June 20 - 25: Dover to Amsterdam

Leaving Dover it was easy to see why the wartime song, 'The White Cliffs of Dover' was so popular - it is certainly a spectacular last / first sight of England.

Better still - the beer on the ferry  to Calais was cold! Yay!  Something we took for granted as kiwis, so it was a shock to find that in the English pubs the beer was served at room temperature with a huge head on it. Yuk. So while in England we drank lager as that sometimes came cold.  It was our first experience of being foreigners, as the bar staff were all French. We did not, however, shout loudly at them so that they would understand us, as did some English travellers. We shuddered with embarrassment! When spoken to politely, with a smile and a small attempt to say please in French, the French everywhere could speak pretty good English - they just didn't choose to unless we made an effort first.

 Our first night in Europe was spent in a camping ground in Belgium, and although we had forgotten to change any money, they accepted our British pounds (not Christine's American dollars though.) These days in must be much easier travelling around Europe using Euros, though not as interesting.

 Hayricks! I wonder if they still have them? Seems unlikely, but we didn't expect them in 1975 either.

Then off across the flat lands to Rotterdam in the Netherlands. Crossing the borders was interesting: coming into France via the ferry, our passports were examined. At the border between France and Belgium they just waved us through. But the border between Belgium and the Netherlands was, well, we didn't see one at all!

The roads in the Netherlands were interesting: in some places the roads were made of bricks, with the road markings laid in different coloured bricks. There were cycle lanes everywhere usually separate from the road, and often with their own traffic lights.

We had planned to make it to Amsterdam but Mac was tired of driving, I wasn't willing to have a go at driving on the 'wrong' side of the road at that point. After a bite to eat around 3pm, we set off to see the town. It was a very attractive city. It seemed to be all apartment buildings, but unlike the hideous housing estates in London, these looked like homes, with brightly coloured awnings and window boxes full of flowers. The streets were very wide, so the claustrophobic sensations that come with tall buildings and narrow streets just weren't present. There were also lots of houseboats on the canals: very pretty boats with gardens on the banks next to their moorings.

After a while of just walking around looking at this we ended up spending the evening in the Double Diamond pub, where the company was pretty different from home. Back then, in New Zealand, we came across very few people of different nationalities and even ethnicities: Maori, pakeha of British, Dalmatian, Bohemian, Dutch descent, Indian and Chinese New Zealanders. Immigrants were still mainly British. And there we were, two Kiwis and an American sitting, drinking and talking to an Irishman, a German, three Dutchmen, some Moroccans and Yugoslavs (no such thing as Yugoslavs now!)

June 23. Amsterdam. Huge camping ground, complete with shops and a coffee bar. People of all nationalities. So strange for us colonial country people! We caught a tram into the city centre

which was full of very tourist orientated shops, and then headed off on a canal boat tourist trip, a lovely way to see around on such a sunny day. The trip took us past: the smallest house in Amsterdam; Anne Frank's house; Rembrandt's house; the port including the biggest port in the world (well, it was then) and the magnificent Western Church and Tower topped by the enormous gold keizerskroon (Emperor's Crown), which has been there since 1489.

Cally, waiting for the canal trip

 Tower topped by the enormous gold keizerskroon

On the way back to the camping ground we stopped at a market and bought cabbage, tomatoes, potatoes and cucumber for our dinner,, plus a piece of delicious pickled cucumber to eat on the spot. Spent the evening chatting with four English guys and a couple of US army guys.

 Cally in the market

 On June 24, after sleeping late again - all this pub life didn't fit with early rising - we headed off to 'get a bit of culture': to the Van Gogh museum. I found that I still didn't appreciate Van Gogh's painting, despite them being the real thing, though I did like his drawings and sketches. From there we found a little back street non-touristy restaurant for dinner.

We wandered though the city to the area where selling / buying / smoking dope was legal but although we were offered hash by every second person we didn't stay - everything looked very dirty and sleazy.

Back at camp we headed for the nearest pub which was very nice until a bus load of Kiwis and Aussies burst in and embarrassed us greatly with their loud, uncouth behaviour. Still, when one asked him, "do you speaka ze englishe?" the barman (who had been doing so perfectly to us) pretended not to understand and then charged them considerably more for their drinks that we had paid.

