Spontaneous Trip: 60+ Hours on a Bus Full of Romanians

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There I am, 3am, sitting on a bus for two consecutive days with nearly 10 more hours to go. I’m at the border with an officer walking his way down the aisle collecting passports. I look around and suddenly it hits me: “What in the HELL am I doing?” First of all, I am the only non-Romanian on this dilapidated noise-machine on wheels. I barely know enough Romanian to ask how someone is doing and order a beer. I have no real reason to be in Romania, nor do I have a good reason for not having spent the extra 20euro on a cheap flight from Spain. I can see how suspicious this must look to a border official… I have already been asked to be married to three times by two different people. There is a newly-released criminal also fleeing Spain, sitting beside me, chatting me up. This is not looking good…

The border control officer approaches me, (luckily for me he spoke English). “Where did you find this bus?” I am not sure what this question means, so I reply, confused, “…um… the bus station…?” he asks, “What are you doing in Romania?” I think. I never planned on travelling this far east on this trip- hell, I hadn’t really ‘planned’ anything. But I certainly did not plan on hearing this from the border officer: “You cannot take this bus. You have to wait for another bus.” … IT’S THREE IN THE MORNING! I am on the border of Hungary and Romania! You are telling me I have to hang out on this deserted road with you and your lot for who-knows how many hours with my rucksack hitchhiking my way to Bucharesti?! … Of course, I didn’t say that. I just looked at him with utter terror and surprise, managed to stammer out “… w-w-why not?” … His response was to stare at me for a few seconds, wait until I nearly pee myself from the thought of being deported late at night to a Schengen country where I will be deported from soon after for overstaying my visa, then say rather cooly, “Okay”. Takes my passport with him and trods off the bus, leaving me trembling in my seat not exactly sure what he means by “Okay”. Again, I think to myself, ”What in the hell am I doing…?”

Every Journey has a Secret

Destination of which the Traveller is Unaware – Martin Buber

After leaving the donkey sanctuary in April, I had about one week to decide (1) if I was still going to Morocco when my heart felt like this wasn’t the right time (2) where I was going to go if I decided not to go to Morocco (3) how to get there as soon as possible. The options were a bit limited but the possibilities were not. That night, I bought a bus ticket leaving at 2am.. Destination: Romania. Hah! That’s right… Spontaneous. I loved it so much last year, especially the dodgy train rides.. and I figured I could join another WWOOFing project to pass the time and save the money.

So I left my hostel in Spain a few hours early (an entire night early, actually), to the bus station, boarding a dirty, rickety, uncomfortable bus that drove to Barcelona. There, we had to swap to an even dirtier, more rickety/noisy bus heading east for 60 hours to Romania. There I ‘made friends’ with a Romanian man, whose name I can’t remember, who was very insistent I share his tiny coffee from the NesCafe machine with him- even though thoughts of the coffee being drugged and I am sold on the black market crosses my mind, I don’t want to be rude... so I drink some of his possibly-tainted coffee.

The next 40-some hours are a bit of a blur, but fun to look back on. After a few hours, it is quickly discovered by the other bus-goers that the girl in the back seat is a foreigner. This interests a good deal of them, mostly the young men, of course, and “luckily” for me, many of them are fluent in Spanish. I had a few guys chatting me up, asking me question;, the first questions being where I am from and do I have a boyfriend. “Yea,” I tell them, “I have a husband in Spain”.. which isn’t true, and certainly doesn’t stop them from later telling me they love me and ask me to marry them. “You have a husband? In Spain?? And he lets you travel, alone?!” Was always the reply. What can I say... my ‘husband’ is either very modern or very stupid. Funny though, that they believed I had a husband waiting miles away, with no ring on my finger- but they could not believe that I didn’t own a mobile phone when the guys wanted my number.. I guess a woman lacking a cell phone is inconceivable. But I digress…

So after many hours of bumpy riding, terrible movies you couldn’t hear over the mysterious high-pitch whistle from the bus that no one else seemed to notice, and countless stops at various rest areas with over-priced food, we finally made it to the border at 3 in the morning. And so there I am, a bit panicked over what is going to happen next, just being told I have to wait for some other magical bus, and the border officer has taken my passport. They call my name to the front of the bus.. Crap. I grab all my belongings, absolutely sure I am being stranded there.. and the driver hands me my passport back, and it is stamped as entering Romania! Woo! I am relieved, but some others on the bus are asking me, “Why did you take this bus? Why didn’t you fly? Why are you coming to Romania?” I have no logical way to explain this was all on a whim and I have no plans, so I just shrug and slip back into a restless nap until the next rest area pit stop.

Having to turn down advances time and time again from a man who has been drunk the entire bus ride is exhausting. And so is processing every thing I have been witnessing. Such as, two men getting in a slapping fight and several men singing Romanian folk songs to each other in the back. By the end of the third day, I had had it with being ultra-polite to the drunk man and his friends who were not interesting to me any more. My solution: sleep... or pretend to sleep to avoid conversation and so I didn’t get any more invitations from the men to stay with them at their house.

But the bus ride was certainly an adventure, and I was astonished by the comradery among the Romanians toward each other, and even extended to me. Everyone shares everything. Within hours, the whole bus was like a family, including the foreigner in the back. And I do feel a bit guilty for being so cold toward the end, but a girl has her limits of being nice while trying not to offend. There comes a point when i'd had enough socialising, and that time comes sooner when I'm crammed on a hot, smelly bus for 3 days (especially when I was led to believe by the ticket seller it would only take two days!!)

As soon as the bus pulled into the station in Bucharesti, I quickly gathered my belongings, and, not caring I was without a map/any direction/or the local currency, I decided to just scamper off and find my way. Miraculously I managed to find the bus I needed- of course taking it the wrong way at first... Completely physically and emotionally exhausted, I checked in to a hostel for a few nights to recover and get a game plan emailing several volunteering places, WWOOFing farms, etc..

Any way, waiting to hear back from some volunteering opportunity or I will have to re-discover Romania and beyond...


^Út Í Óvissuna^

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Photos

Watching a new arrival
The donkeys are all gazing across the field to a new horse that has arrived

Donkey Siesta
Woody standing watch over Petra as she rests

Woody!
Such an old, blind, sweet donkey

Corti
The feisty horse that threw me off her back to get her lunch

Branston & Feliz
Good buddies, very naughty couple, but always make me laugh...

Me & Sam
My morning cuddles buddy :D

The Gang
Tomas, Niamh, Ciara, and me

Warning In Case Of Fire
#4 is my favourite - attack the fire