Sofia to Istanbul

Since I had bought my couchette ticket right after Alexis and Rieke, I had hoped we would all be in the same compartment. Nope, they were two doors down. I ended up sharing a compartment with a lovely Dutch lady who was travelling from Amsterdam to Turkey. She's an art historian but works as a fuind raiser and has travelled all over Europe and Afica. She was facinating and had so many interesting stories! We chatted long into the night. Eventually, Alexis came and we all sat talking about politics, racism and discrimination in Europe. Finally, we decided to go to sleep. At 4:30, we were woken up by the passport control. I got my passport ready but no one came. Waiting...waiting...waiting... I opened the door to peek out. Alexis was there, so I went to his room. He, Rieke and I sat on the floor eating Bulgarian bread and taking, watching the run rise out the window. By 6:30, it was completely light outside and no passport control person to speak of. Finally, they came. I saw what was taking so long. They were inspecting every car, even taking off the ceiling pannels to check underneath. Drugs? Stowaways? Bombs? Who knows? After they stamped my passport, I fell asleep. I woke up at 8:30 at the Turkish border. I assumed we would reach the border at 2:30...or at worse, 5:00, considering the initial delay at the beginning. I had planned on going out in a tank top and shorts with a blanket. "It's night" I reasoned with myself. No one will see me. Well, at 8:30 am, it's blazing sunlight. People gave me odd looks, but I didn't care. I changed my money in advance and had my $45 USD all prepared. "Nope" I was told. "It's $60 USD now". "Bullshit" I said. I showed them my previous visa for $45. I'm pretty sure it's still $45 and the guy pocketed the extra. The Europeans on the train were each quoted different amounts...even those coming from the same countries!

I got back on the train and slept untl 12:30. I was supposed to have arrived at 8:30 am. Now, they were telling us it would be 2:30 pm!

The Americans on the train were paranoid. "What if we lose our reservations?" I had recharged my Turkish cell phone at the border so I let them call. I also let the Fre, my "roomate", call to find a room. After a few calls, she found a place to stay.

Finally, we arrived. Fre and I got something to eat: my beloved lentil soup and ayran. Bulent arrived a few minutes later, so I said my hello and goodbyes and we were off!

Sofia

Sofia was great!

My train was late (of course) but Rob was there to mete me at the train station. I walked smugly past all the people advertising hostels and Rob and I tried to get a cab to his place. He said that it should cost less than 2 leva...about 1 euro, and that was being generous.

The first cabby wanted 10 leva. The second wanted 5 euros. Rob's been in Sofia for as long as I've been in Romania. We asked the next guy to use his counter but he refused, asking some exhorbitant amount. Finally, we walked a bit further down and found a guy willing to use his metre. Total cost? 1.80 leva.

Wehung out a bit, relaxed and then went shopping.

I like Bulgarian fashion. The long skirt, hip scarf and tank top look that I tried so hard to establish in Romania was alive and well in Sofia. I tried in vain to see some Romanian microscopic skirts to point out to Rob what I put up with on a daily basis. None.

We found a great store selling linen tops and skirts, all at up to 70% off. Happy Karla.

While walking downtown, we saw the Bulgarina equivalent to Speaker's Corner.

Speaker's Corner is a Canadian institution. Rant and rave on national TV for a dollar. We thought we'd give it a go. I put a leva in and nothing happened. Then another one. We were on in five seconds!

We had no idea what we would talk about. Rob started, by complaining that Eastern Europeans all think he's Japanese, when he's really Malaysian. We then talked about how much we love Eastern European tomatoes and finished up by asking ourselves how we could smuggle back homemade tsuica and rakia. We both gave these huge cheesy smiles and thumbs-up signs, which I half expect to see on billboards around Bulgaria next year.

"Bulgaria: Even the Canadians love us!"

That night we went to a going-away party for Rob. I got to meet all his coworkers. Lovely group of people. We stffed ourselves full of traditional Bulgarian cuisine and then tried to interest people in coming clubbing with us.

No one was interested.

