Ride on, Willie

While driving from the Danube Delta down towards Constanta, we were hailed by the Police. “Here we go” I thought and got myself ready for some fine for some rule just made up. Perhaps I was a little hasty in my judgement. It transpired that the police were attempting to help a German cyclist who was no longer able to cycle his bike. As I greeted the police with a Buna Zeau they assumed I was a local, so I then had to communicate that I could not understand him!!…thought the steering wheel would have given it away.
The cyclist had a trailer with his bike and was doing a world tour, he was also due to do a tv interview in Constanta the next day as he was famous for his cycles. I then remembered about Heinz Stucke, but could not recall his name at the time. This cyclist called himself Willie. I kept asking him if he had had his bike stolen in UK, but he misunderstood my English. After measuring the van, he said his bike and trailer would not fit. By then the police had hailed a bigger van, so we are optimistic that Willie made it to the next town.
Finally we made it to our campsite between Constanta and the border. It is a resort campsite…..with the pleasure of squat toilets whose doors don’t lock!! Nice. Still we are making the most of wifi and communicating and researching the next bit of our trip. We are hopeful of spending one week in a small village in Bulgaria helping out on an organic farm/campsite and getting to meet some local village folk.
To all who would like to visit Romania, I advise you to do so before it is homogenised into the EU empire. The cottage food industry is still alive here, but it wont be for long. The traditional peasant life continues in the north of the country, but who knows for how long if it no longer is necessary. As the roads get better, more people from the west will surely come here in greater numbers and so the prices will rise and rise…

On Thursday we cross the border and say hello to Bulgaria and attempt to get to grips with its fine language and alphabet.

To swelter in the Delta

Our trip to Romania could not be complete without visiting the Danube Delta. It was a fair distance out of the way, but well worth it. After a very long hot drive, where we left the slightly cooler mountains and crossed the scorching plains, we eventually arrived in the arid delta region. So much of the land looked parched beyond belief. Crops were totally wilted and grass was quickly turning to dust. It seems the devastation we’ve read about occurring in England due to the floods, is equally matched over here due to draught. On arrival in the village of Murghiol we were approached by Serghei Condrat, a local man who offered accommodation and boat trips. As we were in search of both, we struck a deal (in my school girl French) and were soon parked up in his farm yard. Serghei and his wife have a small plot of land where he’s built a house from local resources and traditional methods. There were lots of examples of items being reused, and lots of things stored, awaiting a new purpose. They had dozens of chickens, a pig, cats, dogs, vegetable plot and small vineyard. The kitchen was outside, there was no running water and all the heat came from an enormous wood burning stove.

When he first said “donc demain, cinq heure et demi?” (excuse poor spelling) I thought ha ha very funny, then I realised he wasn’t joking. So at 5am our alarm clock sounded, not that we would have needed one as the cockerel was equally punctual and we would have been awake from then on, boat trip or no boat trip. By 6am we were on the water. The sun was just about to rise and not another sole was in sight. The next 5 hours were spent cruising the river, canals and lakes of a very small part of the great Danube Delta. In no particular order we saw, pelicans, cormorants, glossy ibis, egrits and little egrits, a bittern, various unidentified terns, gulls and waders. A few lapwings, lots of white storks, herons – purple, grey, squacco and night – and some ducks, coots and mute swans. Down a narrow tributary we chased several kingfishers for almost half an hour. We also saw a small mammal which looked a bit like a beaver, our guide could only tell us what it was called in Romanian, but said they make nice hats and ladies coats from its fur, nice! In parts of the delta we had to punt along as the plants growing on the bottom just got caught in the motor every few meters. Serghei said that normally the water level is between 3-4m at present it is only 50cm. This is having a big effect on the whole ecosystem. The most obvious example was the giant shell fish that normally live on the bottom. The water temperature has increased substantially due to the level being so low, and so many of these creatures are dying, the surface being littered with floating shells. As we came back to shore most boats seemed to be just leaving for the day, packed with tourists, but we were very glad to be missing the heat of the day.

