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Kezsthely cont.
The site is good, better than I had expected for a former Communist country, it is only about 8 years since they saw the light, so I am surprised at how good the infrastructure is.
Facilities are clean and functional, not as plush as we found in Germany and Austria, but OK. One "interesting feature", is the showers, which are just like a row of domestic shower cubicles, the only space to undress/dress and hang you gear is outside of the shower cubicle. The cubicles do not have doors, just a shower curtain (some do not even have that). They are not mixed, but, still very friendly.
The day starts warm and sunny, not quite as hot as yesterday.
We set off on on the bicycles to explore, have a coffee, and well, probably a beer or two.
We had assumed, this was a small place by the lake, but, it turns out to be a sizable place, even with a Tesco! (wonder if I can get my clubcard points here?).
There is a palace, which formerly belonged to a wealthy local family, but the Russians confiscated it in 1948. It has now been restored to something resembling it's former glory, but not to the family who originally owned it.
The main square and main street are pedestrianised and look very western already, but, without the familiar brands (ie Costa, McDonalds etc).
Most tourists are German and Dutch, with a few Polish and Czechs, so English does not appear to be widely spoken.
We manage with English and Kathleen's German to buy a belt for me (my packer forgot to bring my belt, you just cannot get the staff) and order coffee and sandwiches. We actually get what we (thought) we ordered.
The money is confusing, they are not in the Euro, and things look initially expensive. Our bill for two coffees and two sandwiches was 2140Florints. But, given the exchange rate of 325 Florints to 1 Pound, that is only £6.50, so not expensive at all really.
Fortified, we cycle along the lake, for 12 miles, this involves ordering beer, but that is almost always manageable.
In the afternoon, we have a thunderstorm, but it is a half hearted affair with only on clap of thunder and a half hour of heavy rain, but the rest of the evening and through the night is windy and cold.
Saturday is scheduled as hair washing day, so a cloudy start is not a problem.
Once the hair is sorted, we walk into town, and visit the Palace. All very grand, but no photographs allowed.
Then, a very pleasant meal in a cafe, less than £20 for both of us, including bottle of wine, main course, sweet, coffee.
Kathleen then does the church bit, while I amuse myself reading the news via the free wifi spot I have found in the town square.
By now it is dark and we succeed in getting ourselves lost walking back to the campsite, everything looks different in the dark. Clearly, we eventually figure it out, and get back just before another night time shower.
Sunday, Kathleen eventually gets a mobile phone signal! Cannot explain why it took three days for it to hook on to the local network.
Another cycle ride along the lake, we make it as far as a golf club, about four villages away, I will not even attempt at spelling or pronouncing their names.
An amusing little incident as I struggle to order drinks, at the golf club, in German (I have got so used to everyone speaking German) and it turned out the waitress could speak perfectly good English.
We return to the campsite to relax, before driving to Budapest tomorrow.
Kathleen really has mastered the art of relaxing, they say, practice makes perfect, and she has clearly had plenty of practice.
As the sun moves around, Kathleen is forced to move to the pitch adjacent to us, to keep in the sun.
Shortly after she sets herself up there, a German couple arrive in their campervan, and she has to move. He seems a little surly, although his wife is friendly enough. Later in the evening, as Kathleen is doing her Peter, Paul and Mary session on her guitar, the German appears giving the thumbs up, he is a 60's music fan, so perhaps not so grumpy after all. Before long, we have the Danish couple next door clapping along as well. All is peace and tranquility after a few bottles of red.
We are soon in Austria and we are cruising along through spectacular scenery.
Armed with our “vignaitte” to travel on their motorways (8Euro for ten days), we can also cover some distance quickly, then, only about 5 miles from our planned stop for the day, we get a puncture.
Damn!.
Fortunately, it is the front, righthand side wheel, so I can get at it on the hard shoulder, without being "on the traffic side".
