Category: Europe

What can I say about Amsterdam? It was very different to home. Drugs for a start. Lots of drugs. The red light district. Hippies. The emperor of Japan – I kid you not – loud demonstrations, museums, canals, so many bikes. We spent three hours in the Ryksmuseum, it was fascinating.

The Student Bar was a popular hang out and as we were kicked out of the hostel at 9:30am we spent another day wandering around the capital city. There were no shortage of young men vying for our attention with suggestions of accompaning them to Switzerland, Morocco, Afghanistan. All of which we turned down, of course. Finally we needed to move, the youth hostel was full and so we had to leave, we went to the nearest town of Harlem where we spent a couple of rainy days before setting off for the coast.

We reached Oostende at 12:30pm this time successfully avoiding Antwerp. It did take a while though with many short lifts, one amusingly crammed into a two-seater Triumph Spitfire. Still raining we found the youth hostel for one last night. It was very clean and also expensive, but dry. We had an enjoyable evening chatting to a couple of Americans and some Canadians who were heading for India.

The following day we walked around the city, telephoned home and used up the last of the camera film as the ferry wasn’t until 7pm. On board we got talking to Kim who was from Watford and a folk singer! He apparently had written a poem which had been used by The Incredible String Band on one of their early albums and whether that was true or not he did entertain us with his hilarious tales of travelling in France. He even offered us a lift but his car was full of gear – guitars, amps etc. Plus we were so tired when we reached Dover – the sea was so rough that it took several attempts to dock and by then it was 1:30am. We stayed in the waiting room until daylight before setting off for London.

Not the best of days. It was raining, there weren’t many lorries about and lifts were scarce. It took us all day to get through to the north of London. Calamity stuck when the lift we were in broke down and we were stuck at the side of the motorway waiting for a breakdown truck. Obviously we weren’t in a good location to hitchhike. At Leicester Forest East we finally got a lift by a lorry driver going all the way to Leeds. The relief! By now we were soaked though, cold and miserable. Our time on the Greek islands seemed like a dream.

Total time away: 10 weeks.

Within weeks I was desperate to travel abroad again, but Cathy had met a boy and reluctant to leave him and without any savings this meant finding work. So it was that on 1^st January 1972 I was flying for the first time, to Switzerland, to begin my job as an au pair in Geneva.

And so my life as a rolling stone began.

After the peace and quiet of Ios Athens was almost unbearable. Noisy, polluted, busy. We badly wanted to turn round and go back to the islands, but of course we couldn’t. Being rather dishevelled and dusty – hot showers weren’t in abundance on the island – we decided to head to the Youth Hostel No 1. It took us a while to get there and when we did, at 7:30am we found that we needed to leave at 9am. So no chance of sleeping, but at least we could get a shower and change our clothes.

We headed back into the city and decided to visit the Acropolis again and the museum. It was another hot day and we were struggling by the afternoon when we decided to head back to the hostel and have a nap. It was also my 18^th birthday so we celebrated that night with our favourite Gyros meal.

Early Monday morning we had another shower and got our gear together ready to set off home. We had very little money by then so went via the hospital to donate blood for which we got paid a few quid, enough to get us home. It was a lovely sunny day and by 11am we were on the road hoping for our first lift. We soon got one as far as Larissa where we were stuck. We went to the loos at a rather nice looking petrol station and somehow got talking to a Greek-American older man who said he was driving all the way to Bremerhaven in north Germany and was happy to take us with him. We were dubious about that, but decided we would chance it. By the end of the day we were back in Skopje. It was a huge American car with so much space and we became navigators and conversationalists in return for the lift and food, just like it was with Harry!

Instead of the coastal route this time we went through the centre of Yugoslavia which was a complete contrast. It was dull, the weather was dreary and everything looked so grey. We even saw fields still being ploughed by oxen. The towns we stopped in appeared quite poor. It all looked very bleak. We passed Beograd, Zagreb and Ljubljana and eventually stopped to spend the night in Austria. The driver (whose name I unfortunately did not record) went to stay in a motel, but Cathy and I decided to sleep in the car, the seats were wide enough for us to stretch out. I say sleep, but it was so cold we really only dozed. A loo break at dawn and then we continued until 8:30am when we stopped at yet another pretty Austrian inn where we had a substantial continental breakfast.

