"Searching for the answer" Romania Travelogue by Polska

As far as I can remember, I've always wanted to go to Romania. I had to wait long till I finally could put my feet upon the Romanian ground, but finally it happened... well, certainly all of you know how it is when a long-waited dream comes true; it's no longer a dream, it's the reality, your reality, and you have to find yourself in it somehow... anyway, as you're probably not interested in my "deep thoughts", let us follow the route...
In fact, this was my second visit to Romania. It's sort of funny, but so it happened, and it's written there forever ;) the thing is that, after my first trip (july 2003) merely two weeks later I found myself on a train heading for the most beautiful country I've ever visited... the other thing is that I was going, well, how to put it, "with a big question mark", because - and here I am, hehe, clearly just a stupid girl - apart from the monasteries and the mountains, I was also looking forward to seeing a man... well, the story is really complicated, so I'll just tell you that some of you may happen to know him, and that by that time I believed he was the greatest guy I've ever met. But, as life, as you know, tends to be brutal, I was to find out that not all that shines is made of gold...
Anyway, the journey was really long. I am the only child in the family, so my parents categorically forbade me to go through Ukraine (Ukraine? Are you crazy?! They?ll kill you the moment you got off the train! - to quote my Dad, a big traveller himself, though a man of 46, slowly getting old). So I had no other choice, but to go through Slovakia and Hungary, haha. I took a train from Gdynia, where my parents live, to Warsaw (4,5 h), then Warsaw - Cracow (2 h 45), and from Cracow I took a train to Szolnok (Hungary). It made about 10 hours, and just imagine, a lonely girl on a night train.... nah, neither me I didn't like the idea. Luckily, waiting for the train in Cracow I heard somebody speaking Hungarian (here I have to explain you a few things: I am studying Hungarian language and culture, and apart from this I am simply mad about learning foreign languages, so... but ok., that's not the topic ;)). So, I approached those Hungarian guys and I asked them if they were going with the same train I was supposed to take. Aw, you should have seen their faces! They were really shocked by the fact that somebody knew their language pretty good, and of course they were taking that very train, so I could feel myself safe (well, later it turned out that I might have as well stayed alone in a compartment, for nothing dangerous happened, but, well, you never know...).
At about 9 a.m. the following day I reached Szolnok, which was - comparing to any town in Western Hungary - quite an awful place, I must say. Heh, it was amusing though - after having travelled for about 20 hours I decided to wash my hair, so I went down to the toilette, I payed those 50 Forints and I put my head under the tap. In about 5 minutes I was distracted by somebody yelling at me in Hungarian: "Maga meg mit csinýl?!" (What are you doing?!). "Hajat mosok, hýt lýtja" (I'm washing my hair, as you can see) I answered. "De hýt nem szabad!" (But you're not allowed to!) the woman cried.... well, what can I say? I finished what I was doing, and gave the poor yelling creature another 50 Ft, to calm her down... then, I had time enough just to reach my train, which was supposed to take me to Cluj.

the monasteries...

When we reached the Hungarian-Romanian border, the nicest thing was the Romanian customs officer; in Poland they'd usually just take your passport without saying anything, check your data and give it back to you, usually with an awful grin. That one was different: he collected all the passports from the compartment, and then - addressing everyone individually - he asked where they were going and for how long. I don't know, ok, I am strange, but I liked it very much... heh, of course partially because I like to shock people, and the customs officer was no exception: he read my name, asked me where I was going and, as I answered in Romanian, he was sort of confused indeed (well, there are not that many Poles speaking Romanian, even as badly as I do, I dare say). Anyway, it was nice, and I got a really good mood.
In Cluj I had to wait a couple of hours for the train to Cýmpulung Moldovenesc (in fact it was going to Iaýi, but that is where I was supposed to get off). When I was changing money into the local valute, I noticed a guy who seemed to be pretty lost (and certainly NOT Romanian). After a while he came to me with that immortal "do you speak English" in his eyes; that's how I met Bruce, a Canadian guy. We went to see the old town of Cluj, but - as it started to rain - soon we found ourselves in a bar, drinking beer and talking; as he intended to stay in Cluj for the night, I asked my Romanian friend about where the guy could sleep, and thanks to this I discovered that nice hostel. Well... the next picture was the impossibly crowded train to Iaýi. OF COURSE there were no seat tickets available, so I had to stand on the corridor... and of course again I met nice people ;) this time they were - to my astonishment - Poles, and one of the guys was so nice that he stayed with me till 2.47 a.m. - for by that time we reached the magnificent, ekhm, town of Cýmpulung Moldovenesc.

