Romania Nov 08

Ah Romania!!  A land made most famous by a blood sucking fictional character! Where the locals can´t read maps and have no concept of distances, the drivers are maniacs and checkout times are 12pm!

Having recently joined the EU, times are set to change for this large & diverse country where much of the population still maintains a peasant lifestyle in their working of the land, usually in husband and wife pairs.

Crossing into Romania on our evening train, we breathed a sigh of relief when border control waved us through with disinterest (we only recently heard that they´d dropped the required visa for Aussies and Kiwis) seemingly more interested in stashed contraband being smuggled in.

As we were leaving the train at Timosuara, our Kiwi carriage companion was preparing to spread out for the overnight journey to Bucharest and our thoughts went out to him as we strode past the hordes of people who were elbowing their way on board

Timosuara

Arriving in another foreign country late at night, with no local currency, no where to stay and no idea where we were... we were pretty happy not to be mobbed by taxi touts.  Our first stop was the ATM - another guess at how much we need (what is the exchange rate, how many days do you think we´ll stay, etc) and then cross your fingers that you don´t get denominations that are almost impossible to break!

Finding the only hostel in town to be closed, we settle on a reasonably priced hotel in the centre.  Heading out to pick up brekkie supplies, we check out the small centre, take a few pictures and head back for a fantastic night´s sleep in our comfortable double bed.  Well two singles pushed together, they rarely do doubles over here.

Although we had mainly stopped here to pick up a hire care, we find the place to have a very charming appeal.  The old communist dictactors had a fondness for central boulevards, so we encounter a couple of these in town.  We take the recommended walking tour that takes in all the main sites, before arriving at the hire car place to be told that there was a 80-100euro charge to return the car in another city!!!  Change of plans....next train to Sibiu!

Turned out we were lucky, as the train was departing in less than an hour....one of only 2 trains a day!  So after queuing for tickets at the busiest train ticket queue we´ve encountered, we were on our way to Transylvania - now arriving late at night on Halloween!  Mark enjoys retelling the story of American Werewolf in London...  The scene with the backpackers arriving in a strange town at night to find a bar of weird locals who warn them to stay on the path...  But the travellers make a fateful mistake and get lost and attacked by a crazed monster...

Sibiu

We hit the train station, once again ignoring the taxis and take a short cut to town, although going off instinct.  Once again, we guess well and make it through the old medieval fortifications to cobble stones, a sure sign of a tourist section.Through the old town, we stumble across a hostel not on our lonely planet map.  The Flying Time hostel was brand new, with very comfortable beds, full kitchen and great bathrooms.   Excellent find!  By chance,, we were reunited with a couple of our roommates from Bled (who confirm the pissing story details).

We dumped our bags and headed into a town to see what happens on Halloween here in the heart of Transylvania...  Not much, ,apparently...  Walking past what must have been a school dance, we were a little surprised at the number  of very young kids smoking across the road.  Just a little further along we spotted the promotional car and crew for Marlborough cigarettes...  unfortunately we couldn´t get them both in the same photo frame.

Sibiu is a lovely little city that was recently restored to its former grandeur, now registered  as an EU 2007´s Capital of Culture (The EU actually do a good job of promoting tourism in high potential places).  Finding a number of funky cafes, we settle on an underground Wine and Cheese Bar with live Jazz (playing covers of English songs).  1L of wine, a shot each of the local palinka and a cheese platter later, we eventually stumbled home...

Mandy was sick that night....initially thinking food poisoning or maybe just some bug...spent the night over the toilet bowl, as Mark slept the night away.  Feeling like crap the next day, she also had to drive the little Matiz we hired, the smallest (and cheapest) hire car available!  There was no way we would try and sleep in this car.....it was so small that only one backpack fit in the boot and we were practically sitting on top of each other in the front!!

The hire car guy spent a lot to time warning us about the driving on their roads.  Repeatedly saying that every driver is very aggressive so it´s necessary to give as good as you get.  So after telling us to be extra careful - 10 times - we head off.   We were confused about road rules for sometime, but generally people seem to respect the shellspace of the car and won´t run into anything, so we squeeze our way out of town...  which is when the fun starts.

