The best things in life are free

One subject we spent a long time debating was how to get to Italy - toll roads or non toll roads. Toll roads carry huge advantages of course - speed being the main one, and also more of a guarantee that they won't be blocked with snow. But as my old Dad says, any fool can spend money, and tolls in Europe range from a couple of Euros to almost twenty Euros a pop, depending where they are, and of course how far you travel.

Time seems to be the only real saving, and given we have lots of that on our hands, we thought we'd save money, as well as see a little more of the countryside.

Today however, we discovered why some people don't see going toll free as a real option. Climbing over the Alps isn't for the faint hearted, and certainly not in the winter months. The Passo Giovo was part of our plotted route between Innsbruck in Austria and Verona in Italy, and quickly, what started as a fast, clear dual carriageway, gave way to a single track, snow covered mountain road - with gates at the bottom telling us the road wasn't blocked by snowfall.

I began to think we'd made a serious error of judgement.

It climbs very slowly - 2nd and 3rd gear for Croissant (as our car-van has affectionately been dubbed after the huge amounts of croissant crumbs left by Twinkle and Rhett in the back) most of the way up - through many hairpin bends, to a height of 6,870 feet above sea level. To add to the scare factor, there are drops over the side that would turn any stomach (on the drivers side of a right hand drive car like ours), flimsy and broken safety rails, and sheet ice, slush and snow covering the road almost all of the way.

But as we reached the top, we really did feel like we were on top of the world, with amazing mountains all around us, and rich folk rushing to their destinations far, far below us.

The trip down the other side was equally hair raising, with slow gears all the way, and the fear of sliding over the edge on the corners. Of course, our super grippy winter tyres saw that we didn't.

In this country, they drive on the wrong side of the road

It is odd that the UK drives on the left when the rest of Europe doesn't. You'd think that car makers would refuse to build right hand drive cars when (according to Wikipedia) only 28% of the worlds roads are as they are in Britain.

Our car is obviously a right hand drive, and sticks out like a sore thumb here on the Continent - we've had many people looking and pointing with their children who have clearly never seen such a machine before. The GB sticker in the rear window certainly helps people realise a complete muppet must be driving as they approach at breakneck speeds from behind on the Autobahn, but I think at times they've been surprised that us Brits can actually drive quite well on the wrong side of the road, even if we are sitting in the curb instead of in the centre of the road as we should be. I'm now finding it quite easy and almost second nature, although there are still things catching me out...

Everything is of course reversed - roundabouts run anti-clockwise, and left turns are very testing with an un-natural turn into what seems like a totally wrong part of the road.

I've been caught out several times when pulling over to look at the map, moving to the left as I do at home - but here directly into oncoming traffic.

Whilst sitting at traffic lights, you can't see when red becomes green, because of a new blind-spot that you don't get on the other side of the car. A friendly hoot from behind usually sorts things out.

When pulling up parallel against a car in the inside lane, the other driver is just a little too close for comfort (they of course drive on the wrong side of the car). It's even more challenging when hooting at them for not letting you in, and you can quite literally see the fillings in their teeth (as they shout at you).

But by far the most challenging thing about driving on the wrong side of the road is when entering or exiting a car park, especially with the co-driver seated in the back - the machine that spits out the ticket is on the passenger side!

Mirror usage is also different, especially on the high speed roads; you use the passenger side mirror as you would the drivers mirror, and visa versa. The rear view mirror isn't quite right either because of the angle it works at, meaning there is much more head turning than usual, to check the rear offside (which is usually the nearside) corner. If that makes sense.

Thankfully, I was taught by my Dad to drive without the need to rely on mirrors.

As they say in Italy, whats-a-behind-me-is-a-not-important (as proven here).

Why you should take a ferry to France

As a child, I travelled though Dover a fair few times. We always used to go on a one day booze cruise to buy cheap wine, beer and Orangina at the hypermarkets via a Sealink ferry, usually with a cheap ticket from the Sun or Daily Mirror. We'd sit in line with the hundreds of other cars, all doing the exact same thing, come rain or shine. Dover was a busy hub, being the quickest way across the Channel for so little money.