I got off. The platform was long, and I was actually getting worried about my "question mark"'s presence there, when I saw him... I saw him, and I was lost, totally. A kiss on the cheek, a short "Hello, how are you?" and we went... me infinitely happy, him - who knows. Anyway, I slept like a log, and the following morning I felt as if I've had drunk too much (read: as if I had a hangover). I will not be telling you all the details, anyway you may find the story boring enough... heh, but still, you must admit it's not easy to just come and say: Hello, my name is... to an unknown couple of about 55, who are your friend's parents, and, in addition, you're supposed to be staying at their place for a week... and they know nothing about you... strange. But it was fine, they turned out to be very nice people, just I was ashamed to speak Romanian in their presence (*perfectionism = if I can't speak well enough, I won't speak at all; nothing more stupid, but that's what I am).
We spent the following week on visiting the beautiful monasteries of Bucovina: Humor, Moldoviýa, Suceviýa, Arbore, Voroneý, Putna... most of them were built in the 16th century, and they're so bizzare, all covered with frescoes (who cares they're pretty similar) small and so... so different from what we, Roman Catholics are used to... By then I was perfectly happy - I was in Romania, the country I love, surrounded by this beautiful and melodious language, eating all those delicious dishes (ciorbý de burte, awww, with garlic and sour cream... and mici, small spicy rolls made of minced meat... ) and drinking BEER,which prooved to be no worse than the Polish ones.

But, but, but... that week was over, and the next destination was the Maramureý Mountains (Munýii Maramureýului). The initial plan was to follow the old Polish-Romanian border path, which practically means to go along the current Romanian - Ukrainian border.

the frontier

The trip started nice, for after getting to Viýeu de Sus we had to hitch-hike to go further up, and we were taken by a couple of young boys going with a truck straight to Cýrlibaba. I say: it was nice, because the road was curvy and the boy who was driving seemed not to be paying any attention to that: we were going fast, and me who loves to drive was enjoying it with all my heart... then we got off by some hut (I presume it was the "Complexul Turistic Borýa"), and we started to hike. The weather was fine, and soon we reached another hut located on Pasul Prislop (1416 m). There we ate some bread with cheese; the owner (?) of the hut, who came meanwhile, explained us how to get up to the ridge. And so we went. Everything was ok. until we reached the peak, the name of which was - as we thought - Jupania. To get to the summit we had to go through low but thick pine-bushes (the proper English name is "dwarf mountain pine", the Americans say either "Swiss mountain pine" or "mugo pine"), for at a certain moment the path simply ended. Having reached the summit we were trying to find out which direction we should take to follow the border, but even though the direction was right, the bushes were just impossible, plus - as we (at least ME) were getting tired, the walk turned into a fierce fight with plants... yup, definitely they did not want to be disturbed by those two backpackers who were breaking their branches, stepping on their roots and collecting all the precious pollen and resin with their rugs and tatters... it took us about three hours to get out of that pine-jungle and reach the forest. Luckily there was some path so, after checking the direction, we could finally follow it. But, as it was getting dark, again we had to get out of the forest to put the tent up. The funny thing was that at a certain moment my friend noticed some unidentified sign on one of the trees... huh, in fact this was no fun at all, for - according to what Alex said - this might have been something, well, how to put it... in Romanian it is "grýnitý forestierý", so in English probably "forest border": might have meant that we were no longer in Romania, and having in mind all those nice stories about the Ukrainean border guards... no, thank you ;). So, in almost complete darkness we had to turn back... the backpack seemed to weigh some impossible number of kilograms, so for me hiking up to get out of the forest became a struggle for life. My friend, a big hiker and backpacker, seemed not to be tired at all, and te sight (I still could see something, that's rather positive) of his long legs and the backpack happily dashing up was making me feel even worse. But finally I made it,of course red, wet and mad at all the World, and we reached a grass-covered pass. In istance there was some light. People... to go or not to go? Have in mind that we were still not sure about in what country we were, but well, what else could we do? The light turned out to be coming from the cabin of a truck, which, to our big confusion, did not have either Romanian or Ukrainean numbers... huh, Alex started to search for some rubbish and once he cried tryumphantly: see, it writes in Romanian, we're still in Romania! ... yeah, sure, but still the owners of the truck remained unknown. Smugglers? Hmm, possible... we were still standing by the truck, getting colder and colder, when finally THE PEOPLE came. And - what a release - they were speaking Romanian! As I understood, they were woodcutters, and they were so nice that they offered us to stay in their "cabana" (in fact it was sort of a caravan, but certainly not the newest model ;)). We were so tired that we did not even eat anything, and just went to sleep with all the pine resin and pollen, sweat and fear smelling just wonderfully... well, that's sort of poetry too, even if you don't agree with me...

that's the thing the inspector came with!