Bucegi Camping for Free

De Wilderness and de Bears

After reading about the Transfagarasan mountain pass being only opened in the summer months, we decided Napoleon was up for the challenge. Great road to drive, never got into fourth gear at all, mainly second and third with full lock on some of the hairpin bends. We had planned to park at the cable car car-park (park n’ ride essentially) and take the easy way up to 2100m. It was thronged with lots of people and cars who had made the effort to get up early, unlike us. So we battled on up the hills, my forearms shifting up and down the gears like mad. Then after 1km we saw a space where we decided to park up and maybe camp for FREE. The Budget Master was very happy with this idea. So with map, food and a trail in mind, we lazily meandered back to the cable car and flew up to. At the top there was a small glacial lake, with lots of folk having bbqs and picnics, admiring the vistas of the highest ridges in the Carpathian mountains. We ate our hang sandwiches and made for the ridge. We picked a walk that was arduous at the start but which descended the last two thirds of the route. After ten minutes we lost the trail, slightly ominous, but found it again by that great invention of stealth and espionage – binoculars. We continued to make our way up to the heady heights of 2400m with magnificent views all around. Then we again lost the trail on our descent, so perhaps slightly foolishly we split up, one with the camera, the other with the binoculars in search of the elusive trail mark. After 3 minutes I began to imagine the wolves, lynx, brown bear nibbling at one of us. So I scuttled back over the ridge and found Laura. Then next minute I saw the trail mark several hundred metres away from where we were. I had to take a photo to make sure. Alas eventually this trail lead to nowhere helpful. It became clear that the trail was no longer in use as we came across 2m high pine trees densely packed together!! So began the exercise and possible new sport of tree walking!! Essentially we were walking roughly 10m per min max, and that was with full throttle on the adrenaline tanks. I still had half a mind on the local carnivores and the setting sun. Looking at the map only served to increase our anxiety about getting back in one piece. Finally we made it into a larger forest with no tree walking required. I hurriedly found a stick to fight the Bears with! and so began the task of persuading our exhausted muscles to run and dash through the forest. We made up our own trail at this stage, which ended with a view of the road from 20 m above, so I scouted the ridge, lost the torch, found the torch and then found a safe route down!! We kept imagining wolves watching us from the forest edges, a trick of the imagination that never transpired into reality.
We stayed at our spot with the company of others, for some nights, and on the last night we saw a Brown Bear! He was scavenging from the bin in front of our van. As it was about 4am we were unable to make out much definition, but it was an exciting 15 minutes. It was difficult to resist the temptation of turning on the van’s headlights or taking a photo as that would have scared him off, but also offered a better view of what he looked like. But we didn’t.
We continued our journey over the mountain pass and into Wallachia – S.Romania and then back towards Brasov.

Sorin the Magnificent

Ahhh Sorin, our genial host and owner of Mioritica gave us a fine welcome to his cavernous home. Sorin, a history teacher leads a double life as a tour guide during the summer holidays. He gives tours of the local saxon lands, but also conducts tours abroad? A big man who at times seemed to be suffering from the effects of marijuana smoking, was able to give us a low down on the new Romania. It made the stay a lot more colourful. Sorin managed to acquire his land for almost nothing and has composed a very aesthetically pleasing complex of huts and wooden buildings which he rents out. Traditional Romanian food is also available. Scattered around the garden and sheds are vestiges of romania’s distant and more recent past. There is even a nostalgic room devoted to Nicolaui Ceaucescu. Met some Austrian lads doing a mad whistle stop tour of Romania, Bulgaria, and the Balkan countries in 3 weeks. Made us feel like we were going at snails pace.
Although this was one of the big expenses of our Romanian trip, we got a better sense of how the locals lived. There is still a real community spirit of giving lifts to those walking on the road, buying or borrowing some eggs off the neighbours and giving Tuica brandy to the neighbours in return.
We have managed to spot Bee Eaters…very colourful with bat like wings and long beaks. They nest in burrows in the hills. Very acrobatic to watch. We also finally got to see a bird of prey up close, but not close enough to firmly identify it. I think it was a Buzzard, but Laura thinks it was a Black Kite. Say no more, other than we wont be on the Ornithologists shortlist for best bird watcher!

