Romania, first two days...

The first two days of this trip have been quite heavy thus far, mostly due to the fact that I caught a big cold and intestinal fever between the cold A/C in plane and trains and the high heat outside. (Yes, Budapest was as hot and humid as Casablanca!!!)

Landing in Budapest, and hitting the train station I had no clue why I was so out of it. I literally had no energy and felt like sleeping all the time. To the point that on the train to Oradea, the border town with Romania, I fell asleep and missed my stop for the connecting train. The impact Vipassana has had on me never stops to amaze me. Why would I stress? What could I do anyway? So I just laughed, really, the woman sitting in front of me saw I had missed my stop, and seeing me laughing despite it all, she must have thought I was crazy. Meanwhile, I kept on laughing. The further away the train went, the deeper into the country side, the more I laughed. And in my head I was wondering how the hell would I manage to not only hitch a ride back to the station I needed to get to, but on time for the only one train left for the day, when all I saw along the train tracks were cows and farms. Not a glimpse of car flow. And so I laughed.

The train finally stopped. I rushed out in the blazing sun. The train leaves. All I could hear was the noise of flies and cow bells around.

The next train back to the station I needed to get to was in 10 minutes. Lucky me! See? Why would I have stressed out? No point at all. It actually allowed me to see a bit more rural landscape and a rural train station.

Now the wait for the next train to Oradea in the connecting toilet less train station was quite long and uncomfortable, even after a chocolate Cornetto. Though I must admit, the lady at the ticket counter and I had a total blast. She only spoke Romanian. And I needed information on the different options to get to either Oradea or somewhere near the Apuseni park. And so for some time we plaid sign language. I swear we kept on laughing and laughing because of how frustrated we both were, trying to find little clues to make each other understand further what we had in mind. Probably the highlight of my day.

The train ride itself was OK, I just had to make to not fall asleep yet again and miss my stop. Hungarian trains seems to be extremely punctual. When it says the train will arrive by 2pm, it means 1:59pm or 2pm, but not 2:01pm. Incredible! Our "friends" at SNCF and ONCF could learn quite much from here!

I arrived in Oradea at night, and after changing the only Euros i had on me and asking for direction, i quickly got a ride to the center of town. And what a center!!! Nothing to do at all with the typical border town. And so I am dropped off here, in the main square, at dinner time, tired as hell, starving like crazy. But mission #1 before night fall is to find a place to sleep. So I head to the only one budget place (still being twice the price of my budget) marked on my guide book (Guide du Routard, which I absolutely don't recommend at all!!! The Lonely Planet does a much better job!)

It is super hot and humid. I walk a good half hour to find the place...which does not exist anymore! And so I start asking random people in the street for a cheap place to sleep. Few names come up. All far, on the outskirts of the city. So I walk, and I walk...I hit the first place, full. I found a grocery store just about to close. I quickly ran inside, bought two beautiful grapefruits and four bananas and ran out. The second place, full. It seems every wedding in Oradea had been planned for that night. Third place (by now I have already walked 2 hours and it is 10pm!), full, but the young lady at the front desk offers to help. "Sit down on the couch and rest, you look tired. I will find you a place to sleep, no worries." Absolute kindness coming out of nowhere. In a strange way, I am so happy to have struggled through the night and the city for the pas two hours, just to get this chance to witness the potential unexpected generosity and selfless kindness of human beings. Her words brought such relief and sun into my exhausted self. All I wanted by now was to take off my shoes and lay down.

She took a good half hour and a dozen of phone calls, all with a smile. But she finally found a place. Pensiuna Magic. The name was so relevant to the situation. I had no energy to walk the extra 7km, it was 10:30pm, so I hopped into a cab.

The pensiuna had absolutely nothing magic. But it had a room with a bed and a bathroom.

Finally a hot shower!

While morocco was celebrating the Day of the Throne, I actually spent the night on the throne. Ha! No fun whatsoever. My intestines were upside down. It brought back very unpleasant memories from Nepal and West Africa not too long ago. I only hoped it was a temporary infection. No bug here to stay. Not again. I was not ready to lose weight yet again.

The upside of the situation, and yes there was an upside, was that if my trip started like this, it could only get better going forward. So I remained optimistic. Hoping for the fever to first go away, and then the intestine to get better and clean.

Next day, am up, a tiny bit more energy, barely enough to pack, put my bag on my back, and hit the road.

It is a one hour walk to the bus station. But a beautiful walk through the city. I wish I had had the energy to pull out my camera and take some shots of the incredibly old and rustic tramway system.

At the bus station, the next bus to Pietroasa (where my ride last night suggested i should go to start my Apuseni Park trip) is in 5 hours!!! No way am waiting that long. I am feeling way to weak and sick to wait. I just want to make it there, lay down and sleep.

