Night Train to Bucharest

The night train was a little too comfortable, keeping us both sound asleep until the porter yelled "Brasov" through our door, a little after ten. There was more and more snow out the window and our chocolate and corn chips breakfast was not quite the winter warmer but that was all the Budapest vending machine had had on offer the night before. We had nothing booked in Transylvania but knew their would be all sorts of offers as we stepped off the locomotive. We were met by a well prepared Gabriel who also had an Australian guest getting on the train we had left. His recommendation was all we needed so we settled in to our Communist-era apartment for the next two nights, it was a little too bare, even for our tastes, so we explored the old city and made our way up to a cozy B&B, Viron, where we ended up spending the remainder of the week.

Lisa on the move, with the Brasov Town Hall and Tree behind, as we moved accommodation. It was yet to snow much this week, the slush was a bit depressing, but the buildings were beautiful.

Simone, our host, recommended we take the local bus to visit Bran Castle, the inspiration for Bram Stoker's "Dracula". The castle was quite a scene, sitting atop a cliff. It began to snow as we arrived. It was opened for us to walk around and a bit smaller than you'd imagine. Three storeys and a few secret staircases added to the magic. The snow might just be visible as Lisa is standing in the central courtyard above.

Looking down over the courtyard, and valley beyond. The roof has taken on a light snow dusting like the trees in the forest below.

From the outside, Lisa keeps her hands warm. We took the bus back north and got off at Rasnov to see the citadel. We began the climb with our hoods tightened to their limits. Looking at each other, we decided that it was a crazy idea for two little Australians to be climbing the mountain at dusk, we retired to a cafe where we shed a few layers each and enjoyed watching the citadel spotlights take effect from the warm safety of the double glazed windows.

The snow got heavier as we waited for the bus, Lisa has just stepped out of the phone booth where were taking shelter.

Walking back through the town, a little crowd had gathered in the town square, the snow was soft and powdery under foot and kids were making snow angels and throwing snowballs as we wandered by. It was beginning to look a lot like Christmas.

The final road up to the house had a magical air, the lighting was dim and yellowed and people were all inside, the walkways and stairs were yet to be cleared so we made all our own paths, hoping our boots would hold up.

The next morning we woke to a winter wonderland outside our window. Simone told us the sun was shining up the mountain - it was time to head up to the slopes.

A local bus left a few metres from our house, dumping us at the lifts fifteen minutes later. We hired skis for about $12, got a lift pass for about the same and tried our best to keep our corduroy pants dry - ski wear was not available for rent.

The following day was a little more gloomy so we got on a train to Sinaia, to visit some more castles. This shot was taken during the hour we sat here, waiting for something going on up ahead - we'll never know what. We had a good look around the town where there was a Christmas concert and fair going on. We ate at a 'family restaurant/steakhouse' and Lisa ordered the bear steaks. The waiter didn't blink, and there were stuffed bears around the place so we'll never know whether it was an actual bear steak... We like to think so.

Lisa finally succumbed to the temptation of the snow angel. I declined.

The sun was shining again so we headed back up to the slopes, it was the weekend so Romania's beautiful people were all out. We took the telecabana (a sixty body box that did a lot of swinging and creaking) to the top where we met this view, and the challenge of getting two beginners back down.

The view from the same spot but the opposite way. Lisa is surveying any possible easy way down. She wasn't smiling when she turned around.

We stopped about an hour later at the halfway pub. Still above the clouds, we shared some tea and reassured each other that we could make it all the way. We did and enjoyed a few beginner runs afterwards.

A late train to Bucharest, a night in a city hostel and a challenging series of public transport complications got us to the airport, to make the journey to NYC for a different state of mind.

Bathing in Budapest

After a pleasant 12hr trip, with all six seats to ourselves, we arrived in Budapest at a trendy hostel that had rave reviews. The host removed the belongings of another guest from a bed and indicated our twin set. Moments later, an animated Brazilian, Nathalia, came in asking where her stuff was. We sorted it all out and spent the next few days together!

Nathalia was there for three days so we tagged along with the itinerary she'd planned. Behind the girls is the market place filled with fresh produce and souvenirs on the top floor. We had the first of many goulash and variations for lunch here.