We wandered downtown by ourselves. Rob was curious about the strip club scene, never having had anyone to go with him. I told him I would go. So off we went to a club well-recommended by the Peace Corps guide to Sofia.

The girls rotated every song,which was nice. No one was completely nude. We sat on a couch and drank overpriced tonic waters.

There was a couple of Aussies perpendicular to us. One kept getting lap dances. You could tell he was trying to convince the girl to go home with him. Finally, he approached the manager to work out a deal. When the manager called him a few minutes later, he jumped up so excitedly and hit our table...spilling my drink all overme. I gave him a rude stare.

"Sorry!"
"How about buying me a new drink then?"

Sadly, they fell on deaf ears as he was too excited about his upcoming private session. On his way back, he told me sorry again. I re-asked for my drink, but he was too concerned with the girl on stage. Jerk. Rob and I kept giving him dirty looks all night.

After a couple of hours, we went home. The place was ok but not great. Anyways, now I can say I've been in a Bulgarian strip club!

The rest of the time in the city, Rob and I went sightseeing. We passed by a little hole-in-the-wall porn shop. My first time in Sofia, Momir and I went to the porn shops by the train station, which had an impressive selction of beastiality and granny porn. I wanted to see if they had them here to show Rob.

Sure enough, they did. I pointed out "Fun With Horseies" and "Pit Bull Delaight". The guy behind the counter helpfully pointed out the granny porn as well as the funniest German porn I'd ever seen: Spritz in mein Grotten. That became our catch phrase for the rest of the trip.

Coming home one night, we saw the infamous Sofia transvestite hookers. I wanted to geta closer look but Rob thought they might be dnagerous.

I was sad to leave. On Sunday afternoon, I packed like mad and we hightailed it to the station with seven minutes to spare. I ran to buy a couchette but luckily, the train was 80 minutes late.

Then 100.

Then 150.

Wemet a French guy and a German girl who were also taking the Sofia-Istanbul train. Since misery loves company, we decided to wat together. We had a great time sharing food, complaining and running to the informaiton desk eveyr ten minutes.

Finally, the train arrived. Rob brought me to the train, gave me a big hug and promised to see me in Toronto.

Alf

I wasn't going to post until I had a tonne of time to write an update, but this deserves an entry.

Rob was clicking around his computer here at the net cafe and found episodes of Alf.

Not just any Alf. Alf dubbed into Bulgarian.

You can hear the English in the background and the Bulgarian overtop. Alf sounds like a Mafia don who had one too many cigars.

Blogging from Belgrade

That was one of the nicest train rides ever.

I fell promptly asleep and was only woken up when the customes, duty control, passport control, ticket persons a, b and c and the drug guy came into the car.

Of course, Srjan was late. He apparently sent an sms warning me, but due to te fact that we're an hour ahead of Serbia and I don't have roaming, I never got it.

I promptly got some burek. Mmm...burek. Then I decided to wander around the train station and people watch. I saw a young couple from Austria trying to buy a phone card. Maud gave me her phone card when she came back from Serbia the last time, so I let them use it. Unfortunately, the number they wanted to reach didn't work.

We started discussing travelling and they're off to Romania soon: Arad, Cluj and Baia Mare. I told them to skip Arad and go straight to Timisoara. The train goes through Timisoara anyways, so I hope they stop off in town!

Belgrade weather is like the weather back home. Wait five minutes and it will change. It started out blistering hot and I didn't change since this morning. We went to the new Orthodox churc because Srjan wanted to show me a great view of the city. Unfortunately, the workmen caught us trying to sneak upstairs and told us the balcony was off limits. Boo.

The weather turned cold and it looked like it was about to rain. We wanted to go for a walk, so headed for the lake in the middle of the city. By now, the sun was out again and I felt my skin charring.

Everyone was walking around in a bikini top. "What the heck" I thougt, and took my shirt off. I was wearing a snap in the front black bra that looked like a bikini top anyways. No one gave me a second glance.

We ended up walking by a nude beach. Mostly men, standing around with their todgers hanging out.

