Bucharest to Bremen to Bucharest
Wednesday, March 6, 1996
We are in a compartment on a train from Budapest to Berlin
on our way to Bremen to get the car.
Before we left Valentin and Dorian paid us a visit. Valentin has begun the repair of his broken
front tooth. Dorian, aged 16, wants us
to call when we get to his mother’s house and then again when we get home so he
will know we are safe.
We went to get the car insurance Tuesday morning. The agent Florian had told me on Monday that
I should ask for him because we have a special case. $24 for a green card
sounded good to me compared to 290DM in Bremen.
Title and registration and we get insurance for 14 days to move the car
through customs and back to Bucharest.
When we got to the agency, it was not so. The car must be registered in Romania. Okay, so let’s register it. The car must be here to register it. But the car is in Bremen as I told you on the
telephone. Crazy making rules or
outright lies? How could any car ever
enter Romania if it must be registered here before you can bring it here and it
must be here to be registered? Eugeniu
worked it out and, for $10 under the papers on the desk of the clerk, they
agreed to fill out and issue the proper papers for the green card insurance at
insurance office #1. Then we were taken
by a young man to office #2 where the second set of papers were issued by a
surly woman in a very small office where a clerk was checking files on her lap
without any sign of a desk or even a table.
This last set of papers provided coverage for the car when it entered
Romania. By the time we achieved those tasks, it was too late to go back to
the bank to see if the wire transfer had arrived.
At 11:30 P. M. the taxi arrived. He flew over the smooth places and dodged as
many holes in the road as he could. The
sleeping car on the train was one of the new ones. It was very comfortable and clean. I slept between stops in spite of the
awful grinding of the car against the engine as we traveled toward
Hungary. Customs officers examined and
stamped our passports and questioned us about our belongings. They cautioned us about taking more than $5,000
out of Romania -- I wish!
Eugeniu said,
“Hungary is cleaner.” We could see the
difference in the villages with nicely paved streets and neat houses in rows
with yards empty of all but snow and children’s swings.
In Budapest we checked our tickets at the international
ticket window. “Wait for the conductor
to arrange a sleeping compartment.” We were told that they could not make such
arrangements. We took the Metro and rode
under the Danube to Buda from Pest. The
Metro was packed, but it was clean and neat.
The people were well dressed - more colorful clothing than in Bucharest
and the people seemed more prosperous.
In Buda we had a spectacular view of the Parliament across
the Danube in Pest and of the Casa de Bello high on the hill to our right. The Danube wasn’t blue but the bridge near
the castle was an intricate and beautiful site.
The little market was half handicrafts and half flea market. We walked around to get a closer view of the
castle and the bridge, had coffee and tea at a small restaurant, and looked at
three of the churches in this old historic area. Some of the buildings are 2-3 feet lower than
street level. An antique shop had some
beautiful paintings and a marvelous old desk and small wooden boxes. We had not changed enough money, so back at
the station we changed more to buy some water for the train and fruit and
pistachios and peanuts and a couple of Cokes.
When we found the conductor, he said that our tickets were
for the train, but not for the sleeping car.
For $75 we could have a compartment and we would get our receipt in the
morning. He said we should go on to
Berlin arriving at 8:30 instead of changing trains at Dresden at 6:00 A.
M. Nice car - Hungarian - brand new -
comfortable. He proudly showed us the
shower compartment. So here we are at
9:00 P. M. Hungarian time speeding toward Berlin, via Prague, and tomorrow we’ll
be driving back toward Bucharest via Vienna where we’ll see Nancy and Gustav
Posch (Regina Pino’s sister and brother-in-law).
And I don’t know how long any of this driving will take. This train ride is certainly a long one!
Bratislava - passport check for Czech.
March 7, 1996
6 A. M. Another passport check - twice. They always check twice.
Germany - Dresden. I think
we should get off here to get the train to Hannover, but the conductor has
disappeared. The mistake of the ticket change took us to what was once called
West Berlin, Lichtenstein station, where we had to wait an hour and a half for
a train to Hannover as we had just missed the last one. There we get another train to Bremen. We will not arrive as scheduled - two hours
later and one more train than the original ticket, plus another 20 DM for the
tickets for these two trains. We were
lucky to find a bank across the street from the station in Berlin. It accepted Visa in a Pulse machine that
dispensed DM’s just like a dream. No
need to find a change house. There were
none at the station. Also found a map of
Germany with good markings for the roads we must travel.
