Romania

Day 299: Traveling around the world is no holiday

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You know that feeling you get in the middle of winter (granted, that feeling you get when you live somewhere that gets cold for months on end) and you’re just not… happy. There’s nothing particularly bad going on in your life, it’s just… winter and chances are you’re lacking Vitamin D or something and you’re just a little sad and you feel a bit lethargic? That’s what Month 10 has been feeling like. Again, being sick – then Andrew waking up with similar sick-ish feelings – then finding out we got a speeding ticket in South Africa- then finding out Citibank has been charging me up to $20 for each ATM withdraw. It hasn’t been good. I’ve found myself all through Month 10 going through the motions of getting up, packing our bags, and walking around a new town following a strange, but somewhat set routine. I was going through the motions much like I used to do going into work everyday. Only, we’d be in a different country every couple of weeks (sometimes days) walking around so much beauty and history and learning so much more than I ever did going to the same job day after day. It made me stop and think. I wondered if continuing this epic trip really WAS worth it or not, especially if I was being so blasé about it. It sounds crazy, I know. Many people think traveling around the world is a never-ending vacation. It must always be easy and magical and awesome, right? But the truth is- it’s SO MUCH HARDER and more challenging than I thought it would be. And sometimes – quite simply – there are days like these. Traveling around the world is no holiday.

I debated quitting the trip. Really, I did. Instead of my goal to finish a children’s book about a girl from Kentucky going around the world- what if I were to rewrite The Little Engine that Could. Only, it would be The Little Engine that Couldn’t. I mean, who needs to achieve things? What’s wrong with QUITTING? I even wondered what the point of continuing this blog everyday was. The last time I posted about a bad day (in India, involving pushy tuk-tuk drivers) I got a somewhat negative comment that the reader didn’t appreciate my lack of optimism and excitement about this trip. I tried to explain I still was excited, but it was a bad day, and especially in India, bad days happen. I reminded myself that I am NOT a travel writer (even though I KNOW travel writers have bad days, too). I’m a photographer. an artist. I wanted to document this trip as it really is- as it really can be- not a blog that sugar coats travel, the challenges involved, you know… life.

I figured I would keep traveling, but continued to debate blogging about it. Maybe that one commenter was right, who wants to read about bad travel days? I tried to convince Andrew that no one really reads the blog anyway… But he didn’t buy it. He was all “You’ve done it for this long and you’re going to quit now?”

“Yep.” I responded, obviously letting my emotions get the best of me.

I lusted after a group of friends drinking coffee outside in a cafe and told Andrew, “I wish I had friends…”  He reminded me that I have them. I grumbled that it didn’t feel like it.

I checked my Instagram feed. Usually this makes me feel better. I cooed (Lit’rally, cooed) over an adorable baby picture that my friend posted. I nodded my head in agreement at one of the comments declaring adorable pictures like this one were making her baby crazy. And then narrowed my eyes when I saw that the new mom had urged her Instagram friend to “Do it” as in “Do it, have a baby.” Like it’s THAT easy. Sure, the picture makes me a little baby crazy too, and I’d like to have a baby, too- someday. But right now, I’m busy!

If you follow ME on Instagram, you’ll see just how busy I am, playing ‘Edward mug-hands’ in Bucharest. Visiting Dracula’s Castle just outside of Brasov. Photographing street art in Belgrade. And more recently roaming the streets of Montenegro and now, Croatia. I’m trying to tackle my dream of traveling around the world for one year, even if it includes trying to ignore the fact that I have a pending speeding ticket in South Africa. I have a pile of expensive American Citibank ATM fees that I haven’t had the chance to sit on a long distance phone call to the bank to take care of. I have worn the same five outfits for the past ten months. I haven’t slept in the same bed for more than three (ok, maaaaybe four) nights in a row. I can’t even go out for dinner without doing some kind of currency conversion to figure out if I can afford to eat at that particular restaurant or not. And now Instagram is telling me to “Do it, have a baby!”

As if Facebook wasn’t enough pressure, NOW Instagram, too?!?

This is my dream. This is my dream. To travel around the world for one year. I’m doing it. It’s really hard sometimes, but I can do it. 

I tried to remind myself over and over again.

Andrew could tell I wasn’t in a good place. He tried to remind me how many people might not be able to relate to our feelings on this trip and perhaps they have a different view of it entirely than we do- especially on our worst day.

I’m sure he was (is) right. He usually is (even if I don’t admit it to him).

I recently wished a friend (on Facebook, of course) ‘Happy Birthday’ I told him I hoped it was awesome.

He responded “Not as awesome as a year long vacation!”

