Distance travelled: 421 miles – Time: 0845 – 1735

Whizzing past German vineyards in autumnal hues near Annweiler

A big day’s drive ahead we set off full of excitement with the prospect of seeing our much missed and beloved children in just one day’s time. Murray had not seen them since mid August when they were last in Islamabad and for me when I had deposited them at their respective schools at the beginning of September. We were feeling keenly that we would not see Zara. She was well ensconced in Edinburgh in her first term at university.

It was a national holiday in Austria and so we were expecting the roads out of Salzburg and into Germany to be clear of commuters. We had not bargained on the German authorities causing massive delays and queues on account of road works and customs checks – not the efficiency of a gross national generalisation we were expecting! Taking advantage of more national generalisations by not queuing with everyone else, Murray saw an opportunity to come off the motorway at the service station slip road next to the border control and nip back on ahead of the queue. Genius! It must have saved us at least an hour of queuing.

Through the Austrian-German border, evading a rigorous customs check, and on to the open roads.

The road works on the German autobahn were frequent and frustrating. Channelling the traffic to single lanes from three every 50 – 100 km or so made for a long day’s drive. Half way into the morning we received a call from my father to say that they had had a major plumbing disaster in the French house which meant we would probably have to abort our plans of meeting them with the children as they would have to return to the UK that afternoon. We were all utterly devastated and despondent at this news. All planning on both sides, and the driving since our stasis in Baku had been made so that we could all spend some time together at the end their half term holiday.

The next few hours were spent with us scouring booking.com and airBNB to find alternative accommodation in Le Touquet for my father and his partner, Lindy, who were desperately trying to fix the burst pipe in the kitchen. With the much appreciated help of their neighbour, and multiple trips to the local plumbers’ merchant, the pipe was eventually fixed and to our joy and relief the plans were back on track!

We reached Luxembourg just before 5p.m. Finding our hotel on the outskirts of the city we then headed into a very foggy Luxembourg centre and thence to the Palais de Chine restaurant devouring a much craved Peking duck. Bliss! Great food and delicious wine.

This is what the Golden Lady really looks like! (Courtesy of an internet derived photo)

Luxembourg on a foggy night! Armed with our basic ‘burner’ phone we managed a few atmospheric photos: the stunning Monument of Remembrance topped by the Gëlle Far – the Golden Lady; the Grand Duchesse Charlotte and ethereal spires.

Time: 10:05 – 16:00 – Distance travelled: 255 miles – Cumulative: 6,070 miles

The  renowned Mozart Kugeln chocolates 

Our mission now reverted back to focusing on ‘the drive’. Our pit stops from now on were exactly that. We had to cover the planned distances over the next two days so that we could meet up with our family who were waiting for us at the family house in northern France. It was the half term holiday for Max and Charlotte and both sides of the family had dug out to ensure the children were looked after during half term until our arrival. We were both feeling quietly tense and full of anticipation at meeting them on time and without incident for these last several hundred miles.

The Austrian roads were predictably good and fast. The countryside was beautiful as it crumpled from the lush green hills into the eastern Alps. Murray was rather annoyed and disappointed that I had navigated us on to the autobahn rather than through the meandering hill roads at a point where the roads were under repair. To mitigate this sense of being cheated of the Austrian country once we had popped out of endless tunnels (I had to admit it was a very dull albeit rapid way to travel through Austria) we headed off the motorway and down to Lake Attersee to have a lunch break. What a charming and pretty place this proved to be.

We pressed on to Salzburg and arrived at the edge of the pedestrian area of the city at Hotel Aldstadt Hofwirt, (with great underground parking, where I dropped my phone – a very bad moment as the LCD failed and I had the black screen of doom. No more Maps.me, photos or emails on the move – I was quietly in a sizzling fume) just before dark. Zara had visited Salzburg during a school skiing trip and was wowed by its prettiness. With this in mind we were keen to see the city. It was indeed a beautiful city, especially at dusk. Murray was satisfied with his purchase of not one but three Salzburg fridge magnates, depicting the home city of Mozart. It had become his second mission, to secure where possible, a fridge magnate from each of our stopovers – his souvenirs of the trip . . . frequently stating that all he got was a lousy fridge magnate . . .

