Episode 9 - Buses and Aeroplanes

I thanked my little room for hosting me and went to find Alex the manager to check-out.  He was much taller than I had realised as previously he had been sitting behind a little desk.

The bus stop was about a ten minute walk so off I toddled, with my giant purple tortoise.  

Bus 100 soon came.  It said the location was OTP - this usually means One Time Passcode, but on this occasion it meant Otopeni, which is where the international aiport is located in Bucharest.  

I jumped onto the bus, paid my 50p on my Revolut card (hear that, Luton Cash Cow?!) and made myself comfortable.  An older lady sat beside me.  She said something in Romanian - 'I'm really sorry, my Romanian isn't great'.  This was a bit of an understatement - I can say 'yes', 'no' and 'gift'.  A woman about my age opposite interpreted for us - the older lady's son is living in London, working as an engineer.  

The older lady left the bus - she was leaving anyway, it wasn't my influence - and I carried on chatting with the interpreting lady.  I had noticed her earrings - they were little aeroplanes.  She also had an aeroplane ring and an aeroplane bracelet.

I asked her what she did for a living.  She is a dentist, a pilot and an air traffic controller.  'I was a dentist for a while, then I fell in love with aeroplanes', she told me.  'There is just something so exhilarating about them'.  She then proceeded to tell me that her 7-year-old son wants to go into space, hence her working hard now to make it happen.  She's keen to do the next part of the pilot's licence, but only certain companies will page the forty thousand dollars to make this happen.  

We chatted about the infrastructure in Romania, the revolution, membership of NATO, membership of the EU, Ukraine, Russia, drones, all the regular topics for bus journeys.  We arrived at the airport and off she went to control the air traffic, including the WizzAir flight I was going to be on.

I was intent on making great in-roads into this textbook and am proud to say that I have almost finished it today - it is nearly 300 pages, although a significant proportion of it is footnotes, so in reality it's not that long.  I started sticking little post-its in it to highlight the salient points.  It looks good anyway.

The naughty app had already checked me in so I just had to deposit Purple.  The lady at the baggage drop-off printed a label then said 'is there somewhere I can put this?' I think it might have been her first day.  

I perused the duty free at Bucharest, coating myself in some nice perfume.  

Before settling at the gate, I did a quick circuit to check if there were any non-tattooed women needing help with compression socks.  There weren't.

I boarded the plane and was sandwiched between a man and a discombobulated woman.  I asked her if she was ok.  A man came over and they spoke in Romanian - it wasn't 'yes' or 'no' or 'gift' so I was clueless.  He walked away, crestfallen.  

'Do you want to sit next to him?' I asked her.  She hesitated.  

'Well, yes', she said.

'Well I can swap with him'; she beamed and called out to another man in Romanian.

'Hang on, I thought you wanted to sit next to this man'.

'No, he is not my husband - that is my husband', she said, pointing to a completely different man I hadn't even seen - 'I just have one husband', she said, quite seriously.  I moved.  

I then found myself sandwiched between two very heavily tattooed men who played on their phones the entire way back.  I smiled at them both but they weren't having it.  I thought of offering them some of my delicious oregano toasty things that I purchased in 'Shop and Go'; then I thought maybe I should make them some origami gifts.  I think they weren't wanting to make friends, so I respected that and buried myself in my neck pillow for a little sleep, then my book.

On arrival at Luton, as ever, the E-gate wouldn't let me through.  I headed over to a smiley immigration lady.

'Hello - those gates never let me in', I explained.

'Don't worry', she reassured me.

'I think it's because I look quite different without my glasses'; I removed them;

'Ooh yes, you do!' she commented.

'I think also it's my ears - something ate a chunk of my right ear you see, so I look a bit peculiar'.

'Ahh, bless you', she said, in a sympathetic way, I think. 'Welcome home'.

This blog has been written in memory of my friend and housemate of 20 years, Sue Craven, who checked out of this life unexpectedly on Feb 19th 2026.  Sue heard the Challenge Anneka appeal in the early 1990s and went to Romania to volunteer as a physiotherapist.  Rest in Peace Sue.  