In route again we passed through Potsdam and
Brandenburg. The sun began to
shine. I took off two sweaters. We observed that the roads were dry and that there
was no snow in the fields, some of which have green shoots already showing. Eugeniu reminded me of the WWII history of
Potsdam and Brandenburg. He said that
the Germans cannot forget that America bombed them. (So who started that war?) Then we crossed the Elbe at Magdeburg where
the Americans and Germans met.
We studied the map and plotted our route towards
Vienna. Our coffee and tea cost 4DM each
on this train with its clean rest rooms.
There were even paper towels!
I am enjoying the view of the late winter landscape and I
cannot escape comparisons. The U. S. is
better in so many ways. The old
buildings and the land in Europe resonate a tiredness of too long a
history. The continent has been developed
to the last square inch and despoiled by the garbage created by human
beings. Recycling and ecological efforts
may help restore new life, but my bones say this earth, this planet, has had
enough of human mistreatment and will find a way to relieve herself of this
skin cancer of buildings like we would rid our yards of fire ants.
The air brush style graffiti here and in Hungary looks as if
the same person was working their way through Europe.
Germany is as neat as a pin.
We couldn’t see Czech as it was night.
We missed a view of Prague. We
plan to avoid Czech on the return trip because we were told they were not
friendly and charge a $40 fee to travel through the country and a large fine if
they catch you without one.
EU common currency - what a nuisance without it. Also without it, what a deterrent to impulse spending.
At Brauswieg I put away my sunglasses. We talked about my habit of asking
questions. I think this practice was
discouraged for all but the powers that be for all those years of totalitarian
domination.
Friday, March 8, 1996
We are in Tangermunde at the house of Lia’s daughter,
Adina. It is her house given to her by Gunter
when they married. They are in Tunisia
on vacation. Lia and Metica and Daniel
greeted us even though they did not receive our message about our arrival time.
Daniel is Adina’s son, brother to Dorian.
He gave me a crystal to wear and showed me his new bike.
We had arrived in Bremen at 3 P.M. By 9 P.M. we were in Tangermunde. The taxi ride to the DVZ and Albert Rosebrock
Co. cost 40DM, but it was worth it. The
taxi was clean, neat and comfortable.
The driver took a direct route (more than I can say for our finding our
way back!) He even waited while I
checked to see if we could indeed get the car.
Yes! The transition through
customs was made smooth by Thomas Woltmann.
Rudiger Dalweg was quick with the receipt for our fee to them of
290DM. Thomas told us that the car
started right out of the container; it had come all the way from Houston! Then we were ready for gasoline and air in
the tires. Thomas drove off with my
luggage. We chased him. We couldn’t find him, but had success with a
call from the station. Then for 65 DM we
bought a full tank of gasoline at 1.60DM per liter! The directions to get back to Bremen were
good up to the turn at the red light. We
never found his route but discovered our own way through Bremen to the Autobahn
and smooth driving in the ordered pattern of German rules of the road. I had some apprehension from the tales of
speeding Germans on the Autobahn, but there was no problem. Texans could learn
from the courteous drivers who kept to the right while the faster ones flew by
hesitating only for the occasional heavy traffic. Clear road signs, rest stops and half a tank
of gas.
It was amazing that we found the house in the dark in a
small unfamiliar village. A shopping
mall - stores closing - no one spoke English.
A pleasant man drew a map. We
found the house. They looked out the
window and were surprised to see us. The
welcome was grand. Hugs, kisses, hellos,
we rested in the living room watching a slapstick movie in German while Lia
disappeared in the kitchen. The delicious
aroma of Lia’s cooking reminded me of how long it had been since we had eaten
hot food. Cheese, cold meats, bread,
beer, juice, then pan broiled ham and green beans. We were well fed. Metica and Daniel joined us freshened
up. Eugeniu and Metica, Lia’s new
friend, have been talking ever since. I
was so happy to have a hot shower. It
was decided that we should stay here another day and then drive on to Vienna. They will go with us. 300 kilometers to Prague and another 300 to
Vienna. Metica has a house in Vienna and
another in Breaza. We will see a few
sites along the way. Metica will be our
guide. He knows the sites to see.
We drove to the house Adina and Gunter are remodeling. The grounds are full of raspberries,
strawberries, and apple trees. The walk
is lined with rosebushes. The sun is
shining. There is a strong cold wind
blowing. We drive around Tangermunde, an
ancient fortress on the Elbe complete with a stork’s nest on the church
chimney. The ancient gateway into the
city is now a narrow passageway for cars.