I yelled at my ipod, “VACATION?!? YOU THINK THIS IS A VACATION? THIS ISN’T A VACATION!”

I told Andrew about it. He laughed. And agreed, but reminded me how much we’re going to miss it when it’s over. I sighed. Again, knowing how right he is. He went into his usual pep-talk about this trip and all that we have learned from it. About us, and what we’ve managed to survive together. About how bored we’re going to be days when we get back to ‘merica, but how we’ll appreciate it so much more because we haven’t had a home for so long and how we haven’t been surrounded by friends for so long and how we haven’t had a coffee shop or a bar where we can simply walk in and say “I’ll take the usual” and they’ll know what we’re talking about. And not because we both speak English, but because we saw them last week and the week before that, and we ordered the SAME thing!

I heard him out and eventually I tried to focus my attention on all of the positive of this trip, instead of the ten months without a home and the related feelings that were starting to suffocate me. I focused on the emails from my friends (and family) that DO stay in touch and tried to forget about the ones who really haven’t. I focused on those who have said “Thanks!” for postcards I have sent home. I focused on Andrew’s Dad (yes, you!) who I know appreciates reading this blog (even though I know he won’t like hearing how stressed I was on this particular day). He constantly tells Andrew how much he enjoys it, and that makes me want to continue working on it.

I reminded myself of the day we spent at Angkor Wat, the day we arrived in Kathmandu and got incredibly lost only to find our way again. I remembered paragliding over the Annapurna and then finding a hole in the wall Korean restaurant after. I remember seeing the Taj Mahal for the first time and it taking my breath away, and then a month later celebrating New Years Eve in the desert outside of Dubai. I thought of Petra, the Western Wall in Jerusalem, floating in the Dead Sea, meandering through the medinas in Morocco. Sub-saharan Africa and going on not one, but two safaris. Spending a day with the Masai. I thought of meeting up with fellow travelers in Istanbul, motorbiking around Santorini, and now jumping around the Balkan States on a whim (because it’s cheaper than jumping around Western Europe).

I thought of Andrew and how lucky I have been to share all of these amazing, wonderful, beautiful moments on this trip and told myself that this day, shall too, pass.

They always do.

I find sleep (and sometimes a beer and/or a good cheeseburger) and meeting wonderful people helps.

And that’s exactly what happened. We arrived in a rainy Belgrade (from Timisoara, Romania) well after dark, but were welcomed with open arms into our latest couchsurfer hosts’ abode. Before I could even continue thinking about how hard Month 10 has been, we were recounting all of our adventures to our new friends, Vladimir and Marija. They excitedly listened like we were all old friends and both Andrew and I became equally excited hearing about their upcoming trip to The United States. It was even a bit encouraging listening to their professional accomplishments, and hearing how awesome they thought WE were for taking a chance and doing this trip. We stayed up late talking and when we finally went to sleep, Andrew and I exchanged a smile that was so full of gratitude we didn’t quite know what to do with ourselves. Other than, of course, sleep a bit better than we have in awhile…

Day 298: Sibiu to Timișoara

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I still wasn’t feeling super hot, but didn’t want to lose another day that could otherwise be spent feeling awesome in the future along the coast. So, we spent the day on an old European train from Sibiu to Timisoara. We got in towards the evening and after we dropped off our bags, Andrew refused to let me crawl in a bunk and go to sleep, insisting that eating would make me feel better. It did, kinda, and then I crawled into bed. Not before our hostel offered us free shots of Rakia. My stomach turned. My head throbbed a little more at the thought, but I smiled, said thanks, and encouraged Andrew to accept one while I snuck back into the dorm room. The sweet (super, super sweet) girl at the hostel then offered me tea instead, but a pillow and my yak-wool scarf were all I wanted.

Whenever we’re sick, or tired or frustrated with a day or the trip for some reason or another, one of us will ask the other, “Do you want to go home?”

We always say “No.”

Except, this time I responded, sadly “We don’t even have a home…”

It’s usually a joke. But the trip has started hitting me a little harder lately, and not feeling well certainly wasn’t helping matters. 

Day 297: a rainy Sibiu

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We’re nearly at the ten month mark, and we’ve hit a lull – to say the least. The rainy (and sometimes very cold) weather in the middle of what is supposed to be summer has not been helping matters at all. I woke up not feeling well. at. all. and we decided to stay a day longer to give me a chance feel better without lugging bags across the country and being on old European trains (that I quite enjoy when I’m feeling well). Luckily (in a way) it turned out to be a rainy day in Sibiu and I didn’t feel as guilty staying in bed for half the day before we ventured out to try to see the town. We were two of the few jumping over puddles and ducking under overhangs to stay out of the rain as we walked around. The city is pretty adorable and its description as being a smaller, untouched ‘Prague’ was pretty accurate. My favorite part of the city: the little windows on the roofs that looked like little eyes watching your every move. I kept waiting for one of the eyes to wink at me.