Tuesday 25th we got up late, then took Christine to the train station where she left to travel Europe by train at a faster rate than our casual meandering. It was sad to say goodbye - we still haven't managed to catch up in real life again. Then we took to the motorways and headed for Germany.

June 10 - 20 Getting Ready for Europe

Back from our little trip, there was washing and cleaning and buying of odds and ends including a radio-cassette player - no cds or mp3s or ipods then!

On Thursday 12 June we went back to Heathrow to meet a friend. That was very exciting. Since I was 11 I had had a penfriend who lived in Hayden, Colorado, USA and now I was to meet her for the first, and so far only, time! The first day we just sat around and talked all day, but the following day we headed in to Piccadilly Circus, and then on to the Tower of London. Such an incredible place, and one we had grown up hearing stories about. Seeing the Crown Jewels is the only time in my life that I have been able to understand the attraction of diamonds. The Star of Africa and the Kohi-noor diamonds as just something out of this world. That night Corynne, Bryan, Christine, Mac and I went to a kebab restaurant with delicious Greek and Turkish food, which started me on a life-long love of such food. Then, of course, on to a couple of London pubs.

On Saturday 14th, after some shopping in Kingsland High Street, Mac, Christine and I went first to Victoria Station and then to Kings Cross Station (Living in London is like a game of Monopoly some days!) where we put Christine on a train to new castle and Edinburgh. That night we sat up working out a rough itinerary for our European trip.

So much to do: we did the rounds of the National Tourist Offices, and the Motor Caravanners' Club, collecting maps and lists of camping sites. We had to organise MOT, insurance, supplies (from Sainsbury's - it always seemed fun shopping at a supermarket chain with my family name,) clean the VW and connect the radio cassette player up to run off the car battery.

Christine Frentress and Cally at Canterbury Camping Ground 19/6/1975

Christine arrived back at lunchtime on Friday 20 June and we set off toward Dover. We spent the night at Canterbury, and hoped we would get back to have a look at what appeared to be a fascinating town.

June 7 - 9 : First Expedition in our VW Campervan

On 7 June we went from Lostwithiel to Shaftesbury via Dartmoor. Dartmoor was exactly as a moor should be: bleak rolling hills covered in tufty grasses and rocks; lots of long-woolled sheep with black faces and horns, and also a lot of ponies with foals. Back in Devon and Dorset the countryside was once again the stereotypical calendar picture landscape.

We stopped at Buckland Abbey just out of Yelverton - a lovely old place with some lovely panelled walls and carved furniture, although it was not well renovated. It was originally a Cisterien monastery and was at times the home of Sir Richard Grenville, and Sir Frances Drake.

The following day we got lost several times! It was a lovely day but a layer of smog lay over the countryside, thickening over the towns. It was so lovely to have sunshine, though there were a lot of very red Poms who were going to have a painful week. The English seemed to go in for picnics as a hobby in itself, whereas Kiwis tend to take picnic lunches to something else - motor racing, water skiing, beach - but the English seem to just go out to the countryside, eat a picnic and go home again.

Our first stop was Stonehenge, which was totally awe-inspiring. There were tourists everywhere and yet Stonehenge seemed proud and detached from us common people. No matter how many pictures you see of this place, being there, actually there, was magical.

As a side note - the toilets had stiff, brown toilet paper, each sheet individually marked with: "Property of the British Government - do not remove." Well, it wasn't much good as loo paper, so I removed some and wrote letters home to friends on it. It functioned far better as airmail paper!

On through Salisbury, and through the New Forest, which was delightfully light and airy, and with lots of ponies and foals. We stopped at Beaulieu, now the National Motor Museum, Palace House, home of the Montagu family, and historic Beaulieu Abbey, which cost one pound each to get in - which was a huge amount of money in 1975 - today it is 16 pound per adult. However it was worth it.

Talbot

The motor museum was wonderful, with vintage and veteran cars and bikes, some as old as 1889.  They were beautifully restored.

BSA

From there we looked at the remains of the enormous abbey, and walked around the lovely herb gardens and the remains of the cloisters.