The local citizens stare at my Texas license plates. A woman cautioned that we were parked
illegally. We stopped at a supermarket,
clean neat well stocked. At home for
lunch we feasted on roast, potatoes, green beans, and chicken noodle soup. The noodles reminded me of my friends, Joan
and Irene, who have a noodle making tradition.
The car is liberating.
We did more in a shorter time than ever possible on foot. This town is interesting and I should be
hanged for not having a good travel book.
We are discovering in our usual fashion, but with the advantage of local
guides. What a treat!
Adina and Gunter came home from their Tunisian vacation with
tales of Bedouin guides and Roman ruins.
One Roman artifact still in use is a 7 kilometer stone bridge from the
coast to an island. Fifty centimeters
above a constant water level, the bridge offers the only safe passage to the
island in all seasons and weather conditions.
The many different languages have created interesting
dynamics. Adina was the only one who
could speak with everyone. Gunter,
German; me, English; Lia, Romanian; Metica, Romanian and German; Eugeniu,
Romanian, English and a little French. Gunter could understand my English better
than I could his German.
Sunday, 10:30 P.M. March 10, 1996
Driving through the German countryside in the late winter
sunlight, there was a certain familiarity.
I thought that surely the Germans who had settled in Central Texas felt
somewhat at home with the expanse of sky and in the openness of the
countryside. I was delighted with the
Autobahn; it reminded me of driving across the high central plains of
Texas.
Yesterday we left Tangermunde for Prague. We missed the road to Dresden - an extra 120
Kilometers! - Dresden was tempting.
There are buildings that still hold the black scars of WW II, but we
drove on hoping to reach Prague before dark.
Not so - there were too many villages after the Autobahn ended at
Dresden. The Autobahn began again only a few miles
before Prague. One village, Teplice, was
the site of a concentration camp mentioned in the testimonies of those who
lived beyond their imprisonment there. I cannot find a picture of it anywhere
but, in my mind, it is still as real as the day we saw it. The Star of David looming over the grounds
beside the huge Cross nearby mark the place where there is a museum now. It was deserted, solemn, austere - a pit in
the soul of man. We stopped only for a
moment. I still remember the feeling of
being there, of thinking what this place meant, of stories I have read of these
camps.
In every village we drove through except this one, we saw
prostitutes standing in scanty attire in the streets greeting all who passed on
the highway. At the border we had to
pay a fee for the car to pass through Czech that is good for the whole
year. Ady had told us the Czech were
rude and rough and the police would harass us, but fortunately they were very
nice and we were forewarned about the fee.
No one mentioned it, so we could have been caught unaware without his
warning or Metica’s reminder that we should get it when we changed money just
past the border station.
It was dark when we entered Prague. We stopped at the third Tourist Information
Center on the island in the middle of the Moldau (Vltava) River. After some discussion and with much
apprehension, we left the car in the car park under the bridge in the middle of
the island and were taken to the Ila Privat run by the Hodanovas, a very nice
pension at a reasonable price. Our host
was most hospitable. He drove us to a
restaurant about 200 meters away. It was
a nice Czech neighborhood restaurant where we had delicious steaks. I was tired from the long drive and they were
laughing and having a good time telling stories. I got upset because Eugen did not interpret a
few of the stories for me. They told us
that they were in the process of deciding about their relationship. They had just met a few weeks before and were
considering the prospect of getting married after Lia’s divorce is final.
Mr. Hodanova fed us a fine breakfast yesterday morning and
then took us on a short tour of the main tourist attractions. Driving to Old
Town on this sunny warm Sunday morning, I told our host that I would have felt
much better knowing that the Car Park charged for leaving the car there. After we had eaten a good breakfast, he decided
to take us on a short tour of Prague Castle and then to leave us at the
car. He took us to the
Bridge of Statues and Prague Castle where there was a bank with a Pulse machine - money for the tour - $10 each (700
Krona). (The car tag that had cost $24
was good for a year so we can come back.) Prague has architecture from all
times and in all styles. The “Old Town”
in the center has colorful buildings that have been restored. One building took 20 years to restore. It is now a museum. He left us at the Charles
Bridge which was lined with vendors of paintings, photos of Prague, handicrafts -
jewelry, etc. – and an accordion player.