The lady at the ticket counter doesn't speak a word of English but understands my disappointment when she indicates to me the time of the bus I am inquiring about. So after several attempts she finally manages to make me understand that perhaps I can try and go hitch a ride by the gas station. Hmmm...it's either that or 5 hours of wait. I guess I had 5 hours to get a ride or else, worse case, I jump on the bus.

Last time I hitchhiked was with Angelina, on the way back from the Camino de Santiago. That day she made me feel like I was clueless about how to proceed, or so I felt. Now I was on my own, without even a piece of cardboard to write my destination on. Oh well...life is great, it is all about the attitude.

So a big smile and my thumb up, i stand by the exit of the gas station.

Few minutes later, and a good 50 meters before me on the same side of the road, this stunningly gorgeous young woman (Katherine, i swear she looked like she was your twin) does the same thing, smile and thumb up. Bummer! As long as she would be standing there, I had no chance of getting a ride. And so I laugh again. A few minutes later, the same side of the road counts another three guys with their thumbs up. Oh boy! I guess hitchhiking is common practice around here. Yay! Acuna matata!

Slowly all the guys get rides. Only the girl and I remain. I don't really understand. Then she gets picked up and drives by me. The cars breaks and stops a few meters after me. Hmmm...I run up to the car just in case. I clumsily blurt out my destination. "Da! Da!" her and the driver say. Lucky me!

The driver's name is Marius. He actually happens to be a taxi driver in Oradea, heading exactly where I am going.

The girl, she gets off an hour or so later, but before everyone starts getting talkative. So no clue what her name was. Hilarious thing is, when she gets off the car and we keep driving, Marius turns around and tells me "molto bella!". Hahahahaha! In our mixes of Latin languages and men who can appreciate beauty when we see it, we totally understood each other, and that's when the chatting started. And that's when I started to understand that Romanian was a mix of several Latin languages, enough to get me quite confused about which of the ones I knew, I should be using to communicate.

The drive lasted a good two hours before we got to the Apuseni region and to the village where he had his cottage where he was to meet up with his family and friends. The town of Boga. He convinced me that I should stay in Boga and not Pietroasa. And he was right. Boga was a good 15 km closer to the Padis Plateau, which we drove up and visited, as he was looking for his family. Paris and further on Glavoi, are two spectacular locations I would have died to camp at. Flocks of gorgeous horses running everywhere. Lots of tents set at the edge of the woods, overlooking the valley. But no can't do. I need a place with toilets (yes, very glamorous!)

He kept on looking for his family forever. We even stopped at Glavoi for a drink and bite to eat. It looked so delicious. Though he insisted, i stuck to my gut if i may say so in such circumstance, and refused to eat anything.

He had a Canadian bionic mountain bike in his car. Quite a strange invention yet so much fun to ride. It was his son's. I suggest he rides down the mountain on his bike and I follow with his car. He is super happy about the idea. Like a kid, a 43 yr old kid. And so after I show him my driver's license and do a test drive with him, we pull over the car and he gets the bike ready. The ride down is funny. He keeps on hitting the break all throughout, while I follow behind, wishing for the torture to be over. I just want to lay down.

But no, he insists we go to his "cottage" where I meet his wife and kids and other friends and so I can speak English with his kids. They don't seem all too happy he has brought over a stranger. I really need to use the toilet. I do so. Then I guess his wife convinced him to drop me off. And so he drops me off at the pensiuna nearby, by 4pm. I am stuck in bed until the next morning 10am!

Before falling asleep, and while rolling in bed with stomach pain, I found an old little survival guide book from the 1960's in my bag. It suggests that fasting is a great remedy to cure the intestines. I wish I had read that book when in Nepal and then Mali. (I had that book on me all along but never opened it). So I made the conscious decision to fast. Nothing in but water for at least a whole 48 hours. The principle behind it makes so much sense after all. The body can't focus the energy on fighting the bacteria if it also has to process continuous digestion. So fasting meant letting 100% of the body fight the infection.

Next morning, the fever is finally gone. I am full of energy, yet knowing that my body is still battling my intestinal infection. But at least energy is back. So rather than than hitching a ride to the town 13 km later where am supposed to go, I decide to walk, in the rain, and trough the forest road along the river. A nice two hour walk...in total peace and harmony with mother nature. Getting resourced as i walked.

Later on, I needed to take a different direction, hitched a ride with two crazy guys for a few kilometers.