Feeling very miffed having dropped my phone

We knew if we returned to the hotel before supper we would not venture out again so we had a reassuringly expensive Aperol spritz in the main plaza before chancing upon a terrific traditional beer house called Zipfer Bierhaus. Eating good solid Austrian dishes with lashings of local beer in a very congenial setting, and hearing Mozart played on a violin by a busker, we were replete and felt we had done just enough justice to Salzburg.

Distance travelled: 101 miles

Inside the Mushroom Museum!

After an early night having eschewed the notion of finishing the evening in the dodgy casino (to which we had been acquainted some years ago) we woke to the toll of church bells – we adored that! So much kinder on the ear than the offset triplicate call to prayer we used to have just before sunrise in Islamabad.

The rain had stopped as forecast and we set off for a morning stroll around Zagreb. The centre of the city has an attractive European look, with part bricked paved streets and blue trams that whizz silently through the mix of traffic and pedestrians – quite alarming if one doesn’t concentrate! We walked through Park Josipa Jurja Strossmayera where the smart of Zagreb walk their dogs. It was a lovely sight. With the autumn leaves falling about chicly dressed people – and dogs – we felt we had truly reached Europe. There was a flutter of interest as a very tall man passed us with an gleamingly well groomed, white fluffy hound. Murray declared it was the unseeded Croatian Wimbledon winner, Goran Ivanišević. It took me a heartbeat to realised that he was talking about the man, not the dog!

With bright blue skies overhead and only a light breeze when out of the wind tunnelled streets, we ventured into to Zagreb Cathdral and marvelled at the Baroque décor. The fruit and vegetable market on the Dolac was in full swing and a delight to see. We stocked up on some much needed vitamin C in the form of tangerines and pomegranates and, low and behold, discovered that the Mushroom Museum – Muzej gljiva – was now open! It was not to be missed. This tiny museum tucked away in amongst a block of apartments above the central plaza was testament to the passion of one very enthusiastic man, a professor of mycology, Prof. dr. sc. Romano Božac.

We had to do this museum justice – it had taken some effort (and a significant entrance fee) to get here

Are these hallucinogenic mushrooms . . ?

Excellent research – the mushrooms we found in our garden, and dried but have yet eaten, are edible!!

We returned to our hotel at midday ready to check out with armfuls of bags carrying Croatian speciality chocolates from Krus, fruit and some small gifts in readiness for our next stop. Right from the outset of planning our trip home we had configured the route so that we might visit our special Hungarian friends, the Papps. Tibi had been the head chef at Gordon’s Wine Bar (still my place of work) for 10 years before he and his wife Aliz (who had also worked at Gordon’s before having children) left earlier this year to start a new life back in their homeland with their young family. They have done a remarkable thing. Taking some 8 years in total, they have gradually built their own eco-home on the edge of the beautiful Őrségi Nemzeti national park in southwest Hungary, just across the Solvenian border. We were all really excited to see each other and this was a fabulous opportunity we could not miss.

Entering Slovenia

Slovenian vineyards!

Formidable modern ecclesiastical architecture

More traditional ecclesiastical architecture

We loved this crusader

Incredible baroque decor inside the modest church

Passing swiftly through Slovenia we had to take note of our briefest of stops in this country