We made it to the parliament though internal access was denied. This shot is inside the spectacular St Stephen's Basilica. Lisa and I returned on the following Sunday to attend mass in Hungarian which must have looked a bit like Mr Bean attending a service as we jumped up and down with the congregation.

Nathalia had a contact in Hungary, Peter, who took us ice skating outdoors in front of another castle! It was a large rink, with a nice blend of local hoons and learn to skate legends like ourselves.

Dinner at Oktagon and a walk near the well-lit Opera House and we were done for the day.

After all that skating and fine dining, it was time for a trip to the baths. Right in the centre of the city park lie these public hot springs with amazing buildings housing saunas and massage opportunities. Lisa and Nathalia are in the 38' pool. We spent a while floating in the 36' whirlpool as well. The run from the baths to the change rooms was fast, skipping and squealing like schoolgirls. Nathalia headed to the airport afterwards and we returned to the hostel to plan our night out - off to see a blues band with a few others Lisa had rounded up.

I was entertained by the various buskers while Lisa made the most of the Budapest Christmas Markets.

This was one of the few photos I took in the Terror Museum. The sound and lighting was very effective in evoking a variety of responses to the alarming range dramatic eras in relatively recent history. This display of aluminium alloy products from the communist era reminded us of our own kitchen.

We saw the Franz Liszt Chamber Orchestra at the Budapest Palace of the Arts. Apart from being dramatically under dressed, it was a magical performance, featuring Stephen Isserlis the cellist and one particularly modern piece where the composer was introduced on stage afterwards. The building was spectacular. We returned a few days later to get tickets to see the St Petersburg Philharmonic play Tchaikovsky but every seat had sold well in advance. Very disappointed.

Wandering around the Citidal and Art Gallery on Buda, the city lights came to life as darkness fell. I was not alone taking photos from this point. There must have been a busload of Photography Appreciation students or the tripod collectors club in town.

Back in the City Park I noticed steam coming off the duck pond, sure enough it was another hot spring. We had spent a week in the hostel and visited many sights around town. We even made it to the Australian Film Festival with some other Aussies! With a week to go, and a hunger for snow, we boarded the Night train to Bucharest, enjoying a six berth cabin all to ourselves, and pondered heading back East after having enjoyed the most Western City we'd visited in months.

BiH

Most of the tourists Lisa met in Dubrovnik were heading north in Croatia towards Split, not into Bosnia, so the bus ride was pretty quiet with one girl using up her English vocab with us pretty fast but continued to help us along the way. The lit road through Mostar as we arrived got me very excited, a real mix of craters and buildings that had somehow remained untouched by the war. It was also the first sight of a country from which a good friend of ours had moved from during the war, and I've never quite understood what went on here, I still can't quite comprehend how it went on in such recent history. The bus stop was very different from the one in Croatia, the first clue that this was going to be a very different experience from the last.

We were approached by a few touts who I silently directed to the accommodation manager. One met her criteria (location, price, kitchen, Skype...), although we did have a place we'd picked out but followed him into the night anyway. Miran led us through the alleys ending up at a little walkway leading to his house. Lisa nodded, I told him that this was in fact the place we'd heard about and we got to drinking the coffee that the mama cooked up for us. The photo above is of the famous Mostar Bridge, painstakingly rebuilt by hand and opened early this decade after it was bombed during the war. It symbolises the link between the east and the west, Christian and Muslim sides of the river, though relations are still somewhat scarred.

We crossed it many times during the week and came to quite like it. It was designed by a student of the architect who built some of the big mosques we visited in Turkey. Men jump from it in summer, to attract a bride, as well as the tourists. There is a museum under the eastern side which was quite worthwhile, exposing the foundations of an even earlier bridge that was unknown prior to the reconstruction.

Back at the house (Miran and girlfriend in the middle) we were joined by Cyan from Turkey and Misoto from Japan. We found a good butcher and pumpkin was so cheap, so Lisa put together a lamb roast with a pumpkin soup prelude. The new arrivals were quite impressed. The locals less so. We found out later that pumpkin is reserved for the pigs and not considered fit for humans.

Having voted in Serbia, we were keen to see if we counted on 24/11. We were both very happy.

