The Romaniacs overcome Endless Obstacles and YOU wish you were there to join the fun

Today my words come from somewhere in the outskirts of either Hungary or the Czech Republic. Alison and I are on a bus making our way to Prague. But why are we going to Prague right now? On a bus? That wasn’t the original plan, Mallory. Oh yes and don't worry that we are just coming from Timisoara, making our way back through Budapest, back through Bratislava, and then up to Prague. No worry that we are Actually, Literally backtracking the ENTIRE course of our trip. Yeah that's not weird or anything. Maybe I should tell you a little story..

Mallory and Alison embark upon a lovely journey toward the Retezat Mountains (13th wonder of the modern world) southeast of Timisoara. We awoke early this morning (I have no idea what day of the week it was) and jumped on a train at like 5:20 AM or something. This train, we had pieced together through out detective work the day prior, would take us to Simera where we would have to transfer to another train (a real janky one. hello india traveling, right? only it was a little better than the ones in India) and that would land us in Ohaba, where we were to take a "minibus" to Carnic, where we would then ascend into the mountains. So all goes according to plan so far, we are nearing the Ohaba stop where a train worker comes into our car and tells us we must hop out now. Thank god he told us to get off of we would have had no idea.

The Ohaba train station isn't exactly a train station. It consists of an old, abandoned, pee-smelling building, men in overalls on tractors, horses carrying wooden carts, a few families lying under shaded trees on the other side of the track (hiking equipment and backpacks..clearly returning from a trip), a few porter potties, a plastic bear 'statue' (more like figurine), a "map" of the mountains, a small, nondescript white van, and a lovely man in a blue tank top that read (in red, white, & blue, of course) "THE U.S.A.". Alison and I are literally made to jump off the train as it slowly rolls on by the Ohaba 'stop'. Right on.
On this mini-bus, we wait, and if you know me, you know that I can't deal with a viod of air circulation, so i spent most of my time outside of the bus (Alison was exhausted so stayed inside): I took pictures and chatted with a family who'd just come down from the mountains. They gave us a lot of advice as to where to go, how long it would take, how to deal with transportation when we return. They were also, like everyone else we told our "plan" (who has plans?) to, worried and surprised by our attempt at such a trip (only two of us, girls, americans, plan-less, map-less, with limited time. No Big Deal.)

The minibus ride to Carnic was gorgeous: we had great views of the mountains and our bus driver was a doll. Upon arrival in Carnic, we are approached by a seemingly kind older couple (who actually turn out later to be eviiiil) who try to sell us a "tent" (a trash bag on sticks), coffee, and rip us off on a map for 20 lei (which is essentially 7 bucks. what the fuck) but we were feeling like we might be completely effed if we don't have a map in the mountains, so we bought it--what were we to do?!

At Retezat, you don't exactly have a lodge or information center at the foot of the mountains. No. Instead you must make the 5¬-6 km hike up a mountain to get to the first cabana. So Alison and I hiked with all of our stuff, up the mountain for about 3 hours or something (of course going past the side trail to the cabana, and needing to backtrack as the sun was starting to wane) and finally, starving, we reached the cabana! It was gorgeous here--a pleasant little haven among the mountains. Here we were actually able to buy food. We had been really worried that we were going to be stuck up in the mountains for 3 days sans food (besides the bread and nasty cheese that we'd brought up from Timisoara) but we got lucky (luck will be the theme of this story, you will see).

