(written when I lived in Paris, 2005)
My boyfriend and I arrived at the Bucharest train in the early evening on October 25, remarkably well-rested after our 19-hour train ride from Istanbul. Arriving in a new country at a new train station is always a little bit stressful – I’m partly looking for an ATM machine to get the local currency as soon as possible, part checking my phone to see if it will work, part keeping my eye out for pick-pocket types, part trying to look like I know where I’m going. Our first priority was to buy a phone card and call our Hospitality Club hosts to try and meet up with them, which we accomplished without any problems. Our next priority, food. I wolfed down a croissant and coffee at a train station restaurant and relaxed for a little while. From there, it was on the metro to meet our hosts.
In the morning, Razvan offered me coffee. “Yes!” I said enthusiastically. “okay, but um, you will have to help me make it… I actually don’t drink coffee.” It was so cute. I showed him how to use a coffee maker, and he set out a mug, sugar, and milk for me. He showed us to the metro, gave us advice for getting to our next destination (Brasov), and we said our goodbyes (Ramona had left much earlier in the morning for work). I had such a good time hanging out with those two; I wish we could have stayed in Bucharest longer. But our trip to Romania wasn’t about seeing big cities, we wanted to get into the countryside.
Razman couldn’t tell us exactly how to hitchhike out of Bucharest, but instead advised us to take a mini-bus to Ploiesti (a smaller town) and hitch from there. It was really easy; the mini-bus took us 60 kilometers (1/3 of the way to Brasov) and cost us about 2 Euros each. From the station in Ploiesti we walked about a kilometer or so to where we thought was a good hitching spot headed north. We stuck out our thumbs and people started pulling over almost immediately, but they were all going the wrong way, which lead us to believe we were pointed the wrong way. So we walked back, walked around some more, and long story short realized that we were just not in the right spot of the town to get on a road headed north to Brasov. We finally figured out that the answer was to get on a bus to the Ploiesti Vest (West) station, for about 50 cents each, which is where trains were headed North (the direction we needed to go). Once we were there, it was about 4:30… and I realized there was only another 2 hours of daylight. At that point, I decided that it would be better to take a train than hitch. It was a good lesson, and we remained in good spirits all day, so I didn’t consider it a waste– but I knew that I didn’t want to chance being stuck after dark on a road 2 hours outside my destination. The train was cheap and the ride was beautiful. I stood by the windows just marveling at what I saw – mountains with colors of reds, yellows, oranges, and greens. People herding sheep. Cows and horses and horse-drawn carriages. This is what I came to Romania to see!
We arrived in Brasov with no real idea where we would stay for the night or for how long. I thought maybe we’d only stay a night, because we did have some HC hosts lined up in Sibiu, a town about 200 km West. But after spending 10 minutes in Brasov, I knew we needed more time. We were greeted at the train station by someone from the Kismet Dao hostel (the only hostel in Brasov) and at first I totally ignored him, just assuming he was one more scam artist targeting tourists at the train station. He actually followed us and insisted he was just trying to help, and then I saw the pamphlets from the hostel and the hostel shirt and I realized it was real, and I felt bad. He walked us to the buses and gave us very specific directions on how to get to the hostel. As we got on the bus, someone attempted to pickpocket my boyfriend, but being a smart guy, and had absolutely nothing of value in a spot where someone could grab it (like the side pockets of his pants or outside coat pockets). Later on we heard about how much pick-pockets target the #4 bus that leaves from the Brasov train station (it’s known as the tourist bus) to Pta. Unirii.
We went out to dinner at real restaurants both nights in Brasov because, honestly, it didn’t really even make sense not to – we spent about $3 USD per person on the first night, including tip and drinks and everything. Yes, it’s a really cheap country for Americans or Western Europeans. The people who worked at the restaurants spoke English really well, with their amazing Romanian accents. It’s such a beautiful language, and I’ve never heard English sound better than coming out of the mouth of a Romanian.
Hitchhiking out of Brasov to Sighisoara (a small town about 150 km northwest) was a cinch. We spent enough time looking at a map to know exactly where we had to go and left around 10am. We approached the “highway” on foot after walking a kilometer or so from the bus station (most Romanian highways are just 2-lane roads, most of the country isn’t populated enough for 5-lane interstates), and I saw what all the other hitchhikers had told me about: a line of people waiting to get picked up. Hitching in Romania is just that common; it’s super hard to go anywhere without seeing tons of people with their thumbs in the air. We still got picked up within 15 minutes and driven directly to Sighisoara, passing by dozens of horse-drawn carriages along the way. After a quick bathroom break and a conversation with a bunch of 10-year-old Romanian boys about American wrestling, we walked a few kilometers to the center of town. It was another case of just ending up in a town because a few people told us it was really pretty, but we had no plan where to sleep or how long we would stay once we arrived.
Sighisoara (see-ghee-SHWAH-rah) is the birthplace of Vlad the Impaler and a very pretty little mountain town, and we decided that one night would be enough time to see what we wanted to – though I think I could stay there for a good week if it was summertime and I was able to camp outside. We roamed around the Citadel (built by Saxons in 1191! cool!) exclaiming over the old buildings, the amazing views, the quiet creepiness, and the amazing graveyards that just seemed to go on forever. There were new discoveries around every corner – an old war memorial, a mysterious staircase, a broken-down funeral carriage – basically everything I had in my head when I pictured Transylvania.