Simply put, Romanian drivers are so crazy, they make Croatian drivers seem like the elderly out for a Sunday afternoon drive! Like most of Eastern Europe, one-way signs and road rules are merely suggestions, whist parking is some sort of practical joke!  Here overtaking is their obsession.  As most roads are one lane each way, the centre of the road is reserved for cars overtaking.  This right to overtake is so certain, overtaking drivers will continue on a collision course if they can see you have room to move over, allowing them to continue their passing move...  whether it is a blind corner or they are driving a truck well over the speed limit.  Our favourite move was the double overtake... where, not settling to overtake just one car, they overtake cars in the act of overtaking other cars on the single lane roads.  Yes, 3 cars wide on a single lane road.  You have to laugh.

As a driver, you certainly had to have your wits about you.  Avoiding cars, carts, horses, people and potholes keeps the knuckles white and eyes glued open.  An indicator meant ¨move out of my way, I´m overtaking¨ giving the driver complete right of way, usually while talking on their mobile phones.

Initially we were pretty frightened for our lives as cars zoomed past us and towards us at high speed.  We began to regret the small, airbag-less car, wishing for one of the Audi or BMW´s that were getting up close and personal with us.  It eventually became quite amusing to watch the impatient drivers take on risks though... as long as we weren´t involved.

Romanian drivers are so impatient that they even have little countdown timers at traffic lights, counting down the seconds to the change in lights!  Apparently this is a new investment and is very popular with the locals.

Sighet

We visited Sighet in the far north on the Ukrainian border, for a step back in time into the village life of Romanian peasants.  Apparently the geography of this area, just over a mountain range, has left the villages undeveloped by several successive rulers.  As a result, even Romanians joke that the villages have changed little since medieval times.

Our first stop was Sapanta to visit the ¨cheerful graveyard¨.  Here, the bright blue gravestones each tell a light-hearted story of the deceased.  The artist, who carves them out of wood, shows an image and tells a story that captures a moment in the height of their life or the event of their death. Check out some of the photos for some details!  Not surprisingly, we find a lot of people killed in a car crash...and they still make light of this, even if they´re small children!  Our favourite was the nagging mother-in-law, that required no translation!!

Unfortunately Mark also got sick here, spending his night hugging the toilet bowl.  He insists it was related to the 100ml shots of cheap brandy and vodka we finished off dinner with.  Very grateful for the 12pm checkouts in Romania!!  The English guy who owned the hostel got his mother, in his words ¨a bit of a witch doctor¨, to make Mark a cup of some sort of tea, the only thing Mark was able to keep down all morning!  Mark claims the effect was almost miraculous and was disappointed not to get the secret ingredients.

That morning (afternoon), we visited the monthly village markets on this guy´s recommendation, Villagers from all around make their way into town for this event.  Locals come either on foot, by hitchhiking or by horse and cart, to trade stock.  So in the middle of a field just outside of town we find this buzz of activity.  Weaving our way into the crowd we find all types of livestock, chicken feed, screaming piglets in sacks, massive heffa pigs so fat they would need to be rolled down the ramps of trucks, and yes, fresh and thick aromas to match these scenes.  It was not so much about avoiding stepping in fresh manure, as making sure you weren´t standing next to an animal when it raised it´s tail...  This didn´t  agree so well with Mark´s fragile state, and he escaped to throw up in the nearby bushes...

There is a lot of hitchhiking going on from the locals, but having such a small car and not being able to speak any of the language, we had driven past numerous gesticulating hopefuls.  We started to fear they´d put a gypsie curse on us, causing us to get sick. To settle our account and undo the curse, we stopped to give one of the villagers a lift towards town.  It must have worked because Mark began the road to recovery soon after (sort of).

We spent the remainder of the day driving through small villages - some famous for their wooden carvings, houses or monasteries.  We stopped in one village where a local invited Mands into his free carving museum....  This turned out to be a real highlight, as he was a third generation carpenter building the traditional gates and monuments in the region.  Somewhat like a totem pole in a gate or arch-way design.  Each part having very symbolic and local meanings, which they were working hard to preserve.  He spent almost an hour explaining the details of their trade and challenges they face.  The tour of the workshop included seeing a number of large saws.  Mark was able to share the story of slicing his hand on similar apparatus, this appeared to lift our carpentry credibility, as he began asking detailed questions about Australian hardwoods.  Old mate appeared interested in coming to Australia one day to demonstrate his trade, but it was nice to have no pressure to buy anything.