Tibi had sent us superb instructions, and photos, to find his home, tucked away in the tiny village of Kercaszomor. Arriving mid afternoon after a straightforward drive out of Zagreb, into Slovenia and on to Hungary (without being challenged by anyone in uniform, in fact the booths were completely unmanned – we were loving being in Europe!) we were met with a wonderful reception from Bati and Edi, the Papp kinder. What a happy time we had. The Papps have built a remarkable home, self sufficient with well-drawn and filtered water, heat from a central wood burner and self generated electricity. Tibi and Aliz spoiled us with the most delicious venison and pork, lashings of palinka with toasts to all our health and happiness, and vats of rosé. The children were utterly delightful, full of affection and fun and with the aid of the dog (!) I learnt my first and only Hungarian phrase, “Mit csinálsz?” – “What are you doing?” (and I am sorry, I accidentally took the ‘dog deterrent’ water bottle!). We had a very jolly time. We crashed out after seeing the most wonderful night sky, filled with stars in a pure, dark midnight blue.

Finding the Papp domain!

A very happy family: Aliz, Tibi, Edua and Bator – the cowboy!

The surrounding countryside – picturesque and calm

Arriving in Kercaszomor to see the Papps

Tibi placing the Hungarian flag with Bator’s help

Murray scrutinising the angles . .

. . phew. It passed the check!

Placing of the Hungarian flag!

Distance travelled: 240 miles – Time: 0940 – 1430

A section of an embroidered vestment from the Zagreb Cathedral treasury

Crossing from Serbia to Croatia was a simple case of showing passports as we passed through the toll booth followed by a quick but expensive trip to the Croatian postal service booth to purchase a European green card, giving us insurance to travel through the rest of Europe – £200 for 15 days of third party cover. Excruciating but necessary.

The weather was miserable. It had dropped 10 degrees compared to the day before and persistent, dense rain accompanied us all the way from Belgrade to Zagreb.

Not the best quality image, taken at speed in the rain, but we looked askance when we noticed the UK had already been peeled off the European map on the back of this lorry!! The shadow of our former presence was just visible.

We were really looking forward to visiting Zagreb. Some nineteen years ago we had spent 24 hours there as a first anniversary present from my parents – in those days airline tickets were actually issued and hand written, with red carbon copies, by a travel agent and so it was fitting to have one representing ‘paper’ as a first wedding anniversary token! Murray had at the time been serving in Bosnia on a six months tour. His boss had given him 24 hours leave and lent him his driver so that he could be at the airport to meet me. The memory is still vivid, he standing waiting for me to come through the airport, decked in ‘combat 95s’ holding an enormous bunch of red gladioli! I was so excited, I can remember the thrill to this day.

Zagreb Airport, 1998!

Not to be deterred by the rain we dropped our things at the hotel and set out to find the main square and revisit the few places we could remember (including the basement mafia like casino where we had run away having won the equivalent of £200!). In doing so we thought we ought to do something cultural. I had seen a curious sign to the ‘Mushroom Museum’. How could we possibly resist that? After all, it was time to exact my revenge having suffered repeated episodes of train spotting (which when driving I invariable mistook as a signal that we were about to crash, having to look up swiftly from my map). Alas, it took us some time to find this secret museum, tucked away on the second floor of a block just off the main square and by the time we had worked out how to get there it was closed. Murray was dashed, I could tell (!).

In search of the elusive magic mushrooms . . 

We settled on having a gentle mooch, visiting the newly restored cathedral and seeing some exquisite restored 16^th Century tapestries and embroidered vestments. The day concluded with a truly civilised dinner at the chic Italian restaurant, Boban.

Extensive restoration work has been undertaken at the Zagreb Cathedral – the old clock face has been kept and the old and new stonework of one of the towers are shown side by side.

Distance travelled: 318 miles

With another reasonably long day of driving ahead we took the decision to set off earlier than we had previously planned and missed going into Sofia. This would allow us to negotiate the border crossing into Serbia and get to Belgrade in time to rest properly and explore a little. We were both feeling the effect of these cumulative long days and Murray had a heavy cold. I had hoped we would meet up with my dear Bulgarian friend Nadia, she had been a great foil in Islamabad when the way of life there became a touch frustrating. I was really saddened not to see her as a result of our plan change but due to our early start I didn’t think she’d appreciate meeting for a cup of tea on the Sofia ring road at 7 a.m. on a Sunday.

