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!

Episode 2 - Something has eaten half of my ear

On waking this morning, I fished my fancy individual coffee filters I'd purchased at our recent Summer Fundraiser out of my bag and made myself a rather delicious coffee with the coffee that the miserable woman in the supermarket had sold me last night.  The kettle made a slow start - she's not like my speedy home kettle, 'Petal' (everything should have a name), but she delivered eventually.

As I was leaving the building, I was warmly greeted by a smiley lady wielding a huge pile of towels and a mop.  We chatted about who were are and what we are doing here.  She is from Bangladesh and has lived in Romania for three years.  She has three degrees - a BA and two MAs from universities in Dhaka - and had a scholarship place to go and study in Birmingham, but for some reason I didn't quite understand, she wasn't able to take up the place.  She was delighted to speak English with me and said that she doesn't really understand Romanian.  

I sauntered on towards the Old Town, trying to get my head around the route.  God blessed me with many things, but not a sense of direction.  The Old Town was gently buzzing with place after place to eat and drink, jets of fine mist gently touched those eating in vain attempts to cool the patrons down.  There were plenty of gift shops all selling the same thing at vastly different prices.  

I bumped into two kindly ladies from T'North who may well be reading this! They were enjoying a child-free mini-break in the city for a few days.  They were doing their very own ChatGPT-led walking tour around the city and a gentle automated voice was guiding their way.  They gave me some useful tips about things here including which bits of the Therma Spa place to go to and which taxis are cheaper.  

We said farewell and went our separate ways.  I wandered down a side-street when suddenly I heard a weird buzzing sound by my right ear.  I bashed myself on the ear to usher away the offending insect - not to hurt it, just to discourage it, but I was too late.  It had bitten a chunk out of my ear and my ears are now not symmetrical!

I had my hair cut just before travelling, to maintain my elfin appearance, as it had started to look like live I've been living on a hillside for some months.  And now an angry insect has flown off with a chunk of ear cartilage.  How rude.  Not quite sure how I'm going to problem-solve this one.  People meeting me here will meet me with half an ear.  

I had a hearing test the other day and a overly energetic audiologist stuck a camera in my ear, which was bizarrre, but I saw my own ear drum beating, and some strange light, which apparently is a good thing.  Turns out my hearing is almost totally fine.  So, either people are mumbling or I'm just not listening.  

I enjoyed a traditional Romanian breakfast of sausages, cucumber, cheese and, well, the lighting was a bit funny and the jets of spray were quite intense, so I'm not entirely sure what else I ate, but it was yummy and filled me up for the rest of the day.  

I spent some time reading and resting, then booked myself onto a quirky walking tour of Bucharest.  This was a true 'Helen Walk' as they are known.  More than two hours of history, stories, winding streets, near-death experiences with ubiquitous e-scooters and more.  The guide was incredibly knowledgeable and spoke with great enthusiasm.  

We met by the statue of Romulus and Remus.  I first learnt about them with a history teacher who couldn't pronounce the letter R, so for years I thought they were called Womulus and Wemus - till today actually.  

We went to all sorts of fascinating buildings, some several hundred years old with intense, beautiful architecture; others concrete blocks from relatively recent communist times.  

We went to the church of St Anthony who is - the patron saint of... things we have lost.  But the guide said that this is only on Tuesdays.  Apparently you can queue up and pay homage to him if you have lost things.  But only on Tuesdays.  I should have queued up really, but it would have taken more than a bit of a Tuesday.  

We were guided into some huge wooden multi-layered building where hundreds of people were ordering very fancy meals and drinks, and the upper layers are I think rooms which people can book to stay in.  On the way out we were shown the wooden paving used to protect visitors from the noise of people arriving on horses.  The guide said we could test this by pretending to be a horse.  Naturally I did this.  No-one else did.  

The next stop was the ruin of a Palace.  We were informed that it had been left exactly as they had found it.  There was a KitKat wrapper shoved in a bit of the ruin and I wanted to ask if that was part of the original find.  Maybe someone just needed a break.  

Our party nearly got run over by a LandRover full of people.  The guide told us that the car was driven by nuns who live in the nearby nunnery.  She described them as 'not normal nuns' and proceeded to explain that they drive and have food deliveries.  I think there's a lot more that she didn't explain about what the are nuns are doing there.  I didn't ask, so I'm nun the wiser.