We saw children feeding swans on the embankment below. We explored everything as we wandered around the
streets. Bystanders applauded as Eugeniu
and I danced a jitterbug in the plaza by the Astrological Clock in Prague. What a treat to hear New Orleans jazz being
played by this small band! Then to the
Black Madonna where the argument was that this was not the real Black Madonna,
but only an advertisement for a store, a copy of the one in a church here. We walked to the Hotel Opera for lunch, a
pepper steak of good Czech beef and ice cream with caramel for dessert. We walked back to the Auto Platz to get the
car and drive on toward Vienna. We
drove up and down mountains and across the high plains of Czech with the late
winter sunlight glancing off the vast fields blanketed in snow. The golden tinge of sunlight was everywhere. No true gold could be so beautiful. In Prague
we bought a t-shirt for Charlie - Charles University of Prague, the oldest
university in Europe - couldn’t resist - also a sweat shirt with Praha in
colorful letters. We were so blessed
with the weather - sun shining from Bremen to Vienna.
The drive from Prague to the Czech/Austrian border was
splendid. There was a vast expanse of
snow in one panoramic view after another.
The four of us are now camping out in the middle of Vienna! I was so tired from the tension of driving in
the dark in unknown territory - having to constantly watch for the road signs. We only got lost once today.
March 11, 1996
Monday A. M. At
Metica’s house in Vienna. Hot shower. Food. Laughter.
Off the road at last. Slept
well. Snowed last night. What a surprise. Five days of sunshine and dry roads! We were blessed with such good weather. The top of the car has been unloaded and we
are safe and warm here. American music
on the radio.
Our traveling companions are delightful. This morning Eugeniu and Metica were laughing
heartily again. Last night Metica said
that he couldn’t spend too much time with Eugeniu because he was afraid he
would die from laughing so much. Lia
refused help with food preparation. She
said that my job is driving - enough work for me. So Vienna is here before us and I am too
tired to see it! We will be here until
Saturday so there will be time to see enough.
It is -6ºC outside and we are lucky to be warm, to have food and to have
time to rest before the next part of the journey. Metica and Eugeniu are busy calling people
about some business ideas. No one was interested in the long run.
Adina called last night.
Gunter discovered Eugeniu’s coat with the house keys, driver’s license,
etc. We didn’t remember about the items
in the pockets of the coat! We had remembered
about the coat when we were 60 kilometers out of Tangermunde and had decided to
go on. Luckily Lia has another set of
keys for the house in Bucharest. Adina
will mail them to us.
It is 3 P. M. and obvious that we are going nowhere
today. Eugeniu and Metica went
shopping. We ate a light lunch of bread,
caviar (red and black), anchovy paste, delicate slices of ham, Gouda cheese from
Holland, and liver pate made in Vienna.
Imagine, I prefer the liverwurst to the caviar! Now all three are cooking; the chickens are baking and the soup is simmering. Eugeniu is peeling garlic and is ready to cook mamaliga. The story of Lia and Metica unfolds a
little more each day. Metica jokes that
Vasile will chop his head off with the axe in the closet at our apartment on
Feroviarilor. Lia’s eyes sparkle. She doesn’t think Vasile has so much
vitality. He has need only of TV, Tuica
and un frau. She doesn’t want anyone to
speak ill of him. It has been good to
have Metica to speak in German as we traveled through Germany and Czech and now
in Vienna.
Nancy Posch called at 11 and we arranged to visit with them
tomorrow. At 6 or 6:30 Gustav will come
here and we will drive to their place for a night or two. Metica has been divorced from his wife of 27
years for about three years now. Lia is
in the process of divorce from Vasile who has gone back to his first wife. She knew Metica was “free, alone.” She went to him and said, “You are free and I
am free. Why don’t we get
together?” Then she disappeared. They later arranged to meet in Vienna. The carnations that he gave her 15 days ago
were still fresh in the vase on the table when we arrived yesterday. He was in Tangermunde when we arrived there
on the 7th. During this time, Metica has
said that they have decided to stay together and to buy a larger apartment in Vienna. The three of them have been busy planning
what and where to build. Eugeniu
advising them and making suggestions.
Sell the house in Breaza and on the other half of the lot build a
house. Build a new church.
4:00 p.m. Eating
again. Too full now. Tired.
Small discussions now. Sun
shining. No snow on the car. Sister in Balan will take care of the
ceremony when Metica dies because she is religious. This after much laughter over Metica’s
expression of his fear of falling in love with Lia. She said, “And I have two graves in Bucharest.” Metica wonders who will get the second
one. He and Eugeniu are laughing
heartily over one joke after the other.
