli did, although it catered better for Margie's age group with lots of Lego play stations and a toddler's playground. I think older children and teenagers would probably feel a little short-changed though, with the rides not offering the same wow factor as at Tivoli. The thing that does impress, of course, is the many examples of Lego creations, including the terrific Miniland with its detailed models of buildings, ports, palaces...you name it.

As mentioned, Liv sampled her first ever roller-coaster ride here and was instantly hooked. She was also in her element at a wonderful ride called Traffic School where the participants were issued driving licences, given a brief lesson on the rules of the road (given rapid fire in Danish, English and Italian), then let loose in their own mini-cars, tootling around roads complete with road signs, arrows on the road, a car wash and a petrol station. Liv has always loved car-related rides at amusement parks (and sitting on our lap in the Picnic and tootling around the car park at Middleton, or 'driving' on Nikki's lap out at the farm), so this was the ultimate as far as she was concerned.

Hadley started a bit slowly in terms of cranking up the adrenaline on the rides but still enjoyed himself immensely at both Legoland and Tivoli. At Legoland, he loved an Egyptian themed 'temple' where you had to zap various baddies made of Lego, which reminded me of the Buzz Lightyear ride at Disneyland HK.

We also had a great time at a knight's castle where we viewed stunning Lego models of characters such as wizards, kings, monks and jesters before our roller coaster cranked up the pace and hurtled around - alas, outside in the pelting rain. Hadley was also thrilled to visit the Lego shop on the premises. We could only get him the smallest toy available given the amount of luggage we're toting but he didn't mind: as it happens he loves the small Ninjago models so he got Sensei Wu, continuing his enduring love of kung fu.

At Tivoli, Hads felt confident enough to step up to faster rides and spent much of the day happily buzzing from one ride to another.

An honorable mention at this point has to go to Nikki who spent much of the time at both amusement parks on Margie-wrangling duty. Nikki has neck problems which prevent her from going on lots of rides, and Margie is happiest when with mum, so the days at Legoland and Tivoli were much more taxing for Nikki than for the rest of us.

I should also mention a wonderful place we took the children in Copenhagen called Experimentarium. It reminded me a little bit of the Powerhouse Museum in Sydney, only much better. Children can learn about all sorts of subjects - the human body, energy, senses, etc - but all via imaginative and interactive games and devices and models. It was a schlep getting there from our campsite, but a brilliant afternoon's entertainment for the whole family.

So, apologies for rambling; if you've read this far you've done well (and Get Back to Work!). We're aware that this blog is sorely in need of some photos; we haven't figured out how to do that just yet (we have an iPad for this trip, not a laptop) but we're working on it. Big thanks to people for persisting with the text up till now.

Almost four weeks after skedaddling from Honkers, I'm remembering from backpacker days how much work independent travel is, both physically and mentally.  Everything is new, so you're always working stuff out on the run, like where the heck you're going. You sometimes have to walk a long way, especially when you misread the map ;-), which is incredibly tedious with small people who are whining, a LOT.  In a campervan, even the basics are an effort, given the lack of modern conveniences like kettles or microwaves, not to mention the added challenge of erecting Margie's sleeping cot each night after disassembling the table to place it on. And, feeding a family of five on the go takes thought and stamina.  By the end of the day, Derek and I are racing each to the fridge for that much-needed sundowner!  

We weren't really sure what to expect from our campervan adventure, but in the interests of full disclosure, we thought it best to share some of the less glamorous aspects, of which there have been a few:

1) annoying buzzing creatures, everywhere: wasps, bees, flies and yes, can you flipping believe it!, mosquitoes, are everywhere here and, naturally, seem to love the Wintletons; Liv was stung minutes before our canal cruise of Copenhagen, not sure if our readers heard the sound from where you are, but she let the rest of Copenhagen know that it really, really hurt.  I'm not proud of it [Nikki], but I'll admit to two slayings of said wasps to date: one squashed resoundingly under my coffee cup while attempting to eat lunch outside in the sunshine (an event that was not to be repeated, sadly [the lunch, not the slaying]), and the other when Olivia was stung.  I must find out what wasps contribute ecologically to this earth, because I felt very bad about it, but I couldn't take the stress anymore! - I thought Derek was going to spontaneously combust with the friction created by swishing madly at those pesky beasts.

2) lack of English signage in the supermarkets, on food items and in the laundromats - I've been twisting my brain in knots trying to work out what the Danish might possibly mean in English when looking at the instructions for the washing machine. What was Berlitz thinking leaving out a laundry section!?

3) the rain -  according to the locals, it's been the wettest summer on record, and the average rainfall for the whole of August fell within the first week of the month. Apparently May and June were lovely in Denmark - we missed the memo.  On the flipside, we've had excellent use out of our Lands End raincoats. Product placement moment, i would highly recommend Lands End as well as Columbia for travel gear.

4) the cost - holy Kroner explosion!  Things felt a lot cheaper when we didn't know what the exchange rate was!  The coffee just doesn't taste as good when you know it cost US$7-8 for a small cup. Internet access offered by the campsites is hard to say no to, even though it has cost up to US$15 a day.

5) lack of sunshine has meant our cunning plan of using a Power Monkey portable solar unit to charge devices has been only mildly successful, so we are charging things directly from the mains hooked up to the van...which means switching the power supply over to gas temporarily. All a bit of a faff. If we were to do this again, we'd definitely invest in a power storage unit that charged directly from the cigarette lighter - which we'd discussed but never acted upon. Sigh...!