The guide explained the significance of the symbols of Bucharest - it was a metal plate and doubled as a drain cover.  Bizarre.

The modern history was fascinating - I'd lost track of how recently communism ceased here after the Revolution - it was in 1989.  Thousands lost their lives and we were shown a giant memorial of all the names of those who died.  

Romania has developed in some ways, having joined NATO and the EU, but the guide said that many are leaving if they can, for more opportunities elsewhere, and that people are arriving from south-east Asia to work here.  This world is a fascinating place.  

'That was really interesting', I complimented the guide at the end, 'you have really great knowledge'.

'Well, it's my paid job, I'm paid to have great knowledge', came the terse reply.  

Nice.

Awkwardly the tour ended miles away from where it had started, so I had no idea where I was.  I walked until I found somewhere to have some yummy dinner and a nice cold Romanian beer.  Nearby, there was a violinist playing familiar tunes over a backing track, from everything Ed Sheeran, to 'My Heart Will Go On', to 'Memory' and I thought that would be a pleasant sound to accompany my dinner.  Unfortunately just after I'd ordered, the restaurant started pumping out electronic hip-hop versions of all sorts of indeterminable songs, creating a terrible cacophony in my brain.  I was also people-watching a couple who seemed to have run out of conversation.  I so nearly went over to give them some ideas for conversation starters.      

'Please could I have some tap water?' I asked the waiter politely, as I was ordering my dinner at the restaurant.

'No, we have only bottles'.

'You don't have a tap, with water in it?'

'No'.

Goodnight friends.

Episode 1 - Airport adventures

There I was, adventure-bound, on a Thameslink train, direct from Plumstead to Luton Airport.  The Tannoy kept telling me to message 61016 if I saw anything unusual - most of the general public look fairly unusual, but God loves them all.  

On arrival at Luton Airport, expecting to be ushered straight to a check-in desk, I had to jump on something called the Luton Dart.  It was shaped like a Japanese bullet train, the Luton version.

'Is this free?' I asked the attendant. 

'No', but you can use your card.

'What, my Oyster card?'

'No, this is not London'.

'Well I know that'.

'Your bank card is fine'.

'Great'.

I jumped aboard and sat right at the front - I thought I'd be next to the the driver but there wasn't a driver.  So I was basically driving a Japanese bullet train, in Luton.  My trusty Revolut card (which still won't authenticate me despite me twice having the friendly phone shop pixies fix my phone camera) informed me that I had spent £1.50 on this journey.  It took 4 minutes.  It should really be shaped like a giant cow, a cash cow.  

I was perturbed already as the app I'd booked the flight through had decided to check me in automatically the day before! There I was, lovingly watering my thriving kitchen garden - am intent on living off the land, rather than off Tesco - when I got a message saying I was all checked in! Faithful readers will know how I object to online check-in, on the basis that Jesus might come back in the interim.  I hadn't even decided to definitely go on this little sabbatical but I was already checked-in.  Great.  

Purple was still adorned with her orange ribbon from the last Guide adventure I led - thirty of us went to Cape Verde in May.  It is very odd travelling by oneself when one is used to taking a crowd.  The sound-off is very lonely - 'Sound off - one! Yay!'

Poor Purple, despite being the ultimate woman's fitted adventuring rucksack, she is not usually allowed with the regular baggage, so she's quite used to being taken instead to 'oversized baggage'.  Abdul on check-in assured me that she'd be much happier with the other oversized bags and he knows because he used to work in baggage.

So Purple and I trundled along, following the 'Oversize Baggage' signs, where the kindly supervising lady and I shared a few thoughts on the breakdown of society and the phasing out of paper and pens, before I said farewell to Purple.  

I happened upon the Prayer Room, so thought I pop in for a few quite moments before embedding myself back with the general public.  There I fell into conversation with Lesley and Malcolm who are part of the friendly chaplaincy team who do great pastoral work supporting people across the airport.  In December, local schoolchildren gather at the airport to sing Christmas songs to travellers.  Always a good time to do so.