We came across this pillar that boasted handmade nails from craftsmen who resided in Sibiu and had completed their ‘traditional journey’ (which lasted three years and one day) were invited to decorate the pillar. I’m not sure if the tradition has lasted until today, but it was a fun to see outside of the church (especially as the church was closed and under construction).

After about an hour of walking around in the rain, we debated what to do and felt bad wanting to go ‘home’ and get warm and dry. Instead, we rallied through and went into the Brukenthal Museum to check out the Romanian art exhibit. It was nice, there were a few pieces that I really enjoyed and we wondered if one of the rooms of portraits was the same that our friend had mentioned to us. The girl who we rode from Brasov with said there was one room where all of the portraits would watch you wherever you stood in the room. I’m not positive, but I think the first room (of the Romanian exhibit) was what she was talking about. It was a little creepy and most of the pieces were by the same artist, so it made sense.

Day 296: FEERIC Fashion Day(s)

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We almost didn’t make it out of Brasov. After waiting for the bus at the station for an hour, we were told we would have to go to the train station to catch it. We were too late. We looked for trains. Met a Romanian-Norwegian couple who were also trying to get to Sibiu and then we were all offered a ride by a fellow standing around the station. You’re probably cringing at the thought… Wondering who would get into a car with a STRANGER?! Well, the answer is: We would. And we safely arrived in the Sibiu around dinnertime and a late night fashion show. Turns out we arrived to Sibiu right smack in the middle of the FEERIC Fashion Days! According to All Hollow(.com): The fashion shows during the festival are famous for breaking the rules of  a conventional runway show by introducing scenography and choosing amazing backgrounds.

While the background was amazing, I was less than impressed with the line being shown. It was a line of evening wear. A lot of black evening wear. A Chinese girl staying at our hostel agreed and we wondered why the designer was a big deal… Nevertheless it was fun to duck out for a fashion show and pretend I wasn’t there in an outfit I’ve been wearing for the past ten months straight. (Good thing it was after dark.)

Day 295: “Dracula’s Castle” and more!

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I say “Dracula’s Castle” like so, because, really it has absolutely nothing to do with “Dracula” (obviously a fictional character that’s *maybe* based off of Vlad the Impaler). Andrew was disappointed. I wasn’t exactly surprised. Basically, Bran Castle (as seen below from the inside) explained that the Irish author Bram Stoker *might* have visited the castle and it *may have* given him inspiration for the character, Dracula’s castle. Vlad the Impaler, whom Dracula is *said to have been based on* visited Bran Castle once. That’s it. There are a few rooms in the castle dedicated to the history of Dracula and Transylvania and basically the acknowledgement that Bran Castle really has little to do with the fictional story. It was a beautiful castle though, as was the view from Rasov Fortress and the grandeur of the Romanian summer palace, Peles Castle.

First stop: Rasnov Fortress! There really wasn’t much information given to us about the fortress, and it was crumbling down in many parts. But it provided a beautiful view of the city below. On our way in, a North American accent greeted us and asked us where we were from. He was sitting down, waiting for his family and heard us speaking English. (We were a mix of nationalities, hailing from America, Australia, Germany, New Zealand, Singapore…) He was from Kentucky. Ashland to be exact. I told him I was from the other end of the AA and he smiled really big. He spends half the year in Romania working as a missionary. I’m always intrigued by these folks we meet along the way, but try not to ask questions that may come across as confrontational. Instead, I wished him well and skipped ahead to catch up with Andrew (who usually can’t be bothered with us ‘Kentucky folk’).

When we were in the heart of the fortress looking out over the view, we overheard a couple of older women talking about the view. They were obviously the family (or friends) of the Kentuckian waiting at the entrance below. Their accents were a dead giveaway. The very same accent I’m accused of not having time and time again on this trip. Andrew nudged me and reminded me that I’m supposed to sound like them. I responded with a few words I probably shouldn’t type out online. I thought it was sweet that they made the comment that the mountains reminded them of those in West Virginia. I find it interesting how so much of the land reminds me of home. Or how some flowers, like cannas seem to grow EVERYWHERE. In Sofia, I smelled something wonderfully familiar. Some of the streets were lined with catalpa trees. The very same tree that grows at the bottom of my parents’ driveway. In Bucharest, it was lavender. Women sold bunches on the streets, reminding me of the summer I spent studying in Aix-en-Provence. Obviously, I’m on this trip around the world to see. the. world. But I find such beauty and grace in these details that remind me of another place that has wormed it’s way into my heart.