Misoto joined us on a few trips around the town and we were fascinated with his story having left Japan at the same time we left OZ and had been quite frustrated that the Chinese didn't speak much English. This photo was taken on top of the bridge by a local man Misoto had grabbed by the arm, handed him his camera and ordered 'PHOTO', bowed, and struck this pose. He was a lot of fun and got a lot of stares in the streets of Mostar.


These two give some impression of the devastation that remains more than a decade after the war. Buildings have been repaired by priority, many having signs out the front indicating which country has funded that rebuild.

Miran offered to take us to a few sights for the cost of a tank of petrol. He was a very passionate guide, having grown up in Mostar and survived the war. Twenty members of his family didn't. We sit here in the grounds of his mosque, in Pocitelj where he outlined more about the siege.

Looking down to the mosque from a lookout at the top of the fortress.

We visited Blagaj, another tucked-away town, where I modeled my new over sized jacket as we stood on the balcony of an Ottoman style house where a spring runs from under the mountain. On the way to this town, Miran pointed out airplane hangars under a mountain which he had to guard for a time during the war.

I took some time to study this sign on the way out of the Blagaj complex. I had missed it on the way in and was glad I hadn't been whistling, walking a dog while riding my bike and wearing a one piece with my sweetheart before sharing a bottle of wine by the campfire...

After almost a week of wandering around the old town, visiting the bars and pekaras for salt sticks and burek, it was time to move on. So I got Lisa up before sunrise and we made it to the one train to Sarajevo, departing at 0730. It was well worth it. In about three hours, we'd moved from Autumn to a distinctly snowy Winter, through dramatic mountain passes and along a very cold looking river. Off to meet Mikica, Milad and Lina. Family of friends of ours in Sydney.

We arrived hungry in Sarajevo so had the first of many cevapi breakfasts before walking to our address for the week, just above the Latin Bridge, where Franz Ferdinand was assassinated in 1914, sparking WW1. The apartment was owned by the three above with Lisa: Mikica, Lina and Milad - the family of friends from Sydney. We planned to stop there for only a night or two but ended up leaving almost a week later, at the insistence of our hosts, who showered us with hospitality and local touring tips.
Looking towards the Latin Bridge in Sarajevo. We rattled along on the tram along this stretch many times.
Mikica encouraged us to visit the 'Tunel Museum', out near the airport. A stretch of the tunnel is accessible and a range of displays above give you some idea of what went on below, just over a decade ago. Both Mikica and Milad had their own stories about using the tunnel to escape the city. It was difficult to comprehend the situation.
Looking back down to the city from one of the many cemeteries around the city. So many of the tombstones have young men's names who died in the early nineties.

Regular readers would remember my chipping a tooth back in China. I finally got to a dentist and had Lisa talk to the interpreter who spoke to the dentist. I was talking too fast. He mucked around with his tools, but in the end said there was no emergency and I have a perfect set. He didn't even want any money. I think they found us very entertaining. I was very relieved. This was a step deeper into seeking a cultural experience over my regular haircut routine.

Back in the old town, we celebrated by having kebabs and a bit of water from the fountain here. On the same day, we visited the Mosque, Cathedral, Synagogue and Orthodox Church, all within about one block. The town toilet, dating back 500yrs, was one of my favourite stops.

On our last day, M, M and L took us up the mountain above Sarajevo for brunch with a serious dose of fresh air. Coffee and full strength doughnuts filled us up and we headed back down to buy up for a big dinner back at their place. We were very glad we made contact though time is running out so we have to keep moving in our arc towards Bucharest where we are to fly out from in two weeks. Back on the train.

A Seaside Rendezvous

Back on the Balkan Express, we eased our way into Serbia, passed Nis and stopped in the capital, Belgrade. The trip was very pleasant, the cabin was shared with a young female uni student and a ragged 'businessman' who had about eight winter coats around the cabin. The coats were wrapped up in a big bundle after we'd crossed the border. He also went back and forth, screwdriver in hand, to the WC. On one occasion he left with an empty sports bag to return with a packed sports bag. The armed border police payed particular attention to our cabin, inspecting under the seats and between the armrests. One guard came in to poke around the ceiling cavities and heating system but found nothing. The 'businessman' bought us a packet of biscuits to share at one stop and entertained many guests who got on and off the train regularly, leaving or taking bags or packages. At one stage we had twice the amount of luggage than in the beginning. We took no photographs.