We left the sweet Centaur Hotel at Rila and headed north towards Sofia though the pretty rolling countryside and cut around the ring road in good time taking two hours to get to the border. Quite a queue had already grown so we deployed the diplomatic routine and got through in double quick time.

The Centaur Hotel – a beautifully kept family run hostelry

Digging into the last of the rations

As soon as we entered Serbia the scenery changed dramatically. The road was carved into a gorge bordered by steep craggy hills, swathed in an autumnal forest and a beautiful river surged beneath. It was spectacular and made for another glorious day’s driving. With Simon and Garfunkle playing ‘Homeward Bound’ we were positively buoyant!

Before reaching Nis, birthplace of Constantine the Great (who’d have thought the Roman Emperor would have been born in Serbia?! They got around those Greeks – as Serbia was then part of Greece – I had to double check as I was getting my Greeks and Romans confused), we made a roadside stop for a picnic in the glorious sunshine – ‘making hay’ while we could as the forecast for the next few days was looking a bit grim. Rifling through our remaining Army rations (still neither of us had plumped for the beef and cassava – at this point I think I should add (as I don’t think I have before) they are all a little out of date and I presume would have been ready for the bin had they not been donated to us.) My chosen tuna and bean pasta was still just about edible, Murray telling me dates were simply advisory! I have so far survived unaffected to write on.

I’d been in touch with the lovely Danilo, one of the very long standing and loyal bar staff at Gordon’s Wine Bar, who originates from Belgrade. He had given us some restaurant recommendations and on the strength of that I had booked our night’s pit stop on the south side of the Danube in Zemun, New Belgrade. The hotel Zlatnik was nestled in a residential area on the right side of town for a quick get away the next day. It was perfect. We arrived in the middle of a Serbian christening, what a lively affair that was! Lots of singing, smoking and joviality! Everyone one we met was utterly charming, spoke great English giving us a wonderful introduction to Serbia, but shamefully all too brief. We crashed out for the afternoon and only headed out later in the evening to a local traditional Serbian restaurant that Danilo had recommended and where we had hoped to see chickens running around the restaurant – impossible to pronounce but well known by the locals: Stara Srpska Kuca. The chicks did not materialise but we had a thoroughly good supper, were very well looked after and were satisfied with the cat lounging in a fur lined cardboard box as representative of the hoped for menagerie! Perhaps the cat had something to do with the lack of chickens?

The bar at the traditional Stara Srpska Kuca restaurant, where every version of local ‘brandy’ was on offer. It would have been churlish not to have tried at least one!

The Rila Monastery

Today we left behind the land of minarets. Having heard horror stories of the time it could take to get through the Turkey-Bulgaria crossing at Edirne, some saying allow 4 hours others 12, we set off at 4 a.m. We wanted to escape the appalling Instabul traffic before it had a chance to build and beat the lorries and cars that would inevitably stack up as the day got going.

We were packed and ready to leave at 0400 hours, armed with instructions from the charming and effusively helpful security staff in the access lodge to the Consulate, plus the most invaluable advice from our sagacious friend Dinshaw, who had travelled the same route a month previously with his wife Dinaz. What I hadn’t bargained on was the continued effect of a little something a Pakistani pharmacist had issued to help relieve muscular spasms and nagging sciatica. I popped one of these at 10 p.m. having been advised it would work for about 6 hours – perfect. I think its half-life might have been a little longer. Navigating out of Istanbul fighting a deep drowse (I felt like Gloria from the film Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels) wasn’t the best moment of the trip but we just about managed. Added to my less than sparky repartee was a dense fog (not just in my head) and a touch of uncertainty that my navigating might not be up to the job. However, we did get on the right road and couple of hours later we arrived at Edirne and crossed into Bulgaria within half an hour. Result!! We had both perked up, the sun rose and we got to Plovdiv for a full English breakfast. Simply heaven.