In Retezat, we spent 2 nights and basicly 2 days. It was obviously really lovely to take a break from city life, pace, scenery, culture, etc. I have learned that no matter how much we enjoy traveling through cities, we must must absolutely take breaks and leave the city, venture into nature. It makes us appreciate the opposite more and allows us to get back in touch with things as we re-adjust our pace. We went on a full day hike our 1st complete day there. It took us up the mountain and to one of the glacial lakes that Retezat is so known for. It was extremely nice to finally be moving around a lot and get some hard exercize. I think our bodies were thankful. The hike up started in a forest and then went about this forest line and took us higher than the clouds. Planes from a military base in the distance danced and traced designs with smoke in the sky as Al and I wrote poems underneath a cloudless atmosphere.
Retezat happenings to note: The cabanas had electricity only for 1 hour, between 7-8pm. Interesting. We ate a lot of polenta (mamaliga), and met two (North) American dudes working for the Peace Corps in the mountains of Romania (teaching english). We talked with them about life and why they chose what they did, if they like doing it. We also made friends with a little Romanian guy named Alin who really liked to talk (was interesting to talk with), taught us Romanian card games, was couchsurfing on the mountain (yes, if you ever go to Retezat, aparrantly there is a couchsurfer who lives right by the Pietrele Chalet. Check it out) and coincidentaly studies in Timisoara.

Finally, the descent back down out of the mountains, reversing our trek from foot to bus to (hothot) train. At the station in Simeria, Alison and I realize that A.) We are not sure if Marco knows that we are coming back today, what time we are coming back, and B.) we needed to swap sleeping spaces in the apartment so that we could sleep in the living room where the computer was so that we could work on croatia stuff when we got back (we'd arrive very late and leave for croatia quite early the next day). Payphones never work for us, so we had no luck with this, but asked some nice girls if we could borrow a cell and send Marco a text with all the info that we needed. Thank goodness that worked out. Our ride back to Timisoara was really fun (just a lot of laughing and good conversation) despite the fact that we had an actual insane person in our train car. She kept singing really loudly (and terribly) with headphones on, and rocking back and forth (?). She would say and shout things really loudly in Romanian to us, she dressed like a man, and kept yelling into her cellphone whenever anyone would call. It was awesome.

What was not so awesome, however, was when Alison realized that she'd lost her purse. Yes; it is true. We've just jumped off the train onto the platform in Timisoara and immediately Alison yells "oh my god--where's my purse". She jumps back on the train (it has actually stopped this time) and scours it, but it is nowhere to be found. We both check ALL of our bags to see if we put it inside of anything else. I go back on the train myself and check with a train worker. Then Alison does one last go-around on the train as it is starting to take off and has to jump back off for an escape. Her purse had in it her Passport, credit card, some cash, and her i.d. Pretty bad.

After talking to some officials at the station, trying to figure out if anyone has picked it up, and/or who we should talk to about a lost or stolen passport, we run into Marco and Tania, who have been looking for us. After telling them what happened, we all go to the police station, where we begin reporting and talking things over with the policemen, only to suddenly find ourselves in the midst of a police v. homeless slaughter. A homeless man had aparrantly hit some man in the train station. This man complained to the police. The homeless man was brought into the station while we were inside. All of this was going on in Romanian so really all that Alison and I witnessed were actions. Later Marco told us what people were saying to each other. The homeless man began to speak, maybe loudly, and babble some things that were really angering the police while they were trying to speak with us about the missing purse. The oldest, fattest policeman aparrantly has a very short temper and stomped over to the homeless man and smacked him, then spit in his face and began shouting things at him. The policeman's temper escalated and he grabbed his baton and began beating the homeless man. I definately witnessed a few blows to the head. Other police began to gather around him as the homeless man was shouting and the police man was bashing. The police got the homeless man on the ground, the older cop began kicking him, they hand cuffed him, put a hood over his head and sat him down on the bench next to us. All that just while we were there. Aparrantly this happens all the time.

I have never actually seen this type of police brutality or police-homeless interaction ever in person, only in movies or on t.v. But it happened, right in front of us, with an air of oh this happens all the time so it's not something unusual and scandalous that we should have to hide you from. No one acted as if we shouldn't have seen it. No one really seemed to be trying to excuse it or cover it up.

