Romania 2003: Blessing midgets and drunken police

Travelling to Romania is like travelling back in time in Europe. Life is still uncomplicated and simple and you see a lot of horse-drawn wagons. The people are, with the exception of the women working behind counters, friendly and hospitable. And also important: the beer is unbelievably cheap. Highlights were trekking in the Carpatian mountains and a visit to a gypsy village.

Hello everybody, I'm now in Romania, Sighisoira. Sighisoira is the birthplace of Vlad Tapes, the nice guy whose hobby it was to put a big wooden pole up his enemies’ ass so they suffered great pain for 48 hours before they died. Romania is really great. The people are very friendly, show great hospitality and when they see you have a camera they start saying, ‘posa, posa’. So, no problem finding people willing to pose. The scenery is very nice, with hilly countryside. Next up I'm going into the Carpatian mountains, I’ve heard that must also be great.

Arriving in Romania is like stepping into a time capsule - on the countryside you see a lot of wagons pulled by horses. You also see a lot of gypsies. The Romanians and the Roma (gypsies) live in the same country, but that's it. I don't think the gypsies have many rights and it's hard for them to find a job, maybe that's why they have quick fingers (they are very good with their fingers: playing music and pick-pocketing). As you might know, the Roma originate from Indians and the begging is in their genes, so it felt like I was back in India when I came near a Roma ghetto (most of the time you have a village and next to the village you have a spot where the Roma live in their slums) and got surrounded by 10 Roma children acting as sad as possible showing great interest in my money-belt.

The first contact I had with a Romanian was not such a good one actually: I arrived at the train station and this guy came up to me, started to talk to me and acted as if he was my friend. He walked all the way with me to my hotel and after I had checked in he invited me for a beer (“I'll buy you one” he said). I said I was tired and wanted to stay in the hotel, and then he said: “Oh, but can you give me some money for a beer then? Because I walked all the way with you.” Yeah right.

Yesterday I went biking around in the countryside; I wanted to go for 3 days. In the beginning I thought: “Shit I regret I didn't come by bike, it's great”. But after a while I got heavy saddle soreness and got really tired, so I guess it's not that bad to travel without a bike. But the trip was great, small villages on the way and always friendly people. I was almost set up with a Roma woman in one village. Let's just say she wasn't my type. Well that's it for now, I'll keep you informed.

La revedere

Kurt


I'm just back from the most extreme experience in my life: climbing the second biggest mountain in Romania: mt. Negoiu. With its 2535 metres, it's only 8 metres smaller then the biggest one - the Moldoveanu - but the Moldoveanu is easier to climb.

The first day in the mountains, we (me + 8 Polish people) were shown the way by a drunken policeman who also shared some of his beer with us (this is Romania). We passed some other people who gave us homemade wine and delicious chocolate cake (the Romanians are too friendly). On the second day, there were no trees anymore, just grass and rocks. We didn't make it to the next cabana, but could stay in a salvation shelter (a small metal box). Thank god the thing was there because there was a fierce wind blowing (I don't wanna know how it is in wintertime), any tent would have been blown away.

After that we headed of for Negoiu – up until now everything had been easy. But this mountain is different. When I saw how we had to get there, I thought: "This mountain is gonna be my grave". No path, just rocks to climb over and, of course, very steep. I was really scared and even wished I was back in good old flat Holland (for a second). But what a view: a big valley with big boulders scattered around and us climbing over this fields of rocks. Wow! Any step could have been the last. Of course we didn't make it to the next cabana, fortunately enough; once again there was another shelter in a moonlike surrounding with a small lake.

Next day we walked through the clouds with the sound of thunder in the background and reached the last cabana. We made it just in time - it started raining hard just as we put the first beer to our lips. After the beer followed the palinka so the next day was kind of hard; I had the feeling I was going to faint.

I came down from the mountains and went to a small village called Carta. And what did I see there to my big surprise? A campsite with the very un-Romanian name "De oude wilg". The campsite is run by a Romanian man, who had lived in Holland, and his Dutch wife. The father, mother and brother of the wife also live in this village and the brother just started a "stroopwaffel" business. The village is very nice so I will go there after Sibiu where I am now. I am staying at a friend’s place; I have my own room in the cellar, which is connected to the courtyard where the grapes are hanging peacefully.

Before I went in the mountains, I went to a gypsy village with a Luxemburgish photographer. The gypsies have already lived there, in their self-built "houses" (or slums), for 15 years and they don't have any water - every morning they have to walk to the city to get it. It was good to meet gypsies who don't beg and who do show respect. I had a good time with them. I think I will stay here 2 more days, then go to the "De oude wilg" and then further to Brasov. Time is running out, the Mongolian winter is getting closer. Too bad - I could stay here for a long time.

La revedere

Kurt


After staying in the mountains, I took the train to Copsa Mica to take some pictures of an old oil refinery there. I think it’s the most polluted area in Romania. The ground around this enormous factory is pitch black. I’d heard that you’re not allowed to take pictures there (it’s probably because they are not so proud of their status as the most polluted place in Romania), so more reason to go and do it. Joseph, the guy I stayed with in Sibiu told me he got chased by guards with machineguns. So I was kind of tense when I got there. I walked around on the tips of my toes… straight into a, fortunately malfunctioning, guard dog. He just gazed at me.
A bit later, I heard somebody talking on a cell-phone just a few metres away from me, so I ducked down, crouching on the heavily polluted ground, hiding behind some tall vegetation. Later, I was discovered by guards - thank god without machineguns – and they kindly asked me to leave, which I did.

After this, I went to camping "De Oude Wilg" in Carta. It was good to relax here from all the moving around and doing things. Next stop was Brasov. After a few days there, I wanted to take the train to Bucharest. So I got a ticket saying 1624. I thought this was the time, so I asked if there was no train earlier then 16.24. The woman behind the counter said in her friendliest and most cooperative way (which for her was really hard, I guess) "NO". And this was at 10 in the morning. So I waited and waited and waited, until at 3 o’clock I found out this 16.24 was not the time but the train number!

From Bucharest, I went to the Black Sea coast. On the train, a strange dwarf came in my compartment holding a picture of Maria and moving her hand quickly in a strange manner just in front of my face. She probably wanted to bless and save this old sinner (of course for money). It was a strange experience, like in a David Lynch movie.
The Black Sea coast was awful. A holiday in hell - so I only stayed one day. Loud, stupid music was played on the overcrowded beach and the place displayed a lack of taste (this included the food). After a few days, I took the train to Istanbul.

Romania left a very good impression. The hospitability of the people is enormous. Other things that struck me was the huge amount of crows, the unbelievable bad taste in music and fashion (Steven eat your heart out) and the rudeness of people working behind counters (like in many Eastern Europe countries).