Day Fifteen. The final day, Turda and Alba.

It's hard not to feel a bit sad that our last day is here already, but the thought of a full day with our friends exploring Romania does go a long way to making up for it. It had been kept secret what we will be up to today, but we have been told to bring our jackets, in the current 30°c heat, this is interesting.

Aurel drives us out of Cluj, expertly using as many short cuts as possible in order to avoid the early morning traffic. We are soon into the country side, the majestic mountains offering a wonderful back drop to the fields. We are admiring them when Crina corrects us, "They're not mountains, they are hills! The mountains are much bigger, and more beautiful" They were big enough and pretty enough to consider them mountains in our book, sorry Crina.

We eventually arrive in Turda, Aurel pulls over to ask for directions, my very basic Romanian gives me the impression that we are heading for the Salt Mines and when we pull into the car park I am proved correct.

We both had a good idea of what to expect on a tour of a disused mine, some interesting geology, old mine workings, dirt, damp and disused machinery. As it turned out this couldn't be further from the truth. We entered, after Aurel had paid the reasonable fee of 12 lei (under £3) and descended down a long wide set of stairs. We then came across a elevator, and descended what felt like 5 or so stories.

Leaving the elevator we were greeted by a cathedral sized cavern, and we were full of wonder at the contents.

A mini golf course, bowling alleys, a ferris wheel, pool tables, sand pit, a

boating lake, artistic lighting and seating.  This definitely wasn't what we'd imagined..

Our hosts explained that the air is renowned for it's health properties, particularly for people with breathing conditions such as asthma. All the attractions were there so that a whole family could spend the day breathing in the healing air.

Our stay was short, because Aurel wanted us to see the "changing of the guard" at Alba Iulia  fortress at 12:00. Another drive through the beautiful countryside got us to Alba at 12:05, just missing it!  Which was a shame, but we still had all of Alba Iulia to see, which was great.

The fortress and churches around Alba are beautiful, the town feels like York, there is plenty of history here.  We visited a few churches within the fortress and the museum of archaeology.

We left the star shaped fortress by the third gate, towering above fortified gate is the Obelisk to Horea, Closca and Crisan.

The obelisk brought memories back for Crina, who last visited  here when she was nine.  The Communist regime compelled her to become a Scout, meaning she had to deliver reports to her school class, something she hated doing.  In front of the Obelisk was where she had to swear allegiance as a scout.  She asked if I would take some photo's of her for her mum, as a reminder of how far they have come since the revolution.

After a meal in Alba, we then head back towards Cluj.  On our return journey our friends treat us to some desserts at a confectioners, the desserts were somewhere between a mouse, trifle and cake, they were lovely.  It was a wonderful day, and it was made complete by a lovely final meal in Euphoria Bier Garten with Alin and Lidia.  We head to bed much later than intended, with a 4:00am start tomorrow.

Crina, Ioana, Carolyn & myself

Aurel, Crina, Carolyn & myself

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.