Thursday, April 28, 2011
The Orient Express to Bucharest, Romania
Over breakfast, in the Carpathian Mountains just after leaving Transylvania (no, I'm not kidding) we were sitting in the dining car and our tall and distinguished looking friend from last night appeared. He was also too tall to get a good nights sleep, and said he was tired of this journey. We chatted over breakfast and very very strong coffee. The subject ranged from the territory of the Carpathians and the Transylvanian mountains to the current state of the Romanian economy and people. He knew a lot about Romanian life and history, and about the current economy and politics and Romanias relationship with the EU and why the Shengen Treaty has not kicked in yet, resulting in last night's passport disturbances. I asked him, appropos the conversation, not prying or anything, 'Your knowledge is very impressive, are you in banking?' 'No', he said, with neither clarification or enlightenment, and moved on to other topics. Later Jan and I speculated on his bearing and air of authority, and the deference with which the train crew treated him. He is either a high ranking person in the train system, or he is a cop or secret police or some such. He said he was at a conference in Budapest, but didn't say which one. Speculation is rife now. This train is the decendant of the Orient Express after all, and we passed through Transylvania in the dead of night. But lets not get carried away. Later, we saw him again in the corridor and he asked where our hotel was, which we told him. Aha he said, I know it and I pass by there to go to my office so I'll escort you there. Note that this was not an offer, but a command, I WILL ESCORT YOU THERE!! Ok, sure boss, be right there. After that Jan and I drifted back to our compartment in the sleeping car, taking photographs of the countryside we were passing through.
Later, as the train slowed to enter the Bucharest Gare de Nord (sic) station, our distinguished friend appeared again at our door. Let's go, he said. Jan and I trundled along behind, me with the backpack and the rolling luggage and Jan walking beside him off the carriage, down the trackside walkway, and through the station. I swear to god, I was watching, people whose path would have intersected his swerved out of the way and averted their eyes. The three of us, those two and me trailing, walked through the dilapitated, dirty, grungy, broken tiled and broken glassed station, with shifty creatures all around us, as safely as could be. Crossing the streets, in crosswalks that the drivers ignored around the busy train station, he simply strode out from the corner and everything stopped. Three blocks later, in front of our hotel, he again admonished us that the steets are not safe after dark, and we should always keep our wits about us. This is not Budapest, he said, and then left us. Who was that masked man?? Don't know, he resisted all of our attempts to get to know him better.
Later, Jan and I went out and bought our tickets onward to Istanbul and circled the block that was in the direction of 'his office'. Only a non-descript government building, bleak and featurless, with glass you couldn't see through. And a driveway to underground parking. Ok, maybe now we don't really want to know any more. Jan commented that she expected to see a small black bat, with 'Transylvanian Airlines' under its wings, circling us as we walked. We were prepared to run like hell had that happened.
Lunch, a small walkabout, but no pictures. All we have seen so far of this city is so desolate, so devoid of joy or smiles, so run-down, so derelict, that taking pictures would have been as insensitive as filming a traffic accident. A couple of descrete shots, from the hotel window, but that's all. And no pictures of the people.