We get into our fluorescent “safety” vests, Kathleen sets up the warning triangle (the first time we have used any of this stuff) and prepare to change the wheel on the hard shoulder.
Not a pleasant experience with three lanes of traffic speeding past at 70mph plus, less than a metre where I have to lie on the ground to retrieve the spare wheel from under the van.
Needless to say, I do not linger to take photographs of this!
All is completed, without incident, and we travel on to our chosen campsite (Thermal Camping, Bad Waltersdorf).
After we have checked in, an very efficient Austrian lady comes to see us about the tyre.
Kathleen is sceptical about how much she will know about tyres.
The Austrian lady is the model of efficiency, makes a note of all of the tyre markings (size, type, etc), notices it is a Bridgestone (not easy to get I know from past experience), so takes a note of the same information from a Pirelli tyre which is already on the van.
She has quite a nice chest too. Almost worth getting a puncture for.
She phones a garage, they do not have a matching tyre, but, one is ordered, with delivery promised for Thursday, or earlier if possible.
You would have to have seen this to appreciate it, she was just so efficient, all of the above took only five minutes. On her belt she had a little sort of bag, in which to had everything to hand, notepad and pen to note the details, mobile phone to make the call, notepad and pen again to give me a note of the Garage name and address. I am sure Herr Flick ('allo, 'allo) would have loved her.
In the interim, it is no hardship to stay here, the site is excellent, with the kind of spotless and high quality facilities you expect to find in Germany or Austria.
There is a railway line running by the site, but the trains are very infrequent (noisy freight trains when they do pass). Must take care not to call them Germans, they are very particular about ensuring you know they are Austrians.
Wednesday morning, 09:30, we are told, they have our tyre, and we need to go and collect it at 14:30 in a town about twelve miles away. 140Euro, but, we have to have a spare.
A problem emerges, the site, in common with most sites in Germany and Austria, has a “quiet time” between 12:00 and 15:00. The gate is closed, no vehicles can get in or out.
This being Austria, the rules apply to everyone, even a McCaffery, so we have to drive out of the gate before 12:00 and park outside. Kathleen tries her hardest, but, soon grows impatient with waiting. I think she actually lasted until 12:05.
We head for Hapsdorf, looking for Konig Garage.
It is only 12 miles away, and we arrive way too early. They are very obliging however, and give us coffee, while a young man takes away our ruined tyre and returns with a new tyre fitted in a short while. We do a little shopping, and are back at the site by 14:55, with only five minutes to wait until the gate opens.
Now that the tyre problem is fixed, our thoughts turn to our first site in Hungary. We decide to check the distance, using the satnav.
Problem!
Before leaving home, someone (ie me) did not check that the Satnav included maps of Hungary. I reasoned, since they are part of the EU, they are part of Europe and the satnav covers Europe.
But, (and it is not often I admit this), I am wrong, we have no satnav coverage for Hungary.
We have an uptodate Road Atlas which includes Hungary, so Kathleen is going to have to dust off her map reading and navigating skills.
Thursday, we say goodbye to our Austrian tyre expert and head for Hungary.
The first part is easy, we head along the A2 motorway, past the scene of our puncture, and switch to another smaller road which takes us toward the border.
At the border, we have to buy another “vignaitte”, this time to travel on the Hungarian motorways (at least I think it is for the motorways, there only seems to be one!, but there are lots of signs saying you have to buy a “vignaitte”, so, we stop at the border. We are waved on by a sleepy guard, who points to a petrol station about 500 yards down the road.
Kathleen manages the transaction no problem in a mixture of German and English. One slight hiccup, she leaves her glasses behind, but the young man from the petrol station manages to catch us, before we drive off.
We actually manage the rest of the way to Keszthely, Balatontourist Camping Zala (ACSII book) without a single wrong turn.
But, it is not easy navigating in a country with such unpronounceable place names, how about Zalaegerseg or Csabrendek, how on earth do you pronounce them! I have to ask Kathleen to spell the place names out, so I can watch for the signs!