The palace was lovely from the outside, but we couldn't see very much of the inside as it was still the family home, as it had been for centuries.

Yup - that's me on the right!

Then on to Bognor Regis to an over-priced camping ground for the night.

From Bognor to Brighton. Contrary to my expectations, I loved Brighton. All the homes with their wrought iron balconies. The piers with their cheap gaudiness and amusement arcades.

 
The Pavilion. The Pavilion was beautiful. I had expected it to be ugly, but although it was phony Palladian / Chinese / Indian etc, it was a lovely fantasy brought to life.

The museum / art gallery was really good too - and free! My first view of paintings by Salvador Dali and they were amazing - clear, sparkling, full of light - I wanted to see more. I also liked the paintings by Rene Magritte.

Then it was back to London to get ready for our first European adventure.

June 3 - 6: First Expedition in our VW Campervan

We had spent the previous three weeks getting to London, finding our way around, buying a van and setting it up ready for camping. 35 years later we still own some of the things we bought, and use one knife every day - it was definitely a good buy! Now it was time to go exploring and try out our van setup around a bit of England, so that we could easily buy more things / change things while still in a country where we could understand and be understood most of the time.

So on Tuesday 3 June 1975 we set off for the South of England. What with stopping to buy fuel and tools, and then taking many wrong turns, it took us a long time to get out of London but eventually we got onto the M4 going as far as Newbury, where we had lunch. Moving on, we looked for a camping ground in Marlborough without success, and so it was my time to drive - ARRRRGH! Eventually we found a camping ground at Rowde and cooked our first meal in the van. This camping ground was not good preparation for the future: it had free hot showers and our van was parked among trees beside a lake - delightful.

The English countryside that we had driven through was exactly like the picture books - for some reason I had not expected that. The roads were odd to us kiwis though: very narrow, but miles from anywhere there was still curb and channelling, and bus stops even though there appeared to be no houses nearby.

Wednesday saw us driving through Bradford-On-Avon, a lovely old town with winding streets - a few months later we would be somewhat more blase about such things but at this stage we were fresh from a country where 'historic' was something from before 1900! So a huge, stone, tithe barn dating from 955AD blew us away. And from there on the day just got more and more amazing for us colonials. We arrived our first castle. I never got sick of castles. Farleigh Hungerford Castle (1370AD) was a ruined castle, but somehow that emphasised to me just how much older Britain is than New Zealand.

Next stop: Bath, which despite modernisation, retained its old time feel. We walked through the streets looking in windows of fascinating but expensive antique shops until we reached the centre of the town, where Bath Abbey dominated the central square.

The Roman Baths were awesome: to think of that plumbing being done such a long time before. In the same complex and the pump rooms where we were able to 'take the waters', but they were not nice, tasting as they did of slightly salty warm water.

 

Up the hill were the Assembly Rooms, which now housed a museum of costumes right up to the current time. It was fascinating, but as I looked at the clothes it was with mixed feeling: regret at the passing of an age of elegance and of perfection of manufacture; but also of thankfulness that we don't have to spend all that time making our clothes. The poor people who had to sit over that intricate work: their eyesight must have failed at a very young age.

We stopped for the night at Watchet (don't you love those names?) at a huge but fortunately near empty camp by the sea. From our position on a hill we could see across to Wales, but it was not a nice view as it seemed to consist entirely of festering factories spluttering forth huge clouds of black smoke.

The 5th June was a day of very windy roads and incredibly steep hills. The hills were not very long but so steep that there were 'escape routes' on the corners for all those who could not follow instructions like 'engage in low gear'.

 

 
We stopped at our first 'live' castle, Dunster Castle, where the family were still in residence, with us visitors helping pay some of the cost of upkeep. We were blown away by the magnificence of its staircase and leather wall hangings. When we arrived we were among about 25 people waiting for it to open. A couple of minutes before the hour a man dressed like a butler emerged from the castle and walked across to the old gate tower and was followed by a lot of people jostling to be first in. They quickly emerged, embarrassed, as the man led the way out and set up a sign outside saying 'Men's Toilet'.

