Nicholas Chowcheskew

Could the spelling of that name be any worse? I just like the name and it was my first introduction to the nation of Romania in 1989 as he toppled from the top of his terrible regime and was duly shot to pieces for his crimes.

Yes, we are in Romania now - where they speak a Latin derivative language with many words in common with Italian, Spanish and French - making some sign reading a little easier and the occasion phrase understandable - but it is still to far removed for me to be able converse in any coherent manner on the most basic of subjects - so we are still resorting to loud clearly spoken English (the universal language of course.....) and highly artistic charades. The other phenomenon that struck me as soon as I opened my eyes in the Romanian countryside was that the ubiquitous sunflowers so far encountered were all looking at their toes and shuffling their feet, unlike their proud Bulgarian neighbours who maintain an unflinching gaze at the sun.

It was an overnight train from Gorna Obyeskitvitzavtizathingo (note: not accurate name), which is actually the international train station that also serves the old town of Veliko Tarnovo (once capital of the 2nd Bulgarian Kingdom). Veliko was characterised by the previously mentioned huge old fortress and old town cascading down into the valleys. We also inadvertently timed our arrival with an international music festival and enjoyed an evening watching folk dance and music from various nations around the world - the Korean fan dancers were my favourite - although the Colombian-Congo joint performance seemed to be a crowd favourite.

Our train arrived in Bucharest just after 6am - expecting the guesthouse that we had arranged to collect us from the station - as promised - we were informed that we would have to use public transport to get there - not in the mood for lugging our gear around Bucharest (many bad reports from travellers coming from Romania warning us of Bucharest) we decided to get onto the next train to the Romanian Black Sea coast - Costinesti (Costi-neshti)to be precise. When the train broke down about 40 minutes from Constanta (Con-stan-tsa) - the main Black See port, we got chatting to a few Romanian lads who were on their way to Vama Veche - virtually on the border with the Bulgarian Black Sea coast. They promised a chilled out venue with free camping on the beach and not as many tourists as other places. Free camping on the beach was the only wish that came true, albeit among thousands of other tents squeezed onto the beach - loud blaring music from numerous bars thumping out a mix of old shockers and new horrors 24 hours a day. The icing on the cake was that most people were naked. Not something I am opposed to, but not something I enjoy when I step out of the tent in the morning - the fresh sea air and lap of the Black Sea being a little spoilt by the wide variety of Romanian genitalia.

So we stayed one night and packed up the tent the following morning - and headed for Mangalia - the nearest town served by the train to Bucharest. We are having two nights in a more salubrious establishment, before heading to Bucharest for a night - just so I can get a gander at the People's Palace before we head up to Brasov and Transylvania (woohoohoohahaha).