Stockholm (Sweden) 17-18 AUG
Stockholm to Belgrade (Serbia) 19-20 AUG
Waking from the coma that was induced by the white lines of the highways in the Swedish back country, Big V and I managed to combine enough of our faculties to start the engine of our vehicle and direct it into the centre of Stockholm. I'd been fortunate to have made my way to these neck of the woods four years earlier when a good friend of mine, Jay, was co-habitating with his Swedish girlfriend in the suburb of Nacka Strand, so I 'kind of' had an idea of the direction we were heading. Utilising our fantastic Serbian GPS guidance system for a while and then deciding to go 'off the grid' due our serial distrust of its actual geographical and logistical aptitude, we made our way to the high island of Gamla Stan - the Old Town of Stockholm, where Big V's education in all things Swedish would begin. Although 'strangely' he was already well versed in all aspects of the 'blond ambition' that was amazingly pervasive on the good 'ole streets of the 'holmes. 'Ahh Sweden, to the world you will provide blondes - God made it so and saw that it was goooood!'.
It's a hostel!!! - Stockholm - Sweden
Looking out onto the Baltic - Stockholm - Sweden
So now, what about a little bit of background on where this place is and how it came to be. They call Stockholm 'The city that floats on water' and no doubt this appears to be a particularly apt description. Located at the confluence of the Baltic Sea and Lake Malaren, the city is spread across a number of islands, districts and 'green zones' that give the impression of loosely connected minature towns/cities that interlock to make the whole that is the Swedish capital. From an historical perspective it is said that Swedish history can be traced back some 14,000 years to when the think blanket of ice that covered the continent subsided and nomadic tribes of hunters and fisherman followed the receding ice cap northwards and decided to settle. Various tribes settled around Lake Malaren approximately 5000 years ago but it wasn't until approximately (850-1050 AD) that these tribes, who were able to dominate their neighbours via their sea faring exploits, inclusive of dominating the 'poxy Danes', heralded in the Viking era. The area from which Big V and I were kicking off our sightseeing excursion, Gamla Stan, was basically where the town of Stockholm was founded back in 1252 due to its strategic position at the eye of the watery whirlpool that is the Baltic to the east and Lake Malaren to the west. These days Gamla Stan still carries the old style bohemian vibe and period stamp of the 15th and 16th century , cobbled streets, winding lanes, mansions, palaces and soaring spires. It's a fantastic place to loose yourself in for a few hours especially with the aid of a few kind ales to motivate you along to future successes, although with that said, the prices are 'very Scandinavian' and you may quite easily find yourself with tears in your eyes the next morning after reviewing your bank statements.
Still Stockholm - noticing the pattern?
An ode to King Gustav III
Obviously Stockholm has a lot going for it. At a glance you can easily recognise that it has to be one of the most naturally beautiful cities going around. It has a harbour that is only outstripped by a handful of other places, i.e., (Sydney, Rio & San Fran), has a boot load of monuments, museums, restaurants, bars, etc, and has bunch of citizens that makes you realise quite quickly where the 'good looking gene' is centralised. On the down side, if there is one, the Summer or 'sunny season' is relatively short and once you make it into mid Winter, well your turn around time on the sun dipping under the horizon and reappearing can be in the vicinity of 20hrs! Also as a people the Swedes are quite conservative, can appear to be a little distant and cold but do have a decent social and moral compass...and no, if you're wondering, this is not my assessment over just the two days that I spent in Stockholm but rather it's a judgment that runs in tandem with my previous excursion, discussions I've had and various bits and pieces of anecdotal evidence. If you have a complaint regarding my assessment please send to: Idontgiveatoss@reallyIdont.com.au
Katarinahissen in Slussen - has an elevator up to a platform with some great views of the city