How times have changed. Our arrival at the port, albeit under the strain of being 48 minutes late, did allow me to see just how few people now used the ferry as a way across to France - they're all of course carrying out the journey via one of the dozens of trains that leave Folkstone daily, and arriving in just 35 minutes. With such speed available, why would you bother to take the ferry these days when it takes up to two hours?


Price (cheapest options at two days notice)
Train : £70 for the car and passengers (Euro Tunnel)
Ferry : £42.50 for the car and passengers (DFDS)

Duration
Train : 35 minutes, stuck in your car, inside a high speed box with no windows and a very bored family.
Ferry : 2 hours. Relax, watch the White Cliffs of Dover disappear, have a fry-up and a fairly decent coffee, take in some sea air, burn out the kids with the on board playground ready for a nice long sleep in the car, and watch France slowly appear on the horizon (on a clear day). Onboard shop for buying duty free goods.

Destination Options
Train : Calais only
Ferry : Calais, Dunkirk, Boulogne, plus more. We chose Dunkirk, as it dropped us closer to our final destination, thus saving fuel costs.

Crowd Factor
Train : Like Alton Towers on a Bank Holiday weekend.
Ferry : Arrive up to 56 minutes late, and STILL get waved straight on. (*see note)

Trump Card
Train : Novelty factor of driving your car onto a train. Exciting, but only once.
Ferry : Romance of boarding a ship (albeit a cross Channel ferry), and heading into open water.

*following a totally disastrous trip to Dover, we sadly left no room in the schedule for traffic, an empty fuel tank, an accident (not involving us), a dodgy bonnet catch which made our bonnet violently shake in the 70mph winds and driving rain on the motorway, or a Houdini child escaping from his seatbelt - twice. Arrival in Dover was well after the 'one hour prior to check in' requirement, but because Dover is now a ghost town, we were able to drive straight on, (although with the trucks, not on the car deck) just 4 minutes before sailing. I can't imaging that being allowed on the train...!

New Rubber All Round

Having bought 3 pairs of lovely new wellies for us, it transpires that our car needs new tyres too, although not because the ones on the vehicle are worn out...

A legal requirement in both Germany and Austria is winter tyres fitted to all axles, so a quick stop at the tyre shop had our perfectly good summer tyres removed, and replaced with brand new rubber with the all important different tread suited to driving on ice, snow, slush and mud - something we're highly likely to encounter whilst crossing Europe. And if we encounter a friendly German or Austrian policeman, we'll avoid a heavy fine too.

Its common practice on the Continent to switch tyres for different seasons, with the tyre shop storing your summer tyres in the winter, and switching them back once Mother Nature brightens up, thus storing your winter ones in the summer.

We have now stored our summer set in our Devon storage facility - aka Dad's garage. Thanks Dad!

Have wheels, will travel...

After much searching, we are now the proud owners of a 2006 Peugeot Partner Combi that we have yet to name. It's a 1.9L Diesel, and doesn't exactly come stacked with luxury, but she's perfect for the task in hand with her very low mileage, full service history, and previous owner who works in the spares department of a Peugeot Main Dealer, so she's been well looked after.

The interior is a bit grubby, as he had a filthy toddler, but nothing a squirt of carpet cleaner and some elbow grease won't fix. Either that or a valet! And his wife had a little rub against a trolly park in Tesco's so the drivers door has a small dent, but other than that, it's in pretty good shape. Italian drivers will soon change that I'm sure!

On board, Rhett has centre stage in the back, and is easily accessible via the dual sliding rear doors, and up front, theres enough headroom for me and Twinkle to wear top hats should we choose. There are all sorts of clever storage ideas, with cubby-holes in the floorpan behind the front seats, and a sliding draw under the passenger seat for hiding chocolate bars or maps. The boot is like a small cathedral, and the seats roll up to turn the back into our own personal removal truck.

Naming suggestions please!

Weather adjustment

After almost 5 years in the warmth of the Sydney sun, moving back to England has been rather a shock. We've all been really cold since landing just over a week ago, and Rhett hates wearing a coat, hat and scarf!

But today, we had a lovely trip to the beach here in Devon to help us adjust to Italian weather, despite the temperature here being 9°c (Sydney clocked 21°c today).

We all wore our new wellies too, as the water here is way too cold to paddle in barefoot!

