A travel tale from Romania.
Counting our blessings…
As I tried to change my wet underwear back into yesterday’s previously worn undergarments, my bottom balanced precariously over a urinal, (yes urinal!) crammed into the male toilet of a somewhat dubious hotel, I tried to focus on what was important. We were not dead. I tried not to be absolutely livid at the absurdity and stupidity of our “guide” who had traversed an unprepared, unbeknown and blissfully unaware, motley crew down a curvaceous and treacherous road (Which I now know was made famous by the Top Gear guys) covered by thick, deep, undulating snow. I tried not to think about cascading down a slope, with no sledge, and shoving Kez away from a gap, through which I could see water… about having to roll, like a sausage across the snow, due to it being too deep to stand up in.
Could this have been avoided? Well if the cable car had been running and our guide more patient, perhaps!
Knights in pashminas…
Instead, I changed focus and decided that our legs, blue with cold and rapidly bruising, due to being hauled out of crotch deep snow each time we went under, would look better in time – and mine which had never achieved the slim bronzed look I desired, were hardly treated to daylight anyway! Instead, I thought of the 2 boys we had met, rolling their carry-on suitcase through the snow, at times launching it in frustration – their fur lined hooded coats adorned by colourful pashminas, blowing in the wind as they strutted through the snow. Always on hand to assist us girls, the nightmarish journey had only been possible with their help.
I thought of the laugh we had had, dancing around the Romanian Ice Hotel. That was before it was deemed unsafe to inhabit due to February’s heatwave… I recalled taking risky photographs with statues and posing on the fur-lined beds. Also, making time to explore the Chapel and see Da Vinci’s icy Last Supper.
Back for the Summer? Probably not…
I reminded Kez of the pleasant afternoon we’d spent, sat outside in Bratislava. Following our excursion to Bram Stokes castle, we’d eaten pizza and drank beer. Perhaps the fact we were wearing T-shirts was a clue as to what was to come. I recalled the fun we had in a snowmobile, hurtling around the partially frozen lake. Although I was a bit worried having been warned, under no circumstances to stop or slow down. But to my suggestion of returning to Romania in the Summer, when the walking could be stunning? I was greeted with a barrage of expletives, I am unable to record… Should I suggest it again in the future? Perhaps when the cable car is in full working order and a storm isn’t brewing on the horizon. Or judging by my girl’s reaction.. maybe not!
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We used the The Rough Guide to Romania (Rough Guides)