The greater part of the next day or was spent exploring the scattered series of sheltered water filled bays and islands that make this place so interesting. A lot of the exploration, for better or worse, was a direct consequence of our GPS taking us on 'geographic burnouts' of the town. Once we'd looped a few islands, somehow seen the same place travelling in both directions and covered nearly 100kms we kind of realised that we'd be sold the 'You're on Candid Camera' GPS model! As tears welled up in our eyes at the slow dawning realisation that our lives would be lived out in perpetual motion on the pheriphery of Stockholm we somehow made the 'right' turn in all the confusion of our incidental sightseeing and ended up in Slussen, directly across from the island of Gamla Stan, the home of our main man and contact in Stockholm, Nebojsa .....now follow me here... he (Nebojsa) is the son of the friend we were staying with, who is actually my aunt's friend, who in turn is Big V's mother...(got me?)...Alright, so the specifics don't matter so much as the end result, which was the target being successfully isolated, searched out and found! So by the time I'd made my way to the island of Kungsholmen and organised a postal vote at the Australian embassy in the 'Never Ending Story' of an election we were able to make it back into Slussen for what we intended to be a quiet and comfortable afternoon before heading for Belgrade the next day. Now as I've said many a time before however, the best laid plans and the best intentions can unravel quite quickly and fall into a burning heap when those infamous words of 'why don't we just go for one' are spoken. For better or worse on this occasion these words were uttered to me in Serbian, rather than by me, so can I really be held accountable for what followed? Being 'forced' to drink by Nebojsa we were guided through Slussen and further afield on the island of Sodermalm, a place that once was the working class district of Stockholm but one that is now more bohemian in style, filled with art galleries, clothing boutiques, restaurants and bars...those damn bars, DAMN YOU! As the twilight of another Scandanavian evening drew us closely into her arms the three of us chatted for virtually hours, we ended up having three defacto dinners, one a typical Swedish hangover style meal called tunnbrodsrulle (frankfurts, mash potatoes, gherkins and seafood sauce all wrapped in a tortilla), and hence by the time midnight knocked on our door and the restaurant that we'd tumbled into was closing up it was time to make it home for a short sleep, some 8hrs after we had originally intended!
Tunnbrodsrulle - 'get that into 'ya'
Stockholm to Belgrade 19-20 AUG - the Gumball Rally return leg
As my alarm sprung me to attention at 3:30am and I sat upright in my bed I quizzed myself as to where that dry whiskey taste in my mouth had originated? Hunching over my bag and feeling the slow onset of that familiar giddy throb at the back of my skull it didn't take me long to figure out as to where I'd been led astray. Waking Big V at 4am I saw the pain of realisation on his face when he came to terms with his 'accomplishments' of the previous evening and also the knowledge that today was potentially going to be EPIC. This was to be the launch point of the Gumball return and one where we'd see ourselves slice Europe in half with some legendary motoring antics, a chapter that quite obviously was preparing itself to become a standout in the Janic-Elisher book of legendary feats.
'Cloud trees' - early morning mist - south of Stockholm
Busting through the gates of Stockholm at somewhere close to 5am we were away motoring down the E4 in the coolish mist of another Swedish day. As per our day of arrival, the Summer weather was having a bit of a laugh on this morning and we were getting heavy 5 min downpours followed by a 30 min 'cooling off' period and then it was back onto engaging the waterworks. Seriously, the weather had that manic-depressive element to it and making the near 700km journey just to get out of Sweden at the conservative tempo of 120kms per hour meant that it would be somewhere close to 11am when we'd be breaching the border with everyone's little 'secret pleasure', Denmark. Sure to form, we were through Malmo and onto the Oresund bridge on the low side of high noon but this is where our pace setting came to somewhat of a halt. I'm not sure what the deal was on this day but every Dane and their pansy poodle was out on their main roads making their way to who knows where for who knows what reason. I did do some research in the days that followed but wasn't able to find a Danish cheese festival large enough that would have comfortably accommodated for this anomaly. If that wasn't enough, it also appeared that it was the one day of the year that the Danes had factored in to fulfill their obligations to the EU and conduct extensive roadworks. The run through this treasure trove of pastries, cheeses and strangely tanned cyclists was arduous, hence by the time we had sighted Flensburg and were into the Bundes-republik of Deutschland the reins were let loose and we upped the ante on the speedo to sit comfortably between 180-190kph. Ahh, 'the art of movement' through Germany, a sweet waltz that requires timing, a sense of space, determination and a half freakin' decent motor vehicle that will at least allow you to rent the inside lane in the time frames where someone isn't pulling 250kph + in order to get to their bratwurst eating contest in Stuttgart.
Windpower - Denmark
'The green light' - you're in Germany - pedal down, off you go!