You could feel the energy of the cops starting to heat up, so they directed us into another, small room where the door was closed and we couldn't observe what was about to occur, or continue to occur in the main room. Here, Marco gave us the impression that this isn't too terribly uncommon from the police here, that there is general corruption amongst this branch of the law, and that 'he hates to say it, but they guy might have had what was coming to him' (because of what he was saying?). Perhaps the homeless man was saying things much worse than Alison and I could have imagined. Anyhow, it was pretty scarring to watch this scene, to feel like you can't to anything even when you feel, as a natural impulse, the need to help anyone in pain, and when anyone in a position of power seems to be abusing it. I don't know what we can do in Romania. I don't know how the law works. What would have happened to me if I'd said something? Would I get beaten? Would I disappear? What would happen, I don't know, so I didn't do anything, just felt...And now I'm telling you this. I'm sure Catherine will be interested in this story.

One of the worst things, though, is that when we left that room and walked through the main room to exit the entire station, we had to walk past through the room of the scene and there were more people in now, all sort of crowded around this one man, and there were these two younger boys who were maybe just random station workers or security guards (not police), who had faces of pure pleasure. They were laughing and smiling when I made eye contact with them. Laughing when they looked my way as if to say ha we all this this is fun and amusing; I want to share this mutual feeling with you, but I could and did not share this with them. Instead, I just kept a solemn, serious, and I think disapproving face, very stern, as I walked past them. Who knows if anyone saw anything in my face, but I really do hope so. Perhaps that is idealistic, but I felt that that was the smallest way in which I could have done something, just a very very small disapproval and a small little critique.

We go home empty handed--Alison's purse is nowhere to be found. We begin the project of cancelling credit cards, contacting embassies, etc., and it is late at night and we can obviously not leave for Croatia in the morning. The next day we are still working on Alison's loss of important things but decide, at least, to go grab a movie that evening.
Inglorious Bastards is the film that wins for the evening. The film is in German, French, and maybe 25% english. The subtitles are in Romanian, so I got a really excellent language lesson in (kind of in French and Romanian). (It's really amazing--Alison and I are learning SO MUCH Romanian. We can understand SO much of it and our language acquisition is improving rapidly). During the film, Marco gets a breakthrough text message. Apparrantly someone has found Alison's purse (!) and we meet her at a hotel after the film to retreive it. Her story is strange and there are holes, but Alison is unconcerned because she has her purse back with everything in it except for the little bit of money the left, which really isn't an issue. Back in business, Alison immediately begins talking about leaving for Croatia tomorrow morning on the 5am train. I am like whoa no I dont think we can to that. I think this idea is too haphazard, even for us. (I'm like you dont have a credit card, your parents still think your passport and cc are stolen, we dont have anywhere to stay, it is already really late at night, etc.) So we decide not to leave in the morning, enjoy the evening with friends, and plan when we get up in the morning. We bar-hopped with the crew, which includes Marco, Tania and their friends Amira and Soltar.

As Alison and I are researching transportation options to Croatia this next day, we come across the information that SkyEurope has officially closed (bankrupcy) and they have stopped ALL of their flights. So our flight from Dubrovnik, Croatia to Prague was cancelled. And Alison's flight from Prague to London was also cancelled. Our plans were once again tossed in a hamper. We had gone from plans to no plans to all plans back on track to absolutely no plans and a blank slate in the course of like 60 hours. My being was going insane being hinged and then unhinged and then hinged again, and then unhingedhingedhinged, etc.

We shared this news with the Romanian crew and went for lunch at Marco and Cristina's parents home. Their parents were very close to Clara and Emilian Taranu when they lived in Romania. They told me that they were all each others' best man and head bridesmaid at the other's wedding. Lunch's end found us all a bit sleepy and sloppy, and then we decided that the best thing in life would be to go back to Marco's house and play the game that we witnessed in Inglorious Bastards. At home we drank coffee and played a game where we write the names of people (we later extended this to places and things) on a piece of paper and stuck the paper on the head of the person next to you so that each player can not read the name on their head. The game is then everyone asking yes or no questions about their character to try and guess who they are. We played for hours and it was really fun. Soon it became late and the night had to end, as they often do.