Very glad not to be in this border queue – Brexiteers take note, our ports will become like this in time!

Autumnal colours

A regular sighting on the rural roads

In Plovdiv, on to page 4 of the drive plan!

After some discussion and much consulting of the maps and Maps.me we decided we would avoid Sofia on this day and head to the village of Rila and then on to the Rila Monastery, a place my parents in law had visited some 20 years or so ago. My father in law had vigorously recommended we visit and so it had to be done! We traversed the countryside and made our way through the dormant ski resort of Borovets, imagining British school children populating the winter slopes, and eventually got round the mountain to climb the other side through the most amazing forest in full autumnal colour. It was a spectacular drive and one we were very glad to have undertaken.

The monastery was equally stunning in colour and form. Both Murray and I couldn’t help but notice the similarities between the Christian monasteries and the Islamic madrassas – we’d seen plenty of the latter on our travels. It may seem that we have centred our travels around religious sites but in reality much of note, historically and architecturally, has a religious foundation.

Background to the history of Christianity in Bulgaria and the foundation of Rila – the thought of living 12 winters in a cave on the mountain, as the first monk had, was quite something.

Somehow the chaotic colours of the frescos against the zebra striped render of the monastic cells worked!

Stunning frescoes which had been sympathetically preserved

Taking 5 outside the monastery . . . and because M thought I should feature in this post as my colours match the scenery!

Day 37 – Weather: 23ºC and gloriously sunny and little hazey

A much needed day off driving. We ‘did’ Instanbul in a day. The British Consulate is really well situated within walking distance of many of the city’s sights. Taking in the Galata Tower and seeing the great panoramic views up and down the Bosphoros we then headed across the river to Sultanahmet, passing the fishermen on the bridge and the floating ‘mackerel bun’ restaurant boats – not something Murray wanted to repeat after our last trip some 5 years ago! By a turn of good fortune we ventured into the Spice Bazaar (Alladin’s purportedly has the best Turkish delight) and on up the hill to peruse the enormous Grand Bazaar – a wonderful manifestation of the culmination of all things found along the Silk Road. What a great way to end this section of our trip – a few little purchases were made! (My girls look away now!!)

The Galata Tower

Interesting monument to the friendship between the Republic of Korean and Turkey

Fishermen setting up for the day

Inspection time

How fab is this vessel?! It’s an aquatic ‘Noo-noo’ (for those who suffered the Telly Tubbies in yeas gone by – it was Zara’s favourite thing!

The mackerel sandwich boats on Eminonu Pier

Fabulous things inside the bazaars

Inside the Grand Bazaar

The Blue Mosque

Observing the dress code

The day culminated in hooking up with the Beatties for a celebratory drink in the British Consulate before they headed off for a fund raising ball. The Ambassador’s wife, has founded and been instrumental in setting up a Turkish branch of the Guide Dogs Association – a wonderful thing.

All thanks to the Beatties for making possible our very comfortable and restorative stay in Istanbul

Distance travelled: 436 miles

The Sea of Marmara

We made an early get away determined to make it to Istanbul for the night to afford us a day off driving the next day. With two nights stay now kindly arranged at the British Consulate we were thrilled that our stay would coincide with Winky and Toffer Beattie, he the British Defence Attaché and both dear friends from our days at Shrivenham.

The drive to Istanbul was fantastic, right up until gridlock some few kilometres from the Bosphorus Bridge crossing the Bosphorus Straits. We had made it to the outskirts of Istanbul by 1715 and then hit superlative commuter traffic. Knowing my husband well, and bearing in mind we had been driving solidly for 8 hours (with a half hour picnic lunch break at a service station – where I was convinced I was being lunched by ticks falling from the over head trees!), I determined we would navigate our way through the back streets away from the congestion and rejoin it closer to the bridge.

