Turning Point

Up early yesterday, as mentioned and as intended, for the long haul to Bucharest. I see Klaas to say my good-bye only to find the whole family and others are present. It is an extremely fond farewell, full of hugs and kisses, as it's been two weeks here, at Camp Vineyard, a very comfortable, worthwhile, satisfying place to be. I really could have stayed longer. I felt deflated as I left, the bike's tyres crunching the gravel drive as I waved my last good-byes, but I smile with wonder that I may well return another day.

The roads are shocking and I mean dreadful, A-class, red roads on the map, but still appalling; how am I going to make the capital city, over 600 kms away, in good time. Under normal circumstances, 600 clicks in a motor-propelled day, is time-consuming but not difficult, however, when the speed ranges from horse'n'cart to a bone-shaking max of 40 mph, you're not covering much ground.

I ride via Hunedoara, not too far off route, as I want to see the gypsy palaces that I've heard so much about. Well, this pic is just one and it's still being built but they are all magnificent in their over-elaborateness. The story follows: there is a definite hierarchy in the Romanian gypsy community (not that there isn't in any other, in  most cases) and the really rich gypsy's are the roof builders. They are specialists in metal roofs and after the Ceaucescu era of destruction (especially non-orthodox churches) and consequent over-throw, the rebuilding of much of Romania kept gypsy talent in demand. The few in this field did well and in doing so showcased

their talent through the medium of their own homes. This building (right) in Bucharest exemplifies their work although you cannot see the intricate detail, form and interfacing of the metalwork; it really is quite something with many recently built churches that I passed on route, also richly displaying their art.

Back to the ride and not wanting to drone on, but it was the craziest and toughest ride to date. Roads that twice had me stopping to re-arrange shifted baggage; from cloudless blue skies to two proper fork-lightening, torrential-rain thunderstorms; valley-deep, river-following, dry, reasonably tarmac'd roads (excellent fun), temperatures that ranged from 17 to 39 degreesC; three petrol stops, three weather-gear changing stops and two coffee breaks. 648 kilometres in 8 hours 46 minutes (actual moving time) according to TomTom; I can tell you I was totally buggered when I finally arrived in Bucharest last night.

Bucharest: lonelyplanet.com say you should give the city a chance and gave it's (not many) reasons, so I wandered today to appreciate the city.

Nah! ... Litter everywhere; beggars and homeless, every corner (not their fault); graffiti; smelly (urine mostly); armed guards protecting buildings; truncheon carrying private security guards; stray dogs; yes, a few historic buildings but drowned out by the grey, concrete tenement blocks that you would expect to see further out of town. But read up on, here's that name again, Ceausescu's hurried attempt at 're-building for the people' and the end result is dour.
Maybe it's unfair to paint such an awful picture of a city especially in the light of one day's experience but no other city to-date, gave me such an uninspiring initial impression. This picture (left) of a main street telephone pole says it all: it's a mess!

Bucharest, is however my turning point, my furthest point East (Booooo!) which I really wanted to be either Istanbul or better still Armenia but time is now against me and they will have to wait, but my excitement still prevails as I'm hoping to run, as mentioned before, the Transfagarasan tomorrow ... described by Jeremy Clarkson as "probably, the best road in the world!" Unfortunately, there's another thunderstorm just moved in as I type and it's belting down, so as the lights in my hotel room flicker due to the storm, I will ask at reception if there is room for one more night if I need it. In truth, the only reason I came to Bucharest is because I'm told the best way to run the Transfagarasan is from South to North and riding this legendary road in the wet would be no more fun than skiing, off piste, in a bikini, on chopsticks.

My next blog will be after the Transfagarasan run (pronounced Trans-fa-ga-ra-shan) ... can't wait.

PS Oooops, power in the hotel just went down and looking out of the window it's the same for the area. Welcome to downtown Bucharest! Thank God, no, Alessandro Volta, for batteries.