The Eyes can see you

One of the big attractions in Transylvania is Sibiu. Recently appointed as EU capital of culture, the square and many of the streets have a certain western European gleam to them. An old Saxon town, it is very walkable, with plenty of cobbled stones and 3 main squares. It is also a student town, but when we visited in July they were on their summer holidays, so the vibe wasn’t studenty per se. We happily meandered for several hours in the heat until our feet began to melt into our shoes! The houses are adorned with tiled roofs, which also have eyelet shapes in them, which give the sense of being watched. Managed to pick up some maps of the Fagaras Mountains and Bucegi Mountains with hiking trails marked. Which meant we could at last go safely into the mountains. Or so we thought.

Hunadora

Our plan was to visit the earliest settled part of Romania and see some of the Neolithic remains in the vicinity of Hunadora and Hateg. Unfortunately we didn’t really know any more than this, the area was not mentioned at all in our guide book and tourist information offices are rather scares in all but the most major towns. We found Hunadora easily enough, but with little idea of what we were actually looking for within the town our aimless wander brought us to a grand Hapsburg empire dating castle. While not quite what we had intended, it was an interesting site (and not a ruin which made a refreshing change from other castles of similar age). Not too many tour groups but plenty of information signs in English gave a happy balance. The castle had its share of legends – bear pits where they would toss enemy captives – a well dug by 3 Turkish slaves promised freedom if completed. 28 years later they hit ground water, but by then the king had died and his word was not honoured, so they were killed anyway, maybe even fed to the bears, very sad story.

A more careful study of the map suggested that there might be ‘ancient sites’ amongst the villages to the east of the town, so we set off again in pursuit. On the map, red roads are usually main roads – either newly surfaced and fantastic, awaiting resurfacing and fairly bumpy having been patched and re-patched, or currently undergoing resurfacing and to be avoided if at all possible. Half the road is usually closed and both sets of traffic lights on green, but then its not like anyone actually adheres to the traffic light system over here anyway, so general chaos prevails. Anyway, red, orange and yellow roads are generally tarmac. White roads however on the whole tend to be gravel, often with more potholes than actual road surface testing Napoleons suspension to the limit. As the only way to reach these villages was along said white roads progress was slow. The temperature gauge on the van having broken we had one eye always on the warning light, Napoleon is not a massive fan of long-term 2nd gear. Finally we reached a village, but having taken several wrong turns (there are also no signposts on these white roads) and as the village was not on the map (an all to common occurrence) we pulled over to assess the situation. Continue along the gravel track, up the very steep hill that stood before us in the hope that we are still heading in the right direction, or turn around and take a very long route back to camp. As we sat and pondered over cheese sandwiches, appreciating the peace and tranquillity of the place, a distant bell grew ever closer, and after a while, over the ridge appeared 3 lumbering cows, closely pursued by their lady owner. As the cows grazed in the ditch she took a seat on a near by log all the time chatting away to her small heard and occasionally waving her stick at them. Being the only person we had seen for some time, we decided she was our best bet for trying to determine our location and route. As I approached I received the biggest smile I have possible ever witnessed, it almost looked painful to achieve. It was accompanied by a native American Indian style hand gesture, and for a long moment I wondered if she was expecting a high five. I showed her our map and attempted to pronounce where we wanted to go. Fortunately she understood immediately and confirmed we had to go up and over the hill, “drum, drum, drum”, drive, drive, drive we were instructed. So with sincere thanks we set off. After 10 minutes Napoleon inevitable over heated, but by that time we were over the worst and so just sat back and enjoyed the amazing views while we waited for him to cool down. The scenery was spectacular as the landscape was bathed in warm evening sun. By the time we made it down and into the villages near the ‘ancient sites’ it was fairly late and with still no signage to indicate where these might be, we finally decided to give up, perhaps some things are just not meant to be found.

Maramures and Bucovina

Our first week in Romania saw us cover a great number of miles. For one reason or another we seemed to be travelling most days. Unlike previous countries we had visited, most of the places we wanted to see involved a drive and were fairly well spread out. We therefore spent large amounts of time in the van, putting Napoleon through his paces and Tom’s newly acquired driving skills to the test. The north of Romania seems to be considerably cooler than further south, so it was a welcome break from the high temperatures we had begun to acclimatise to. Our first stop was in the village of Sapanta, famous for its merry cemetery, just 4 km south of the Ukraine boarder. On paper it could be considered a bit tasteless, as rather than conventional headstones, the graves are marked by colourful wooden pictures, illustrating the deceased – sometimes in a rather comical pose and accompanied by a short humorous poem about their life. It felt more of a celebration of life and gave visitors a stronger sense of the people who had lived in the village.