Episode 8 - Louisa the Freezer

 Well.  It was an unconscionably early start for what is meant to be a sabbatical, albeit a very short one.  I hadn't slept due to being so anxious about sleeping through the alarm and literally missing the bus.  My brain had written future blog content, the next chapter of my ever developing (I know! I was surprised too!) dissertation, plus I'd been thinking about everything that needs doing once I get home.  

Louisa needs some attention.  She's the Freezer, obviously.  She is a complete mystery to me.  Opening her door is like commencing an archaeological dig in a curious igloo and requires specialist equipment.  Goodness knows what she might be harbouring.  At least nothing could have died in there, and if it has, it is well and truly frozen.  

Then there's the car - poor Purple has been pumping out hot air for the last three months, not what one needs in a heatwave.  The air-con needs re-gassing.  I called a garage just before I came away -

'Hello - do you do air-con re-gassing?'

'What sort of car is it?'

'She's purple'.

They hung up.  

I did wake up on time this morning and hurriedly made myself a coffee, then dashed up to Grand Hotel where the pick-up point was, expecting a similar set-up to my recent day-trip to Bulgaria.  Instead of the predicted Family Car from before, was a 67-seater coach! This is clearly the day-trip of choice amongst those who find themselves here.  

The guide introduced himself - 'I am Emmanuel'.  This reassured me - as anyone who has ever been to a Christmas Carol Service will know, Emmanuel means 'God with us'.  

People continued to arrive and bag their seats in the coach for some time - when I realised that there were 59 of us altogether, I realised that this might not quite be what I was hoping for.

As we set off for the first stop - Peles Castle, the summer residence of the Royal Family - which is closed on Mondays (goodness, I'd close every day if that number of tourists were descending!) - a child sneezed abundantly - I heard her mother say, 'Well, I haven't got a tissue, just use your sleeve'.  I couldn't have this - I turned around and pressed a packet of tissues into her hand - 'Here you go'.

I fell into conversation with another traveller who was complaining about her multitude of insect bites - I reached into my bag - 'Here's some bite cream'.  She was travelling with her phone and bank card - that was all.  I am travelling with everything known to (wo)man.  So I was basically the Coach Mother and it was remarkably similar to leading a Guide trip.  

I'm afraid that Bran Castle was not what I was expecting - it is one of the main attractions of that part of Romania and it's interesting because Bram Stoker who wrote Dracula, never actually came here, just thought it was a good place to set the story.  But in real terms, the place was heaving with people, apparently on timed tickets, but I would even say it was dangerously overcrowded with visitors, and anyone with even slightly limited mobility would not have been able to access it, and I didn't see any warning of that.  Things were labelled and arrows guided you around (unless you were paying for an individual guide dressed in an elaborate table cloth), but realistically there were too many people to be able to read anything, and I didn't like it.  

It was beautiful to be in the mountains and I wish on reflection that I'd spent a couple of days in the mountains, to fully appreciate Transylvania without eight million other people.

I was sympathetic with the couple arguing with each other about how busy it was and how they were each blaming the other for wanting to come here.  I wanted to join in.

The guide was very knowledgeable and eager to share his knowledge of the country.  He sounded very like the take-off of Thomas Tuchel on 'Dead Ringers'.  If you haven't heard this, go to BBC Sounds online and listen to the latest series of 'Dead Ringers'.  The take-offs of Sue Mitchell are also very funny, but only if you've heard 'To catch a scorpion'.  Rob is ex-army.

Interesting as all the historical stuff is, the bit I find most interesting when travelling is the personal stories which you hear.  As we approached Bucharest after hours travelling back from Bran Castle, the guide started telling stories about his childhood.  He is a similar age to me - 36 and a bit - and talked of his memories of living under a communist regime, where milk and bread were rationed.  This was in 1989, which is relatively recently.  

He talked of how Romania has changed, has joined NATO, has joined the EU and is becoming a capital of choice for industry.  I would agree with that.  A lot of people have particular associations when they think of Romania, but it is a million miles away from where it was forty years ago.  It is bright, vibrant, alive.  The streets are buzzing with Bolt scooters, global chains from KFC to Zara, McDonalds to Lidl, Auchan, Ikea.  You would not know from all this, what happened in 1989.  