Further, one woman stops, late 40's I would say, smoking a cigarette inside her old Audi A4. First question she asks me is if am traveling alone. Same question everyone has been asking me so far. And I answer Yes. Which always surprises the people who pick me up. Strange I guess. If only they would travel more they would realize how many people do travel alone. Anyhow, what made me laugh (in my mind) the most was her following question: and you are not afraid? Ha! I wanted to ask her the exact same question in return. What woman in her sane mind has the guts to pick up a male hitch hiker???!!!

One truck driver, Stefan, delivering saucisson and other cold cuts. (He used to be a butcher before) Drives an average of 700km per day, 3 days a week. He was on his way home when he picked me up and had about another 300km of mountain road. He drives like crazy. He was so happy to speak English and talk about life that he passed my destination. A good 10km further. He only realized it when we got to the next town. Oups! Yet he was so kind that he insisted on turning around and driving the extra 20km to take me where I wanted to go. Such a nice guy!

Stefan drops me of in this tiny town where nobody speaks English and everyone looks at me weird. I dont really have a clue of where to go to start hiking up and through the little mountains villages i had in mind. I stop at the front door of this old woman sweeping her floor to ask her where the path starts. I speak in English mixed with Portuguese, Spanish and Italian. She speaks in Romanian. We have no clue what the other one is saying. So we just laugh. Then she calls up her friend for help. Yes! She speaks Italian. So we manage to sort of communicate and even crack some jokes about life. She gives me the direction I am looking for, but strongly suggest I first go to see a famous cave up in another village. Her good humor and smile convince me. So off I go, lifting up my thumb for yet another ride

A couple of cars go by until a family with two kids stops to pick me up. I always am surprised when families stop and think they want to ask me for direction. I couldn't believe they would do that. It is usually two men, or one man who stop to pick up hitch hikers, not one woman, or a family with kids. Yet today I got it all. Two men, one man, one woman, and a family with two kids. Incredible!

And guess what?! As I am telling them my destination, I hear the woman say something in French to the kids. It turns out it is a French family!!!

Best part, they are going to see the same cave I am. Or so I thought.

In the car they tell me about a great salt mine I didn't know about. Apparently it is way nicer and more authentic than the one I had planned to see in Turda. So I might just change my route if I have the time.

The two kids, Irene (12yrs old) and Maurice (6yrs old) are adorable and so well educated!

We get up to the cave, but it is pouring rain like pissing cow and terrorizing lightening turn the sky into a meteorological war zone. So we have to wait in the wooden cabin till it stops. As I am on the floor, looking up at the map of Romania I finally found, Maurice comes up to strike a conversation about a funky looking rock he had found a day before. And so we invent those crazy stories about how this rock could have come about. We go on and on and on and before we know it, the rain has stopped. 

One little factor I forgot to consider was the fact that going down a cave holding supposedly the largest underground glacier in the world meant one very important thing: there was a glacier in the cave, and....like all the other visitors, I just didn't think straight. A glacier means continuous ice. Continuous ice means a surrounding temperature close to 0 degrees Celsius...and that means it's god damn cold inside the cave. Yet, everyone visiting it was wearing a T-shirt or a light sweater and shivering like mad.

Aside from the impressive entrance to the cave, the cave itself has no interest. But it was a fun experience with the family.

Going back up I am caught in a big dilemma, to continue with the French family or stay here in Gheta to finally test out my new tent.

Despite Maurice sad face when i told them we would split ways, the landscape was so incredibly beautiful, I went for option two.

It was clearly going to rain...a lot, given how dark the sky was turning. But the perspective of waking up in this heavenly meadow was just so enticing.

So I walked in to the camping ground, noticed that a group of Romanians with their cars are almost done setting up their tents and chill out gear. I suppose it wont be a quiet evening after all.

As I am pulling my tent out of its bag, I realize I have never actually set it up and have no clue how to do so. It's just a tent, can't be all that complicated I suppose. Good thing I get it fast, as it is already starting to rain. Hmmm...now one very very very very crucial question raises in my mind: is my tent water proof??? It doesn't say anything on the instruction nor on the bag. Aiiiiiii.........it would be quite unpleasant to wake up drenched in cold water in the middle of the night not having a clue of where to go nor how to protect my stuff from the rain.

So I hide under the tent for a while, observing, observing, and observing, checking with my hands the different layers of fabric the tent is made of, even comparing the rain cover of my backpack with the outer layer of the tent. Not a drop has gone through yet. I guess it will be OK. I can unpack now and get ready for the night.

Am all set. Rain slows down, am starving but remain strong. One more night of fast and then i will check the status of my intestines.

So I go for a nice walk around the area, listening to the drizzling rain and the sounds of the birds heading back to their nests for the night, thinking about the French family and what they are doing at the moment.

Night time, first night in my tent...