Each house in these areas has a seat out the front where they would while away the Sunday afternoon talking to neighbours and other villagers passing by, dressed in their traditional costumes - definitely a unique experience for us.  Makes you think about all those western families sitting around living rooms not talking to each other, let alone those pesky neighbours...  We feel like we are missing a great experience because we can´t stop and speak with them in their language.  We promise to chat to the Europeans we see back in Australia who appear to be in the same position... sitting at the front of their houses wondering why all these rude people aren´t taking the time to share a moment with each another.

Sighosoara

Returning to Transylvania, we drive a long hop to arrive in the dark.  Very pleased to have arrived safely, we spent the night in Sighosoara, in a hostel that had kept trying to close down over winter but people kept coming to stay on!  We hear it is still open even 3 weeks on!

The old town set in a walled hill top city, was a quaint little medieval village with a couple of pokey little museums, an eerie church playing scary Dracula music on the large organ as you descend into the ancient crypt....and a Gothic tower you could climb, showing views over the foggy morning.  In our experience, this was certainly the most vampiresque town in Romania.

Brasov

Next stop , was Bran, just outside Brasov, to visit Dracula´s Castle,.....a 15th century castle with a myriad of rooms, supposedly a place where the real Dracula (Bram Stoker´s inspiration) visited. Here we (Mandy) was ripped off with the parking when they told us we needed to pay for2 hours, but were well and truly finished within one.  Trying to get our $3 back, Mands almost ended up in a fight....and walked away threatening to call the police!

We spent the night in a ¨hostel¨ in Brasov - a converted house with a number of bunk beds crammed into a spare room and sharing the lounge and kitchen with the owners!  We later learned that they didn´t change the sheets after we ran into fellow guests at our next location...  Also the water pipes were cracked and the owner kept turning off the water, including overnight.  Those of you who enjoyed the midnight toilets in Cusco (Peru) will share the memory of a busy toilet that doesn´t flush...  eeww!!

Sibiu (again)

Having to return the car in Sibiu (after nerve racking 1,100 kms), we enjoyed our last night in our favorite Transylvanian town, discovering the wonders we´d missed our first time here.  Highlights included the old town and the church that we tried our hardest to climb. The old town feels a bit like the scene from Oliver Twist, with many parts unchanged for over a century.  Not sure we managed to capture this in the photos, but very appealing.  We also found the most impressive Orthodox church of our travels, but no photos were allowed inside.  A few paintings seemed to show the 12 disciples being preached to by a female, a rare sight.

We went out for a few beers in another cool little underground bar with an English couple and a Finnish guy (Ilmuri).  The five of us sat down, but only three of us were drinking so we ordered 3 local beers.  No local beer, only Becks.  OK, 3 Becks it is.  Five beers arrive - fairly warm (they tend to turn their refrigerators off after summer in this part of the world).  We say that we only ordered 3.  ¨I´ve already opened them¨ was her response, leaving us little choice but to drink them, while she turned her back, turned the music up so we needed to shout to hear each other and then sat on the couch with her friends who all just stared at us.  Needless to say, we only stayed for those beers and then moved on, finding another cool cellar bar hidden under our hostel.  They like these in Romania.

Waiting for the bus to Bucharest, we find it impossible to avoid the fitful coughing taking place behind us,  Half expecting a lung to be coughed up on us, we hope she´s not planning to get our bus so that we don´t catch whatever she´s got....Then click, the sound of a cigarette lighter....turning to find the same lady sucking back a cigarette like it´s her life support system.....at least emphysema is not contagious!!.    I think we´re yet to come across someone who doesn´t smoke in these parts of the world....

Bucharest

Another big, dirty capital city, Bucharest was a mishmash of neon signs, grand classical buildings, communist style blocks, wide boulevards and narrow alleys being dug up.  The traffic was horrendous, so bad in fact that each afternoon they ignored the traffic lights and had police on every corner, directing traffic.  This didn´t prevent cars hooting in frustration, nor improve the crazy parking. Drivers seem to pull-up wherever they want, stop their engines and vacate their vehicle.  If we didn´t know any better, we would have assumed that something terrible had just happened and people HAD to vacate their cars wherever they were.  Even Romanian´s dread driving here.  We were pleased to see bike lanes and wondered why there were no bikes, before we realised that these too were used for vacated vehicles! 