The following morning we got up and after breakfast (Alex's speciality, hehe, the immortal oat porridge with coconut, raisins, dried fruit, and God only knows what else) we had a look at our maps to make it clear where exactly we were staying. Huh, indeed, we were still in Romania, but - what made me really mad - it turned out that either the previous evening we didn't cross any border! Frustrating, but true... anyway, we got to the main path and were following it until we reached a stream... well, to make things clear, even though I love to hike in the mountains, I am still a girl, and even though Poland is not the most civilised country, we do know what bathroom is, and we do use it from time to time ;) so I took my backpack off and, yes, that was what I needed: soap, water and toothpaste. Refreshed (to some extend) we continued hiking up and after we got out of the trees, finally we could see the ridge. Alex pointed at one of the peaks and said - as I was already murmuring something about my empty stomach - that we will eat up there, on the rocks. Ok, I said, anyway I knew I had no chice at all, and we went up a steep, grass-covered slope. That day the sun was shining without mercy and it was hot like hell, so when I finally got up on the rocks (just to explain you: I was ALWAYS getting everywhere later than my friend, to my greatest shame and frustration), I had to have a smoke... we were sitting there, eating and drinking, when Alex noticed some people heading for the very rock we were staying on... nah, we supposed they were border guards, the only question was: Romanians or Ukraineans? Anyway, we had to stay where we were, for they had certainly seen us, so trying to run away did not seem to be the best idea... yup, so we stayed until the guards reached the rock. "Poliýia de frontierý, your documents please" one of them said. We gave him our passports, he checked them and said: I am sorry, but you entered the neutral zone between Romania and Ukraine and we have to take you down to our base. Well, what could we do? The good thing was that we were going just along the mentioned "neutral zone", which basically is a wide grass-path , certainly more comfortable for walking than a regular forest path, I dare say. Again, we were lucky, because the guards seemed to even like us a bit (after all, we spoke Romanian and were not arguing with them), so we had quite a nice walk... well, nice until it came to getting down to the Waser Valley. We had to go down a steep slope, through the forest, and for me it was hard, as my knees were aching and, as usual, I could not keep the tempo... and it was no better when we reached that muddy bitten road, I could not go fast and was getting really nervous, especially because Alex would stop from time to time to wait for me... you know, it's not the nicest thing to see it clear that you're the weakest in the team... awful stuff, but that's how it was. My frustration reached its highest point when one of the guards by force (!) took my backpack on his back... Aw, but anyway the guards were really nice, and were picking mushrooms as we slowly approached their "base". Then they showed us where we could put the tent for the night and told us to wait for the mysterious inspector's arrival. He came at about 9 PM by the most astonishing means of transport I've ever seen: the vehicle was a strange compilation of a train (it was going on the train's trail) and a car (the upper part, it was, as I think, ARO, a local substitute for Jeep, but I'm not sure anyway; it was certainly yellow though). He wrote down our data, told us how much we might have payed, and left us wishing us a good night... heh, we escaped paying "amendý", and were happy for that. And the following morning we were to take the famous narrow-gauge train of the Waser Valley

conquering Farcau...