Srjan had to go visit his family for an hour (and is late, of course). My train leaves in two hours. I can't wait to see Rob again!

European men are so much more romantic than American men...

My all-time favourite article from TheOnion is back!

After all, I was voted "Most likely to have several international relations and have her memoirs top the best-sellers list" at graduation.

I'm off (again)

Everything is packed. I honestly don't know how I managed to accumulate so much stuff.

I came with a huge suitcase full of clothes, a big bag full of toilettries, a bookbag with books and a carry-on bag with my laptop and various other small objects.

I gave away two big bags of clothes in April for the flood victims. I threw out two pairs of boots. The laptop is gone, the toilettries used up, most of the books are staying in Romania...

So why do I have so much stuff?

My suitcase is packed to exploding, my big bag (currently full) is being used for this weekend, and I was given an enormous sports bag, which is also full. My bookbag has books, and my carry-on has all my souvenirs. I can only check two bags and take two small bags on the plane. I have *no* idea what I'm going to do...

I surrender my apartment today and am staying with the Frenchies tonight. My train for Belgrade leaves at 6:34 am tomorrow morning. Only in Romania can you spend 4.5 hours travelling 175 km.

I'm spending the day in Belgrade, hopefully with Srjan and lots of burek, and then it's off to Sofia for a weekend with Rob. On Sunday, I'll tae the night train to Istanbul where Bulent will hopefully meet me and we'll drive to Goreme together.

I'll spent almost two weeks in Cappadocia, and then it's an absolute trip from hell back:
10 hours in a bus from Goreme to Istanbul
17 hours in a train from Istanbul to Bucharest
12 hours in a train from Bucharest to Timisoara

Spend one night in Timisoara and get all my luggage, and say one last goodbye to everyone. Then head to Arad to see Krisztina, and then get the 10 hour train to Vienna. Luckily, I have an evening flight, so I don't have to worry about getting a hotel the night before. The flight home is 9 hours.

Turns out Rob's flight from London arrives at the same time as mine and we're talking about meeting up for a few days in Toronto. Could be interesting, especially since my flight home isn't until the next day anyways.

Why do I do this to myself? That's right, I like travelling.

Now I'm starting to look forward to going home. Got in touch with an old friend who's staying in the city, and she's getting me all excited. Most of my friends have left Timisoara, I've said my goodbyes, and now it's time to say my hellos back home.

Karla's zacusca challenge

I'm looking for the best zacusca recipe (preferably mushroom zacusca) recipe on both sides of the Atlantic.

Anyone interested in sharing their old family recipes? I'll even take pictures of myself cooking and sampling the results!

Attn: Brandon

Any chance your lovely bunica would share her zacusca recipe with a poor, soon to be homesick Canadian?

For Guillermito (nothing like eating Vietnemese noodles produced in Slovakia in Romania)

Leaving

We found someone to take the apartment!

This means that:
a) I get out of my lease
b) I get some rent money back!

They want the place on Tuesday, which works out perfectly! I'll stay with the Frenchies for a few days and then I'm off.

I called Austrian Air, and they have a ticket home on July 23rd, next Saturday. I presently have a ticket home on August 12th.

Do I stay? Do I leave?

I spent the afternoon chatting to my friend Bulent in Goreme, who has graciously invited me to stay with him (what did I say about Turkish hospitality?). We became friends when I was in Cappadocia last time and kept in touch. He just bought a hotel and wants me to make a website for him, help him with English publicity, etc etc. Also, my good friend Jenny will be staying in Ankara with her boyfriend, which will be nice.

Bulent told me if I come, I am invited to a traditional Turkish wedding ceremony. Apparently, they last four days!

Before talking to him, I was 65% sure I would come. Now I'm 95% sure!

If I go, I would Balkan Flexipass it to Belgrade, see Srjan, then head to Sofia to see Rob again. I miss him! Then take the night train to Istanbul. Bulent is even considering coming to get me in Istanbul, which would be wonderful!

I have my tickets held until Monday, but I think my decision has been made!

And I'd still be able to continue blogging from Turkey!