We stayed in a fairly central hostel and we were lucky to get beds.  It was the weekend and our place was teeming with Romanian teenagers who spent the entire time smoking, drinking, doing their hair and makeup, carrying on and sleeping in. Not sure what the deal was there...  It felt a little like an underage party, complete with group singing, You Tube viewing and girls being sick in the showers (gross).  We tried to avoid the place for everything but sleep.

We spent the first night wandering around, checking out the Palace, the second largest building in the world, after the Pentagon.  We ended the night in a swanky cafe, over hot chocolate and cake, before walking around in circles after attempting a short cut home (the map we got was terrible).  We finally found our way back, plugged in our ear plugs to block out the teenagers in the foyer outside and drifted off.  Well, Mandy tried to...

The best part about the hostel was the breakfast!  They laid out fresh eggs, cheese and bread and let us do what we please with them!  Mmm, scrambled eggs....!

The worst part about the hostel was the fact that Mandy was eaten by SOMETHING overnight.  We thankfully ruled out bed bugs, but whatever it was (Mosquitoes, fleas...??) had a good go and left over 20 bites over her body, and kept her up most of the night!

That day we head off to visit the raved about and award winning Peasant Museum and can report that we´re not sure what all the fuss was about....it was just a museum....but maybe something was lost in translation?  Or maybe it was because we had visited many of the villages up north and seen many of the artifacts first hand, including their important religious icons, traditional  dress, wooden churches and woven rugs?

Out in the streets, we had noticed a poster advertising Underworld, the UK dance group, playing in Bucharest on 7 November!  We were pretty sure that was today´s date and set off to find out if we could get tickets.  Our hostel staff helped us to find information but advised that it was a sold out event....but undeterred, we kept up our search and found a website showing sales outlets....and it turned out one was right around the corner.  Soon enough, we had the Gold Class tickets in our hot little hands, excited to be catching such a cool event!  Calculating that the date was Mark´s half birthday (30 yrs & 6 mths), we feel a celebration is in order.

Next port of call was to check out a very old Bavarian Beer Hall in the old part of town.  Initially planning to go for one beer, we saw the menu and were sucked in by the delicious looking food and reasonable prices and stayed for a meal and a couple of beers.  Rosemary encrusted pork ribs and lamb stew.

We then head out to the Concert at the Airport, finding the Bus System easy enough with helpful locals.  As we had primed ourselves with alcohol before the event, we were very grateful.

The concert setting was a commandeered airport hanger fitted with lasers and bars to cater for the crowds.  Unfortunately it was sponsored by Becks, hence only that alcohol was on sale...  But we made the most of our Gold class tickets and rocked the night away in the front row with more elbow room than you could dream of in Sydney concerts.

We knew getting home at 1am was going to be difficult.  No public transport is operating and we knew taxi drivers would try to shake us down.  So we make friends with a couple of Romanians who also appear to be struggling to flag down a taxi.  Apparently taxis will drive to the busiest part of the crowd and demand a high fare, usually finding a punter willing to forfeit the cash.  So we are forced to wait some time until a cab slows and we all jump in.  Luckily our buddies are heading near town and we split the fare back to our Hostel.  A big relief to have found our way so easily.

The teenie´s are at it again and seem to enjoy throwing up in the showers on a regular basis.  Mark swaps bed´s with Mands to take the sting out of the bugs, but this doesn´t help much and we suffer one of the worst nights sleep so far.  Could have been the red bulls at the concert, and it certainly didn´t help that the entire dorm appeared to take turns in the ¨who can snore the loudest¨ competition as they drifted in, one every hour until after sunrise.  Talk about getting on your nerves...  Certainly getting close to breaking point.  This night´s sleep was terrible.