Romania came to the world's attention in the 1990s when it was realised that more than 100,000 children were living in terrible conditions due to policies which banned abortion and contraception to boost the population, meaning that many families had to abandon children to institutions.  You might remember the Blue Peter appeal, the Challenge Anneka appeal and many others in the early 1990s.  Maybe you contributed to these appeals in some way.  If you want to learn more about this, there's an episode of The Reunion called 'The Romanian Orphanages' on - you guessed it - BBC Radio 4.  

Well, it's time for me to go to bed and enjoy a final sleep in Romania as I'm heading home tomorrow.  Let's see what adventures the journey home brings.   

Episode 7 - This Digital Nomad Eats Quiche

Part of the reason I came on this mini-sabbatical was to work on my dissertation, which has been put on hold due to recent unexpected events.

Before today, I had read the first eight pages of a very large textbook - honestly, it's more like a doorstop than a book - then got distracted people-watching and chatting.  So after much prancing and visiting other countries, I decided to earmark today as a study day.

I had a long sleep then pondered as to how to actually achieve something on my earmarked study day, when I get distracted so readily.  I made myself a coffee and ate the disproportionately huge '7 Day' croissant which I had purchased from the local supermarket, which is called 'Shop and Go'.  What a daft name for a supermarket - what else would you do after shopping? Hang around? Actually, I might well do that if I got chatting, so maybe it's not that daft.  

There is a whole breed of people out there, across the world, called 'Digital Nomads'.  I know about them because I listen to Radio 4 and read The Guardian.  They are all exceptionally cool and have jobs in things I don't understand like 'digital marketing' and 'coding'.  They live on their devices, wear very large noise-cancelling (as if you can cancel noise!) headphones and can live anywhere in the world which has WiFi, which is just about everywhere - more places have WiFi than running water (I read that somewhere once).  Their tax situation is dubious (they said so on Radio 4), because they are not domiciled anywhere, technically, as long as they don't overstay - the limit for staying is 183 days. 

Cosy as my little room is, it is lacking in an actual desk from which to work, and I figured I would be more focused elsewhere, so I started looking for somewhere to go and embrace my inner Digital Nomad.  

I read all sorts of nonsense about the pros and cons of various places in Bucharest, probably all written by Digital Nomads, and decided to pick one and go and draw my own conclusions.  

I walked to a cafe highly regarded amongst local Digital Nomads, if there is such a thing.  My map ended right outside some concrete monstrosity, telling me I had arrived.  I hadn't.  Then I realised there was a winding backstreet which did in fact, lead to a very quirky looking home for Digital Natives, alongside the cool kids of Bucharest.  I fitted right in, obviously.

I purchased a coffee, then set-up on a large table where a sign threatened 'Laptops, one hour only'.  I levered the enormous textbook out of my bag, fired up my little laptop then spent the next few hours writing and writing and writing my dissertation, based on the very fluid plan I'd sketched out on a thing Digital Nomads don't know about - paper. 

I ordered another coffee, realising that was my third of the day, hence my head was caffeinated to an unhelpful extent.  I carried on writing, intent on having something to show for my day as a Digital Nomad.  

Well over an hour passed, and no-one seemed fussed that I was still in the same place.  I was hungry but didn't want to relocate as I was very comfortable.  I went to see what they had to eat - quiche.  That'll do, I thought, that'll buy me another couple of hours.  They kindly warmed it up and brought it over to me.  That said, the quiche came with a London price-tag and cost the same as my entire lunch yesterday, so I think the least they could have done was to pop it in the microwave for thirty seconds, but I was grateful anyway.  

I continued to write my thesis and even found myself enjoying the writing - it's quite a different type of writing to this so good for my brain, I think.  

The afternoon raced by and I felt compelled to buy something else to earn my space at the table, although there was no competition.  I headed over and asked for a cup of tea.  They had all sorts of fancy fruit teas but no actual regular, or Earl Grey tea.  Instead, I purchased a sparkling fruit juice thing, claiming to be 'Pineapple and Pink Grapefruit Premium Soda'.  I double-checked that I was still ok to work there, as I had been there for some hours now, and the lady assured me that I was, despite angry signs to the contrary. 

I went back to my table and cracked open my fancy drink and poured it out.  I took a sip.  It tasted like pot pourri combined with what a Flash speed mop wet cloth would taste like, with an aftertaste of shoe polish.  My face contorted.  The lady came over to me - 'are you ok?' she questioned, seeing my contorted face.  I confirmed that I was.  'You can stay as long as you like, we are closing at 6 o'clock'.  