The Big V and I treated Germany somewhat like an actual rally. Stops were only to be required for fuel, outside of that the pedal was firmly pressed down and as navigator I'd been given the task of calling the shots as to what was coming up, where we needed to go and where we needed to be. Aiming for Hamburg initially we made it down most of the way before I took us high and wide above the breaches of Hamburg and onto the E26 heading east to Berlin. Then skirting around Berlin on the E55 which is basically acts as a ring road around the city, we exited on the south side and headed straight to the border adjacent to Dresden. From memory I think we were in and out of Germany in something like 5.5hrs, it just like a McDonalds drive through, with that courteous 'thankyou, please come again' attitude. I have to hand it to Germany, it's the world capital of practicality and efficiency, it just works.
Somewhere west of Berlin on the E26
This however was the point in the journey were things became a little surreal. We had entered the twilight zone whilst silently slipping into the Czech Republic and from here on out we transcended through various spheres of truncated reality as we guided our vehicle closer to the boundaries of the EU.
From here on out everything was hazy, including the photography!
Firstly, after having been none too kind to the Danes as to the state of their road network, I know felt the need to apologise to them profusely as they weren't playing in anywhere near the same league as the Czech Republic when it came to the shambles and ordinary state of their roads. Entering via Dresden you'd imagine that the equivalent of 'Highway 1', the main line to their capital Prague, would get you there quite directly and successfully. Some 50-60kms over the border however the road narrowed into a two lane, third grade, pot hole filled bumper car ride of an excursion that traced routes through hillside villages to what felt like the middle of nowhere. I would have been more assured of finding my way via the rabbit fence to Tibooburra than trying to navagate us to Prague on this stretch. In fact we did at one point end up at some type of roundabout on this 'main arterial' with no sign posts other than a wooden Prague pointer sign laying on the side of the road to what we suspected was the correct way. Just like a 'choose your own adventure' story, sometimes you need to go with instincts and gut feel, thankfully the consensus on this call was correct and we rounded Prague sometime after midnight, approximately 20hrs removed from our starting point of Stockholm.
Motoring our way between Prague and Brno I started to feel the onset of extreme tiredness. The hallucination faery came to visit me in those moments where my visibility of the road turned into just a haze and for some reason I thought I could see large white rabbits darting across the road. We were some 22hrs into this ride from Stockholm and here I was conjuring up fictitious bunnies darting across the highway. At the same time I was trying to remain as alert as possible as Big V had been in the saddle for all that time and I couldn't imagine that he was in any better state than I was in, although he still looked ok. As my head rocked back and forth in what would looked like a pathetic Stevie Wonder impersonation, I saw V's eyes drop below the horizon and remain closed for what to me felt like and uncomfortably long time. Addressing him in my 'stern' younger brother voice I told him that if it happened again we were pulling over. By the time we had entered the Slovak Republic and were on the outskirts of Bratislava I had a moderate flipout and asked him to stop as I swear I saw him 'clock off'again, he tells me that he was simply looking at the dash but after close to 24hrs I don't know how anyone could register that type of data with their eyes wide shut. Thankfully my histrionics made an impact and we camped out for 90 mins so as to recollect the wits that we'd left somewhere out on the lonely roads of the Czech Republic.
As you can see, Slovakia was taken at speed!
Commencing our second morning on the wild plains of Hungary the final sector to the EU frontier, i.e., the border of Hungary and Serbia, felt relatively pedestrian. Border hopping for the sixth time in 27hrs we now entered home territory and were lined up for a direct assault on Belgrade. For some reason once I hit the Serbian border I couldn't stay awake at all and I must have looked like a mental patient as my head pounded constantly against the head rest as I tried as best I could to remain awake. Somewhere on 28+ hrs after leaving Stockholm our vehicle pulled up at a familiar residence, we exited our travel capsule victorious, having split the European continent in two. We'd covered somewhere over 3000kms+, equivalent to driving the distance of Sydney to Melbourne, Melbourne to Sydney, Sydney to Melbourne and then a partial return, in a little over a day. Slightly nuts? certainly...but don't blame us, that Serbian blood entitles one to be a little crazy! Experiment completed and case closed, it CAN be done, we're proof of that!
The flash got me with a golden preemptive strike - Bratislava - Slovakia
