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Day 6


 
 
 
Sunday, 12 August 2012
 
Start: Sighetu Marmatiei 09:30
Arrival: Tergu Neamt 19:00
Total: 341 km
 
 
 

 
The next morning, the big hotel was almost eerily quiet. Where hours before hundreds of wedding guests had partied, we were now almost by ourselves. We sat in the large breakfast room with its beautiful sturdy wooden beams and tried valiantly to stay awake. It was still so very early, just after 7 o'clock. But the sun was shining and a walk in front of the hotel quickly woke us up. There was a horse grazing in the meadow, seemingly alone. So idyllic.
 
There were two things I wanted to see in Sighetu Marmatiei: the first was a footbridge over the river Tisza. I had read on the internet that apparently you could simply walk over the little bridge et voilĂ , you'd be in the Ukraine. Without any bureaucratic fuss, in good neighbourly fashion. It sounded really improbable so I had decided to check out this relaxed EU border (an oxymoron, I know) for myself. Sonia didn't believe in the existence of this bridge, as the western countries would fear "people trafficking" way too much.
 
Armed with a rudimentary map of the town, we drove along the river into a very quiet, rather run-down part of the town. Crumpling old factory shacks, the paverment overgrown with weeds and not a soul in sight. I got out of the car and inspected the area on foot. Much to the dislike of a dog who had been lazing in the sun. Instantly alert, he approached me, making unmistakeable "this is my turf" noises. Oops. Quickly, I retreated back into the car. Ok, so much for a neighbourly welcome. But the bridge had to be here somewhere.
 
After some more driving around, we finally found it. To my disappointment, it turned out to be an ordinary border crossing, with cars waiting to be checked at each end. Not at all what I had hoped for. Not wanting to queue for an hour, we decided that the Ukrainian soil would have to wait. No casual border-hopping here.
 

 

Maramures Village Museum

 
After that, we visited the second item on our to-do-list: the Maramures Village Museum, a large open-air museum with houses from a former period, a bit like the one in Slovakia. But first, we had to cross through town. Easier said than done. It was Sunday, and as we passed a large church, we saw throngs of people gathered outside in the yard. A priest seemed to be celebrating mass outside. Maybe because there were so many people that there wasn't room enough inside? In any case, some streets were cordoned off and we had to improvise to finally reach the main street out of town. We came across several more churches with people outside and even a small procession. We noticed this everywhere in Romania and also later in Poland: there were crowds of people in front of the churches. Whenever we passed a church on this Sunday or the next, people were going in or coming out. It seemed masses were being held almost constantly throughout the day.
 
When we reached the open-air museum, we were the first visitors for the day. We set out to explore the place. There was still fog hanging over the meadows, which made the whole setting even more interesting and romantic. We discovered an area where water-powered technical installations and other craftsmanship were explained, a hands-on oil press and lots of houses with original furnishings. Everything was lovingly arranged with great attention to detail. And as we were all by ourselves, we could stroll around at leisure and inspect everything close up. We were in a really good mood, feeling like little kids who had got up really early to go on an exciting trip (well, all of this was true, except for the little-kid part. But we definitely felt like kids inside).
 
Around 9:30 am, we got back to our car. Now it would be bye-bye Sighetu Marmatiei. We were on the road again, heading east. The next item on our to-see list were the famous wooden churches of the Maramures. Apparently, they were dotted all around the landscape east of Sighetu Marmatiei. I had decided on a particularly beautiful one in Barsana. So we would not be taking the main road east, but a smaller country road leading through the village of Barsana. At least, that was the plan.
 
To this day, we don't know what road we were finally on. We didn't have a GPS device back then and our map of Eastern Europe was very, very rudimentary, with only the main roads and towns marked on it. We preferred to rely on our good luck and head out into an adventure. Unfortunately, that way, we somehow missed Barsana. In any case, we came across a few very nice wooden churches, all quite old and well worth visiting, so we didn't worry too much about it.
 

