Listen carefully, and (my previous post refers) God is laughing his (their?) head off now as we prepare to drive home after a fascinating fortnight in Transylvania (writing this in Alba Iulia as the Romanian presidential election results come in – at the moment, looking good for Europe.)
Instead of tandeming from Hungary to Bucharest and back, illness (nastiest 6-week cold) meant we took the car, and have to say it couldn’t have gone better.
Fabulous food, brilliant overnights (booking.com is seriously good) and the warmest of welcomes everywhere – tinged with sadness as we heard so many stories of Hungarians and ethnic Germans feeling short-changed, even unwelcome, in Romania’s messy post-communist democracy.
Certainly the majority Romanians lose no opportunity, with their ubiquitous national tricolor flags and information panels at tourist sites, to remind visitors who’s now in charge here, a century after Romania expanded to take in great chunks of formerly Habsburg and Ottoman lands.
I (Mark) will be flying back out from England week after next to resume both my pursuit of the Hungarian language and then cycling (solo back home through Poland and Germany, probably).
In the meantime, some concluding images of our recent joint days cross country from Brasov, with liberal sprinklings of, in her rain gear (it’s been wet), a very orange Jutta.