Metica is saying that Lia will have a house in Breaza, and in Vienna as
well as her houses in Cluj and Bucharest.
My task is to write the story so someone will know the truth when he is
in his grave.
Earlier Lia showed me all the things Adina bought for them
to set up housekeeping in Vienna and mentioned that Adina had also bought lots
of clothes for Vasile in the past. Lia
said she paid for a private tutor for Adina for English and Spanish for seven
years of University. Now Adina is
generous.
The topic is meeting people you can trust. Not possible says Metica. Eugeniu is drawing out the story of the
tragedy of Metica’s loss of contact with his daughters. He reads with emotion and tears the last
letter he wrote to them. No response to
his letter. The good daughter theme
arises again. This time the father’s
expectations of his daughters. I can’t
understand enough of the words, but the feelings emerge. I am asked and respond.
“The hard part of loving is to realize you must in fact love
others as God loves us, in spite of everything, unconditionally whether or not
we respond as He would have us respond.
We, too, are called to love without expectations realized. It is not our shame. It is the hard part of living and loving.”
Eugeniu translated.
Metica said, “We must tell our story through you. God has chosen you to tell our story.”
Eugeniu said, “It was what was needed to be said, the exact
beautiful thing to say.”
At six we took a walk on Favoriten Strasse, for pedestrians
only. It is full of smart shops. I found a Visa bank card machine so we would
have some Austrian money. Eugeniu is
walking with Metica. I teased asking if they
were in love.
On our walk we passed the apartment Metica lost in his
divorce. It is empty. His family lives in another house. I want to tell him that it is not his any
longer. Whether it was a gift or a
divorce, he did not have a good lawyer.
Back at the apartment they dance to Romanian music on
tape. Lia showed me the steps to the
Romanian dance. We stopped before the
end of the tape - it was very long. My
mood is still spoiled. It is hard to
regain joviality after an unpleasantness occurred. Eugeniu is explaining how the gypsy music was
what we danced to and this is now Romanian music, sad, slow, minor key. Lia washed the dishes. We talked about dishwashers and microwaves.
Tuesday morning, 10:10.
The others are just now waking up.
I have read a little and looked out the window at the huge snowflakes
laying a fresh cover of snow over everything.
I am thinking all the while that responsibility is the clue. One consequence of communism is the limited
sense of responsibility of those people used to having the “state” take care of
everything.
Tuesday we took a walking tour with Metica and Lia through
the center of the Ring. And then Eugeniu and I went to the Fine Arts Museum
filled with paintings by Rubens, Van Dyke and so many others. The paintings delighted us. The museum also had Roman, Greek, Egyptian
and Austrian historical displays. At six
Gustav came and we drove to the Posch’s apartment where we had a nice visit and
a delicious meal before an early bedtime.
I enjoyed seeing some TV to get a bit of world news.
We spent two nights at Metica’s and three with Nancy and
Gustav. I had no time to write
there. English was the common
language. I had conversations with them
about many things. They were warm and
hospitable. Gustav loves his boat. Nancy taught us how to take the best
advantage of the public transportation system.
On Wednesday we went with Nancy to the Belvedere to see the
exhibition - a retrospective of Austrian painters who had spent many years in
exile. It was an amazing display, especially the paintings by women. The original
works of Gustav Klimt, though, were the most amazing of all, teaching me that
there is a vast difference between the original and prints. Then home for lunch, a nap before a ride back
to the center, the Ring, St. Stephens.
We finally found the Mozart Concert Hall. It was too expensive and too late to attend
the concert, but we saw the hall with the original frescos intact. We went home to a delicious meal and good
conversation.
Thursday morning we went to the Hofburg Palace to see the
fine table settings and the Imperial Apartments. We exited the Palace into the midst of a
student demonstration. Police cars and
vans full of policemen were everywhere with other policemen lining the pathways
and the edge of the crowd. Long lines of
students, now joined by the professors came from the direction of the front of
the Palace where the ancient Roman ruins have been partially excavated in a
modern display in the center of a small plaza.
We decided it was a good time to leave the area and took the underground
to Schonbrunn Palace for a quick tour.