Joyful with Istanbul in our sights

Veering away from the congestion from the Bosporous Bridge

We made it back to the bridge within about 45 minutes, moving but squeezing and easing our way through back streets with half of Islam, we then joined the rest of them on the European side and took another hour and 45 minutes, several wrong turns and long tunnels (going in the wrong direction) and then got caught up in a VIP move before finally reaching the British Consulate well and truly after dark!

The British Consulate in Istanbul!

Distance travelled: 320 miles – Temperature: 5 – 32ºC – Travelling time: 0830 – 1730

A typical site along the Black Sea coastline, a vast mosque with towering minarets

We elected to drive through the mountains towards Torul, not returning to Trabzon but joining the coast road further west at Tirebolu towards Samsun. While it was going to take a little longer we thought it worth it so that we might see something more of the area. It was beautiful. We toured through little towns and villages waking up to the day and setting up market stalls, paralleling the river and reservoirs. The biggest cabbages on the planet must be grown in this area, they were the size of a bull’s head, piled high on little trucks and carefully arranged at the ubiquitous roadside stalls.

High in the hills above Toril

One of many trout farms in the valley

As we cruised along thoughts of a delicious fishy lunch filled our heads (and I have to mention for the sake of our children at this point I was caught singing along to Pink Floyd – how could they have slipped that into our Drive Home playlist?!?) We made a small detour into the seaside town of Ünye and paused for lunch full of anticipation, expectation and some degree of salivation after three years of ‘chicken or beef’ on the menu in Pakistan. We were really looking forward to fresh fish by the Black Sea, only to be told there was none but perhaps we might get some in 3 weeks or so!! Most disappointing but we had no time to pursue our gastronomic desires.

Dipping my toes in the Black Sea at Ünye

Roadside stalls stacked with specialities of the area; pumpkins, terracotta pots and samovars. Sadly I missed the photo opportunity for a giant cabbage!

Our main endeavour over the next three days was to cut along the Black Sea coast and get to Istanbul. This proved to be straightforward and fast. The coastal road was smooth, dual laned and had very little traffic. While the weather was lovely the scenery was pretty samey. The entire route is lined with colourful modern highrise blocks interspersed with trees and shrubs and nestled into the hills descending to the coast. Not unattractive but with little of apparent historical note – Murray asking frequently, “But where are all the castles?”

We headed inland at Samsun, a vast city rising on the coastal horizon and impressive to the eye but daunting to the traveller who needs to keep a pace on. The traffic came to a standstill but after a few traffic light changes we got through and made it to Amasya, an ancient town en route to Ankara renowned for its apples, at dusk.

The Ottoman guest house where we stayed, probably better described as shabby chic and was best not to look too closely at anything inside! (Breakfast was lovely though)

Amasya had a castle, much to Murray’s delight! It is seated on top of a barren hill above some incredible 6^th Century tombs carved into the stone. These we saw at night from the town stunning lit in changing colours.

The fortress at Amasya with the Pontic tombs from 3 BC below

Somehow the neon colours uplighting the old houses were visually pleasing

Ottoman houses along the Yeşilırmak River

Border Crossing: 30 minutes – Distance travelled: 166 miles – Cumulative milage: 3,986

 A would be gleaming green and gold tower in the heart of Batumi

The storm returned in the early hours and continued throughout the morning. Murray took himself off for a couple of hours in the pouring morning rain, firstly to find a barber – an excellent and thorough Turkish one was found – and then to do the tourist bit looking at the sights; he was very much a lone man walking! He returned rather bedraggled and soaked to claim that Batumi was like a ‘Russian version of Blackpool on steroids!’  (I’ve never been to Blackpool so I can’t corroborate this but I am told Batumi is a  popular destination for Russian tourists!)

