Bulgaria Day One ((When tourists become travelers))

So, the moment I arrived in Varna, Bulgaria, I left. It was this huge whim, this spontaneous border-hoppin’, lets-just-do-it-and-not-think plan. Billy told me that he was finding a ride Romania, this country that is not SAS-approved and should anything happen, SAS would kill us for going, and he was traveling with this guy Cameron who I had literally just met moments before saying, “Sure. Why not? Let’s go to Romania!”

Like I said, it was a whim. No directions, different currency, goodbye Bulgaria, hello Romania… Cameron and I exchanged short version life-stories in the cab over to the bus station, and he turned out to be a really chill person. We walked into the train station, our cocky, naïve American-selves, and found out that the lady who controlled transportation to the Romanian border only speaks German. Go figure. I stood up straight, cleared my throat, and the only Germanic phrase that comes to mind is, “Das Schlafzimmer ist phantastisch fur eine Party!”. ((The bedroom is fantastic for a party!)) Billy only knows Spanish, aside from English, and I was greatly surprised when Cameron started spitting out clipped German phrases and sayings. I joined in. Where is the bathroom? How much does this cost? I sounded like an idiot. And then…then! I re-gained my German speaking self and began conversing normally. It was glorious. Between mine and Cameron’s unpracticed Deutsch, we communicated with the lady and got a taxi ride to the Romanian border (a 2 hour drive). Sweeet.
The 2 hour ride was relaxing. The windows were down, my hair was flying, and I was sitting in the backseat with Billy who was sleeping with his mouth open. Cameron was chatting nonstop with the driver, who spoke no English, and I smiled in the moment. Countryside, windmills, fields and fields of sunflowers, gypsies on the side of the hilly road, I took it all in.

We reached the border, paid the taxi, and walked from Bulgaria to Romania. That was certainly a first. I can’t say I’ve ever walked across a country line before, and it wasn’t anything short of exhilarating. It took about 3o minutes for our passports to be stamped and checked, and while I was pacing, my ankle gave out and I gracefully (if not in slow motion) fell off the curb and gashed my knee into the pavement. That’s right… not only did I walk across the border line… I donated my blood to the pavement, too. It was intentional, I swear.

We did not have a plan once we reached the border. Stupid, right? There were no taxis in sight, and the long stretch of country highway beckoned. Billy and Cameron suggested we hitchhike to the capital of Romania, Bucharest. I felt safe with these guys, who were not much taller than me, and I trusted them to not make stupid judgments. And yet…I found myself sandwiched between them, sticking out my thumb into oncoming traffic. Don’t cringe and freak out… we walked for about 30 minutes with no luck (thank goodness) of being picked up by a non-English speaking horror film freak. We walked right into a village, Vama Veche, and stepped onto a bus going somewhere, anywhere. I felt like we should have had a little Journey playing in the background of our lives.

I have never felt less like a tourist and more like a traveler any other time in my life. If I had a traveler moment, it was stepping onto this bus, sitting down in my own sweat, and grinning at Billy and Cameron. We were in Romania. A country we were not supposed to be in, an adventure right around the corner… anything could happen. We could be anywhere. It was this great revelation, this epiphany.

Anyway, we met these three English-speaking Romanians who asked where we were headed. We told them about Bucharest, maybe Transylvania to see Dracula’s castle (which would be AMAZING!), and they told us to follow them onto the train because our stop was right next to theirs. They seemed pretty legit, and not guys who would take advantage of us in anyway, so we walked with them to the train station and stood in line for our tickets. It occurred to them to ask how long we would be staying in Romania, and because Cameron had an SAS hiking trip leaving at 4:30 the next morning, we should probably be back on our ship around midnight that night.

The one guy took off his sunglasses, stared at us, and flat out laughed. “No. No way. You cannot go to Bucharest, and certainly not Transylvania. No way.”

Apparently, Bucharest is about 5 hours away by train from where we were, and Transylvania about 3 hours past Bucharest. So much for our “whim” traveling… we ended up buying tickets to the closest city, Constanta, and the train ride there was the best part.

The three of us stuck our heads out of the train window, three puppies shootin’ the breeze, and watched at least ten nude beaches fly by… it took me a while to lift my jaw from the ground… stark naked men (very heavy and hairy) actually posed for the train passengers, and then waved us along as if they were clothed and waving for a taxi. It was hilarious and repulsive, and it was one of those things that you cannot pull your eyes away from. Billy and Cameron just laughed and shook their heads.

Constanta was insane. We stepped off the train (me in a nude stupor), and into taxi/van/gypsy child haven. Little kids with holes in their pants, barefoot and filthy, ran up to us asking for money. They pulled on our clothes, and tugged on my hands. Taxi cab drivers called out to us in Romanian languages, signaling for us to come over, flipping us off, opening doors for us to get in…

It was a confusing mess. I gave the kids some money, and then they wanted a picture with me, so of course, I took out my camera. One taxi driver, Orhan, called us over and spoke to us in English. “Why you listen to everyone here? I give you best deal. Where you want to go?”

For whatever unearthly reason, we got into his taxi and he drove us around the city, giving us great insight into Romanian history, believe it or not. We got out, walked around for a bit, and hopped back in his cab around 9pm for a ride back to the border. It was a full day, and Orhan was brilliant and if anything, undercharged us for his services. It was amazing.

We had to call for a taxi at the border to take us back to Varna, which we did, and I could not help but to reflect on the day. We didn’t do much, per say, but I was a traveler instead of a tourist. When I looked over at Cameron, he was passed out all leaned over on the door. Billy’s head was drooping on his chest. It was my turn to laugh and shake my head.

Two months ago I did not know these guys, but that day in Romania will always belong to us, three friends, three travelers.