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July 31, 2007

Route 66, Highway 61 and the E70

You can get your kicks on Route 66, Bob Dylan revisited Highway 61 in 1965 and Anthony and I drove a lot of the E70 in the past few weeks.

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The E70 is just as romantic as any American road, except perhaps for its dearth of blues singers. It goes from the Atlantic coast at A Coruna, in Spain to the Black Sea, in Georgia. We drove it, in various stages and not all in the same direction, from Lyon to Belgrade.

It was about 4000miles to Kosovo and back, an amazing trip. Though, I have to say, the down side of the International E-road network is that you might be driving through Slovenia, but for all of that you may as well be on the M1. The roads are mostly good and fast but, as the tarmac ribbon extends in front of you, all you get are bland service stations and big lorries.

So our trip out was fast and efficient, the Volkswagen eating the black-top steadily hour by hour as the kilometre marker posts flashed by. We drove through torrential rain in Austria, heat-waves in Serbia and, in a surreal moment of advanced technology, Jane got a call on her mobile, from a friend in the Peak District, while we were in the middle of a four kilometre tunnel half a mile under the Alps, clear as a bell.

The borders in the European Union were non-existent, you just passed a small sign by the side of the road quietly announcing the country you were entering. Things got slightly more exciting as we left Slovenia – the police had bigger guns and the customs were inclined to be more interested in what was in all the cardboard boxes stacked up in the back of our van.

“This box is children’s books for a Summer School” proclaimed Jane, confidently, to a tall blonde customs official with mirror sunglasses, who was staring, somewhat puzzled, at a box full of couscous. “Ah! This one’s children’s books” said Jane, opening a box full of first aid equipment. The border guards decided to let us through as we were clearly barking mad.

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the somewhat makeshift United Nations Mission in Kosovo border post

The only border crossing to give us any trouble was getting into Kosovo, which took two and a half hours, in temperatures not fit for a mad dog.

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ahead: Kosovo

Posted by john at July 31, 2007 09:52 PM

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