Shopping

Today we bought a hat, scarf, thick farmers socks, and three pairs of Wellington Boots. We have still yet to buy a car.

Welcome Home

Wow. What happened to Britain in our absence? We've returned to find happy people everywhere!

From the minute we passed through the UK border, we've had smiles all the way. The man who checked our passports did it with a smile, the lady working on the Heathrow Express helped us carry our bags onto the train with a smile. The staff at the hotel were extra smiley, and even the cleaner stopped and chatted to us with a smile from ear to ear.

And it didn't stop there - the man who gave us our train tickets to Devon insisted on giving Rhett his own personal ticket, writing 'Rhett's Ticket' in bold letter across it, and when the ticket inspector came along the carriage, he chirpily clipped it with a big happy smile.

I haven't seen this vision of our great nation since Gary Lineker returned from overseas... it's like the public service workforce have been given drugs, and are actually enjoying their jobs. And it's no bad thing - it's truly lovely to be back home because of it.

Departure

And so, some tips about flying long haul…

Firstly, travel with a toddler. You can (and do) get away with blue murder with a toddler. The girl at check-in will fall in love with your darling child, thus diverting her attention from the heaviness of each of your cases. As your tiny friend chases the cases onto the conveyor belt, she'll also become blind to just how much hand luggage you're trying to sneak onboard.

Carrying a large bag for your pram, to 'protect it from getting scratched' is also another great way of gaining additional weight and volume. We smuggled an extra 5kg of books, toys and extra bedding in the pram bag - which doesn't sound like much, but with such a small allowance from Oz, every kilo counts.

There are other bonuses to travelling with a toddler too - you'll whizz to the front of lines at check-in and customs clearance with a baby, and you'll equally bag more overhead locker space right over your seat because of being boarded first. You'll gain extra legroom too and will be eating your food before others because of your first row seat allocation, and for the same reason you'll be first off the plane (after the rich folk in First Class of course).

Mind you, travelling with a toddler isn't all it's cracked up to be. Your child is highly unlikely to sit still for much of the journey guaranteeing you'll not watch a single movie, doesn't get a seat and might be too fat for a bassinet even after being promised one on the ground (Rhett was, and spent 24 hours on our laps) and if you make the mistake we made with flying Etihad (apparently the Worlds Leading Airline in 2009 and 2010) your child won't even get a meal allocated, despite paying for the privilege of being onboard - albeit at a much reduced rate.

Conclusion - flying the longest of long haul is the journey from hell at the best of times, but doing it with a very small child makes what can't possibly be worse, far far worse. We've promised each other never to do it again!

Ship Ahoy

The truck arrived at about 9.30am and 2 guys proceeded to pack out entire existence into boxes. We were both surprised how quickly they worked, and within about the first hour, most of the easier stuff had disappeared into the ever groaning pile of 'ready to ship' cartons in the main bedroom upstairs.

But it was slowly becoming clear that we had much more stuff than the 16 carton estimate.

By the end of the morning, everything was being listed on the paperwork, and the 56 boxes were all squeezed into the lift, before vanishing into the truck, leaving me with quite an odd feeling of despair. I think the reality of what we're doing next has finally hit me. That, or possibly just fear of it never arriving!

An (almost) empty apartment

Today was marked by most of our furniture moving on to pastures new. Our bed, washing machine, TV cabinet, standard lamp, ironing board, office chair and gigantic couch were all collected, leaving us with nowhere to eat, or sit and relax.

Dinner was a sort of living room picnic affair, and tonight, we're sleeping on Jessi's old mattress, which will go to God on Tuesday before we head for the airport.

Finally, it feels like we're actually moving!

We've got it covered

Yesterday I discovered that unless we are returning to Australia (which we are not) regular travel insurance is invalid. Instead, we require 'emigration insurance' - effectively one way travel insurance, and hardly any companies here offer it. Even our much loved AAMI girl couldn't help me.

But, after lots of ringing around, I found that Columbus do, and emptied $126.50 from the bank, to cover us from the first day of our departure until we clear customs at Heathrow.

Of course, travel insurance is a total waste of money - over the years we've spent a small fortune on it, and have yet to make a single claim, but it'd be sods law if we don't cover this trip. We're guaranteed to leave the computer on the plane...