So the plan was to travel from Denizli to Bucharest. 11 hours to istanbul, then another 11 hours to Romania.
All on the bus!
The first bus ride was fine - I wrote the last three posts or so and drunk free bus ride drinks. I've been wondering on my trip when that really bad things going to happen. That famous story people tell at dinner about the time when they were travelling and everything went wrong. So far I've had a sweet time, really.
I mentioned this to David, though probably in an incorrect way; 'David - something's got to go wrong soon!' he got angry 'what the hell sofe don't say that we're fine'
So we arrive in the familiar old Istanbul. Not so familiar - it's cold and grey. Dark clouds are building. And the people are rushing around grumpily - its 7 oclock on a monday morning. We drag our luggage around to the bus companys we suspect have buses to Romania.
'they come every four hours from Katakoy' someone had told us ages ago.
The first company 'bus full'
next company 'no bus'
another company 'no buses until Friday'.
The next day is Ead - a pubic holiday - perhaps everyone is getting out of town?
Bus to Bulgaria? Any trains? Other companys? Cheap flights? Anything!?
We were hopeless and no one wanted to help us. It was the first time Turkey had really been cold to us - and not just literally. The workers were rude and knew nothing.
We find an internet cafe, begin to search bus comapanies and calling them. 'Bus to Bulgaria, Bus to Romania. Any bus. Any bus out of Istanbul. TODAY!'
We had no hope, but so much determination not to spend another day in Istanbul.
At last one lady answered our call who spoke no english but could say 'bus to Romania' '51 and 52 leaving 3:00' or something vague like that.
We sprint out of the cafe and catch a ferry across Istanbul to the address of the company (the worker of the cafe gave us directions).
We were lead in circles through unfamiliar, industrial alleys until we finally found a little bus port.
Al hamdullilah ! We buy the last two tickets.
So nothing actually went wrong, sorry for scaring you at the beginning of the blog, but it was a pretty scary time.
We eat out last 1 dollar kebab (then later complain about how sickening it was)
And get on our bus.
Two Romanian women sit in our seats. We tell them this (because in the past we've had to move for others and have learnt its best to just find your seat in the beginning) and they start complaining with a 'so what' attitude in Romanian as they smoke cigarettes. You can smoke on Romanian buses. Some kids start sqealing on the drivers microphone. This lasts around 5 minutes and all the adults did was scream back. All I understood was the english expression 'mother fucker'. The bus starts moving with half the bus standing, arguing about seats, luggage space and whether or not we should be able to smoke while the child is sitting on the bus. The mother should stand at the front of the bus if she cares so much.
They never stopped talking. I had some nice conversations in arbaic with a man originally from Syria, and a couple from Iran. Interesting to hear the different accents and terms which I generally understood from various villiages in Palestine.
I never knew what Romaninas were meant to be like but I didn't expect such noisy rowdiness.
Crossing the Bulgarian border, I smuggled ciggarettes, perfume and clothes in for some women who had too much luggage / things bought from customs. It could have had drugs in it, I know, but my Syrian friend insured me there was no problem.....and I wasn't truly given a choice.
I wake up in Bucharest at 4 am and sleepily taxied to our couch surfers home.
Dani welcomed us into his apartment warmly, followed by the most beautifull woman in the world; Aniela. Who I admire to be one day. They lit up our path to bed.
All on the bus!
The first bus ride was fine - I wrote the last three posts or so and drunk free bus ride drinks. I've been wondering on my trip when that really bad things going to happen. That famous story people tell at dinner about the time when they were travelling and everything went wrong. So far I've had a sweet time, really.
I mentioned this to David, though probably in an incorrect way; 'David - something's got to go wrong soon!' he got angry 'what the hell sofe don't say that we're fine'
So we arrive in the familiar old Istanbul. Not so familiar - it's cold and grey. Dark clouds are building. And the people are rushing around grumpily - its 7 oclock on a monday morning. We drag our luggage around to the bus companys we suspect have buses to Romania.
'they come every four hours from Katakoy' someone had told us ages ago.
The first company 'bus full'
next company 'no bus'
another company 'no buses until Friday'.
The next day is Ead - a pubic holiday - perhaps everyone is getting out of town?
Bus to Bulgaria? Any trains? Other companys? Cheap flights? Anything!?
We were hopeless and no one wanted to help us. It was the first time Turkey had really been cold to us - and not just literally. The workers were rude and knew nothing.
We find an internet cafe, begin to search bus comapanies and calling them. 'Bus to Bulgaria, Bus to Romania. Any bus. Any bus out of Istanbul. TODAY!'
We had no hope, but so much determination not to spend another day in Istanbul.
At last one lady answered our call who spoke no english but could say 'bus to Romania' '51 and 52 leaving 3:00' or something vague like that.
We sprint out of the cafe and catch a ferry across Istanbul to the address of the company (the worker of the cafe gave us directions).
We were lead in circles through unfamiliar, industrial alleys until we finally found a little bus port.
Al hamdullilah ! We buy the last two tickets.
So nothing actually went wrong, sorry for scaring you at the beginning of the blog, but it was a pretty scary time.
We eat out last 1 dollar kebab (then later complain about how sickening it was)
And get on our bus.
Two Romanian women sit in our seats. We tell them this (because in the past we've had to move for others and have learnt its best to just find your seat in the beginning) and they start complaining with a 'so what' attitude in Romanian as they smoke cigarettes. You can smoke on Romanian buses. Some kids start sqealing on the drivers microphone. This lasts around 5 minutes and all the adults did was scream back. All I understood was the english expression 'mother fucker'. The bus starts moving with half the bus standing, arguing about seats, luggage space and whether or not we should be able to smoke while the child is sitting on the bus. The mother should stand at the front of the bus if she cares so much.
They never stopped talking. I had some nice conversations in arbaic with a man originally from Syria, and a couple from Iran. Interesting to hear the different accents and terms which I generally understood from various villiages in Palestine.
I never knew what Romaninas were meant to be like but I didn't expect such noisy rowdiness.
Crossing the Bulgarian border, I smuggled ciggarettes, perfume and clothes in for some women who had too much luggage / things bought from customs. It could have had drugs in it, I know, but my Syrian friend insured me there was no problem.....and I wasn't truly given a choice.
I wake up in Bucharest at 4 am and sleepily taxied to our couch surfers home.
Dani welcomed us into his apartment warmly, followed by the most beautifull woman in the world; Aniela. Who I admire to be one day. They lit up our path to bed.
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