Since I couldn’t find any HC hosts in Sighisoara, we stayed at Nathan’s Villa Hostel. Very clean and comfy, and I ended up meeting an American backpacker girl (Elisha) who totally stood out from the rest of the typical backpacker types. She was traveling alone, she was from Jersey (again!) but lived in Alaska, and she was hitchhiking, not going around with a Eurail pass! We played cards for a while and had easy conversation that wasn’t all centered on “where are you going? I’m going here. I went there. I like that place. Blah blah blah.” I went to bed somewhat early (around 12:30 or 1am) because I had woken up very early that morning and did a lot of walking around, but was woken up around 4 or 5am by the annoying drunk French people. We had seen this little group when we checked in and they were exactly the kind of stupid travelers that I was starting to get sick of seeing at hostels – the kind that think getting drunk in Eastern Europe is just the greatest thing ever because it’s so cheap. I got up and asked twice for them to quiet down or move, as there was an entire basement set up as a bar open all night long – there was no need for them to be right outside the dorm rooms being so loud. I could tell they remembered me the next day when we were all fake-polite to each other.
We hitchhiked from Sighisoara to Sibiu on October 29th with no problems, taking just two rides to go about 200 km. We rode in a big truck for the first leg of the trip and an off-duty cab for the second part. Our HC host met up with us in the town and took us to eat dinner at a little snack bar where his mother prepared wonderful home-cooked meals. It was wonderfully non-touristy, full of friendly old Romanian men who would say “Goodbye!” to us in English when we left. We went out to a great little bar with live jazzy/loungey music that night, but unfortunately, I wasn’t feeling that great. The weather had changed drastically in a matter of hours… up until this point we were enjoying absurdly good weather, with warm days and cool nights, but no need for hats or gloves. I couldn’t stop sneezing, so we left the bar around 10:30pm. I drank tea and crashed by midnight, and ended up sleeping until noon the next day. That was the day the Stomach Problems began… we both felt kind of crappy and couldn’t really hold down food. This was when we knew that we had to make a decision: should we stay in Romania and wait it out, hoping that we’d feel good enough to make it to Castle Poenari (the ruins of one of Vlad’s real castles, not the fake touristy “Castle Bran”) by the 1st of November? Getting to the castle would involve more hitchhiking and a LOT of climbing (1500 stairs, to be precise). We weren’t sure if we could make it there and back to Sibiu in one day, so it might mean spending a night at the nearest town, Curtea de Arges, a really small place that I heard had a beautiful monastery.
I knew that Sibiu was not where I wanted to be. Hitchhiking and climbing mountains and meeting HC people and not knowing where you’re going to sleep are fun – when I feel healthy. I had been looking forward to roaming around Curtea de Arges, looking for a room to sleep in with a friendly Romanian family, but again, when I’m running for the bathroom every 20 minutes, all of those things become way less fun.
So, long story shorter: we decided to leave Romania. There was an empty apartment waiting for us in Budapest, where we intended to spend a lot of time. An empty apartment meant that we could be sick and quiet and still if we still didn’t feel good, without bothering an HC host or wasting money on a hostel somewhere. We had spent 6 days in Romania and loved every minute of it, so we left feeling like we spent our time well. It was a really hard decision, but it turned out to be the right one, since it was a few more days before we felt back to normal.
Daylight savings time had kicked in and the days got REALLY short. After struggling through lunch, we finally got on a bus around 4pm on Oct 30 bound for Cluj-Napoca (KLOOZH na-POH-kah), a town a few hundred kms west of Sibiu, which was on the way to Budapest. I’ve heard great things about Cluj, it’s supposed to be a really fun, diverse, college town. Getting on the bus was confusing – it was too full and it looked like not everyone on line would be able to get on. The driver could see we were obviously foreigners, and took it upon himself to let us on as the last passengers and give us the 2 front seats. A young Romanian guy saw I was having a hard time figuring out what was going on, and instantly started translating everything into English for me. I thanked him profusely, and he said “I’ve traveled abroad a lot, and many people have helped me when I didn’t understand – I know how you feel.” One of the women on the bus overheard that we wanted to go to the train station in Cluj, and told the bus driver (there were about 4-5 stops once we arrived in the city). She then told us, in English, “he (the driver) knows where you’re going, so just watch for him to let you know when to get off.” I was so touched by how genuinely nice the Romanians are… throughout the six days I spent in that country I had nothing but pleasant experiences with them. The only unpleasant people I met were other Americans and French people.
We arrived at 10pm, and our Budapest train was at 1:40am, so we killed time getting something to eat (ugh, bad idea … that was the night the major stomach problems started for me) and hanging out in a 24-hour Internet cafe. The train to Budapest was almost empty so I got to sleep most of the way there, spread out over 4 seats.
I’m already planning to go back to Romania, maybe this spring. Other than getting sick, nothing bad happened in Romania at all. It was a perfect six days – actually, the only problem was that I wasn’t in Romania longer.