Back

I'm back!

The train ride home was infinitely more comfortable. There were couchettes, just none available, so I splurged on a first class seat. Plush, reclining seats, six people instead of eight, and most important, peace and quiet.

Hope you enjoy the pictures!

Subhurbs of Timisoara

Subhurbs of Timisoara

Subhurbs of Timisoara

More factory shots

From the train back to Timisoara

From the train back to Timisoara

From the train back to Timisoara

From the train back to Timisoara

From the train back to Timisoara

From the train back to Timisoara

From the train back to Timisoara

Obligatory Romanian factory shot

From the train back to Timisoara

From the train back to Timisoara

Where we stopped for soup

Where we stopped for soup

Transylvania countryside

Transylvania countryside

Transylvania countryside

Transylvania countryside

Transylvania countryside

Transylvania countryside

Transylvania countryside (this is close to where the fictional Dracula was based)

Angel with Adrian and Cipri in Cluj

See, I told you he was famous!

Maramures

Maramures was wonderful.

It completely lives up to the hype.

After visiting Sighet, we drove to a pension in a small village and had a rest. A local girl was getting married and even though we were foreigners, we were still invited!

Again, I didn't know what to expect. Maramures women all wear headscarves and kerchiefs. I didn't think any of my disco clothing would make a good impression on the locals, but I don't have anything really suitable for a traditional wedding, so I put on a long skirt and a black sweater. It was about 30 degrees outside.

When we got to the wedding gathering, there was already about 50 people sitting in a circle, with the wedding party at the head. The father-in-law is a famous traditional singer. The woman were all wearing short skirts, headscarves and high heeled shoes that looked more like what a 20 year old would wear to a bar than what a 50 year old would wear to a wedding.

We were immediately offered shots of tsuica. Angel refused but I took one. Then came the plates of sarmale. I'm not a fan of sarmale but these made me change my mind. Greasy but delicious! Then came plates of sweets.

There was a traditional band, wearing traditional costumes and playing traditional music. A little boy kept in time with the violin.

It was a wonderful, special afternoon. If I ever get married, I would want a reception like this. Intimate, close and lots of food!

Later, we went back to the pension to eat dinner. I got changed for the banquet. I decided to dress up a little. So much, in fact, that our driver didn't recognise me.

Outside the church, we met three Romanian ladies. They were amazing! We chatted with them for almost half an hour, even though I only understood about half of what they said.

We got in the car and drove to the banquet hall. Unfortunately, the car broke down on the way and we had to push and maneuver it. In the rain. I found the humour in it.

The banquet hall was full of people. Angel, Cipri and I sat down and were given fresh shots of tuica and soon, plates of meat. Not to mention the plates of sweets sitting on the tables.

After everyone had eaten and drank, the dancing started. A man sitting by me took a liking to me and asked me to dance. I accepted, and he spoke great French.

I didn't know any of the steps, but he taught me.

Now I know why the Romanians all dance salsa in unison: it comes from traditional Romanian dances.

We changed steps so frequently I couldn't keep up. I could barely find the beat! Everyone else on the dance floor new the steps perfectly though. Stamping, twirling, back and forth... I have no idea how anyone could keep up, much less remember all the steps. And it wasn't just one dance too. Every dance has it's own pattern! After one dance, I was exhausted!

Next we did a circle dance. There was only one step so it was easy for me to follow. Left foot back, right foot forward. First it was just the wedding party, but then the rest of the people joined in. Soon we had two circles, outside and in. My new friend dragged me up and tried to get a little too close for comfort during the dance. Cipri gave him a talking-to when we all sat back down.

We left at midnight. The rain started and we had a long day ahead of us.

Angel's pictures

Maramures

Maramures

Maramures (me dancing with my new boyfriend)

Maramures

Maramures

Maramures

Maramures

Maramures

Maramures

Maramures

Maramures

Maramures

Maramures

Maramures

Maramures

Maramures

Maramures

Maramures

Maramures

Maramures

Maramures

Maramures

Maramures

Maramures