Greece
I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth as I passed through the border into Greece. It being the first ‘Western’ country I’d been in for 8 months I was preparing for the reverse culture shock. I was pleasantly surprised to find Greece is still comfortably simple and little English is spoken so I could continue to sit down and talk to people and not worry if they were telling me to go away as I wouldn’t understand.

Unfortunately my time in Greece wasn’t too long. I was set on heading to Romania so I didn’t get much of a chance to get around. My impression though was a country with a lot of churches but unfortunately not a vast number of believers. I found too the Atheninan in general treated you with a level of disdain, the likes of which I hadn’t seen before. Maybe I was just confusing this with normal western disinterest in others; I may have forgotten what it is like.

Bulgaria
To get to Romainia I had to cross Bulgaria, a country I knew precious little about save for my experiences working with a Bulgarian man for two years in my previous job. I was hoping they would all be as funny as him and generally I wasn’t dissappointed. Again, in contrast to ‘Western’ countries, I found Bulgaria full of open, friendly people who really looked at foreigners as guests not pests.

After staying in a small village in the mountains with some friends from Sophia and travelling right out to the black sea coast again, my impression was of a country with many churches but little understanding of what it means to be Christian. One of my new friends who had gone to church for years was amazed when they saw me reading the Bible. “You understand that?!?” he said. I explained that it was in fact possible to understand this book - but only because I had help from above.

On the way to the Romania border I spent a night on the Black Sea coast. At one time much of this coast line was dotted with camping grounds and old shacks. Now many of the camping grounds have been replaced with lot after lot of hi-rise appartments; the collections of shacks by bustling holiday towns with malls, bars and casinos. The development of this area is seen as a useful way to launder money by the local Mafia. And there was plenty of evidence of money around. I was continuously passed by Porsches, BMWs and Mercedes on the road, even two Lamborghinis which I never imagined I’d see here.

The map I’d been given must have been a little old as it still showed many camping grounds but everytime I went to find them all I was greeted with was more apparments. In one place I rode off into some trees in an effort to find this camping ground and upon not finding it, exited to be greeted by security guards waving guns at me. After the arrival of the police and some discussion I was told all the camping grounds had been closed but there was a nice hotel/casino down the road which I was welcome to try. I passed.

At the Romanian border there was a bit of a snag. Apparently I needed a visa and the only place I was going to get it was in Sophia. After riding back to Sophia and being told I had to wait 5 days for my visa I decided maybe I’d try instead to go through Serbia. At the Serbian border the officials were demanding $100 insurance for the motrocycle for a 3 day jaunt through their country. I decided this was much too steep on my meagre budget. So my attempts to travel throught he Balkins being thwarted on all sides I wheeled around back to Greece and on to Italy.

Italy
Only 5 minutes after getting off the ferry from Italy a car came screeching up beside me it’s horn beeping madly. The Italian looking driver leaned out the window and, glancing at my number plate, shouted “G’day mate! Did you drive that all the way from Victoria? Welcome to Italy,” and screeched off.

Italy has so many old building that the Italians just can’t be bothered restoring many of them and so they sit there gracefully decaying in the countryside. This country with a proud history is also full of proud people.

In Florence I caught up with a Sydney family, the Lubbocks who have come to Italy to serve amongst the University community and were enjoying the summer break when I stopped by. If you are like me you may be wondering who’s arm did they have to twist to land a placement in Italy as opposed to say Pakistan! What a cruisy place to work and live - it must be all lattes and Lambrusco. But after coming to Italy, experiencing some of the country and the people, maybe it’s not the sweet job I originally though it would be.

The Lubbocks are connected with a Brethern church that meets right in the heart of the old city. In the Sunday service I shared some of our experiences in places like Iran and how our perception of ‘church’ had been shaped. It’s not the building or the institiution but the people that make a church what it is. I heard one of the most passionate sermons ever in true Italian style, pity I couldn’t understand it, save for the notes Andrew would scribble for me to keep me in the know.

The Lubbocks were challenged to come here by another Australian family who were already labouring here. It’s a country with 1.6 million students but maybe only 100 in university fellowships right across the country, and only a handful of full-time staff. The need is massive. There is a gaping hole here that the Lubbocks are trying to fill and this will be no easy job in a post-Christian country where people will look at any religion as long as it’s not Christianity.

The Lubbocks are starting from the ground up learning the language, the culture, the way of life just like you would going to any foreign country. They are committed to long term ministry here. Andrew said the average time a missionary stays in Italy is only about three years. There could be many reasons for this and I suspect relate to the difference between the expectations and the reality of working here. Another issue that is easy to overlook at the start is the number of people who want to visit you when you work in a exciting exotic and ‘civilised’ country. Andrew recounted the number of people who had ‘popped by’ in the last year looking to garner some hospitality from them while I shrunk into the seat feeling a little sheepish being another number on a growing tally. Gone are the days where Nato and I were the only visitors people had ever accomodated. Andrew is very philosophical about it though. He says it gives them a chance to serve by being hospitable, although they don’t envisage this being their primary ministry role here. Their main hope is to reach the locals for Christ and while God is working miracles in countries like India where many are coming to Chirst each day, the work in Italy looks to be tough going at the moment. Italy isn’t experiencing a massive revival at the moment, but with the hard work these guys are puttting in, anything is possible.

Our gallant motorbike is starting to get tired I think. It is still valiantly pushing on but it is starting to eat cogs and sprockets at an accelerated rate. The front tyre that we bought in Iran has worn in a really peculiar fashion. All the blocks of tread are shaped like ski jumps. The bike has also developed a liking for oil as well as petrol. As for it’s rider, he has had to make some cutbacks on expenditure due to the high cost of everything in Europe. Therefore everything except petrol and food is out (that includes camping grounds and the likes). I’ve found petrol stations to be a great place to stay overnight, dry and sometimes they even have showers. A few nights ago it absolutely poured down, I pulled into the closest servo and met some freindly Tunisians in a car that had the same idea as me. Instant friends; love those Arabs.

Julio