Back to our hosts where Nancy had a nice lunch for us. We were to meet them to go get an alarm
system for the car. It cost $600 and 1
day to install it. Instead, we found a
shop in Kallenburg that had a steering wheel lock and a few other essential
items for the car. That evening we went
to the Donauturnum Tower Restaurant as my thank you to them. Back home Gustav smoked his cigar and told me
the story of how he came to write to Nancy and then to go to the Philippines to
meet her in person. He recognized her
right away amidst the whole family that greeted him on his arrival. Then he told me about Austrian history and
perceptions of the Nazis and ignorance of the concentration camps and coming
from Bratislava at the end of the war as a small child and how hard it
was. They had to walk all the way as they worked their way to Vienna. Then he and
Nancy showed me all the English language books she rescued from the throw away
box at the UN when she worked there.
Friday 11:30 p.m. We
arrived in Balan and parked in melting snow and mud -- safe behind the gates at
the house of Lia’s sister and brother-in-law.
We drove from Vienna after four days of snow and much celebration. This morning we left the clean warm home of
Nancy and Gustav and plunged immediately into conflict over a change of oil and
fill up before picking up Metica and Lia.
Not enough schillings--go to the bank - no machine - find another bank
after a “two” minute walk only to change the cash after all. Then off to find Metica’s apartment to pick
up our traveling companions. Thirty
minutes to load my car again then off toward Bucharest. We had smooth sailing across the high
Hungarian plains then climbed the highest mountain in Hungary with its metal
eagle sculpture poised for flight above our heads.
We were almost around the city when we were stopped by the
police. They checked passports then let
us go on our way. We got lost
transferring from one road to the next - the usual problem. We drove on through the lower Hungarian Plains as
dusk turned to the dark of night. We
decided to go on rather than stay in a hotel at the border. Oradea did not look inviting by the dark of
night. Its streets were a torture of
potholes that could not be dodged. The
sign to Cluj, where I thought we were going, was evidently not the main road
through town as we were the only vehicle driving on these dark streets. Finally we found the main road and Lia
explained that it was her friend that had a house in Cluj and it is late and
she did not call her to say we were coming. We could go to her house or we could go to
Lia’s sister's house in Balan which is only 90 kilometers from the border and much
closer than going on to Cluj. Five and
a half hours later driving through village after village we are somewhere off
the beaten track over roads with holes so prevalent that there is no way to
dodge them. No ice, no snow, dry roads until
we get to Balan and turn off on a dirt road whose melted snow has turned it
into a blanket of muddy ruts. We drove
over a barely one lane bridge into more snow and ice then an impossible turn
into the yard of the house – got stuck in the snow twice, but finally parked.
First thing – bathroom, please. Lia went into the house to get the
flashlight. I met her sister and
brother-in-law. Her sister is very sick.
I walked through the mud, manure, water, ice and snow to a brand new outhouse.
(No midnight trips for me!) The outhouse
is so new that its wood still smells fresh.
Back in the house Brother is stoking the fire in the furnace with coal
oil and small sticks of wood. Two
electric radiators are by my side to take the chill off the air in this room
that has been closed for days, weeks, months?
Smoke pours from the furnace. Lia
is busy cooking. Eugeniu opens the lower
door of the furnace and the room begins to fill with more smoke. Lia finally comes in and opens the flue. Her brother returns with a mellow grin and
shrug of the shoulders. I laugh. It is too funny for words. The room gets aired out. More food.
Luggage is brought in from the car.
A glass of tuica is served to ward off the chill. Metica and Eugeniu talk and laugh - both at
the same time. The house has no running
water.
I am enthroned on the sofa bed and they sit at a table. They are profuse in compliments to me. Metica wants to know my opinion of his
prospects for a future with Lia. I say I
have none. They insist. I say that I have no more to say than anyone else
might say. You have a choice with whom to
enjoy the day.
Now it is Saturday and I am sitting on the steps of this house
in Balan in the sunlight filtered through high thin clouds. We have been so fortunate to have sunshine
for our driving days with no rain or snow and very dry roads. They are discussing the terrain, this
property in particular, the village in general.
The snow has melted a lot since last night and the road is drying out as
the snow melt drains toward the river.
Lia’s brother-in-law, Baduc, wears a fine sheep’s wool hat, a vest lined with wool and
rubber boots, a woolen sweater and woolen trousers.
Friday’s trip from Vienna had been fine until 4:30 when it
became dark and I had to face the drivers flashing their bright lights in my
face and crowding across the center line. Daring me to flinch? I did not. We drove through village after village; some
with streets so bad that we had to stop to find safe passage on one side of
the street or the other. We stopped
three times just to find our way out of Oradea.
