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Romanian parks…
And Romanian beer…
The end of this advert makes me smile and laugh in equal measure. I read Michael J Fox’ second memoir – Always Looking Up – on my outward and homebound flights last week and it’s very rare that I’ve been so affected and in awe as someone as this book made me. I’m amazed that – given the changes in Mike (and, sadly, Ali) since this ad was made – he remains so optimistic and determined. I can’t recommend it enough, it really gives you a different perspective.
This kid’s got me beat:
My first experience of travelling anywhere abroad for longer than a school day-trip or a day in a nearby French town came about two years ago. I took the longest route to Paris possible. Ferry, taxi, train and more train for ten days in the French capital. I spent the vast majority of the day travelling and really felt like I’d made a journey. I got to see, from my seat next to the window from Calais to Lille and Lille to Paris, the gradual change from the grotty northern town of my arrival in France to the open countryside with the trees I’ve always considered to be “very French looking”, the change in buildings, even the different electricity pylons, until I reached Paris and genuinely felt like I’d travelled. Especially when I was whisked on foot around the city to the most significant bookshop in our world.
Of course, the journey was nothing short of knackering. Spending the majority of the day travelling leaves surprisingly little energy even if, for the most part, all you’re doing is sitting still. So subsequent journeys have been made by faster means of locomotion. Eurostar and air travel – for Barcelona. Of course, with journeys that transport you across vast tracts of land in very little time (comparatively) you don’t always feel like you’ve travelled all that far at all. Last week I made my longest journey (and plane trip) to date when Linda and I visited Romania.
While the flight was just three hours or so (and the valium in my system made it easier for both of us) the majority of the day was spent travelling thanks to the disparate location of airports. That being said, I got the distinct impression of how far I’d come upon arrival from the airport alone. But then, it was a low-cost airline and so I couldn’t exactly expect Heathrow’s Terminal 5 to welcome me to Bucharest but is a decent toilet that I don’t have to swim to while people insist on banging on the obviously locked door too much to ask?
Romania was a shock to me. I don’t think I could say anything else without lying. The countryside there is stunning. I’d never seen mountains before this trip and I was stunned to not only see them but walk in them, drive across them (in a surprising amount of snow for April) and bring home my own little piece of the Carpathians. It sits on my bookshelf, fittingly enough, in-front of Dan Antal’s Out of Romania. I got to see monasteries in the lower hills of the mountains and old villages still observing traditions that, to me and other tourists, might seem a little strange. Though this was done over roads that left parts of my anatomy sore from the jolting and would have rattled my fillings had I had any in the first place.
There is, on reflection, a lot to love in the country from which my soon-to-be Bride sprung. The food was fantastic. I think I ate my own bodyweight – and some of Linda’s – in meat during the six days we were there. The reason behind our trip being Easter, lamb was on the menu a lot but it’s the meatball / sausages that still leave a taste in my mouth that’s almost worth driving back for more.
I was also left in a state of awe by the Easter Service we attended on the first night. While for the rest of my visit I continually felt like I was being stared out, I felt welcomed and taken in by the people at the church. Packed as it was though I don’t think they really noticed me all that much waiting patiently for my candle to be lit. It was impressive as both a spectacle and an example of people still taking their faith seriously – and the same could be said in the second church we visited that evening.
As a dog lover though, Romania often saddened me. To see so many stray dogs that, in an ideal world, would’ve been a loved family pet was disturbing. Though they were better behaved than those dogs kept as pets who took the passing of one in-front of their house as a reason to bark and bark and bark so that a walk through the suburbs on an evening was usually done to the soundtrack of canine territory guarding. They were also better behaved than the beggars who even approached us in the cemetery. Is there no respect? Having seen Filantropica I was wary enough not to be dipping in to my pockets for any Lei though, that and I didn’t have a clue what they were saying.
This last part sounds like a big, ‘I hated Romania’ speech but it’s not the case. I really did enjoy many things there. I won’t mention the ineffectuality, incompetence and general deception and thievery of Blue Air and their reps as it may well be bought up down the line with the involvement of solicitors but I will say DON’T TRAVEL WITH BLUE AIR. This is no reflection on their planes, pilots or cabin crew who were superb, just their organisation, or lack of it, in general.
There’s many things I’ve still yet to digest sufficiently in my mind before committing to the printed word – wasn’t that the case with Paris too? – so will no doubt return to this matter in following posts. Overall, while a real culture shock, I took mostly positive from my experience. Noting the time though and that I’ve already rambled on this, I’m off for now.
Since when don't I have my head in the clouds?
Why is it that whenever you announce to someone that you’ve got a bit of a stomach bug the response is always “oh there’s one going around.”
Is this a reflex-reaction? Because, surely, it’s pretty bloody obvious that there’s one going around. It’s not like I made this up all by myself.
I live on a main road these days. Anyone else that finds their domicile in a similar location, a matter of mere metres from one of the main thoroughfares of their town or city should understand why this offers far more negatives than perks. The perk, and it is the only one, is the proximity to the centre on foot. A few minutes stroll and there we are, in theory saving us plenty in car parking that we don’t have to pay for. However, thanks to the one-way system that operates in this town the road outside is often a barely-mobile car park. It makes getting home in the evenings and getting out during the day and in the morning for work, a gamble. I can get from my office to the beginning of the circular system in, say, ten minutes.
It can then take me a further twenty to progress the mile or less to my home. There’s also the fact that the emergency services seem to be based in a small village that’s merged on to the edge of the town and their route in is straight past our home, sirens screaming full wail and, if the aforementioned traffic is in residence, switching to that rapid-beat crescendo of staccato-pitched blaring right in front of our residence.
There’s also the fact that when cleaning you’d normally open the windows during the dusting / vacuuming process to alleviate the room of dust. Of course, this is still done but I get the distinct impression that the breeze is picking up and redistributing more dust and muck from the road into my front room than Henry the Hoover could ever distribute back.
Oh well. I’m out of here for a week and, I’m pretty sure, for good come September. This time tomorrow I’ll be in Romania. I’m excited at so many things; seeing where my own Miss Romania / France grew up, went to school and studied, her parents, the Easter church ceremony promises to be an interesting experience, meeting her friends, seeing a new country and culture, mountains and, of course, not having to go to work for week.
Of course, I’m a little apprehensive about the flight but now that the weather has eased off and the sun has come out I’m confident of smooth flying. Not to mention that I’ll be drugged up like a first-year film student listening to GodSpeedYouBlackEmperor! for the first time. That being said, I fecking love that band and will happily listen to them without being stoned. Then again, Miss Romania / France considers them as depressing and ominous as BrokenOrchestra so it’s not a huge surprise.
Right then, until next week:
Rămas bun!
