Planes, Trains, and Automobiles

I parked myself in my seat and was ready for anything with my second class ticket. I am going to enjoy this trip. I will get to see the countryside as I ease into a different way of life. There are six seats in the cabin (or whatever they call it), and my bags are in two of them and have filled the overhead luggage racks. The other passengers arrived and we were off.

We left the station. It is amazing how nice this train really is. The outside looks like it could be pre-WWII, but inside is clean and relatively new - much better than I thought it would be. People have been looking at me ever since I landed in Europe. It could be the excessive luggage. I have one bag full of winter clothes to leave here. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Lugging it around has made me wonder. Another bag is full of books, stationary, and books for the seminars. One is computer equipment. There is only one overhead bag with my clothes and such. If I wasn’t a teacher I could probably travel much easier.

I have met so many friendly people here in Romania. These two are Ukranian, but they live in Bucharest. They are heading home to visit family today. We talked for most of the trip north. He is an engineer and works with the kneeling buses across Russia and Eastern Europe. She travels with her husband and helps with the business. They were very informative about Romania and its customs. They helped me get all the luggage off the train in Suceava and put me in a taxi to Gura Humorului before they left for their own trip. Once again, Romanians have been wonderful.

Boby, the taxi driver from Sucrava does not speak English. I really need to learn the language – life would be so much easier. I explain that I want to go to the police station. He gets a funny look in his eye and calls a friend who does speak English. After I explain that I do not have the address for Cristina, he understands.

We took the scenic route. It was breath-taking. Driving up and down big hills. (I would call them mountains, but I have been corrected several times that they are not mountains.) Back and forth as the road snakes its way up and down the hills, around trees and houses. There is a stretch where I feel at home. Construction slows us down for a few miles. We are completely stopped at one point.

There are not very many cars out on the roads. It is as if I have dropped into a history book. We passed more horse and wagons than cars on the way. It is a twenty minute drive during which we passed seventeen horses, I counted. It is raining, but I can’t resist opening the window to smell the fresh air.

Kernave

Such a lovely place. Kernave was the first capitol of Lithuania and the first settlement as well. The town is a quiet little hamlet most of the time. I first came here a few years ago before it became popular. The ancient hills continue to beckon.

There are no billboards announcing it. It is a walking village and not for the faint of heart. After parking the car, there is a promenade to traverse to the lovely church that celebrates 600 years of Christianity in Lithuania. The first time I came here two knights were guarding the entrance to the church grounds. There were quite convincing. A huge statue of Vytautas with his crown at his feet stands looking to the river announcing that this is the place for a church. Across the promenade is an iron wolf, much like the one at the Katedral in Vilnius. The church celebrates 600 years of Christianity in Lithuania. To the left of the church is the entrance to the archaeological site. The view to the river and beyond is spectacular. It is easy to see why it is such a treasure.

Behind the church are the hills. The first one is Castle Hill. Once there was a formidable wooden castle here. The ancients soon found that wood was not a good building material for castles when it was burned to the ground. Today there are many structures built of tree trunks for the many craftsmen who are here during festival days. I saw pigs roasting, linen being woven, and armor being hammered into shape here on another day. Today there are only a few others besides the four of us. We walk down Castle Hill and start the ascent up Mindaugus Hill. It is worth the climb.

It is easy to imagine the ancients living atop these hills. They are very close together and so the workload could be easily delineated between the hills. One for the men to hone their fighting skills, one for domestic arts. Next we walked to the top of Fire Hill, where there is an enormous fire pit. Although it is covered with vegetation, it is obvious that is deeper than a person can stand. I can imagine colossal fires raging through the night. I imagine they would be daunting to their opponents. I suspect that reputation had much to do with power during these ancient times. I can imagine outsiders seeing the fire for miles. This is the stuff legends are made of.

The land drops off from here to the river. This area is a Unesco World Heritage site. Archaeologists have found the remains of the first village on the banks of the Neirus River. It is easy to see the king and his warriors atop the big hills, scrutinizing the horizon for strangers.
From the top of Fire Hill, the landscape is that of fairy tales. The Neirus River winds its way through the countryside.

It is getting late as we gather to leave. The sun is beginning to set over the hills. Today has been another wonderful day in Lithuania.

Bucharest, at last!!!

My luggage came off the ramp. Not first, mind you, but it WAS there. Then I went through customs. I walked out to where people were waiting, waving signs, and shouting to loved ones. I had counted on being met by Dan, Cristina’s husband. I read all the signs but didn’t see my name. I walked the gauntlet, looking at each person’s eyes and did not see anyone who answered to the description I remembered. A man about 40 with dark hair in a tan tee shirt holding a sign with my name on it. That should have been easy. No one answered that description. No one answered to that name. No one looked like they were looking for someone. A few taxi drivers were there and asked if I need a ride. I didn’t think I could afford a taxi to Gura Humorului. I asked every man who was over 25 if he was Dan to no avail.

One man I accosted asked me where I was going and other details. He spoke English and that was good. He was a Brit working for Timpkin in Bucharest, wouldn’t you know? We talked about Romania today. He gave me some pointers about life here and we talked about his son whom he was waiting for. Apparently, his luggage was lost in the shuffle. There hadn’t been enough time in Amsterdam for it to make it to his flight and so he was filling out the paperwork to get it delivered the following day. I noticed that the Arrivals board ran all through the night. Interesting that there should be flights at such ridiculous hours. I don’t think there are that many in Detroit.

