Day Twelve and Thirteen. The return to Cluj.

Our train arrived, and we had a bit of a panic that our coach, and hard fought reserved beds didn't exist.  But after a bit of charades with a train conductor we realised that our carriage was to be added to the already long train, and a few minutes later it was added to the front of the train.

We asked our guard (Sasha) if we could be in a compartment
together, and he said he would see what he could do.  A Romanian (Michael) joined us who was on his way to Constanta, a even longer journey than ours, in the far north of Romania.  Also a very drunk, very loud man arrived, I think Carolyn had his bed.  After some shouting Sasha moved him on, all three of us were pretty relieved.

The journey was actually quite comfortable and we both slept well, we were joined by a Bulgarian lady at some point through the night, although she was very quiet in getting herself settled, but she still woke me.

The border crossing was again slow.  The Ukrainian border guards asked us a few question, most of which they directed at the Bulgarian lady.  At one point she raised her eyebrows and looked at us, we asked what was happening, she laughed and said "Not now, later".   We never found out what happened, but we got the impression she'd saved us some hassle.

We were largely ignored at the Romanian border, this time with some words from Michael smoothing the way.  A guy in the next compartment was South American, he had the third degree from the Ukraine border guards about any money, Vodka or books he was carrying, was now been interviewed by the Romanian official.  "We have BIG problem" says the guard, which got our attention, "in Romania you have Cancer, you are DEAD.  How is this so?"  It was the guards black humour, probably a bit too black, and maybe also a bit too close to the truth for many of the Romanian population.

On arrival at Suceava we found most places to be closed, but we needed to eat.  Eventually we found a Kebab bar, not far from the train station, and had a okay, but filling meal.  We decided to head back to the train station and have a drink at the bar on the platform.  Whilst enjoying our drink a drunk joined us, he had a very loud argument with the bar staff, and then slumped outside, I took his photo and felt I wanted to buy him a drink, but as I got up to buy one, the lady from behind the bar appeared with a bottle which she gave him for free.  He then sat, looked at his undrunk bottle for a few minutes and left quietly.

I didn't expect to enjoy the return journey over the mountains as much as we did coming, but I wasn't prepared for just how uncomfortable our final leg would be.  The train was heavily over subscribed, our reserved seats had been sold to several people, every station we stopped at, brought a new argument as more people boarded. This was made worse by the fact we were sharing a compartment with four Roma, and their large luggage. Their case took half the floor space, and a young child slept across two seats, they only had three tickets, but took five spaces. Eventually the Mum took the hint, and when the child woke, she made him sit up, which helped a little, but it was nothing compared to the number of people boarding at each station. The journey was very hot (not helped by the Roma insisting on having the window closed) and tiring, and we were relived to arrive back in Cluj just after midnight and then only a short taxi ride was keeping us from our much needed beds.

Day Eight & Nine. Suceava to Kiev

As the train pulls into the platform, my first thought is that it was not the right one, not like the streamlined bullet train like pictures on the website, it is pulled by the same type of Romanian locomotive that bought us over the mountains. But once it stops at the platform it becomes obvious that it is our train.

The train staff speak only Russian and our tickets come under great scrutiny. Once aboard, the train guard points to her ring finger and then us. "Yes, we are married" we reply. We are ushered in to a cabin with two men on the bottom bunks, Carolyn seems happy that we are together rather than separate cabins as we were expecting.

We get fresh crisp bedding and set our beds up. Once we are comfortable we can take in our surroundings.

If I had to date our carriage, I would say somewhere in the 80's, about thirty years old, everything is very soviet looking, functional and built to last, it looks like it will last at least another thirty years at least.

At the end of the carriage is a coal burning stove, there's ash in the grate, and loose bits of coal about, it appears that it is still in use during winter.

The doors between the carriages look and feel like they are made from 2cm thick solid steel, they are painted battleship gray this coupled with the heat and closeness, makes it feel like I've walked into the set of Hunt For Red October.



It's not long before we reach the border, a
border officer comes and takes our passports. A short while later they are returned. Through the window I can see that the Romanian electric locomotive has been replaced with a noisy diesel one. When we set off it's at a steady pace. A watch tower and sign marks the border, that was much easier than I expected.



