As morning arrives, mist descends, and lingers over the villages that we pass; everything looks eerie and quite beautiful. It's rather fitting too, given that I am making my way through Transylvania.
Eventually the villages turn in to towns, and the frequency of countryside depletes. Buildings start to lose the romantic Romany gypsy style, and instead are replaced by post-modern concrete Communist monstrosities. This can mean only one thing: Bucharest is finally here.
After 17 hours on what has been the strangest train journey of my life, the train arrives in Bucharest. Although somewhat relieved, I am simultaneously daunted. I can't pinpoint why exactly right away, but there is something really foreboding about Bucharest, and for the first time since I've been away, I start to get a bit scared.
Decide that I don't fancy hanging around Bucharest at all, so will catch another train to Istanbul as soon as possible; it may be another 17 hour journey, but hygiene, sleep and food is something I am willing to sacrifice to get out of here. Soon being to realise that the train station is maybe one of the least safe places to be - there are fake currency exchanges, unlicensed taxi's and makeshift "information" offices all over the place....and no sign/mention of the scheduled train to Istanbul.
Leave the station to try and collect my thoughts, when I am approached by a guy who has used his incredible powers of deduction to figure out that I am most definitely not a local. He tells me to get out of town straight away (as you do). Entirely naively, I listen. Apparently the police are on strike, the trains are on strike (which explains lack of Istanbul train) and "if the gypsies see you, they will rob you and kill you." Excellent.
Panic sets in and out of nowhere, I burst out crying. Though after the night I've had, a really good cry is just what I need. The man is clearly bewildered, and aside from chastising me for even being in Bucharest in the first place, explains to me that I have 2 options. I can either stay in Bucharest for 5 days until the strikes are over, or go back to where I came from....
So, back to Budapest it is! With no trains running from Bucharest directly, I have to spend a small fortune to take a bus to the Northern Romanian town of Cluj, and then catch a connecting train back to Keleti. This should all take another 17 hours, and the thought of it is a total and utter nightmare, but I so desperately want out of Bucharest that I no longer care.
With enough money for a few litres of water, some coffee and a few cigarettes, I stock up appropriately for the journey. I now have absolutely no Romanian at all...should I need to buy food, or run out of water, I am screwed. And it's pretty likely that food and water are going to be necessary somewhere in the next 17 hours....
The heat is almost unbearable too, and made worse by the cramped bus. We make a toilet stop, and not only do they try and charge me to pee (a kind lady in front of me offers to pay - eternally grateful to her!), but I have to do so standing up. The toilet is a hole in the ground, inside a cubicle. How undignified!
Bus journey is "hairy" to say the least. Aside from a bus driver who is clearly mad, there is car accidents, thunderstorms, torrential rain, lightning, and rather ominous looking mountain carriageways that look as though they may crumble away at any minute....
Overcome with hunger (it's now been 24 hours since last food). I rummage at the bottom of my bag, in the hope that I find some forgotten-about goodies. To my sheer delight I strike gold - one piece of stale chewing gum and a chocolate-coated peanut. A feast fit for a king!
With dinner now sorted, all thoughts of where I am going to sleep tonight and what I'm going to do when I arrive back in Budapest are momentarily pushed to the back of my mind. Instead, as I figure out how to make the peanut last, I suddenly can't stop laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of the whole situation.
Surely things can only get better from here...?!
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