Romania - the autumn of our trip

(written two days ago)

As I write this, we are on a train to Krakow, Poland. We are leaving Romania after six chilled-out days here. We have had some welcome time to relax and enjoy the autumn colours after travelling so frequently, and far, across the former Soviet lands.

I’ve caught up with old friends, Indie has made some new ones, and together we’ve revelled in the cool atmosphere of Bucharest, one of my favourite cities.

But that’s the short version. Here’s what really happened…



The path back to Europe - 45 hours with the Fat Controller

Our ‘Express’ train journey from Moscow to Bucharest was smooth and trouble-free. In spite of stopping in Kiev train station for five hours, unable to leave the platform, we enjoyed the journey. It gave us the chance to see the full range of autumnal colours in Ukraine and Romania.

Incidentally, even the immigration officers we encountered - normally so stern and straight-faced - were a breath of fresh air. Indie turned 23 on the day we entered Romania, and as the Ukrainian immigration controller gave Indie his passport back, he surprised everyone in the carriage by warmly shaking Indie’s hand and, in confident English, wishing him a ‘happy birthday’. It was a cool moment.

The Romanians were also sound. The customs officer took a brief, cursory glance at our bags, and then started joking around with us. He nonchalantly asked several questions, such as “do you have any laptop computers with you?” before casually slipping in “any narcotics you want to tell me about?”. We kept Indie’s multivitamin addiction on the down low, and continued on our way.

The main character of our journey was undoubtedly our carriage attendant - the ‘provodnik’ as he is known in Russian. On boarding the train in Moscow, we noticed that all other carriages seemed to be ready before ours. We wondered why this was, until we set eyes on the sweaty, obese man who was to ‘manage’ our carriage. This whale of an individual (pictured) showed a complete disregard, even contempt, for his duties as ‘provodnik’.

Normally, the provodnik’s job consists of keeping the carriage tidy and ordered; cleaning the bathrooms; ensuring the hot water is kept hot; filling up the drinking water cooler; opening and closing the main door at stations; that kind of thing. This man accomplished none of the above. What he did accomplish was to eat, eat and eat. He also slept on the job and on our journey through Romania; he even got wasted on vodka and beer. We dubbed him the ‘Fat Controller’ - an ironic title, of course, because he controlled nothing other than his voracious appetite. Normally provodniks are miserable and surly, but at least they do their job. This fat joker took incompetence to hitherto unparalleled levels. His private compartment and his ‘office’ both soon transformed into makeshift kitchens, where collections of dirty plates piled up. Scraps of meat, bread and cheese were strewn everywhere and leftover soup and alcohol began to take over his rooms. He slept like a grizzly bear and drank like a Glaswegian alcoholic.

Border-crossings, ticket inspection, rudimentary service… he seemed to no grasp of his job whatsoever. At one point he asked to borrow a pen, but later refused to give it back, insisting that I’d never loaned him it in the first place. I duly raided his vast, seemingly bottomless food cupboard, taking some chocolate in retribution. I doubted he’d miss it.

He drank and drank. When we finally arrived in Bucharest, the Fat Controller was so far gone he could barely stand. Uttering unintelligible noises, he stumbled from his ‘office’ to his room, swaying uncontrollably from side to side, blocking the entire aisle. He was clutching bottles of beer and seemed set to prepare yet more food. He didn’t even bother unlocking the main door for us to alight, so we had to do it all ourselves. What a character!



Imi place Romania, si Bucharest e foarte misto!

It’s strange to return to a place where you’ve had a very good time. Especially if over three years have elapsed since you’ve been there. In truth, for so long I have wanted to return to Bucharest, but a host of obstacles have stood in my way - uni, flights being too expensive, summer work etc. But I’m so pleased to have gone back.

Romania has changed somewhat. In my eyes, Bucharest seems slightly more developed - prices are higher, there are more affluent people around, and some areas seem far newer. In general, the country seems closer to the EU than it was in 2003 in many regards. It pleases me greatly that Romania will soon be accepted as part of the European Union.

The main draw of Bucharest was the people. We were staying with Pia and Raz, who I mentioned in the last blog. I expected that they would be great hosts, and they didn’t disappoint. Indie and I were made to feel very welcome and they spared no effort in accommodating us and showing us around. It was wonderful, also, to catch up with Ioana, Alex and Raluca - friends I had not seen since three years ago. Of course, you send emails and you chat on Messenger, but it’s not the same. Seeing these people, who had made my life in Bucharest so much fun, was such a pleasure for me. It’s also cool that Indie got on very well with them. I will stop waxing lyrical about my Romanian friends - I think you get the picture!

Aside from the people, Romania is a picturesque place in autumn. Razvan, Indie and I spent a day walking around Bucharest in the September sun - we rented a boat in Cismigiu Park and ate wholesome traditional food in La Mama. Even in the rain, Herastrau Park - which Alex described as ‘the best park in Europe’ - has a cool charm about it. There, Pia showed us the ‘Village Museum’ - a collection of replicated traditional houses and homes from Romania’s diverse regions. The old town, with it’s cobbled streets, French architecture and randomly-dotted churches, was also a great place to re-visit.




Brasov - cool mountain air, unbridled generosity and tiramisu!

Pia and Razvan took us to Raz’s family home near the attractive city of Brasov. As well as being a good guy and a friendly host, Raz is an exceptionally generous man. When it comes to going for drinks or paying for the bill in a restaurant, Raz has the quickest hands in Eastern Europe. No sooner has the opportunity to pay emerged, when Raz - quick as a flash - produces his wallet like a magician, announcing that he his going to pay. The first few times, we hadn’t cottoned on to this, but soon we began to pre-empt Raz’s hand moving inevitably towards the wallet area. We would ask for the bill ourselves and insist that Raz, in spite of his offers to “check that the numbers add up”, would not pay.

The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Raz’s kind mother picked us up from the train station and began to practice her English with us. She used to teach it many years ago, and her quaint phrases and funny remarks were very endearing. On arrival at Raz’s place, she whipped up a three-course meal. Chicken soup with pickled chillies was followed by sarmale (balls of meat and cabbage) and sour cream. This was topped off by the best tiramisu I have ever tasted. My words cannot do it justice.

We spent a fun day driving around Brasov in Raz’s old car. We visited a picturesque castle; we walked around ski resorts near Poiana Brasov, and we chilled in Brasov itself - a fun and likeable city. Back in Bucharest we met Alex and Raluca for drinks. The six of us drunk Ursus Negru - a black beer - and talked the night away.


In short, being back in Bucharest was fantastic. After three months of eating out, Indie and I got back to the kitchen and cooked a couple dinners for Pia and Raz. Our six days in Romania were a great welcome back after a long time away from Europe.


Indie is saving his famed opinion piece for my final blog, which will be coming soon after getting home. The trip is almost over...

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