When we finally got to the border post in Serbia we were sent straight back to Romania! The reason: our Schengen visa says C and not D! Heavens knows the difference but no ways are they allowing us in! We have to go back to
The Consulate in Romania to get a visa. So yes, the 3 musketeers sat our foot on Serbian terroritry and got immediately deported. So we schlepped all the way back to Timesoara.
The Romanian conductor stores our luggage at public relations and we have 4 hours to get a visa! We take a taxi to the consulate, and yes we can get a visa but it will take 10 days!
I am not impressed, when I phoned the Serbian consulate in South Africa, they said a Schengen visa will suffice! Now it is a different story! Still old communist burocracy!! They just don't want us in Serbia. The different beurocrats fight amongst themselves about our visa! But no, we actually can't get a visa, not today anyway! On the news I saw a guy blowing himself up at a club in Beograd, with a hand granade, killing himself and a few others, because they refused him entry! I do not like violent and aggressive people...and I had a funny feeling about going to Serbia anyway. So now change of plan, and off to beautiful Budapest in Hungary we go!
I feel so sorry for mom. She slept in her clothes last night and did not even take a shower! Later I found out she didn't even comb her hair! First sign of depression! Travel fatigue is setting in and the two old battle axes are often in conflict! They even fought at the Serbian Consulate! I chased them outside and asked the lady to check flights to Croatia, and the tickets were between R4000 and R5000. The same price we paid on Emirates to get here!
Now I am in the square in Timesoara, writing the blog and the two of them are walking in the square gardens, to kiss and make up!
I walk into a restaurant known for their local specialities and they're busy making a tourist video! I sneak in some pictures too!
There are thousands of churches in Romania and many more being built, elaborate and always with painted murals. Even little towns in the country sometimes have Gothic cathedrals. Here the people are devoted Christians.
This is the list of complaints:
The trains are so high above the platform, it takes huge effort to get your luggage and yourself into the train, and then to get off, you literally have to jump off the train. Mom says she did the splits 50 years ago and now she is out of practice! She is amazing, she gets off and on without our help as we are busy with the luggage!
So few tourists travel between the Balkans on the trains, that some of the train services have been discontinued!
Language is definitely a barrier. I speak a little bit of French and mom some German and sometimes when I am desperate, I grab a youngster to help translate. The one told me he learnt English playing video games.
The taxi drivers see tourists and try to rip us off! I get Gatvol as they have meters, and I always give them more than their fare, but when they demand twice the rate I seriously get pissed off.
The train station has an international desk but they know nothing about international relations, they are down right rude if you cannot speak their language... And very very unhelpful!
But along the way we find angels too that helps a weary traveller! After all of this, we still love the journey and it's challenges! most people cannot believe that we are from South Africa. We are often the first South Africans that book into hotels or guest houses.
Maramûres was so inspirational, and what we saw and experienced I can't even translate into words!
So when we get to Budapest, we are going to rest for a while, so that mom can have a bath and wash her hair! (sy haal nou Oupa Van se tricks uit, ek wil al 'n week lank haar baadjie was, maar Oupa Van se dogter weier botweg! Nou gaan ek ook die klere moet steel om te was! Sy spaar haar baadjie!)
This is scrap metal paradise! Trucks, unused rail tracks, abandoned power stations, old trains by the millions are scattered through the landscape.
And now were on the train to Budapest! At the Hungarian border post, police with hard hats and ladders get onto the carriage. What are you doing? we ask. Were looking for gypsies in the ceiling of your compartment! We cannot believe it.
At least the customs and their attitude have lifted our spirits.
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