In the course of our conversation, I told him about my Fulbright and where I was going. Thank heavens for trains. I had a backup. There is always a plan, it is just not always evident. I had considered getting a Eurailpass to make this all work and had printed off the schedule. Don’t know why but what a serendipitous bit of luck that I should have done that. I rummaged around to find it and discovered that there was a 3:30 train to Gura Humorului. I could still make it and the man and his son said they would be happy to take me to the station. It seemed like the best idea. It was 2am and there didn’t seem to be a solution. And so we were off to the train station.

It was an interesting trip through Bucharest. I had never been there before and I found it looked very much like Vilnius in some respects. The train station was very near the centre of town, I think. He and his son helped me inside only to find that the station was closed and there were no trains due in until 6am. The ticket counter was closed until 4:30. If I had had fewer bags it would be one thing, but I had four bags that didn’t carry very well. I have not mastered the art of hanging them one on another and dragging the whole chain around behind me. I had one velcroed to the top of another, but the remaining two pieces had no way to attach to each other. I was left with shuffling all three pieces, one at a time, a few feet, dragging the last piece, and then repeating the process. If I were an onlooker, I would have found the entire process amusing. I decided to stay because I could not see doing this for any long stretch. I was beginning to wonder how I would get to on the train if I ever got that far.

I found a chair in the waiting room, positioned my bags and sat down. I would have to wait for an hour until the ticket counter opened. That was when I realized that I was tired. I had been awake for almost 24 hours. I looked at the luggage and rearranged it so that my feet were on the computer bag, my head was on the soft bag with my clothes in it and then I stretched my arm over the bag with my winter clothes and closed my eyes. I didn’t sleep well, but I did rest my eyes.

There were all sorts of people in the waiting room. There was a family of several children, several women with gigantic bags to my left. They were chattering away all night long. They seemed to be having a great time with each other. A little, old lady walked very carefully to across the room and out into the station area. She had a plastic bag, and a huge bottle of water to juggle with her besides the cane that kept her upright. There were quite a few of us waiting for one train or another. Most of them were older, rather than younger.

I waited. And waited. All of a sudden an official man in an official uniform started to shoo everyone out of the waiting room. This was disconcerting. Where was I to go? I found that the ticket booth was open now and so I went in to buy a ticket to Gura Humorului. Of course, I don’t speak the language. I asked at one window and was sent to another. On the third try, I hit paydirt. I could take the train for only 225 lei. This seemed extravagant. Also, the lady would only accept cash and I had only 200 lei. There was no where to exchange money at this hour so I turned away and thought I would sit in the train station until I could change more money. When I got back to the door to the station there was another official gentleman who would not let me pass. He lept pointing to a sign that I could not read. He had tickets in his hand, but I had no idea what they were for. There are all sorts of rules about the train station. Apparently, you can not enter without a ticket. It now costs 5 lei to enter. I was not about to pay that amount. I tried to explain that I had just been there. That I just wanted to sit down to think what to do. I was exhausted. Nothing worked. He was not going to let me pass. Keep in mind that I still have all of the baggage with me. Finally, I pantomimed that I simply wanted to turn around and leave. He finally let me through and I made my way around and back through the hall.

There was nowhere to go, nowhere to sit down. I was now a bit frustrated. I walked outside into the night and headed for the McDonald’s that was half in - half out of the station. Before I could get there, another gentleman with an official looking, laminated pass hanging around his neck came up to me and wanted to help. I didn’t really want help with the bags, I wanted help getting to Gura Humorului and so I was reluctant. He said his friend spoke English and could help. What did I have to lose? OK, probably a lot, but I was getting desperate.

Made it to Amsterdam!!

What a trip!! I have had my share of interesting flukes this time. This trip has been interesting. I thought I was packed on Saturday morning but apparently that was not true. On Sunday afternoon I started putting the books and computers in and suddenly I was not even in the neighborhood. It is not the clothes and personal effects that I always take that take up so much room after all. It is the teacher stuff. I will be thinking about that differently in the future.

I gave my luggage to the skycap at the curb along with a $5. dollar bill and I was off to the security check-in. That was a breeze too. I was feeling really great about this trip. Good prices, good schedule. All was going to work out. Then I got to Dusseldorf. Suddenly I had too many bags and it wasn’t looking so good. At first it was 280 euros for being overweight. That was ridiculous. The suitcase and what was in it were not worth that much. If I thought I could replace the supplies in Vilnius I might have left it there on the spot. That was all I intended to spend for the entire three weeks. I considered shipping it as cargo but that was only 20 euros cheaper than carrying it. That didn’t make any sense. When someone finally thought of a way to make it 75 euros, I decided I had trekked back and forth enough and I was ready to give it up. I had gone shopping Sunday specifically to get a new suitcase that would work all the way around. This wasn’t looking very good at all. I had a fleece sweater, an empty purse, empty gift boxes and a one-inch thick file. It was overweight. This was horrible! I was unpacking, repacking, and weighing the suitcases. Thank heavens the one with my underwear was not in question. That would have been embarrassing. I had books and towels and gift boxes and clothes and sweaters and a raincoat and more books and papers and electronic toys and chargers all over the counter and the floor in front. The line was getting longer and longer.

I never figured out until the end that the agent kept holding onto a suitcase or a stack of books and supplies while I went back and forth to negotiate and pay. She was keeping some of the weight off the scale to help me out. What a crazy time. Anyway, it was finally decided that I would check the third piece as an extra piece of luggage which is apparently less expensive than overweight. After it was all weighed the agent had me put all the everything back in. I was off to Bucharest. I almost fell down the metal structure they use for an entrance to the plane. It was a steep metal staircase, which was difficult to see. The color blended in with the asphalt that showed through the grating. The grates were sharp and had holes big enough to eat the heels of my shoes. The wind was howling through the grating. I tripped once. This staircase would never pass a safety test in the States.