Then again in Alesd and Huedin as we looked for the road to Balan. One stretch of three kilometers was
especially bad. We drove over a huge
mountain with a twisting highway. The
air was a little hazy and reflected my bright lights so I had to use the dimmer a
lot. The drivers that night were very rude
flashing bright lights in my face, especially the drivers of huge trucks. I soon learned to flash my brights at them to
stop them. Some were courteous, but
driving was tiring with keeping one hand on the bright switch, dodging holes in the
road and warning truck and bus drivers to stay in their lane. I was glad it was dark though because there
was little activity in the villages which allowed us to keep a steadier pace.
Everyone talked and laughed until late into the night. I awoke this morning with a great
headache. It is better at the moment,
but I still don’t have any idea when we will get back home. I am waiting in the sunshine in this quiet
village watching the oxen kiss as they pause in the street in front of this
house. I wonder what the woman is pouring
into the large can in the yard across the street. Lia has put food out as fast as a magician to
feed us supper and then breakfast. She
has much to discuss with her family.
Ludovica, her sister, is still very sick. They have given Lia all of this property to
manage.
This morning I took pictures of the animals. The mother goat watches as her little kids
frolic up and down a small hill. They
are adorable. We climbed up to the back
of the property and took pictures of the village, this place and the bridge. These villages are filled with old
people. Lia said some of the younger
ones are coming back now because they can find no work elsewhere. Emil Cioran, the philosopher, praised the
simple life of the village from his environs in Paris, but he did not return to
his village. Eugeniu called it the true
life. Lia says it is a hard life. There is much work except in winter which has
its own problems. This village is self-sufficient
except for sugar and matches she told us.
A woman passes slapping two oxen to urge them on their way. Another inspects the drainage trough her
husband made for the snow melt. A plane
is heard overhead and the roosters crow.
Otherwise all is silent. A small
herd of sheep across the way pass through the field. One new lamb is completely black.
Eugeniu brings water from the well. Lia has fixed lunch. Metica snores again. It is four o’clock. Ciorba (sour soup) for lunch. Supper with lamb chops and mashed potatoes
and bread and spring water, delicious.
Then a walk down the road over the melting ice and snow. We looked inside the tuica house, then walked
across the bridge. A woman led us to the
village store. Bread, a coke, cigarettes
and a Twix. We each drank an orange soda
and then walked back to the house, past the new and the old village
churches. I took the rest of the
pictures thus had to fake it for the villager with the ox cart at the
bridge. Back at the house, Baduc went to
the storage cellar to sweep out the water threatening the door. He opened it today for the first time all
winter and found the vegetables and apples in good condition. He was afraid they had frozen. Three beehives are nearby. One of the bees stung him.
We have crossed the various borders with few problems. A car tag at Czech, a long wait at Austria
and a discussion of visas with the Romanians, a pullover in Hungary to dig out
the green card for the car. We got lost
once per day - at least. In Vienna we
got lost trying to find out how to turn on the street we needed and again in
Budapest looking for the highway transition.
Another meal. Lia
fixed a dumpling with brinza made from flour ground from wheat from their farm
and more lamb, also from this farm. We
ate alone. They moved to a warmer
room. I have been a grouch, but I was really
tired after the long drive and the late hour was too much. My head has hurt all day long. Eugeniu gets upset if I ask questions like
how long or how far or what is happening.
We will go home tomorrow. From
here to Cluj to Brasov then Breaza for Metica’s car. They plan to follow us to Bucharest. Eugeniu, too, wants a good bath. Lia brought a pan of water for me to wash. Lia said she washed with cold water
outside. The weather cast reported 60º
for here today, but it was not that warm.
The ice melted fast, but there is still snow on the ground. In Bucharest, it is cold, 0º C.
My fears about getting stuck in the mud may be ill
founded. We walked on the road today and
it seems solid in spite of the standing and running water and the huge holes
and bumps looking as if thrown all over the road like a splatter painting.
I thought we had packed the car as full as we could, but Lia
and Metica found more room to pack food from the farm. At the last moment, Metica decided to trim
the rose bush by the front stairway. I
had my morning coffee on the porch in the beautiful sunlight. Spring is ready to burst. The kids were still sleeping, but the lambs
were having breakfast. The snow melt
drained and the light icy coating on the road melted before we drove off. The villagers were dressed in their Sunday
best as they walked to church. The bells
of the church had a light inviting tone.