'So I didn't need to buy this horrible drink?'

'No'.  She strolled back to the counter.  

My day of toiling as a Digital Nomad paid off and I have more than 3,000 words in an actual document - some of them even made a modicum of sense.  

Six o'clock beckoned and I packed up my things and wandered back towards my little room, feeling quite proud of myself.  I can be quite productive at times.

The quiche energy had gone and I was feeling quite hungry.  I came across a tiny Mexican place - the obvious place to go when in Romania - just around the corner from my hostel, so went inside and ordered some tacos.  They were delicious.  The chef came out to chat to me - he's from Pakistan and has moved here from Dubai fairly recently.

Back in my little room, I got organised for tomorrow as I'm off to Dracula's castle! 

Hope you all have a good sleep.

Episode 6 - Uncle Bulgaria

I once listened to an entire series - not just an episode people - an entire series, about the history of The Wombles.  God bless Radio 4.  One of the things I learnt was that the Wombles (who have nothing to do with Womulus and Wemus - see episode 2) chose their own names by looking through an atlas and finding names they liked - who knew?

I've been trying to go to Bulgaria for six years, but today was the day.  I had booked myself onto a day-trip and had to leave very early to head for the taxi rank by the Grand Hotel.  My sense of direction does not improve the longer I stay in a place, which left me a little panicked, but I arrived with two minutes to spare.  Had I had a huge group of children with me, be assured that I would have triple-checked the route and arrived half an hour early.  But it's a bit different when it's just me.

I was expecting a coach, until a picture of the vehicle was sent to me early this morning which was of a minibus.  I know people with family cars bigger than our day-trip vehicle, but it was all ok.  As has become the norm, the guide looked like a Spooks villain - I suppose they have to have side hustles in between operations.  I met two friendly Greek / Americans and we waited for another two people.  The family car would have been quite tight with five of us, so I was selfishly quite happy when they didn't show.

We glided out of the city and were soon surrounded by un-ending fields of ailing sunflowers longing for hydration, which was a sorry sight.  There must have been ten million of them.  

I hadn't slept much due to being anxious about the early start, so true to form, I dozed off in the back of the family car and when I woke up we were just pulling into the oldest monastery, in Bulgaria! 

This consisted of a series of rock-hewn chapels, which are chapels carved into the rock.  They each hosted various icons, candles and more, all representing different saints within the Orthodox church.  Various monks floated around reading scripture, singing and kissing icons.  I am fascinated by expressions of faith and enjoyed visiting this place.  

The next stop was Arbanasi village, a quirky, traditional village which is home to the Church of the Nativities where the decor inside and out is unique to this village, apparently.  I went wandering around the village and fell into conversation with a lady selling postcards.  She was happy to speak to me as she has been to London some years ago as a tourist.  

I asked her how business was at the moment; she replied that it wasn't great because of the River Danube being down; usually her summer is punctuated with cruise ship passengers from nearby stops but the ships are not running because of the water level.  Tough times.  

We bundled back into the family car and headed for Veliko Tarnovo fort.  Uncle Bulgaria parked up and told us we had three hours to explore and that he would meet us at his mate's very expensive restaurant up the road.  

I headed for the fort and went to buy myself a ticket.  The fort is a huge sprawling mass of bits of fort and there are all sorts of bits you can climb on.  The panoramic views over the surrounding area are spectacular.  I was intrigued to have an aerial view of Mini Bulgaria Park which I now know to be an open-air miniature park at the foot of Tsarevets Fortress in Veliko Tarnovo, showcasing over 60 hand-crafted replicas of Bulgaria’s most famous landmarks at a scale of 1:25.  But this didn't seem to be on the agenda.  There's no punchline, it just wasn't.

At the fort, there was a fantastic announcement in a British accent with a hint of a northern twang (Andy's influence has reached here already):

'Remember, that whilst the fort is well preserved, you are in nature, therefore it is possible that you might meet reptiles'.

I had visions of a lizard coming up to me, greeting me and having a good chat.  This happened to me in Costa Rica a few years ago, although he only spoke Spanish.  It didn't happen today, but I was ready for it, thanks to the Tannoy.  