At this point we decided that if we did get to Bremerhaven we could possibly have a few days in Amsterdam on our way home. So we continued through Munich through Nuremberg and Kassel, where we decided to hop out and find the youth hostel as we were desperately tired. It was too cold to camp now and we really needed a proper night’s sleep and a decent meal. It was a lovely clean welcoming hostel.

The following day we hitched towards Hannover. It was a slow day of travel, frequent, but short hops and spending more time waiting than actually travelling, but we had no choice, we had to keep some money back for the ferry over the channel. We eventually reached Hannover and then headed towards Osnabruck using a mix of autobahn and other main roads. As the sun was setting we had reached Melle and it was becoming very cold – we weren’t dressed for the cold having left in the summer and spending the last couple of months in the south – luckily there was a youth hostel nearby, a rather beautiful timber framed building and we had the whole female dormitory to ourselves. Another piece of luck was that a group from West Berlin were playing at the hostel that night “Ton Steine Scherber” a political German language rock band who were very much into the works of Marx and Lenin. The songs were mostly protest songs and actually rather good though our linguistic skills were definitely not up to the after show discusions so we opted for our beds.

The morning after another good shower and breakfast we were back on the road to Osnabruck and the Dutch border where we got a lift by a lovely Dutch airman to Utrecht and from there  a couple of lifts to Amsterdam where once again we headed to a very popular youth hostel. The journey north had been a lot easier than our southern route, but maybe that was because it was now autumn and there weren’t so many people hitchhiking.

And no need for the mallet.

So a week after arriving in Athens we were at Piraeus looking for a boat to Ios which we’d heard was very nice. Unfortunately there wasn’t a ferry until the following day and not wanting to hang around the port we opted for one to Mykonos instead.

The crossing was perfect and we arrived around 2pm. Without much cash and realising it was a Sunday and banks would be closed we settled on the old favourite, a loaf of bread. On discovering there was a bus to the other side of the island where there was a lovely beach named Heaven we took it. It was a rough ride, but on getting there we bumped into some English lads we’d spoken with at Dafni and ended up staying with them, reading, talking and playing cards. We slept in a sort of rough rock shelter, a bit like a cave, as we couldn’t be bothered to pitch the tent and awoke to another perfect day.

Now to find that ferry to Ios.

There wasn’t a ferry until the Tuesday so we spent the rest of the time sunbathing and swimming and on the Monday evening we built a beach bonfire which was quite a disaster as the lads got very drunk.

We finally departed Mykonos around 4:15pm, an hour late due to the windy weather, so we only arrived on Ios at 7:45pm where we went for a meal at the harbour front and camped on the harbour beach for the night. I slept badly as it was cold and windy and we hadn’t pitched the tent, just using our sleeping bags which ended up coated in sand. After fortifying ourselves with bread and honey and a milky Nescafé we set off up the hill to the town of Chora the main town or capital of many Greek islands and regions, typically characterized by traditional Cycladic architecture, white-washed houses, narrow streets, and elevated, defensive locations. There were a lot of steps!

We stopped for a drink at Yannis café before continuing along the rough track to an unspoiled beach ‘Mylopotas’  that we had heard was a popular place for camping. The views from the top were stunningly beautiful. Blue sky, blue sea (nothing like our usually brown North Sea) and a wide curving sandy beach.

The route down to the beach was rather precarious, basically clambering down the cliff and one we would find even more difficult in the dark. There were already several tents pitched alongside the rough stone with olive trees which ran alongside the beach and which provided some shelter.

We found a space and pitched our tent and went for a swim, this island looked like it was going to be a lovely relaxing place for the rest of the week which was when the next ferry back to Piraeus was due.

That evening we went back to Chora and discovered Homer’s Cave – a disco with the tiniest dance floor heaving with crowded sunburned, sweaty bodies – all frantically dancing to The Who, Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, Poco, the Rolling Stones etc. We had a great time. Homer’s Cave became a regular evening event, the days spent sunbathing and swimming, drinking Nescafé and socialising.