Batumi  – just imagine if the sun was shining 

Checking out of the Admiral at noon we drove the short distance of 12 km to the border with Turkey at Sarpi. What a great border crossing, despite the torrential rain. We went through the usual customs procedures, explaining that while we were British the car is still registered in Pakistan and we were transiting to the UK = madness shown in the eyes of the customs guys! We were invited to pay car insurance, 58 Euros for a minimum of 3 months cover. On this occasion I was glad of this as I had felt a little vulnerable since leaving China – I very much doubt there has been any form of effective motor insurance in the countries traversed between China and Turkey.

What an imaginative border post!

Gushing waterfalls and great sculpture on the roadside

The crossing between Georgia and Turkey

Once on the Turkish coast road to Trabzon we immediately felt the benefit of the fantastic Turkish roads and infrastructure, a courteous driving style and the loss of the Georgian maniacal drivers. The rain had stopped and we made great tracks to get to Trabzon before turning left into the interior, up past Maçka and on another 20km to see the ancient 4^th Century monastery of Sumëla, dedicated to the Virgin Mary. We had seen a picture of the this monastery in an old B&B guidebook, and given that we were now off the Silk Road and into the land of ancient Christian crusaders it was only fitting to make our modern day pilgrimage to a Christian site in this modern day Islamic country.

The Sümela Monastery 

Before leaving Georgia I had booked rooms for the next two nights using Booking.com. Our first night was to be close to Sumëla, the second further along the coast and inland at Amasya – simply because these were areas circled in bright pink marker pen so I assumed this was the route plan.

Having climbed up through the hills towards the monastery we were looking for the hotel that I had booked, the Cosandere. It had shown on Booking.com as having only two rooms available, one basic double or a 5 bedded supreme chalet for the same price. Why not ‘large it’ and go for some space? I opted for the Swiss chalet style accommodation, obviously, all for about £28. Umm….. We drove up and down the mountainous road looking for the hotel noting that everything looked very shut up. Could it be that the season was over? We eventually pulled in at a vast but Swiss style hotel complex. The loos on the ground floor were open but unattended (advice: never pass by a relatively decent one) and we climbed up the steps to the massive restaurant area where there were one or two lights on, all the tables were made up, but there was not a soul to be found. The only sign that there might be someone around was the blaring TV and heat blasting from a rusting wooden stove in the middle of the restaurant. Yep, we’d missed the season and it seemed our booking had vanished into the ether, but after being led through the very closed kitchen and down a pitch-black corridor we were shown to a twin bedded, pine panelled room. All with a somewhat confused smile. It was at this point that Murray asked for the first time, “How did you find this place?” But it had fast and good Wifi (we could make WhatsApp calls), off road parking, and it was within the pink ringed zone on the map . . .

The Cosandere Hotel – we were the only guests and I suspect it was officially closed for the winter

After much cogitation Murray decided to stick the flags of all the countries we had traversed to date

Using Google translate – what fun that is! –  we communicated with the man overseeing the hotel and explained we would return in an hour or so. We headed up the mountain to look at the monastery. Sadly it is currently undergoing restoration work so we couldn’t go all the way up to it but it was still impressive nevertheless, clinging to the remote and sheer Méla Mountain hillside at over 2,000m. The original monastery was established by two Greek Orthodox monks in 386 A.D. allegedly after seeing a vision of the Virgin Mary in a cave. Here they built a church and the monastery. During this period and until the Ottoman rule there had been a large Greek community in the Trebzon region. Sumëla was afforded protection from later Muslim rulers as it was thought not to be a threat to Islam and was recognised as a holy place of pilgrimage. Over the centuries is has variously fallen into despair and been restored. In the early 1900s the Russians increased the size of the structure to make it look as it is today – an incredible isolated edifice high in the Pontic mountains.

We returned to the colossal Cosandere hotel to find that our room had been touchingly prepared, the beds pushed together, with a little heater warming the room, a local TV channel selected and voluble for Murray’s hearing and the washing done! Now all I needed to do was strew it over the little room to get it dry before morning. We ate delicious simply prepared local trout and fell into bed, Murray still asking, “How did you find this place?”!!