We stop again, this time a Ukrainian border guard gets on. He is wearing full military uniform, and barks at me to sit down. He inspects our passports and asks "tourist?" we reply "Da" He looks at us suspiciously and walks off with the passports. For the next 30 minutes to a hour, many differently dressed Ukrainian officials stomp up and down the carriage. Some of them start taking the train apart.

We eventually start moving, but without our passports, at the  Romanian checkpoint the train crew returned them before we left, we begin to wonder if they've been forgotten. The train comes to a halt in a marshaling yard.

We can see many dogs, and lots of men in shorts, socks and flip flops. I remembered reading that they had to change the wheels at the Ukraine border as the tracks are a different width and it became obvious that this was what was now happening.

The entire train was lifted in to the air by a series of screw jacks,

the action was so smooth, if you didn't look at a fixed point you didn't know that you were moving. All the while the new wheels were being put into place by a flimsy looking gantry cane. The old wheels were pulled out of one end, and the new ones pulled under the from other.

This impressive feat of heavy engineering was performed by the men in flip flops, and all the time the train was kept under close watch by soldiers and dogs begging at the windows for food. I wanted to take some photos, and video of the work, but my actions caught the eye of one of the soldiers and she started to march towards me gesturing No! I put my phone away disappointed, and I didn't get the opportunity to film more, we were being watched far too closely.

Once the work was completed the train was reversed back to the checkpoint and the border guard grudgingly returned our papers. The locomotive was replaced by a slightly less noisy diesel, and we were on our way again at a steady pace.

The buffet car had two tables, and a large kiosk with a display of chocolate, alcohol, cigarettes and crisps. A thin Russian guy was buying some Vodka, every time the chef added Vodka, the thin guy told him to add more, eventually his cup was full to the top with neat Vodka. He then appeared to negotiate the price. Once his transaction was complete the thin man greeted us in English, and offered to help us with the menu. We chose beef and potatoes. He advised us that we should come back after the next station but pay now, he then negotiated our price and told us "That is very good price"

We had brought our own beer and wine, so we decided to take these straight back to the buffet car and enjoy a drink while we waited for our meal.

We hadn't been sat long when the chef appeared with two plates of pretty good steak and chips with a fresh side salad. Afterwards we had a mug each of whole leaf tea and some Russian chocolate, it was the best meal I've had in a train by a very long way.

After dinner we both got a pretty good night's sleep, and we woke on a mainline with the train making good speed, it was only a couple of hours to Kiev, the journey had seemed to fly by.

The scenery is now dominated by massive pine forests, the occasional village with a Lada or motorbike and sidecar waiting at the level crossing. Many of the trees were full of Mistletoe, great balls hung from the branches, I wondered if they had the same Christmas tradition as us, and if not, was that the reason why the Mistletoe was doing so well.

We had brought our own breakfast, so after a quick clean up we sat in the buffet car and ate croissants. We were alone, as we were the following night. It seems that the buffet car doesn't get much use, and that two tables are plenty. After breakfast we pack and prepare to disembark at Kiev.

Day Eight. Leaving Suçeava.

Oh my God. I have never felt so foreign. Today we are leaving Suceava to head to Kiev in the Ukraine.

 The train is at 1pm and we are anxious not to get caught up in anything which may cause any delays. We have had a better night's sleep thanks to earplugs and less dog conversations. Breakfast is a very intimate affair in keeping with the personal feel of Pensiune Rhapsodia. After breakfast a bit of divide and conquer; Kev goes for cash while I finish packing (there's a theme emerging!). By 10am we have 3 hours to kill. We decide to try a walk, the temperature and humidity are suffocating, our phones say its 20 degrees but it feels much hotter. We approach the edge of a Roma area, identifiable by its rough built shacks and dark skinned children who never fail to melt my heart. There is a boy of about 10 swinging a light chain, it appears to be in a playful rather than threatening manner but we decide to take a cautious line and accept this as our cue to head back to the pensiune, its too hot for walking anyway.

Eventually it time to head to the station, we still arrive over an hour early. The station is bustling and there's a holiday feeling in the air as people carry Easter gifts and children show off new bicycles which are excitedly ridden up and down the platform without reprimand from parent or guard, parents here seem less over protective and children subsequently enjoy more freedom, another echo from British childhood of earlier decades.