The village itself was fascinating to walk through. Having recently visited a Hungarian ethnographic museum and wandered around the medieval homesteads (with a slight romantic yearning) we now found ourselves wandering round a much more authentic village, complete with the sounds and smells of simple country life. The roadsides were lined with chickens, geese and sheep. Cows came meandering down the road at dusk and horses and carts trundled past. Every house had a well stocked vegetable plot and hay stack or two. The older generation seemed to be dressed in a fairly traditional uniform and hat or head scarf, the younger people however were all kitted out in jeans and t-shirts. It is said that their lifestyle has barely changed in 500 years, but it will be interesting to see if it remains the same for much longer, I doubt it.

Photo is of painted Bucovina Monastery, painted top to toe both outside and in. Very popular pilgrimage for Greek Orthodox Christians.

“Tu Anglais Mafia Bandito”!

Well I have never been so insulted in all my life, there I was, just freshly arrived into Romania, and I get accosted and accused. We pulled in to drain some money from the ATM and I stayed in the van. I could see the father and son team of windscreen washers walking towards me with their tools ready. I was ready with my head shakes and firm ‘no’. That didn’t stop them though. Next minute the smaller lad had climbed up onto the bonnet and was scrubbing and brushing at old Napoleon’s screen. Then came the question of payment. Now I am not one to be scrimping with payment or gratuities, but I do not like to be bullied or forced into paying for something that I did not seek out. I was asked to hand over 10 english paper notes to quote. When I doubted this, the man typed it into his flash mobile phone. At this stage I was getting slightly indignant and ready for the escalation. Luckily all that happened was a lot of eye contact and me protesting that I had never requested such a fine job be done and hence no payment was obliged other than a thank you. We drove off with hands tapping on the van and shouts of Bandito. I really wanted to correct the man as to my nationality, but I felt this would be wasted on him. There does seem to pervade a sense that if you have a vehicle with a GB sticker on the rear, that you have money, and lots of it…..I wonder where this idea merges into a demand for £10 for a shoddy piece of windscreen washing and car climbing. ‘Bandito’, a case of pot kettle black me thinks.
When entering Romania you not only have to endure the sort of encounters as detailed above, but are legally obliged to buy a vignette or road tax/toll. This is not a lot by western European standards, i.e 5 Euros for 30 days. Hopefully the money will be spent on the roads. I feel for the suspension already, as the roads are shocking, and we are sticking to the main roads. They are incredibly straight, making overtaking much easier, but the surface is abysmal altogether. By the end of the day’s driving it feels like you have been on a journey across the sea; my poor old vestibular system doesn’t know what to expect at all with a bad case of sea legs resulting.

Szeged

Our last stop in Hungary was to the delightfully untouristy university town of Szeged. We even had cloudy weather which was very welcome after the Turkish heat of Pecs. We stayed on a campsite on the banks of the great Tisza river. Initially we thought what a dump(!) place looked like it could do with a severe makeover. Then we crossed the river into town and noticed the flood levels marked on a wall. The highest level by far was reached in April 2006. It far superseded the great flood of 1879 which destroyed half of the city. Our campsite had obviously been totally submerged 15 months ago, only the very tops of the roofs would have been visible above the water, no wonder it looked so bedraggled.

Our guide book recommended the Serbian Orthodox Church, but it took a little finding, a plain building, tucked away behind the main Catholic Cathedral. A very old man with a very impressive beard greeted us and, having taken our 40p, hurried inside to switch on the lights and music. Suddenly we went from a dim silence, to find we were surrounded by reds and golds, giant chandeliers and a chorus of what we can only assume is Serbian Orthodox Church music. The whole front of the church was decorated with a beautiful gold tree with saints hanging from it. As the only visitors it seemed a shame there were not more people to appreciate this place, but then I guess the experience would have been very different had the church been full of other flash happy visitors.

Back at the ranch our pitch included admission to the outdoor thermal baths, still not very eggy but rather green. As the day had been so grey the baths were almost empty. We therefore had a great big pond to ourselves. The sun came out just before it set and we swam (no officials around to enforce dipping) up and down parting the leaves and bugs, it was a really nice end to the day and our Hungarian excursion.