Belgrade was to be a transit stop but it became a main event, holding our interest for five days. We voted in the Federal election, took up passive smoking, made plans for the weeks ahead and got very comfortable in our hostel, just near the centre of town.










We saw a lot of the town on foot, getting off trams way before we should have. I like this shot because of the grass on the tram tracks, it looked fantastic in the middle of the city, against the drab pavement and bitumen. Maurizio is the fella on the left, from Milan. He joined us to visit the 'furniture exhibition' which turned out to be largely office furniture, though we were treated well, particularly enjoying the massage chairs, as for all they knew, we were big OS buyers in town for the three day event.

Lisa and I visited the Kalemgdan Citadel on a few occasions, particularly enjoying the sunsets over the city and watching the Danube below.

Belgrade had many pastry opportunities. I found it hard to make a decision here but settled on a jumbo baklava, swimming in honey in a stainless steel bowl. The camera couldn't focus on my face as I recoiled with the sugar injection. It did focus a little on the ridiculous creations in the cabinet behind me. One was enough. Heavenly.

It was time for a trim, so we wandered next door for the royal treatment. This barber and I chatted with our hands for a bit and he was off to work. Lisa got out the camera and he called for his daughter. He then got out a bottle of Rakia and we all endured a glass, his was the biggest, before resuming my haircut. Traditionally, I've always said that hard alcohol and haircutting don't mix, but he seemed to have done it before and matched my right side to my left. He was very proud of being a Serbian Christian, that was for sure.

After museums, cafes, cooking and resting, it was time to take the overnight train down to Podgorica and bus it out to Budva, on the Montenegrin coast. We ran into Scott, an Australian we'd met in Belgrade and the three of us rented a pansion together, $30 for a little apartment on the top of a big house in the town centre. We cooked in our own kitchen and enjoyed the various citrus and pomegranates that the Mama left in our room every day. This shot is the view from the road up from our apartment back to the fortified Stari Grad (Old Town).

Contemplating my next move by the Budva Marina.

We walked as far as possible around the coastline, looking back to Stari Grad admiring the occasional brass sculpture looking out over the Adriatic Sea towards Italy.

The next stop was Kotor, further north up the coast, situated on the deepest fjord in Europe. We were approached by a man at the bus station and decided to take up his accomodation offer. We arrived at their house and were promptly served brandy and turkish style coffee, they were a lovely old couple with a spectacular view. We later met their son, daughter and friend who spoke plenty of English and were keen to show us around. This shot is from in front of the house, this team paddled past every day, despite the cool weather.

Taken from the same position as above outside the house, looking left as the sun set.

They were interesting siblings, these two, she had much more English than he did but he was very keen to communicate. Here in a club in the old city, we sampled a few of the local beers and enjoyed the company of Kotor's beautiful peolple.

They took us for a drive around the bay to Parast the next day. We chose not to rent.

Walking along another beautiful road, crystal clear water, narrow streets and a range of buildings currently being snapped up by the rich and famous from Russia and the UK.

We pulled over to let this wedding procession pass. We were told that they're driving through the bride's old neighbouhood where residents ply the party with booze. Notice the hand on the horn in the red car. This hooting seemed popular amongst the sloshed motorists.

That afternoon, I took my hiking companion up to the top of the old town, along the fort line.

We were all alone except for two nuns cleaning the chapel at the halfway mark. I'm told that having to reach the top of any given hill is a boy thing.

Back outside the house, we met ??? the next day before he set out. A giant cruise ship had docked in Kotor and flooded the town with Brits, Ruskis and Americans dripping with travel accesories and high expectations of customer service. A trip to Herceg Novi and a few meals out and we were ready to get moving. Off to Croatia.

Two days in Dubrovnik gave us time to visit the old town at different times of the day and have a few coffees around town. This is a laneway inside the old town, plenty of spending opportunities here.

Looking back at the Dalmaitian Coast from the southern wall of Stari Grad.

Looking out over the Adriatic. We stayed here to watch the sun set and will remeber the view, not only because of the beautiful buildings changing colour but because we decided together that we would continue our trip beyond January.

Another little bay near the Old Town.

Just before the bus into Herzegovina we had our Burek and pastry lunch on the bay. Croatia is one we'd love to return to when we're millionaires.