The Australian girl did seem to agree with this thought. I decided I didn’t need to befriend her then and there.

“Why would you travel half way around the world to think the mountains look the same as they do at your home?” She grumbled and might have made fun of their accent. I rolled my eyes and walked away, knowing I would have to spend the next six hours in her company. We ambled down the hill and bought some fresh raspberries along the way. Knowing the Australian wasn’t around, I told Andrew all about the raspberry patch at my parents’ house in Kentucky.

Second stop: Bran Castle aka, “Dracula’s Castle”. I was expecting something dark and dreary, it was anything but. It was beautiful and modern (at least compared to what I expected it to be) and airy and bright. The beautiful wood floors showed off the collection of Queen Mary’s furniture well. It was quite simply, a well maintained, picturesque museum inside this once inhabited castle. The balconies overlooking the courtyard were my favorite- even though they were quite low and I’m positive Andrew had a hard time walking through.

Third (and last) stop: Peles Castle. We weren’t allowed to take pictures inside without paying an exorbitant fee. As we were only going on a tour of the first floor, I figured I could go without taking photos during the thirty minute tour. The Castle was and still is the monarchy’s summer palace, although we were told it’s closed in November because that’s when the family comes to stay in the palace. It’s gorgeous and over the top decadent inside. There’s a huge receiving hall with a retractable colored glass ceiling. Two arms rooms. A library with a secret door leading up to the King’s bedroom. An arts room, a receiving hall, a dining hall with places laid out for more than thirty guests. It reminded me of the dining room in Disney’s Beauty and the Beast. You know, minus the singing tea-cup. There was a parlor for smoking and even a small theater before we were told that our tour was over and only those who have paid to see the second level could remain.

On our way back to the hostel from our day trip to the castles, we approached a car in the middle of the road missing the bottom of the car on the passenger side. We were the first vehicle to arrive and immediately our driver got out to investigate. Had we been a few seconds earlier, who knows what would have happened to us and our own vehicle. This is what I thought of, especially after our bus accident in Tanzania. Thankfully, the driver was able to get out and walk around. Maybe only suffering a concussion. His passenger, an older woman, wasn’t so lucky. With the bottom of the car completely gone, her legs were stuck and she eventually had to be cut out of the car. Police and Emergency services responded roughly within ten minutes. (Which was positive to see after none had arrived on the scene of our accident in Tanzania, even after an hour’s time.) We were told later how accidents happen all the time in Romania, mostly due to young drivers and the robust interest in drag racing. It made me cringe talking about it the next day with a Romanian girl as we got into a car for a two hour drive to the next town.

Once back at our hostel, we went out for a Romanian dinner with the majority of our castle tour group. Australian included. In addition to her negative comments of the Americans earlier in the afternoon, our entire group managed to hear her life story more than once. She had a way of cornering you and talking… and talking… and talking some more. She also liked to ‘country-drop’ which I’m not a big fan of. At. All. During dinner, she complained about how someone she had met at a passport control was excited over the number of countries she/he had just hit visiting. The Australian complained, not understanding why someone would count the countries they’ve traveled to. And while I don’t understand this either, her sentiments didn’t seem to correspond to her unsolicited tales of her travels around the world that we had all heard multiple times throughout the day.

“You know what I don’t like? Country droppers. They. drive. me crazy.” I deadpanned, responding to her country-counter rant.

“What do you mean?” She asked, like she had no idea…

“You know, those people who just drop the places they’ve been or tell a story when it has absolutely nothing to do with the conversation at hand…” I trailed off, trying desperately to ignore my new German friend giggling, and my new American friend leaning back pointing his finger at the Australian as if I didn’t know what I was doing.

“Ohmigod! Who would do that?!” She asked. Completely annoyed at the thought. Genuinely so, without a clue I was hinting at her own actions.

“I don’t know… But it happens… And I just think a conversation should be a two way street. Especially when it comes to travel. You know what I mean? I don’t need to hear or overhear about EVERY country another person has been to…” I practically had to pinch myself from laughing because by now the German and American were losing it.

The Australian didn’t notice. She didn’t get it. And the conversation took a turn, she asked about our time in Korea, only to talk about how much she likes Korean food, completely disregarding our response. I started to feel sorry for her. For her complete unawareness. I’m a talker. But if nothing else, this trip has taught me the beauty of listening. A trait I’m now grateful for, because as soon as I think “Maybe I’m talking too much?” I shut my mouth. I ask a question. I stop talking and listen.