I wandered through the village, stopping at a cheap pavement cafe for some Bulgarian cuisine, then was reunited with my Greek/American friends who insisted on buying me a delicious ice-cream.  I chose salted caramel flavour and it was divine.  

We piled back into the family car and drove for some time, again past fields of a million sunflowers desperate for rain.  I'd packed my little neck pillow - I thought I left it in Serbia last year but found it down the back of a drawer when I was packing - so I had a good snooze.

We were held up for what felt like hours at the border.  I'm not sure what they were doing as we didn't have to show our passports or answer questions or anything.  I think maybe they were just holding up the traffic for fun.  Once we were across the border and over the Danube, our Spooks villain was in an incredible hurry to get back to Bucharest - may he had to go and shoot someone or something.

We were deposited back at the starting point and we all said goodbye.  I took a new route back to my lodgings - not intentionally new, I just went the wrong way.  Again.  I popped into the supermarket to get myself a dinner picnic which I have enjoyed whilst writing this for you.

Sleep well everyone, thanks for reading.  

Episode 5 - Wrong Direction

My passport was placed sincerely back in my hand by a gruff Moldavian border guard and I breathed a sigh of relief.

Then when we crossed the border, a couple of Romanian border guards bundled into our cabin - they checked the documents of my roomies - the underwhelming Italian couple and the un-naturally hairy Romanian man, then it was my turn.  I handed him my passport with trepidation.  He looked at me; he looked at the photo; he looked at me; he looked at the photo.

"It's me, but my ears are different! See, somewhere in Romania there's a small creature flying around with a chunk of my ear cartilage.  Now my ears are not symmetrical'.  

He just stared.

'I go, I come back', he confirmed, then disappeared.  He came back five minutes later, with a huge antique camera which looked as though it had just been swiped from a museum of ancient relics.  

'I need to take picture', he said, pointing the giant lens at me.  I froze, was temporarily blinded by the flash, then he was gone.  

The train started moving again, so I headed to the buffet car.  There is nothing like sipping a cold Moldavian beer on the Chisinau to Bucharest overnight train, in the buffet car, in the middle of the night, particularly when you have been admitted back into Romania, despite having non-symmetrical ears.  

I fell into conversation with a team of young Italians who were on an adventure through Romania, Moldova and then to Turkey.  

'We are all students in our 20s', one of them told me as we chatted.

'I used to be in my 20s', I told them.  

'How old are you now?'

'I've been 36 for some years now'.

On several street corners in Moldova there are cages of puppies and kittens, supervised by people from an adoption charity trying to find good homes for them.  I wanted to scoop them all up and take them home.  There were also lots of very old people begging outside the cathedrals which troubled me.  I'm not sure what WizzAir would say if I turned up with three kittens, four puppies and seven very old people, but we'll see.  I'm good with compression socks.  

I alighted at Bucharest North, which is the exact opposite of Chisinau as stations go.  Bucharest North station is buzzing with noise, music, beeping sounds, train horns as they depart every few minutes, flurries of footsteps as people of every description dash in different directions.  Chisinau has two fish tanks, a double bass, two pianos, and two trains a day.  

Intent on taking a bus back to my little hostel, I wandered around looking for the M1 which would take me very close.  I wandered purposefully as though that is possible, failing to find such a bus.  On double-checking, M in fact stands for Metro and the M1 is an underground train, not a bus.  What a muppet.  

I followed the signs for Gare du Nord, purchased myself a ticket and was soon on a train.  True to form, I realised fairly soon that it was going in the wrong direction. In fairness to me, I did this twice on the District line earlier this month, once with 30 kids, so it is easily done.  The District line is a mystery to me.  

I enjoyed the best shower of my life, made coffee and cracked open a croissant, then slept like a baby (a compliant, sleeping baby, not the difficult sort) for a couple of hours.  

I then did some reading and some actual tangible work on my dissertation.  Just 15,000 words stands between me and an MA and I am slightly closer to 15,000 words now than I was this morning.  

I decided to go and have a filling dinner as I'd had train picnics for the last couple of nights, so I headed to Bread and Butter restaurant, and enjoyed a delicious dinner whilst watching the world go by, in thirty degree heat.  I had an accompanying salad of indeterminable vegetables.  

I spoke briefly with a young German-speaking couple next to me who asked if I knew of any good bars locally; I said that I was not cool enough to know things like that but there are a lot of bars in the Old Town.

