Bucharest - Romania

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It was a straightforward drive from Pitesti to Bucharest, down a non-crowded motorway. On the outskirts of the city we met up with a young local man called Florin to whom we had been introduced through one of Eddie Priscott”s friends. Florin was a charming man who spoke excellent English and was delighted to show us around his city. He was driving an old Toyota Landcruiser (sporting Frogsisland4x4 logos!) which made our cars look pristine. We had a spare walkie-talkie which Florin used to keep us together as we drove into the city. The traffic was by now ghastly and it took us ages to reach the heritage museum he wanted us to see. The city lacked much charm. It was peppered with high-rise flats built of bland concrete to a typical design from the communist influence. They were invariably shabby, desperate for a coat of paint, and we wondered if their inhabitants felt the same. However, the heritage museum was most interesting, seeing how Romanians lived over the recent centuries. Florin then lead us to the centre of the city where, amazingly, we managed to park all four vehicles within close proximity of each other before repairing to a well known restaurant for a Romanian lunch, situated in what must have been one of the few attractive arrears of the city with buildings of character.
We had to sit outside for the meal, which was very good and very welcome, but it was very cold! Thereafter we said our thanks and farewells to Florin who then lead us out of the city, past many more unattractive blocks of flats, before setting us up on the right road south of the city towards Bulgaria. On the way we passed Ceaucescu’s gross palace, the second largest building in the world floor-area-wise, which necessitated the demolition of one sixth of the old city before it and its environs could be built. It was about 45 miles or so through uninteresting, flat and more or less treeless countryside, totally unsuitable for camping, till we came to a convenient motel only a few miles short of the Bulgarian border. As motels go, this one had a starless rating but we had a pleasant sundowner in Chris and Ian’s room and a passable meal served by charming Romanian wenches. Despite the traffic, the hard pillows and the smell of mothballs which pervaded the rooms, we slept pretty well. (Miles today 114)

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