I bumbled my way through security where they seemed to have to do an entire body search which took quite a while; fortunately I didn't have 30 children waiting for me as usual, so it didn't really matter.

I was sitting down, contemplating opening one of the multitude of books I have with me, when I heard a lady in her 80s behind me ask the man opposite if he could help her with something.  I'm not sure if he understood, but he declined.  She looked at me and I said 'are you ok? Do you need something?'

'Well yes, I need someone to put my socks on.  I can't do it myself.'

'Right', I hesitated, feeling sad that she had no one with her to help her.  Could I help a complete stranger with her socks, in the middle of an airport waiting area? I asked the lady next to who had a small child on her lap to whom she was reading a pink Fairy Magic book if she could keep an eye on my stuff.  She agreed.  

The older lady gave me some gloves and I proceeded to haul a giant angry compression sock with a mind of its own onto her foot and eventually into the shoe.  Whilst I was doing this, she said that she was thinking of getting a cat, to which I said would be a nice thing as they are good company, but that I preferred dogs.  But she said "No, a tat, that's what they call tattoos these days".  

She then, whilst I was wrestling with a giant angry compression sock, continued to tell me that she can't get a tat (not a cat) because of what it says in the Old Testament about tattoos.  I suggested that perhaps that reflected the nature of when the Old Testament was written, to which she said "could you do the other sock please?"

A man turned up.  "That's my husband", she said; "Thanks for doing my socks".  And off they hobbled.     

The lady reading the pink Fairy Magic book had gone now, and been replaced by another lady similar to my age, with a man and two sons.  She said she was looking forward to reading books by the poolside whilst the family were in the pool.  She said, 'I struggle to see the letters though, I have to use this'; she produced a piece of tired plastic - 'I got this in Sainsbury's - it's really helpful for magnifying the words'. 

"That's good", I chirped.

"I should sort it out really, for work", she said.

"What do you do?" I enquired.

"I'm an optician", came the reply.  

The time came for me to advance to the gate.  There was an anxious French lady trying to wake a potentially dead man who would not stir, at the edge of the corridor.  

"Are you with him?", I asked her.

"No but he is not waking", she replied.

Mutually agreeing that we needed to do something, I headed to the first person I saw in uniform - I like to think that you can generally trust them but usually first check that they are not on their way to a fancy dress party, as I've made that mistake before - but this was an international airport, so that was unlikely.  However, it was a Krispy Kreme Donut uniform.  

"Sorry, there's a man over there and he looks a bit, well, dead".

"I can't really do much", said the man in the Krispy Kreme Donut uniform.

"Well, you work here, so you can probably tell someone".

"Right", he said, thought for a moment, then picked up a radio.

"Sorry I'm not buying a doughnut" I apologised.

"That's ok".

Boarding seemed to take a long time, but I'd lost all concept of time, so I didn't really matter.  I slept almost the entire way, then made an origami crane for a small child who I hope will take good care of it, though I fear she may have left it on the plane.  I just hope it ends up in the recycling rather than in landfill.    

Queuing up at border control at Bucharest, I fell into conversation with a group of friends who are all A&E Nurses at Kettering General, here for a few happy days together.  Probably best to take a lot of care if you live in Kettering over the next few days.

I looked at my hostel reservation and it said something about re-confirm 24 hours before - well, I hadn't done that and I was already in the country! I have various, fairly tenuous links to Romania, ok very tenuous, so hoped the reservation was in some system somewhere.  I was surprised a rogue app hadn't already checked me in whilst I'd been watering the vegetables.  Then the hostel manager guy, Alex, messaged me and all was well.  I have three relatives called Alex so think you can generally trust an Alex, with some exceptions.  

I had been warned about airport taxi scams and all sorts, but needn't have been.  I think it's more lucrative to scam people online these days.  I confidently followed signs to the bus stops and jumped on the no. 100 bus into central Bucharest.  The journey lasted about forty minutes and cost 50p. I like buses, just like Andy.     

I checked into my little budget hostel, found some dinner nearby and made friends with the kindly Sri Lankan staff.  Then I found a supermarket and stocked up on milk and coffee.  The supermarket lady didn't seem to be having a very good day, or maybe that is her regular expression, it's hard to know.

Thanks for reading, sleep well all.