Then suddenly, the underwhelming Italian couple from my train carriage appeared, out for an evening wander in Bucharest.  Of all the streets in all of Bucharest, there they were.  They were still underwhelming.  

I'm off on a mini-adventure tomorrow, to Bulgaria! I tried to take a group there in 2020 - everything was booked but then the world shut down, and the time which should have been used for sorting the specifics, was used for sorting the insurance claim.

Goodnight team.  

Episode 4 - The Hokey Kokey Train

When we reached the Romanian border, a Romanian Border Guard (that just autocorrected to Border Collie, but it was definitely a border guard), popped into the cabin and took our passports. Within a few minutes, he was back with our passports and all was well. 

We crossed the border and I said farewell to the family I'd shared with as they were heading to their grandmother's house close to Ungheni.

A young, spritely Moldavian Border Guard appeared at the door, 'Passport?' she quipped.

Without a thought, I handed her my passport.

A few minutes later, the train started doing a dance - backwards, forwards, shimmy, crash, crunch, bleep, ding-a-ling. Various overall-clad men covered in dirt hurried in and out of the train, wielding bits of metal. I watched on agog, all whilst gently fretting that the spritely Moldavian Border Guard had disappeared with my precious passport.

The train did the Hokey Kokey for what felt like a couple of hours. It was a feat of engineering and a sight to behold. I like trains but I think this journey is an enthusiast's dream - you cross a border, the train does a dance, and there's a bar.

I booked myself into a long walking tour on arrival, to give a bit of context to the city which is always useful. The guide was very knowledgeable and proud of her city. She also had a very cute little dog who came on the tour and did many cute things, from posing for photos to chasing pine cones.

Moldova became independent in 1991, gaining independence from the Soviet Union, of which there are still signs, juxtaposed with modern buildings, a number of abandoned buildings. It's a fascinating mish-mash of styles. The city has also been helped by other governments at times, such as by the Turkish government after the 2009 Revolution which resulted in there being no President for two years. I confess I don't remember this - I think it's easy to get consumed with our own lives and not think about complex political situations in nearby places. I learnt a lot today.

I also decided that I could drive a trolley bus, as they have overhead cables, so it would be impossible for me to get lost. Although I haven't put this to the test, I'm sure I could find a way to get lost, but that would result in a terrible tangle of cables.

We visited two cathedrals on our tour - one the Orthodox cathedral where pilgrims hurriedly moved between icons, kissing them, then  lighting candles.

We also visited the Roman Catholic cathedral where I was intrigued by a stained glass window dedicated to the four gospel writers - Matthew, Mark, Luke and - who knew - Joanne! Well that turns my recent in-depth study module of John's gospel on its head!

The Pope was sitting on bench outside and we had a short chat. I had Afternoon Tea with the Archbishop of Canterbury a couple of weeks ago, so I couldn't not have a quick catch-up with the Pope.

The walking tour also introduced us to to the delicious local speciality called Plăcinte - a rolled up pancake with lots of filling options. I chose potato & onion and it was yummy.

We ended the walking tour in the Coffee Museum where a coffee expert who allegedly had a TV show on the subject told us about the history of coffee in Moldova.

I had a little time, so took myself for a wander through some of the multitude of green parks. Chisinau is one of the greenest cities in the world, with many green havens dotted around including lakes and accompanying wildlife.

I popped into the souvenir shop next to the Tourist Information centre to purchase my mandatory souvenirs. I Google translated 'thimble' - the lady shook her head aggressively. She definitely didn't have any - then she beckoned that I should follow her over to a basket of thimbles. 

There was a little cafe in the shop which looked very inviting for a cool Coca Cola and a spot of blogging in my final hours here. Plus I thought they'd have a nice toilet - the one at the station was devoid of a seat & most of a door.

'Could I sit up there for a while?' I gently questioned. 

'No. Closed.'

This made me wonder what the other customers were doing there. I'm not sure what I'd done to upset her but there wasn't the opportunity to find out.

I carried on walking till I reached the station. I walked twelve kilometres today. Chisinau station is a complete place of mystery. There are almost no trains, which is bizarre as it is the capital city of the country. The building is a huge, gothic-style sprawl adorned with, oddly, fish tanks of aggressive looking fish, and musical instruments. Inside the lighting is dull, as though someone has forgotten to pay the electricity bill. I sat in the 'waiting area' literally alone, whilst various troubled cleaners hurried through every few minutes. 