We find a seat inside as its cooler. A motherly, stout Romanian lady in traditional flowing skirt and headscarf asks us a question which, helped by alot of gesture and words from randomly thrown in European languages, we discover is an enquiry about our destination. Now she has discovered we are tourists she takes us under her wing. She talks to us in long streams of Romanian, and we are amazed at how much meaning filters through. Her only English words are "I love you", and a loving character she is indeed. She tells us about an English musical she once enjoyed at the cinema (or maybe it was  Bollywood?) Then she gives us a detailed warning about thieves while we are travelling who will, given a chance, take our mobiles, our clothes and beg for money for their children then watch where we keep our wallets to come back and steal them when we are a asleep. All this when our only shared words are I love you, thank-you, with pleasure, and goodbye (the latter 3 in Romanian). When its time to go she double kisses us in the Romanian greeting reserved for valued friends, and it feels right, I feel like I just received some Romanian mothering.

I feel foreign again when neither the guards on the train, nor our cabin mates , respond to either English or my hastily accrued Romanian. The guard recruits the nearest under 25 year old who obliges. Full respect to the multi lingual Eastern European youth. We are allocated 2 beds in a cabin together, we were previously told mixed gender cabins were not allowed so this is a bonus but I hope the 2 Bulgarian males already resident don't mind, I can't ask them as there are no young people around!

The only thing I can compare the cabin to in appearance is a prison cell with its 4 bunks in very close proximity. Our companions, being here before us have of course claimed the bottom bunks so we are opposite each other in the top. At first the "other-ness" of it along with the recent breakdown in trans- national communication stresses me out a bit; but the Bulgarians are welcoming in the few words and gestures we manage to exchange, the guard brings us clean bedding and their is air-con. This may be one of the most basic nights sleep I have ever had but I am safe and warm (or rather cool) , a reminder of what's actually important.

Day Six. Travel, Carolyn's perspective.

So now we are out of the city on the 7 hour, 320km train journey from Cluj to Suçeava. Despite our fears and many a cautionary tale from inhabitants of Cluj the train is not unpleasant. The carriages are arranged into compartments of the type we are used to seeing in period dramas of early 20th century England with two rows of 4 seats facing inward. The 8 seats are full as we begin our journey, with a cross section of society represented. Ourselves (declaring ourselves as tourists when our  first words are an apology for our lack of the native language), a very friendly well dressed Romanian lady and her teenage daughter who offer to converse with us in Spanish (another apology!) and later to share their snacks with us, a lady in more traditional dress and her little girl (probably Roma), the obligatory cheerful (drunk) chatty man with an aroma of alcohol who, on discovering we are Western European, wants to regail us with details of his 2 years in the South of France (my French is better than my Romanian or Spanish but I decide to keep this detail to myself (giving a blank face beyond ça-va bien) and a young Romanian student who's mistake is to reveal she has a little English and henceforth becomes chatty man's reluctant translator.

The carriage is hot, the air conditioning we were hoping for, was either broken or none existent.  But once the train left the station, the breeze from the window made the journey comfortable.

Most of our fellow travellers are taking shorter journeys and after a few stations we can settle to enjoying the frumos (that's beautiful, my Romanaste is coming on) view as we climb into the mountains.

The sky is blue with fluffy clouds, the air is full of bright sunshine. The trees are in blossom and the air smells pure. My previous experience of mountains comes largely from the Lake District where they are clustered together withing a few miles and rise at relatively uniform inclines, forming, in the main, into small tarns or steep giants. Here is different, the mountain area rolls for miles and miles, there are mounds and hills, slopes, undulations, terraces, flat parts which have been farmed, populated with clusters of homes, claimed for industry or grown into copses of fir trees. It reminds me of the eclectic mix of architecture in Cluj but on the grander, more majestic scale of nature.

Our decision to travel by train is vindicated as it lives up to my hope that we will see rural Romania in its glory and beauty. I have seen haystacks, I have  seen horse and carts, I have even seen a haystack on a horse and cart. Guards come put of their station to stand in acknowledgement even when our train is simply passing through. A group of people appear to have pooled labour to turn over a neighbours plot of land ready for spring planting.

We arrive in Suçeava , having left the security of our Romanian hosts behind, feeling privileged once again to be taking this journey.