Ouch... over 6 hours of travelling by "Mocaniýa", that was far enough. I was really happy we had not taken it the way up... for I don't think I would have been able to hike AFTER ;) the seats, ok., they were wooden and not comfortable, but the worst thing was that it was going s...o...o... s...l...o...w... ;) And of course it was full of tourists of various kinds, a thing I utterly dislike when going somewhere (yes, I am a tourist myself, but I was talking about those loud groups, shooting pictures at every rock or tree...)
When we reached Viýeu de Sus, it was late afternoon so we decided to stay there for the night and to take the first bus to Poienile de Sub Munte the following morning. We were actually thinking of where to sleep, when an elderly lady approached us and offered a room at her place. The price was reasonable, so we took the offer and, refreshed and without backpacks, we went downtown to eat something normal and - of course - to drink beer ;)
The following morning, with the taste of the extremely sweet and strong black coffee our "landlady" had served us, we went out into the misty sunrise. We took the bus to Poienile, where we were supposed to register ourselves at the local border guards' post - to avoid situations like that from before two days. So we did, and we could start hiking up without any clouds on our heads. First we were going through a forest, but this time I promised to myself not to get frustrated by how fast my friend could go... and I finally could open my eyes wide and see... and that was good, for at the foot of Farcýul I think it was the most beautiful place I've ever been to... yellow grass covering wide slopes, clear sky, and that feeling of an infinite space, of an infinite freedom, it's something that cluthes your neck just the time you would cry out loudly and dance round and round on that ocean of grass, breathing deep and feeling a part of this World, just like a tree, a stone or a bird... that very day we reached Farcýul (1961 m), and had to get down a bit to, after another 2 hours of hiking, reach the border ridge. We passed ýceavul (1768 m) and ended up on Mica Mare (1817 m), for the sun was already setting.
We woke up late, so after breakfast (yes, oat porridge) we started to hike along the ridge; the destination for that day was Pop Ivan (1940 m), . Somehow both of us found going on the Romanian side tiresome (those awful moulds of grass, and mud) we decided to take the risk and cross on the Ukrainean "tankroad", as I call it, a regular road, along which there were those picturesque barbed wire fences (once upon a time there was a big, big country... eh, and now we have the Big Brother show! There must always be some "big brother" in Eastern Europe I guess ;)). We were just regaining our vitality, when I heard an apalling noise undoubtedly produced by some vehicle, supposingly an Ukrainean one, in wiich there were at least two fierce border guards willing to get us... we didnýt think much, we dashed across the "neutral zone" to get down behind the first trees of the Romanian forest. We sat still, fearing to make a slightest noise... we could heard the guards discussing something, then another car came... yes, this was the second time we were cursing a certain author of one Polish guidebook ; finally, after about half an hour the cars went away, and we were just setting ourselves to get back to the "tankroad", when a sound of steps hit us and we fell flat on the ground again... after a while we heard one of the guards (for it was them again) asking the other: "U tiebia harasho?" (Is everything ok.? )... may, this was scary, they were just at about 5 meters from us... and that day I was wearing my immortal red T-shirt I got from Dad when I was 14 (it's very red indeed), so I was quite an easy target.

Vasil, Taras, me, Danilo and Alex.

After the guards had passed us, we no longer had the fancy for going along the Ukrainean road, so we were bouncing through the grass, roots and other *** until we reached the pass at the foot of Pop Ivan. We were already very hungry, so we sat down by a wooden shepherds' shelter and we ate the rest of the bread we had, acoompanied by some pate and cheese, of course. We were just finishing our magnificent lunch, when the first drops of rain started to fall... huh, I said, good, we're staying here for the night. Soon the rain got really heavy and we were forced to get into the modest wooden building. It was dark inside, and for a while we were just sitting and listening to the rustle of the rain, when - oh, not again! - we heard some voices coming from outside... now, what do we do? Well, let's get out, I said, anyway it's raining and they'll probably come here. So we came out, and the following moment I found my nose saying "hello" to a big belly of a big backpacker... I raised my eyes and the next problem was: what language should I speak?! Luckily I did not have to wait long for the answer, for the guy asked me in Ukrainean: Hey, where are you from? Now, I was the priviledged one, for poor Alex doesn't speak either Russian or any other Slavonic language (ok., he learned some Serbian...) so I was doing what I really enjoy -live translation. Of course, it was not of the best quality, but still, ýbýng macht Meister, as our neighbours from the West would say. Soon the other two Ukrainians came, and not long after that we were all having hot tea and a dinner. Of course we had some vodka too, I guess I have never tried a better slivovica than the one Danilo, Taras and the third Ukrainen guy had shared with us. They were all from L'viv, so we had a nice talk (for those who don't know, L'viv used to be one of the major Polish cities before the 2nd World War, and for sure had the best university in Poland by that time). We were making so much noise that even a small mouse came out of its hole in order to check who the hell the intruders were... .
As most of the food we had was from the Ukrainians, Alex decided that we should go down to the closest "stýna" (shepherds' hut) and bring our new friends some cheese. The rain had stopped, but the grass was still wet, and as it was getting late there was no chance for it to get dry, so, complaining a little I went with him down the slope... and I felt great! We were running down, and I felt free, I just forgot myself in that speed, there were only the mountains and myself, under the dark blue sky... and it did not count anymore that my shoes were wet... and I have to tell you, I've never felt so close
to another man as I felt by then... but all that's good ends soon, my so-far-gained experience is whispering to me... well, maybe. But anyway it's good to live for that small moments of a complete harmony.
When we got back with not only cheese (two kinds: caýcaval and urda - the second one being my favourite) but also with a bottle of zýr (which in English could probably be whey, but I am not sure) it was already dark. The Ukrainians were standing by the fire, and we had a very nice evening, talking and sharing the happiness of the others not being border guards (for the Ukrainians were, just like we did, afraid that they'd be caught by the neighbouring country's patrol).