There were two small cafés to choose from, one at either end of the curved bay, where we had breakfasts of honey and thick Greek yoghurt, or fried eggs! Even octopus stew one evening – we saw that one being caught! We met lots of lovely people from the USA, Canada, Europe, and a couple of Spanish guys who were – you guessed – musicians! So some evenings were spent around a fire on the beach listening to the guitars. And everyone joined in singing to the popular songs.

We were offered a lift all the way back to Munich by the English guys who had joined us from Mykonos, but we were undecided. We really didn’t want to leave this idyllic place. On Friday evening we were back at Homer’s having fun and we were escorted back to our camp by Major who was a very interesting character. He was a Canadian and a definite fruit loop – but so very cheerful all the time.

Anyway Saturday came and went, and we decided to stay on for another few days enjoying the weather and the company. Sunday was very quiet. Apparently some dope had arrived on the island brought in by someone on the ferry and everyone seemed to be sleeping off the effects. Everyone except us it seemed.

We bumped into another couple we’d met in Dafni, Terri and Richard from London, who had arrived on yesterday’s ferry and took them to Homer’s. Terri wasn’t feeling so well though so instead of camping they took a room at Yannis café. We joined them for a meal on the Tuesday where we learned that because of the windy weather there would be no more ferries until the following Saturday when we decided we had to leave.

Money was getting quite short and it was time to head north.

After breakfast the next day we wandered along the beach where it was very windy and there were very few people about. Later back at our tent we met two German guys who had pitched their tent next to ours. They made us a cup of tea (although I don’t actually drink the stuff, but it would have been impolite to refuse) and then took us out in their boat. The sea was full of jelly-fish which explained why no-one was swimming and apparently there had been quite a storm whilst we had been in Turkey. Later they bought us an ice-cream. In the evening we went to a disco, wearing our one and only dresses, and finished the night having coffee with a couple of Swiss guys who were pitched opposite us listening to Woodstock (again) and Led Zeppelin on their cassette recorder.

We didn’t do a lot for the rest of the week. Went into Thess a few times, visited the White Tower, bought food. Sunbathed, swam. Got picked up by several lads, including a couple of American air force men who took us for a beer. There wasn’t a shortage of men on this trip that’s for sure! Not sure where to go next. We needed an incentive to move.

Then along came Barney. A student teacher from Solihull who had us in stitches talking about his teaching practice – something I ought to have remembered in future years – he made us coffee and talked so enthusiastically about Athens, where he’d just come from, our decision was made. Athens next.

Departing early the next morning by the time we had got through Thess it was almost noon. A few lifts later and we reached Pydna where we met up with another three Brits. This time they were from our own county of Yorkshire! Welcome to Steve, John and Charlie! We spent an hilarious evening with them at a campsite near Volos. Drinking retsina (disgusting stuff) and being thrown in the sea fully clothed! The sea was warm though and perhaps our clothes did need washing by then.

They were staying on for a few days, but we wanted to get moving as money was tight and we were lucky to get a lift with a Greek couple and their young son all the way to Athens arriving at noon. It was unbelievably hot. We spent a long time trying to find a bus going to Dafni as we had been told there was a campsite there. It also happened to be next to a wine festival which was no bad thing, although neither of us were particularly wine drinkers. Our usual tipple would be half a pint of Tetley’s Mild. The only wine available in the northern cities was some horrid sweet Australian stuff from Yates Wine Lodge with its sticky sawdust floors!

We were so hot by the time we arrived we just flopped into some shade, too tired to even put the tent up. And just people watched. When we did pitch the tent we ended up bending half the pegs because the ground was rock hard. Showered and fed we popped round to the wine festival where we met quite a lot of English travellers – some very drunk.

We ended up staying at this campsite for a week. Bussing into Athens several times to visit the Acropolis (of course) and the Plaka district where we bought more sandals and learned to love Gyros – slivers of meat sliced from a giant roasting spit served with salad and pita. We lived off it and it was so very cheap. We also discovered yoghurt and honey for breakfast, spaghetti with meatballs (we were from the north you know, and the only spaghetti we knew came from a can) and lovely stuffed tomatoes and peppers. We had never eaten so well.

We learned to ask for Nescafé for coffee and not just coffee as that was the thick Turkish drink with the dregs that you do not want to enter your mouth. We had many conversations with people who had just returned from the islands and decided that we would like to see them too.

Next stop: The Cyclades