by Debby Merickel
I was facing a 10 hour train trip from Bucharest to Sofia in a filthy stench filled, eye burning car with toilet facilities that rats would avoid.
A Tight Spot
Once across the border, four Bulgarian women commandeered my compartment. The matriarch looked to be in her 80′s and the other three could possibly have been her granddaughters. While they appeared friendly, there was a dangerousness lurking in that now crowded space. Normally younger people have been taught some English in school but I quickly determined that while these ladies knew many things, English was not one of them.
Targeted
Within minutes I was scrutinized via universal sign language about my lack of travel companions, about where I was from, and about money. As they furtively chattered amongst themselves, I gathered that they were choosing which course of action to take with me. The fact that I had purchased a first class rail pass for countries that did not have first class train service proved that I was a fairly easy target.
Who, Me?
I pretended to read my book as they ostensibly discussed me while eating their lunch. I refused to acknowledge that I was being asked for money even when the old woman put her bandaged feet on my lap to exhibit her desperation.
Not Today
I struggled with my intuition. Was I being paranoid? Was I just imagining that these ladies were gypsies who were looking for immediate gratification? As I crawled deeper into my small corner I realized that I could not even go to the toilet and leave my backpack behind. Instead, I sat there, uneasily battling my need for safety with making a possible un-PC judgment. Within a few hours time the conductor came by and asked me rather bluntly, “what are you doing in here with them? Go and sit anywhere but here.” I was out of there so fast that he had to grab my bag for me. Despite my newfound safety, I still had difficulties making myself use those unsanitary toilet facilities!
Tough Getting Old
Another day, another long train journey and another opportunity to meet and greet the locals confronted me. I was at the train station waiting to go from Belgrade to Brasov. The aging stocky Serbian woman attacked the dilapidated ascent to the railway platform with her cumbersome valises three steps at a time. At each pause she dropped her bags with a thud that almost matched the exasperated sigh from her tar-infested lungs.
Who, Me?
A short week ago I would have scrambled down the steps to assist her; however, six days of schlepping my own backpack through 3 countries had worn me out. I was momentarily shocked that at 60 the Serbian and I were most likely the same age. We ended up sitting across from one another and conversed for three hours regardless of the fact that neither one of us knew one word of the other’s language. Smiles, nods, and a lifetime of speaking when no one was listening anyway, made us both at ease.
Confusion
Getting to my airport lodging the last evening would not be easy. I needed to navigate from the train station, take a subway, and board a special bus to the airport terminal where I was to pick up the hotel van. As I am that person who can get lost going from my hotel room to the elevator, I often need to ask for directions. In my excitement of emerging from the subway and seeing the #783 bus approach, I jumped on, disregarding my commitment to verification. I punched my prepaid card and sat back to relax, enjoying the familiar sites. It was not long before I realized they were a little too familiar. I was going the wrong way. My panic was brushed off by the driver who could have cared less.
Last Stop
The simple solution of hopping off and crossing the street was more problematic due to the limited kiosks for purchasing a new ticket. I plopped back down and covered my head with my hands, struggling with the possible options. The buzz of conversation among the others onboard caused me to look up. The woman who had initiated the conversation with the other passengers was looking for someone to translate her idea to me. Two young women approached me and told me to stay on the bus as it completed its loop. Not only would I get to the airport on time but I would save myself trouble and money! Each and every one of the passengers waved to me as they disembarked.
Now What
Their good wishes were short lived upon arriving at the airport. My plane didn’t actually leave until early the next morning, but I had arranged to stay at an airport hotel that supposedly provided free shuttle service to and from the airport. Why I had not opted to take a taxi directly from the train station is something any reader is wondering by now, and I will say it was due to the distance out to the airport, my lack of funds for a taxi and my fondness for public transportation.
Ready to go Home
Prepared as I was with a European cell phone, hotel phone number and the help of a local airline crew, all efforts to summon the hotel van failed. The taxi I then tried to hire refused to accept such a short fare. My only alternative was to walk two kilometers in the dark, with my belongings, across a busy highway with hopes of arriving in enough time to eat, shower and find transport back to the airport in time for my dark thirty hour flight home.
Give it a Few More Years
Romania abounded with contradictions. The spectacular scenery in Transylvania was offset by the crumbling decay in Bucharest. The hotel in Brasov was the nicest three-star hotel I’d ever stayed in yet the one at the Otopeni airport was the worst. For every wonderful person I met, I encountered their polar opposite. Although it is new member of the European Union, Romania still has many problems to overcome before touting itself as a tourist mecca; although there is potential…. the official tourist office saying is “Romania: come as a tourist, leave as a friend!” <<
Debby Merickel is putting the finishing touches on her book– a travelogue called The Misadventures of an Aging Globetrotter. Debby has traveled over 85 countries and 65 of them were after she turned 50, eight years ago. Reach her at Debby@LetLifeIn.com
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