So, we pack our bags and get set for a bus to the Romanian coast (Black Sea), Constanta.  The hostel staff member, just out of the pub from an all-nighter, was very helpful in tracking down the bus stop locations for our trip.  We mark our map and trek over to the location, finding it with little fuss (1.5kms).  However, the Eurolines office explains that there is no bus and that the website we used is known to be wrong.  Clearly we have some considered views on the merits of accurate transport websites, but we choose not to share these.  Instead we try to get their help in finding a bus option.  Unfortunately they ¨only do buses to Constanta for people travelling from overseas¨...  Yes, we are from Australia and would like to pay for a bus...  This did not appear to compute with them, but eventually they understood we wanted to get a bus as soon as possible...  I think the backpacks where a clue.  She chose to ignore the map we had and gave us a new one, then, refusing to use this new map, she drew a map on a bit of paper....  A circle for us, a straight line, and another circle for the bus stop...  Go straight there...  This advice to go 200 metres down the road to the bus stop behind the ¨Ministry of Transport¨ was very difficult to uncover, and yet would appear an easy direction.  Far better than the repeated advice of ¨No buses to Constanta¨.  Naturally the straight line map turned out to be a little off, but a friendly stranger stepped up to explain the path through the back streets to a bus location.  He was spot-on and we arrive at a tiny bus garage to find a service departing in 3 minutes.  We made it, without losing our nerves.  Not bad after the sleep we had (or lack of).

Constanta (Black Sea)

We had been warned this town had little to offer.  Our Hostel mate told us to head straight through.  But we saw a tempting hotel in the guide book and felt we earnt a good nights sleep...  Plus, it had a spa and sauna.  So we find a local who points to town and says it is only a 4 km walk..... that will take us 20 minutes (?)...  Not sure anyone can judge distance or even walks in this country.  Anyway, we head for sanctuary and respite.

Turns out Constanta is a busy port town that is meant to be happening in Summer.   Well, it sure wasn´t summer anymore and nothing was happening, except cold winds and dirty, ugly streets.  Luckily, our hotel was great.  We were upgraded to a suite and had sole use of the sauna.  So saw little more of the cold, grey town...  Yes,we slept very very well that night.

Vama Veche

The next day we trek back to the bus stop and complete the final leg of our journey to the coast town of Vama Veche.  This is meant to be a cool hippie commune town in Summer...  But, when we arrive we find the place almost deserted... a little like a scene out of a b grade movie, with boarded up windows and creaking shutters.  We find only one accommodation option and squeeze out enough German to get the top floor of the general store.  A decent option with double bed and water views.  Although the bathroom had a terrible smell and a hose from the sink for a ¨duche¨ (shower)...  Oh well, this might explain why this town is not in the guide books.

We stock up on dinner items and prepare our dinner in the kitchen, finding that we have no can opener.  So downstairs we trot, asking the shop owner (who doesn't speak English) if she can open our tins.  "You have opener" she says, then as we deny this, she asks for the tins, pulls out a very large knife and proceeds to carve the tins open for us!

Back to our room, we find an array of stray animals has made their way inside to see what they can scrounge.  As the kitchen has no real cleaning equipment, we try to use the dogs and cats to lick the pots clean...  A bit gross, but it was intended as a first rinse for those hard to shift portions.  Unfortunately the dogs didn´t go for the onion taste, but the cats did a great job of licking around these bits.  They sure we pleased to hang around our kitchen after that offering.

The weather had by now lost all it´s warmth and the sky had turned a nasty grey over the black sea.  So we are content with a short walk around the ghost town and return to our penthouse.  Mands did learn that it is best not to bark and taunt the dogs barking and snarling behind the fences, as sometimes they can easily get through these to continue conversing in much closer proximity.   Although not bitten, she is now a little more shy of such big dogs.

After our morning Breakfast we set out in the hope of finding the Bulgarian border.  Unfortunately we only have a large denomination Romanian note and no one in town could change this.  So we head down the road on foot.  Taking a piece of cardboard, in case we need to start hitchhiking.

The road appears to roll on into the distance with no signs of towns or borders.  But we laugh about our situation and head off toward the horizon.  A few of the town stray dogs follow us for a while, but seem to give up and return to Vama Veche.  Quitters!

After only 20 minutes walk on the empty road, we see a border crossing in the distance.  We approach, not knowing the protocol for crossing on foot.  The guards seem a little surprised to see us and fumble the processing of our entry, but soon our passports are returned and we are pointed towards Bulgaria.  We made it, through the most remote and desolate border crossing, to the country we know least about.

So we left Romania with fond memories of the simple green agricultural settings linked by treacherous roads and picturesque old towns.  The capital was a rude shock after so long in quieter realms, but was enjoyed for it´s happening scenes and funky establishments.

On to Bulgaria