After a lovely (?) overnight bus to Belgrade that dropped us in the middle of a
torrential downpour at 5:30am in the greyest of grey cities, we were delighted to
discover that the train to Romania would not be leaving until 16:30 meaning that we
would be arriving at our next stop, Timisoara at 22:30.
We spent most of the day avoiding the rain, updating some of the blog photos
(Dubrovnik - I hope you like them) and generally trying to find any accommodation in
Timisoara. Belgrade may have a lot to offer but we didn't see it. So, after our
brief brush with Serbia, we were off again, this time to Romania.
For completeness, let me describe Romanian trains. They are old (very old,) not in
a way to be considered quaint, just old in a way to be considered horrid. The
toilets are horrific and as the smell is so bad, a few seem to have developed the
rather dangerous idea of leaving the carriage doors open as we wend our way through
the countryside so that, optimistically, they might waft away some of the
unmistakable pong of poo and wee. They don't.
In the absence of any official "trolley dolly", an assortment of "dodgy characters"
flit from carriage to carriage trying to sell, amongst other things, beeer,
chocolate, trinkets and mobile phones!!
Anyway, back to Serbia. At the border, things got a little perculiar. Virg and I
were in a carriage of empty compartments on an (almost) empty train. After being
asked by Serbian border control to show our passports (the general demenour of the
guard indicating that my initial attempt at light-hearted humour was misplaced), we
listened as the 2 compartments on eiher side of use were ripped apart. I guess they
do this a lot but it's a bit unnerving I can tell you. Eventually, the train was on
its way as a guy with a screwdriver started to put things back together again.
Timisoara is the place where the revolution in 1989 started and indeed was the first
city to be declared "free". We accidentally came across the memorial museum
and were shown around the exhibits and shown a video documentary. The museum is not very well advertised but is a
fantastic insight into the few days that changed Romanian history.
Like Bosnians, Romanians are incredibly welcoming to foreigners. The fact that many
of the older people don't speak English doesn't put them off chatting. It turns out
that the language is very similar to Spanish albeit that the pronunciation is
different so Virg is in her element.
A&Vx
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