What we've enjoyed:

1) the dramatic skies, wide open spaces and lack of humans, it's been the perfect antidote to the manic panic of packing up in Hongkers;
2) the good weather days, when we get them (today, for example, is a corker);
3) the campsites which have on the whole been excellent, especially on the all-important cleanliness and kid-friendliness fronts (for two of the sites, we've had ocean views and the sounds of sea birds all around, which has been superb)
4) the youngsters - we're all having our 'off' moments, when we would dearly love a hit of our cushy former lives (and times to ourselves or with friends), but how lovely having all this time with the children and getting to do 'everyday' stuff with them that previously was not an option. For example, today they've built their own bug catcher and are delightedly imprisoning and torturing  bees within their honey trap (the torture and eventual deaths did create a parental dilemma, but somehow we found ourselves turning a blind eye given the previous harassment inflicted!);
5) we're not working - yay!;
6) the signage might not be great but we're so lucky that at least English is widely spoken and understood; and
7) the consistent and considered commitment to the environment. Recycling is big, everywhere, with good initiatives like recycled drink cups in Tivoli Gardens.

Gronninghoved, Denmark: August 6-8

"Surely we don't need thermals"' said Derek, looking at the pile of clothing waiting to be packed while were in Hong Kong and imagining himself having to lug most of it.  I begged to differ, imagining our warm-blooded Asia-acclimatised bodies struggling with the northern European climate and the moaning that would ensue from the kids if they were cold.  "I think its safer to take them," I said.  Sadly, I was right, and after three glorious days of sunshine, we struggled through four days of constant rain, cold and wind, and those thermals were our best friends.  In hindsight, I knew we were in trouble when I entered the reception at the first campsite in Denmark and felt the weight of the door.  Doors are only that heavy if you're in a castle or it's chock full of double glazing, and double glazing means only one thing: cold weather.  

I'll admit to second guessing myself during those four days as to why I thought Denmark was such a good idea for a summer holiday.  Below, we outline the lowlights. ;-)

Departing Germany: Having secured a map so we at least knew where to go (major improvement from the day before), we drove north from Hamburg into Denmark, speeding up the autobahn along with all the other sleek, high-performance German luxury cars. Whoops, forgive me, was dreaming of a different life. In fact, our Ford Transit was stuck firmly in the slow lane with the convoy of other holiday-makers in their equally cumbersome campers heading to the sunny paradise of Denmark.

The light rain couldn't dampen our spirits. How great to be out of that cramped little campsite in Hamburg! How fabulous to be on the road, putting our half-baked plan into action! How nice to be having a beer at lunchtime! (Note to any policemen reading this blog: Nikki continued to do a fabulous job of driving, Derek was the Map Man.)

As we crossed the border from Germany into Denmark, we marvelled at the low key nature of the EU.  No-one stopped us to check our papers, we just sailed past a stand of poles holding aloft flags of all the Scandinavian nations.  We then started to see rows of massive wind turbines, and we knew we were here.  Very soon we turned off the highway onto a Wallenderesque set of roads, lined with what looked like wheat fields that had been toasted by the sunshine.  "What sunshine?", we thought, with the rain continuing to fall.  But over the next few days we came to understand.  The sun here is not too dissimilar from Australia: when it shines, it really shines.  Big, bright and toasts everything in sight.

Our first campsite was at a tiny place called Gronninghoved, on the eastern side of the Jutland peninsula but only a short way up the coast.  To get there, we had to traverse a number of winding 'blind' corners, with barely enough room for the campervan let alone oncoming traffic (or so it felt to this novice campervan driver), but somehow we managed to get through them, with the van swaying and the chorus of moans from the back of "I'm car sick!", "Are we there yet?", and "Get me out of this stuffy van!"' growing ever louder.  Luckily, the local radio stations were good, so we could crank up the volume and pretend it was just the two of us on a romantic European vacation. ;-)

The day of our arrival was cold and rainy, but the subsequent two days there were perfect: blue sky, sunshine, not too cold.  The children enjoyed the heated swimming pool with its giant water slides and also the massive 'mushroom' trampoline (they are everywhere here -- about 10m x 5m and similar to a bouncy castle).  We were a stone's throw from the ocean too, so we spent the afternoons playing in the sand, teaching the kids to skim stones and enjoying that feeling that comes from staring out into the ocean and wondering what's on the other side.  The reveries were quickly halted, however, by Olivia's screech of "Jellyfish!!", of which there were many.  The locals didn't seem to be bothered by them so maybe these jellies didn't sting, but we didn't dare risk it given our brushes with stingers in HK and being from the land of the deadly Box Jellyfish.  We tried to hold onto that peaceful feeling, but it was pretty much gone.

One of the highlights of Denmark's nicer campsites has been piped music into the amenities blocks.  How civilized is that?!  Ablute to the strains of the Black Eyed Peas; the Danes have their priorities straight. Also, we were blessed with Danish honesty, with our iPad being returned to reception after we had dopily left it by the trampoline. There seems to be a strong undercurrent of national pride, with Danish flags flying from many houses.  

In terms of interaction with the locals, we've had some but not as much as we'd hoped for.  There's been a notable lack of curiosity about where we're from or why we're here, which is slightly curious to me given how few tourists there seem to be.  But maybe that's just it - tourists aren't that big of a focus here.  It's allowed us to do our own thing and feel like locals...err, locals with no Danish, that (I want a refund on my Berlitz 'Learn Danish in 60 minutes' CD!).