Victor and Ludovica and Baduc saw us off at last, but only after I
maneuvered the car through the gate and the muddy street.
We left Balan at about 11.
I had hoped for nine. I drove
almost constantly, but very slowly. The
roads on E 60, the European highway in Romania, are terrible. I could not take my eyes off the pavement as
it was essential to watch for holes in the road also for oncoming traffic in
our lane and impatient drivers behind who would pass 2, 3, or 4 cars at a time
without regard for curves or oncoming traffic.
Just as I would start to pass, some jerk would appear up my blind side.
Sunday. 8:45 P.
M. Breaza. I am too tired to climb up or down one more
mountain. Lia fixed me a bowl of hot
soup. It was just perfect for this cold
house and the on-going head pain - day 2.
We are at Metica’s house. It has
been closed up for a long time, so it is a little musty. The pipes were frozen, but now they are open
so we have water. A chicken is roasting
in the oven and my feet are taking turns at the furnace grate. This ceramic monster heats three rooms, but
it takes a while. I still have on my hat
and coat. Metica’s car has been sitting
for a year. It started after he broke
through the ice blocking the garage door.
A small triumph. My car is 100
yards away inside the front gate. The
snow is still too deep to drive to the house.
All the luggage had to be carried through the snow to the house.
We filled the car with gasoline near Cluj and drove on
through roads that varied from smooth (45 MPH) to nearly all holes (1-5
MPH). After Turda there was a
magnificent fortress on a hilltop at Rupea and we saw the black and white
church in Sighisoara. We climbed up and
down mountains on serpentine roads, once an Italian truck driver
tailgated us until he could pass us. Then we had to follow him until he
turned off!
We thought it would be good to travel on Sunday and that there
would be no trucks as the night before, but there were a few. There were wagons filled with hay, bicycles,
pedestrians and trucks and cars parked on the road - no shoulders! Fog settled in near Sinai so I decided to go
no more. Breaza is across the river from
E 60 and the 4 K to Metica’s house seemed like 10 miles. The comic scene was the navigators’
discussion when it was time to decide to turn or go straight. Stinga, drapte or inainte (left, right,
straight) all flying at my ears at once.
Finally I learned to stop until it was clear what road we should take.
Lia is busy arranging things. Metica is telling Eugen the story of the
house and how he left Romania. His
sister hid 1,000 marks in her vagina to pass through the border. She couldn’t find it. Finally, she did. Ceaucescu had declared that only one house could
be “owned” per person, except when there were two owners, so he and his sister
were partners in this house. He had
planted three pine trees; thus, the name of the house was Trei Brazi with an
orchard of apple trees - as a bonus? He
built the house one room at a time gradually adding the others. He had the furnace fixed for three rooms, but
it didn’t work well for the back bedroom.
His sister was not happy about that.
He told about getting visas for Vienna and Yugoslavia and about eating
ice cream. In two languages there was
talk of chicken, apple juice, the meaning of love, music, friends.
Tuesday, March 19, 1996.
It is snowing again. We are at
home feeling blessed that the sun was shining on each day of our drive. Coffee, hot salami and a pan toasted bun for
breakfast. I am wearing my Prague sweat
shirt, the one trophy I purchased for myself.
Yesterday we awoke to bright sunshine high in the Carpathian
mountain village of Breaza. We had
coffee and I was ready to be on the road again.
But first, they surveyed the property to determine future
potential. Metica wants to divide this
land, build another house and sell the existing house. Eugeniu advised him regarding preparations
necessary to make the house ready for sale.
We took pictures of the house, the scenery, of all of us. The drive into Bucharest was smooth. The highway is bad only in a few places -
mostly in the cities. We parked the car
and found our apartment cold but most welcoming. It is good to be home. The carport is too small for the car and ice
by the garbage cans had to be chopped with an axe to get the car past a small
pile of the winter’s snow that made the slight angle into the carport more
difficult. We unloaded and started the
thirty minute process to fill the tub with water hot enough for comfort. Eugeniu went to buy mineral water and some
food, bread and chicken. Valentin called
with news that Petre, Eugeniu’s brother, is in the hospital. Eugen and Valentin went to visit him. He has had a stroke but is recovering the use
of his arm. His speech is still affected. He is in a ward with a dozen beds full of
very sick people. Today Eugen will speak
with the doctor and try to arrange a transfer to a military hospital. Terri called to discuss this and to say that
Petre’s condition is very serious. We
are at home again.