 Dunster Castle - Cally on seat

On Friday 6th we drove on around Cornwall. We went through St Ives but didn't stop to visit the man with seven wives as the place was full of cars, policemen, road works and diversions. In one very narrow country road we, and a truck, had to wait for two other road users to back up to a wider part of the road - a man and his dog!  We stopped at Penzance for shopping and on to Land's End for lunch. It was terribly windy, but otherwise a cloudless, sunny day. The sky was full of vapour trails, bringing home to us how much air traffic there was between Britain and Europe.

Land's End

Cornwall was not as pretty as Devon. It was bleak and bare with brown rolling hills and strong winds. The farms didn't have fences, but rather, mile upon mile of stone walls instead. The house and farm buildings were also made of stone, to keep out the wind and rain, with little thought of beauty, although it did have a bleak sort of charm.

 St. Michael's Mount - and Mac

St. Micheal's Mount - and our Kombi

And the wonderful names: we spent the night at Lostwithiel.

12 May 1975 - "Leaving on a Jet Plane. Don't know when I'll be back again."

A week before 12 May 2010 Mac came up with the idea of scanning the photos from our OE 35 years ago - our albums are falling apart - and preserving them on a blog before they disintegrate altogether.

Around the same time I was talking to a friend about our various OE experiences (she was there around the same time as us), and about how different the world was then: no email, msm, Facebook, blogs, cell phones - and even landline calls were prohibitively expensive. It really was a matter of adventuring off into the world alone. For parents left at home it must have been a nightmare of worry, although I didn't realise that at the time. Snail mail was a term that didn't exist - it was surface mail (6-7 weeks) or airmail (1-2 weeks) and photos were very expensive to take and develop - and to post home. One of my vivid memories of leaving New Zealand on 12 May 1075 was of turning around to wave to my parents as we walked down the 'tunnel' to the departure lounge and seeing my father wiping tears from his eyes - and thinking, 'silly old fool'! Poor Dad.

Check out those booze prices! And cigarettes were 25c, yes CENTS for a packet of 20!!

Mac wasn't feeling so well after developing alcoholic poisoning from drinking too much Blue Nun at our farewell party (we felt very foolish when the doctor diagnosed this at a home visit - it's hard to believe there was a time when doctors visited people at home!) and he felt even worse when our flight was delayed due to an 'in-flight computer malfunction.'

It was a very long day (literally.) The worst part of the flight was the stop for fuel and immigration at Honolulu.

Honolulu International Airport

The airport was just a very large shed a long way from the plane, and we had to walk from the plane to the shed. There were no facilities and it was extremely hot. We managed to get in the slow queue and waited for 1 1/2 hours - we held the plane up for half an hour! I spent most of the time sitting on the concrete floor, shuffling forward from time to time. Still, because of the hold up, when we finally got through  they piled us on a baggage cart and rushed us back to the plane.

On reaching Los Angeles we were very tired but thankfully had no trouble with customs, and were collected by a courtesy car and driven to the Quality Inn.

 Quality Inn, Los Angeles - Carol
 

After dinner Mac rang to confirm our reservation for the onward flight, only to be told that there was no such flight! I'm sure that these days Los Angeles airport is open all hours, but not then, and we could do nothing. Mac fell asleep straight away, but despite being exhausted, I lay awake for hours worrying about what we were going to do. The next day we went to the airport and eventually British Airways (the ones that had accepted a booking for a nonexistant flight) go us on a TWA flight, which proved an excellent service.  So much for a bit of sightseeing around LA.

After our American experience, the British immigration and custom were wonderful. We had trouble finding customs, they were so casual, and although we had to wait to get through immigration, there werecarpet, chairs and pot plants. We were admitted for an 'indefinite period' - those were the days!

Remember what I said about communication back then? We sent a telegram to our friends in London, but it didn't arrive until the same time as we landed at Heathrow, England, so we had an hour and a half wait before Corynne and Bryan (ex-flatmates from NZ) arrived to collect us and take us home to their flat.

The rest of May was taken up with learning to find our way around London while organising bank accounts and such like. We learned about the bus system and the tube system (efficient but I never learned to like travelling underground.) We covered a lot of ground in our hunt for a camper van, and eventually found ourselves the proud owners of an iconic VW kombie camper van.

Our VW Kombie