Trip from hell

I am alive.

Barely.

I got up at 6:00 am to catch my train to Bucharest. I decided against reserving a seat, and luckily, I got an entire car to myself.

I quickly fell asleep (as I didn't sleep the night before) but was awoken by the sounds of rocks and gravel hitting the window. I could also feel them hitting the floor. Clumps of dirt were flying past and the sound was excruciating. I pictures the "What Went Wrong" documentary on the German high speed train accident (where the metal came off one of the wheels and caused the train to derail) and was paranoid that a piece of metal would come up and impale me.

Suddenly, the train gave a huge lurch and then everything went quiet.

I fell asleep.

I woke up half an hour later, confused and disoriented. We hadn't moved. I looked out the window. And the number one thing you don't want to see when you wake up on a train is the conductor and the ticket controllers pointing to the locomotive in front of you with an expression of horror in their eyes.

I forced myself to fall asleep again. I felt telling myself "You won't miss your connection in Bucharest. Don't worry. Everything will be fine".

(The last time I told myself this, I had just come back from a daytrip to Maastricht in the Netherlands)

I got up to investigate and the locomotive was gone. We were stranded in the middle of nowhere. I cursed the train for dying there, in the middle of an open field with nothing around for miles. Why couldn't it have died 25 minutes earlier when we were in the mountains?

Suddenly, the train lurched again and soon we were on our way. The ticket controller came by and I asked what the problem was. Turns out the brakes weren't working. Lovely. I guess I should be grateful I wasn't an extra in another "Very Special Episode of Discovery".

I asked our estimated arrival time. "3:00 pm". "3:00 pm??? I have a train to Istanbul at 2:10!!!"

"Nothing I can do about it. You'll just have to take the train tomorrow."

"And what am I supposed to do in the meantime?"

"Get a hotel."

"I don't have the money for that. I'm using the Balkan Flexipass. The point of which is to travel from Timisoara to Istanbul for 10 euros. I work for an NGO. I don't make any money."

"Not my problem."

"It's not my problem either. It's not my fault that the train is having problems, however, I should not be punished for it either."

"Nothing we can do."

I was on the verge of tears. Not only was I pissed about missing my train, unsure about how I would contact my friend and figure out the hotel situation, but I was only talking in Romanian. It's bloody difficult to argue and get your way in a language you don't know, particularly with the Romanian ticket control.

The guy who was in the cabin behind me was also on the way to Istanbul. We started talking. Again, he didn't speak a word of English, forcing me to talk in Romanian. It was great experience! He was so patient, and if I didn't understand something, he repeated ir, or reworded it, until I understood. Now I'm starting to conjugate my verbs properly instead of using proper pronoun + 1st person singular verb.

We arrived in Bucharest at 3:00 pm and I ran to the bus information kiosl to ask about busses. There's one bus a day and it left at 2:00 pm. However, she said that there was another bus leaving at 4:00 pm from a different address. With my new friend in tow, we ran to the cab station and he gave the driver instructions on where to take me.

I ran into the bus stop and yes, they had seats. I was releaved but also pissed. The point of me buying a Balkan FlexiPass was to save me money (namely, getting me to Istanbul for ten euros). I was quite annoyed at having to pay an additional $50 CAD for a ticket. It would get me there sooner but on the downside, no couchettes.

We took off shortly after 4:00 pm. The man beside me was quite large and suffered from "overflow". He also decided I would make a great conversation partner and insisted on talking to me. I smiled and nodded politely, but couldn't understand a word due to his mumbling and slurring.

At the Bulgarian border, we stopped to get our passports stamped. We were in the middle of a desolate field. I went off to find a bathroom, finally finding one presided over by an old babushka. She charged us 5000 lei for the privilege of using her Turkish toilets. She also gave us a length of toilet paper.

I had no food with me so I bought some garlic Bake Rolls (bagel chips). I hoped the garlic would ward off my seatmate. The rest of the bus stocked up on traditional Romanian travel food: Bake Rolls and 7 Days croissants (those with the champagne-flavoured filling). I devoured them in ten minutes out of sheer frustration.

Turkish busse are actually pretty comfortable. More comfortable than the SMT busses I took at home. We also got unlimited juice, tea and water. However, there was no bathroom on the bus and once outside of Romania, few places accepted the lei.

We stopped in Bulgaria at a stereotypical Communist diner. I don't know if Communist diners exist but if you picture in your head a Communist diner, this would be it. I pointed to a mess of chopped up meat and asked what it was. "Ficat de pui". Normally I would know that this is chicken livers, but in my state, I thought it was chopped chicken.

I ended up with a meal of chicken livers, mushrooms and greasy green beans in grease/tomato sauce.

Back on the bus, I tried to sleep. I drifted a few times, but we made so many pit stops that I kept getting jarred awake.

I was aware that at the Turkish border, we would have to get off. We were herded to a building to buy visas. My visa from Ankara is good until April 28th, so I smugly announced that I didn't need one. One of the bus stewardesses told me that I did indeed need one. I followed the line anyways.

The woman behind the desk (bearing in mind that it's about 2 am and we're freezing cold) tells me I owe her $45. I tell her I don't need a visa as I have a three month multiple-entry visa which expires on April 28th. She doesn't speak a word of English or Romanian. She instead screams at me that I owe her $45. I point out the date that it was purchased (January 28th) and then the Turkish translation of "three month multiple entry". She screams at me...something or other. I make out the word "Politia".

Instead, I walk over to the border control and hand the lady my passport. She looks at it, looks at the date on the visa, and gives me my stamp. Everyone is looking at me strangely, but I don't care. They're probably just jealous that I don't have to purchase a visa.

A new bus pulled up and I saw that it said Sofia-Istanbul. I ran over and sure enough, Rob came out. We had a joyful reunion. It was great to see him after six months! However, my bus honked the horn and I had to get back on.

We got in the bus and drove over the border. Then we were made to get out again because the police wanted to check our bags. By this time, I had taken my contacts out and didn't bother putting my glasses on. I fumbled for my luggage and stood, freezing in the cold. The damn guards didn't even look in my bag! They were more concerned with checking the duty-free stuff.

We all got on the bus again and they started showing "Girl Next Door". The volume couldn't decide whether to stay on or turn off, so after struggling to listen, I gave up. I rerad the subtitled but it was consuming more effort than it was worth so I fell asleep.

And woke up. And fell asleep. And woke up.

All fricken night.

We pulled into Istanbul at 6:45 in the morning. One of the workers took my hand and led me to the building. I asked why I was going there because I needed to get a taxi.

"Sit down! Relax!"

They gave us hot buns and tea. I asked the man again if I could leave and he told me to wait. After 30 minutes, no one told me anything else. I asked one of the women "Why am I here?" "I don't know. Leave it you want to". I got directions to the bank, got a cab, was taken on a wild goose chase around the Taksim area, and then finally found my hotel and Rob.