Guess what--the next day was my birthday! I spent the first few hours (from like 2-330am) talking to my little Catherine online, which was, who can argue?, a stellar way to start any 23rd birthday, right? In the morning Al and I went into town where we bought watercolors, drank in cafes in our favorite square, then walked to the botanical garden where we painted a lovely joint picture. We briskly made our way back to the apartment where we met Marco and Tania and went out to dinner at this place pretty far away from the city. Amira and Solan met us up there and we went next door to this crazy complex (connected to the restaurant) that had indoor soccer, bowling, a bar, game tables (some romanian game), and pool tables. We played many hilarious rounds of pool (I'm not as good in Romania/without Kevin as I am in the States). [[I am listening to Graceland right now and it truly and phenomenom]]
[[I must interrupt here, because the following note is of the utmost importance. I think I have just witnessed the absolute most annoying thing in all of my life. There is a couple in front of us on the bus and they are actually kissing THE ENTIRE RIDE, but that is not the bad part. The bad part is that it is so disgustingly audible and muchy and smacky and fucking loud and the other most annoying thing is that they need and have to do this stupid kissy thing ALL fucking ride long. There is honestly something seriously crazy about your relationship if you can not leave eachother even semi-alone for more than 1 minute (i am not kidding. i hear this slopping at least once a minute) during a 6 hour train ride.]]
At the end of the night, the 4 of us finally took some group pictures, said our undesired goodbyes [[ooh i want those potatoes from the restaurant right now]], and Alison's camera, unfortunately broke.

In the morning Alison made quick to pack and run to catch a taxi. We had only 9 lei left so we crossed our fingers and hoped that the meter read less than that. It did! Hooray! At the ticket couter at the train station we were informed that the times the woman at the train info office had told us the day prior were incorrect and there was a train that had just left 2 minutes ago for Budapest, and a train that leaves at 5pm. [[*Note: we thought we were going to have to take a train from Timi to Buda and then Buda to Prague and that this (bummer) train would cost us around $140/person which we both thought was a lot to swallow (especially seeing as we were not sure if we'd get our $ back from SkyEurope). I did a little bit of genious research and found a cheap bus from Buda to Prague, so we bought train tickets to Bud, and now are on the bus to Praha. Yay for cheap alternatives! Yay!]]. So the lady quickly improvises (appreciated) and tells us of a train to Arad and then a train from there to Buda, but train #1 would be leaving in 5 mins (!) [ps-we cant take later train because we have bus tickets booked for 4:15pm]. We pay and wait for the semi-archaic process of issue Romanian train tickets slugged along, and at 7:12am, the exact time that the train was to leave, we are able to grab our tickets and run (with our 20kilo bags) to platform 5, where we make it just in time to grab our train to Arad. In Budapest, during our layover, we eat and check to see if our Prague host has gotten back to us about directions and official permission to stay that night (highly needed, ee....). She hadn't, so we tried to call her from Skype and left a msg. Our bus was to get in at 11:30pm and therefore we needed to have stuff figured out before we got in. The alternative was to book an expensive hostel even though we have the possiblity of having a free place to stay, OR to stay out all night and romp around the town (not like it hasn't been done before. Each city deserves a full 24-hour rendezvous, we decided). Our decision was to go grab something to drink and then check back on the internet breifly before we had to run over to the bus station. When I checked, Brieana had gotten back to us!! (Brieana is a friend of a friend, Tom Wortly, who I met while we were both living in Hyderabad, India) She gave us an address and thorough directions from the metro station. Excellent. Things were set. We maneuvered through the metro, tried desperately to find the bus station, used the last of our Hungarian forents on some drinks, and headed onto the bus.

On the bus, that Hugh Grant movie with Drew Barrymore and the Hugh Grant singing was on, and I started thinking about Naguine (because obviously she introduced me to those god-forsaken [but catchy] songs), and Alex Black, because obviously everyone says he's the American Hugh Grant. Sorry, Alex. It's still funny. I'm pretty excited to see him in Barca.
But for now, I am plotting the ways that I will kill this couple in front of me and I think I will give my hands a rest. You have no idea how long this post is. Well, wait, no. I guess you do. Paul Simon. Peace.