Driving in Europe: Stick or No; Tolls or No; and Don't Do What I Did, Part I

Driving in Europe:
Stick or No; Tolls or No; and Don't Do What I Did, Part I

Snow-capped Pyrenees in the distance, looking north

I love to drive. Our current car, a 2016 Honda CRV, has 45,000 miles on it in its 19 months living in our garage. She's a true road warrior. I drove three times during this trip- Croatia/Bosnia-Herzegovina, Tenerife, and northern Spain. We rented cars in the first and third instances. In Tenerife Fernando proffered his Citroen to us for a couple of days of island exploration- such a trusting soul. Each of the these episodes was completely worth it. We had a liberty to roam and discover with maybe more exhilaration than I was prepared for. We came away with a much more intimate relationship with the country and countryside in these places. And all of it was quality time for me with my most favorite companion. Perfect.

We lived in Europe for five years, so we had driven there before, though we never owned a car. On the rare occasions we decided that we wanted to travel by car we rented. Mark and I both maintained our US driver's licenses under some legal construct which currently escapes me (maintaining deniability).We learned one year into our Dutch stay that we could have easily converted our US licenses into Dutch licenses-- in our first six months of residence. After six months you weren't supposed to use the American documents. You were required to test and likely take a very expensive licensing training course. Screw that. We simply rented cars like tourists, plopping down our blue passports and US licenses, hoping that they never noticed our residence sticker in the back pages of the passport. They never did.

Renting a car in Europe can be intimidating. Europeans generally drive standard transmissions. (Our Parisian host, Patrick, drives an automatic,  insightfully explaining that Jewish women of certain age did, too. Exceptions to the rule.) You can rent an automatic, but the rates usually double. My first road warrior Honda, a 1986 Civic, was a stick, so I have experience with a clutch in a car (and motorcycle). I do go through a little shakedown (literally) as I lose my clutch cobwebs and become a shifting demon. There's some weird masculine validation in play as well. I would never pay that American tariff anyway- stick it is.

The second scary place in euro-car rental is the intersection of narrow European streets and rental car insurance. Part of the charm of driving in urban and rural Europe are those cozy passages on cobbled alleys and country lanes with have conveyed Europeans for hundreds of years, but cars only recently. European drivers routinely park in spaces I would use for my bicycle. I dread returning a car to a rental agency with any sort of blemish, only to have my credit card deposit (700+ euros) and more charged against my card. I load up on insurance. I ignored the standard credit card CDW thing and bought the mega-package, effectively tripling my cost. 

Don't do what I did. Research your car rental insurance options with your credit cards before you travel. I did not need to pay as much as I did. Car rental agents are not honest brokers-- they sell insurance. There are independent insurers who sell car rental insurance policies you can acquire before you walk up to the counter, putting you in a better position to know what you need. That said, consider your appetite for the risk of a scrape or scratch in an unfamiliar vehicle on unfamiliar roads. I had no dings in any case this trip. Inspect your vehicle fully before signing off on your contract. They should offer a chance to do so. If not, ask. Our Barcelona rental had several wounds previously noted, and I added a few more in the notes on the contract.

The first car rental was a spontaneous one, in Split, Croatia. After spending three days exploring the city, we wanted to get out and wander the region. Specifically we were interested in seeing Mostar and Medjegorje in Bosnia-Herzegovina- a long day trip, and everyone had virtually commanded us to go to Plitvice Lakes National Park, three hours away and another day trip. We could have done either by bus. The tours were priced OK, but you multiply the price times two. We also cherish our independence, and the thought of being part of one of bus tour herds really grates. We were also free to add stuff on, like the fortress where Game of Thrones' was shot. We also love that sense of discovery that comes from driving down a road you really don't know. These days Google Maps et al make it all easier.

Our Nisan SUV in Croatia

We went online and booked a cute little car at a rental office a short walk away. Don't do what I did. Don't rent more car than you need.  I had booked a Fiat 500, a little car. (I fold well.) It wasn't a big deal but it also would be easier to park... wherever I might need to park it. But I got sold an upgrade, tied in with insurance (see above) to an SUV with navigation. (I am already a Google Maps jock with my phone and had a local data plan- I had nav.) Still, it was great to have the space and we did use the nav to get where were going.

We live in New Mexico. We have no toll roads. We only have three interstates. The thought of paying to use a highway is off-putting. I like that Android Auto/Google Maps has an 'avoid tolls' option. In Europe, however, that option can double or triple your travel time. And European tolls can bite-- Geneva to Avignon last year, through the south of France, was close to $50. Oohlala. The longest part of our trip on that Friday was on big new Euro-standard highways, from Split to Medjegorje. The tolls weren't so bad and they took cards. The highway ended at Medjegorje, and we were on two lane roads into town, around the shrine, and all the way to Mostar.

That road, from Medjegorje to Mostar was pure joy to drive- a rambling road, passing through villages until you begin to drop down into the Mostar valley. The highway began an endless series of hairpin turns down to river-level. As we descended the city, with its collection of minarets and occasional war-scarred relics rose up to surround us. Our goal, the Mostar Bridge, an icon of the post-war city, was in the middle of it all. Now we just had to park. Right. Don't do as I did. Don't rent more car than you need. We pulled down one street, only to find that it was a car-clogged dead-end. It took us ten minutes to carefully navigate our way in, only to take 20 minutes to turn and go find a proper parking place. We paid a couple of euros. I was relieved. After having a a few hours of food, shopping and listening to the call to prayer echo around the valley by the bridge we attempted to leave. All of Mostar seemed to be trying to come down our little alley, with no room to move. Patience isn't a virtue. It is a practice. One fun part of the Bosnian adventure was trying to read highway signs that were half in Cyrillic.  As a result I pulled into a closed lane at the Bosnia-Croatia frontier. The border guard had a good laugh. 

Mostar Bridge

Mark and I don't quarrel much, but finding a legal parking place in Split on a weekend evening got us both grouchy. We opted for a slot in front of a supermarket, destined to open at 7am. The threat of a ticket was added incentive for us to get an early start. We needed to get moving, to beat the tour bus crowd to the park. At 6:50 Saturday the trip up to Plitvice began again on the E-65 toll roadas we sped at 130kmh up the coast then inland. The coastal range along the Adriatic rises quickly and soon the highway was climbing up the side of sheer cliffs-- stunning engineering. By 10am we were parked and shelling out 40 euros to walk through the waterfall wonderland that our friends had so vociferously recommended. Amazing.