 

On the (probably) worst road in Romania

 
Then we were back on the main road. Time to get some mileage under our belt. Or so we thought. Soon the road wound round and round, up through a mountainous landscape, and the weather became really bad. When we finally made it to the top of Prislop Pass, it was raining heavily and the wind almost blew us over. At the top of the pass, there was a little shop where we had something warm to drink. The lady in the shop was a school teacher, moonlighting as shop keeper during the school holidays. To our delight, she spoke English, so we were able to have a conversation. When she heard that we were driving all by ourselves (i.e., presumably, without a couple of strong men to back us up), she was aghast. She urged us to turn around and not drive down the pass. Apparently, the road would become reeeaaaally bad over the next few kilometers. Well, turning back was not an option. There was no other road nearby going in this direction, and we wanted to make it to the monastery of Voronet before it closed for the night. She shook her head, really worried for us: "You two girls cannot drive down there alone." Hm, that sounded ominous. What was awaiting us, the flaming pits of Hell? The gaping chasm of the Netherworld? The Balrog of the mines of Moria? But unless Hercules or Gandalf showed up, there was not much an ordinary man could have done for us in this situation. And, after all, how bad could it really be?
 
We drove on and soon found out. The road became more adventurous by the minute. At least it wasn't raining any more. But what had been a slightly annoying bad road before, now turned into a sort of funfair game: find your way around the holes in the road. Thirty kilometres of broken tarmac with deep potholes and nasty sharp gashes. Unfortunately, our car is rather low slung. A jeep would have come in handy here. I imitated the other drivers, veering onto the other side of the road when my lane became simply unpassable. After a while, I gave up though. Some parts were simply too bad, there was nothing you could do but drive right through it. I have been to many parts of rural Europe and Northern America, but I can safely say that this road is the unchallenged champion of potholes: the bad road in Northwestern Russia on the way to Murmansk comes in a very distant second, and that street underwent repairworks when we drove through, so it doesn't really count.
 

 

Voronet Monastery

 
To make a long story short, it took us six and a half hours to drive 220 kilometres. Finally, we reached a sort of highway. Double-laned in the beginning, it soon became smaller, but at least it was properly asphalted, so we were happy. We had left the mountain region and come into the Valley of the Moldova. This area is famous for its picturesque monasteries, and we wanted to see the most well-known of them all, Voronet Monastery. Good thing we had been up so early, because otherwise it would have been too late to visit.
 
We drove through villages and pastures. Everywhere, there were chicken, cows and dogs running among the houses. We passed several railroad crossings, which were only marked with a warning sign, but didn't have any lights or boom gates. We thought this was quite dangerous, until we saw one of the little trains passing at a very leisurely speed: I could have easily outrun it.
 
Voronet monastery was well pointed out and there were lots of tourists. It's a very old monastery, famous for its blue frescoes, not only inside the church, but also on the outside walls. We were happy to have made it in time and enjoyed the beautiful paintings. Such attention to detail.
 

 

Tirgu Neamt

 
It was seven o'clock in the evening when we arrived at our hotel in Tirgu Neamt. We were very tired and just wished for a quick dinner and a quiet bed. We wouldn't get either.
 
There was a party at the hotel and the small restaurant was full of people. There was a live band playing folk music, way too loud for our liking. Unfortunately, the hotel across the street also offered live music, so both bands set their amplifiers to full blast, to outdo each other. And we were caught in the middle. We hastily wolfed down our food and retreated to our room upstairs. ... Right above the party, overlooking the merriments next door. ... It was so loud, sleep was totally out of the question. So we watched Romanian TV. A show with Nicky Hilton. The jet set girl helped a woman to get a style and fashion makeover. It was quite fun to watch. I must admit, I had never even heard of Paris' little sister before. To me, Nicky Hilton will always be connected to a noisy night in Romania. I'm not sure how she would feel about that.
 
At midnight, both parties abruptly stopped. Curfew laws be praised! We settled down in bed for a good night's sleep. But what was that? A mean, metallic grid bit into my back. I tried to roll onto the side, but that was just as uncomfortable. What sort of a mattress was this? I prefer hard mattresses, but I don't mind the soft, undulating beds that you sometimes find in hotels. But this mattress was in a league of its own: sort of soft, but with a mean metal grill inside, that merciless bit into your flesh as soon as you lay down. Was this some sort of torture instrument? Who could sleep on a bed like this? After some moaning and tossing, I retreated to the slightly mouldy-smelling, worn-out couch. At least it didn't have springs. Sonia stayed in bed, but I'm sure it would have been more comfortable for her to just sleep on the floor. We had paid for an upgrade to get a bigger room. This place had two TV sets, but we would have much preferred a tiny cubicle sans telly but with a less sadistic sleeping arrangement. Oh well, thisses swa maeg.
 

 

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