Soon I was back on the train, making up my little train bed for the night. The train is just finishing the mandatory dance, then hopefully my passport will come back to me & I can have a peaceful sleep.

Goodnight faithful readers.

Episode 3 - Over to Moldova

In an attempt to look less like a panda, I'm trying to sleep as much as possible whilst away. However, my brain doesn't switch off very easily so it's not easy to get to sleep. Plus the air-conditioning unit - a pleasant surprise albeit not in a helpful bit of the room - sounds like a piece of broken farm machinery, so I've been switching it off and sweltering.

I went to fill up my Petal substitute, flipped the tap. There was no water. I flipped it the other way. It gurgled. Still no water. I checked the shower. Nichts.

Fortunately Petal had just enough water for a coffee with my fancy coffee filter. Phew, the important things were covered.

I pottered around for a bit & packed my little rucksack for the next part of the adventure - the sleeper train to Chisinau in Moldova!

I wandered through the Old Town, sweltering in the morning heat. I went into the first shop that looked like it would be air-conditioned. I was right. I spent a few cool minutes instead before realising that I was in the Romanian equivalent of... Hobbycraft. I always feel jittery in Hobbycraft, all that painfully expensive craft stuff you can so happily live without, peering at you with such intensity that you feel compelled to buy something.

I had to go to the Orpington branch once, at the Nugent for the locals amongst the readership. This was some years ago. It suddenly got very dark outside, in the middle of the day. Rain pounded the carpark with such power that I thought this was the End Times - Jesus was coming back, & I was in Hobbycraft!! 

He didn't. The rain eased. I got into my trusty car, Purple, & drove to Rainbows. 

Anyway. 

I brunched at a posh cafe which looked like it might have somewhere I could have quick wash. There was a nice sink but the light wasn't working, so I donned my headtorch and cleaned my teeth. A member of the public walked in, took one look at me then decided they didn't need to be there after all. Story of my life.

I walked to a large park and found a shady cafe where I could sip Coca Cola - a little treat when abroad - and read my book. 

There was an old couple at the next table feeding happy pigeons with the box of peanuts they had purchased from the cafe. I smiled at the lady. She didn't have many teeth, but she smiled back.

If only I knew some Romanian words, I thought. I wracked my brain. Suddenly my phone buzzed with, well, Coronation Street spoilers. Tyrone's mum is leaving; she says a fond farewell to her grandchildren - suddenly I remembered that I've of them is called "Dorin", the Romanian word for "gift" because Dorin was a little surprise when Tyrone and Alina had a thing. 

"Is dorin", I said to the lady with very few teeth, as she continued to feed the pigeons. She beamed. "Dorin", she replied.

I then bumped into a woman who was following a map on her phone. 

"Are you ok? Are you lost?"

I couldn't have helped her if she was lost, but it felt right to enquire. 

"No, me I am not lost, I am just tracking my daughter. She is over there. She is out alone for the first time"; she showed me a bumbling 'A' on her phone screen.

"Ah, ok", I nodded.

"It is hard because I do not want her to know, but is difficult in a park".

"I can understand that", I concurred. "Ideally you should climb a nearby tree", I suggested.

"Yes but I am not good with heights".

She continued, "My husband, he no understand. Do you have husband?" she asked.

"No, but I understand that they can be quite challenging".

She nodded. I said goodbye and headed on to Bucharesti North station. 

I fear someone from Luton Cash Cow management may be reading this as I had a message to say the £1.50 I paid for the Luton Cash Cow has been adjusted, to... £4.90. So if this is the case, just to clarify, I love the Luton Cash Cow, sorry, Luton Dart, like Andy loves buses.

I write from the Buffet Car of the very quirky antique Soviet overnight train to Chisinau where I'm sharing a cabin with a lovely Romanian / Moldavian family who are heading to visit family. We've spoken English and French and sorted out the world.

I wasn't sure this journey was possible, but the man in Seat61 said it was, and he was right! At the border at about 3am they will elevate the train and change the wheels to use different rails, or something. Let's see what happens. 

Next stop.... Chisinau, Moldova.

Sweet dreams people!