Romania was a really pleasant surprise. If you’re thinking Ceacescu and orphans, think again. Its still very rural – think donkeys and carts, peasants and storks atop telegraph poles – but inclusion in the EU has certainly led to some amazing infrastructure leaps and bounds. The roads are great, the towns well kept and the land is all worked: something we noticed a lot after China, Mongolia and Russia. Our entry was great fun – the customs guy who had just spent ages going through the Hungarian in front of ours boot saw our number plate, said “Hello, English?” “Yup” we replied, deciding not to be pedantic about being Welsh, “Bye Bye” he says without opening our passports. We were in, and grinning.
Our next brush with authority was equally fun. Lost in Lipova, we were going the wrong way down a one way street (as you do) with a police road block at the end. The copper looked quizzical, and I pointed at the map and said, hopefully, “Arad?” He gestured us towards another police car, and said “follow”. A quick word with the other police car’s driver had him hairing off with the flashies on, and we dutifully followed. He led us straight past all the stationary traffic and all the way to the main road. Bless him.
We got back to grips with our lovely tent after 10 months, putting it up for just one night in a very bizarre little spa come campsite in that tiny cobbled place called Lipova for one night only and just 7 Euros: something we wont do again in a hurry! Too many tent pegs and unfortunately too many ticks (The next night was in a lovely hotel built on the orders of Ceacescu on the side of the road, and then we spent a bit more time in beautiful Bran deep in the Transylvanian Alps. While camping, we discovered that Rhys can get just as ticky as sticky – I ended up pulling a tick out of his face in a roadside McDonalds and then we spent a frantic half hour checking all external extremeties in front of bewildered fast food junkies. Well, Tick Borne Encephalytis is endemic here, and you also have to amuse the customers. Airbeds were flat as pancakes and we urgently needed CAMPING IS US which, funnily enough, Romania hasn’t yet franchised.
We only went to Romania because young Rowan wanted to see where vampires came from. Well, we obliged her royally and stayed at Vampire Camping right underneath Vlad the Impaler’s castle, deep in the Transylvanian Alps. It was beautiful, and the campsite sign dutifully dripped blood, to her utter delight. The weather was glorious, the countryside unspoilt, clean and bright air and snow topped mountains. We had great fun spooking round Dracula’s medieval and quite beautiful little castle and also visiting the hilltop citadel of Rasnov, which has its very own Hollywood type sign in the hills. Its amazing, dilapidated, preacarious and – curiously – owned and run by a couple from Leeds.
Sometimes travelling can be most bizarre. We loved the cobbled streets and old crones of Romania, the nascent cafe culture, the Splatories in abundance (car washes) and general pristineness of the place. We came over quite inspired, like. We also found a superb supermarket which sold not only airbeds but a bewildering array of solar torches, funky sleeping bags and barbecues. We spent a Euro fortune updating our somewhat redundant and deflated camping equipment much to the delight of the shopkeeper. He must have known we were coming. So it was with happy hearts and mucho optimism that we headed south to Bulgaria, where every brit is buying up property. Surely it could only get better? Ha. You know it isnt. Bucharest was not quite so magnificent as its advertising, so we had a quick shufty and moved on. We managed to miss the turning for Peles Castle, reputedly one of the most beautiful in Europe, so strived on in a most purposeful way to the border to blessed Bulgaria. Ah, how much of a treat THAT turned out to be.
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