Pop Ivan of Maramures

Finally we went to sleep and here comes the funny story of the day ;) in the shed there was sort of a wooden bed, too wide for one and too narrow for two. We decided that Alex and me will sleep on that strange construction (we even found "pillows" made of fir tree twigs), and the Ukrainean fellows - on the floor, right next to it. So it happened, but during the night to my greatest astonishment I found myself SITTING (!) on the floor almost under our bed... well, ok., I simply fell down (or I was made to, but it's too late to investigate), but the worst thing was that, as I was not 100% conscious of what was happenning (slivovica, yes...) it took me a longer while to understand why I cannot just stand up... the reason was simple: I was in my sleeping bag, and you must admit that it's quite hard to make a step having both of your legs inside something resembling a sack... ;))) in plus, in the morning the Ukraineans kept on asking me what was that strange noise they had heard in the night... heh, at least I can laugh at myself a bit ;).
After breakfast (yes, yes, yes...) we said "goodbye" to the guys, and started up for the Pop Ivan. The weather was fine, but it was very steep and the wind was blowing strong, so that - considering the amount of slivovica I had drunk the previous evening - I found it hard a bit to reach the summit. Luckily, my motivation was strong enough (God, I cannot show him I'm feeling bad!) to let me climb all the way up. The view was really nice, but - as we noticed some not that friendly looking clouds slowly getting closer and closer - we did not stay much, and we went, a bit up, a bit down, through all the "group" of Pop Ivan, to, at a certain moment, reach the forest again. Here I have to tell you that I've never seen bigger mushrooms than those we passed on our way down. They were simply HUGE! Unfortunately we had no time to pick them, and anyway it might have been forbidden, so... Well, but we reached the forest and here the worst - at least for me - part of the day started: the slope was very steep, almost vertical, I am serious, and I could only go down very, very slowly, so - adding my badly hurting left knee - again I was upset, feeling ashamed and forceless at the same time... this time I just couldn't stand it anymore, and - in order not to burst into tears like some spoiled brat - I sat down to have a quick smoke. But the cigarette was over and instead of calming down I got angry: I was sure there must have been some normal path leading down to Bistra, the village we were supposed to get to, and Alex of course had to take the shortest way, not taking into account that I might be tired and - which is even more important - not experienced enough... as I was not moving from my comfortable stone, he finally said: Haide! (Come on!). I did not react at all, knowing that if I opened my mouth for sure I wouldn't use the proper words, so after a while he simply took my backpack and continued his way down. Of course I had to follow him, and I even started to feel stupid - after all, the backpack was quite heavy, and carrying two of them was certainly not the nicest thing, when my friend tripped and fell down. Nah, that was the moment I regained self-consciousness, I took my backpack from him and decided not to let a single word of complaint fly out of my mouth... sometimes I tend to be stubborn, and that was one of those moments. I wouldn't speak at all until we reached the river, where we stopped for a while to remove all the rubbish like dry mud, needles and leaves out of our shoes. Then we went down a dustroad towards Bistra. On our way we had to talk to the border guards once again, but that was the very last meeting of that kind: we just showed our passports, explained to the guy where we were hiking, and we were free ;).

When we reached Bistra, it was late afternoon and - as it was Sunday - the atmosphere was full of that special, August-like calm, when everything seems to be covered by a thin golden veil, accompanied my the humming bees... the quiet of Sunday, a little sad, but beautiful, and when, with your eyes squinted, and even though full of light, you can see all your hopes and dreams come true... and you want it to last forever.

(continued on my Ukraine page ;))