Day 294: Brasov

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It was a rainy ride from Bucharest to Brasov in the afternoon. Fortunately it cleared up for our evening ‘Guided Brasov’ free walking tour!  I’m continually amazed with these free walking tours, and the wonderful guides that do them! Our guide, Andre was so fun to talk to, and I really loved the stories he told about some famous figures in Romanian history. Again, if there’s a free tour in a city you may be visiting, I’m fairly sure it will be better than any paid one with a bored (and boring) guide.

On top of the ‘Black Church’ Andre pointed out a statue of a little boy on the roof. The story goes that this little boy was so good at building, that the guy in charge got jealous and threw him off the roof. The boy’s friends made this statue of him before building was complete.

 

I also got a kick out of hearing a little bit about Elena Ceaușescu, the wife of the infamous Romanian dictator Nikolae. Apparently, she wanted the world to think highly of her, despite having very little education. So, she basically stole some physicists’ PhD work and passed it off as her own. When she was invited around the world to give talks on “her work” she would go, and speak in Romanian, about gibberish, bringing the real physicist along to “translate.” Since he knew what the project was actually about, he would be able to talk about it in great detail wowing scientists all over the world, yet they never knew it was really his work and not Elena Ceaușescu’s.

We made our way to a tower overlooking the town at the end of our tour. It had such a beautiful view of the old town.

I especially loved the orange tiled roofs and how you can see the many, many courtyards from above. I asked if many people live in the old town in Brasov, but Andre informed us that these houses are usually passed down through generations and it’s exceptionally expensive to not only purchase a house if you would want to, but to afford the bills (namely the heating) once you moved in. Most people live in the communist style block apartments on the edges of the city.

Day 293: Bucharest’s Old Town

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Bucharest is hot. That kind of melty hot where all you want to do is sit and focus all of your energy on not being hot. Which is what we did, over lunch. And then over iced coffee. We walked around the Old Town, which was much quieter than it had been the previous two days (and especially nights). Bucharest was the surprise party town that I was not expecting and the picture below sums it up. Lots of Eastern Europeans here to have a good time. The Old Town was full of bars, sidewalk cafes and old crumbling buildings. Usually I really like juxtaposition. Seoul was full of it, but the juxtaposition in Bucharest featuring popped collars on the men and tight stone-washed jeans on the women weren’t my thing. We walked around until we were again, too hot to do anything other than sit down outside for a cold drink. or two.

One of my favorite sights we took in during our walk around town was this monastery. Stavropoleos Monastery is an Eastern Orthodox Monastery for nuns. I had no clue those even existed! Monasteries for nuns! It was tiny, but extraordinarily tall and featured “the quietest courtyard” in all of Bucharest. So they say… (It was quiet, and a little cool in the shade, which made us both happy as we tried not to give in and find somewhere in doors with air-conditioning.)

After we tore ourselves out from under the shade in the little courtyard, we meandered through the streets some more. Not many others were out- at least compared to how busy the streets were after dark in the previous evenings. Perhaps we were silly for being out in the heat. It appeared as though some people were living in some of these buildings. I’m not entirely sure how, or if it is even legal. The buildings are marked “historical” and on either side of these were cafes with outdoor seating and young and old tourists eating and drinking. It was an interesting mix of people. Gypsies roaming the streets and getting chased away from tables at the cafes. One more thing to add to the list of “things to look up”: Gypsies.

We walked by Revolution Square, past the museums, Caru’ cu Bere (the famous beer hall we went to for Andrew’s birthday), and a famous old hotel, some other ruins, and tried to pass the time until the free walking tour began at six. But, we couldn’t do it. We assured ourselves that the walking tour probably covered all of the same places we walked to on our own in the afternoon (minus the information, I’m sure) and grabbed dinner before heading back to our air-conditioned room. We passed this Russian inspired church on the way back, but it was closed, so we snapped a picture and went on our way.

Day 292: Cismigiu Gardens

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I thought Romania was going to be a bit dark, somewhat run-down, and a little on the post Communist side. And then we walked through the Cismigiu Gardens. Now, parts of Bucharest ARE run-down and you can there’s evidence of the Communist block going on around the city- but this garden is like a breath of fresh air. We had to walk through it to get from our hostel to the old town. Not that either of us minded, at all. Even late at night, we debated walking around the park, but then saw how many people were still enjoying the gardens in the evening that it made more sense to walk through! There was also a folk festival going on throughout the weekend. Sometimes when we would walk through it would simply be little shops set up with traditional crafts, one time, it was a lively beer garden, and during our last stroll through, there were some traditional dances on stage, and off (if you count the gypsies on the sidewalk).