Roadtrip to West Country and southern Wales

More photos can be found at my Picasa Web Album (photos from other places will go up there when I get the time).

So on the weekend I met up with Tracey and Shonay, two sisters from Australia, and Terry, a Welshman now living in Luton, and we headed out for a trip in a hired car. The car was a Renault Mégane, incidentally - Karen at the Coylet called me Renault for a while when she had trouble remembering my name, and when I meet people from countries on the continent I sometimes refer to that car as a way of helping them pronounce my name (it's how my name ends up getting said in French, afterall).

I should mention here that this was a "mystery" tour - Terry planned it out and gave us an itinerary that looked like this:
Leave Blackfriars 0608 for luton (cheap day single £11.90)
Arrive Luton 0656 - where I will be waiting.
Leave Luton 0700 and head for 1st secret location. (approx 2Hrs 30mins.) -
Catch up on some sleep.
Leave at 1000 for second secret lcation. (approx 1 Hour)
Leave at 1300 for scenic drive to third secret location with stops. (approx
1 Hour)

Head for Wales. (approx 2 Hours)
arrive at fourth secret location.
Leave at 1600 for scenic drive through Valleys and Brecon National Park.
Arrive at Final secret location when ever! & crash out for the night.

Set of around 0900 for sixth secret location (approx 2 hours )
Leave at 1200 for final drive and possibly one more stop before arriving
back at Luton before 1600.
Say our goodbyes and reflect.

So our first secret location was Stonehenge. Then we drove into the West Country, stopping in the town of Warminister for breakfast. Then into Somerset where we visited Wookey Hole, where there is a series of caves, some with really big chambers (see the link for stats on the size as I don't remember - they were big to me). There's also a legend of a witch living in the caves, that was explained to us by our hilarious, deadpan-and-monotone tourguide.

Then it was up though Cheddar Gorge - the sun roof came in handy for viewing the cliffs as they're high.

Into southern Wales. First mystery stop there, Caerphilly castle, dating from near 1300. It's tower leans due to being hit at some point.


The town of Caerphilly was pretty, and the sun certainly helped it out.


From Caerphilly we drove up through some of the valleys and Terry told us about the times he'd spent running up those hills loaded down with gear in his military days. Wales is very pretty; I'd like to see more of it.

We stayed the night in Monmouth, ate at a pub and hung out at some others. This is the river running through town (river Wye I think?).
It was a day of cool clouds for me - coming out from dinner I took this one.
Sunday we drove to Tintirn, famous for its Abbey.
As you can see it was not sunny Sunday, but you take what you get. We had breakfast (2nd full English in two days! I like the beans at breakfast thing) at a cool hotel called The Anchor with great staff.

Then it was a drive out of Wales, into the Midlands, where we stopped in Stratford-upon-Avon and wandered around the high street, the market, and the river before heading back to Luton.

I'm still in London a few days more. I have a job interview of sorts tomorrow, so I could be hear longer - I'll let you know about that if it pans out.

My favourite hostels

I had a discussion with someone on this subject not too long ago, so I thought I'd put this up. These are my three favourite hostels that I've stayed at in my lifetime of travelling. All of them are hostels that I've stayed in during the last couple of months - I did think back to 2002 when I first stayed in hostels, but the ones then could not beat these hostels either.

All of these hostels were of course clean, had sufficient bathroom facilities, weren't over-crowded - the normal things that I expect in a hostel. However, these ones went above and beyond the normal, so that's why they're on my list.

3. Oasis Backpackers' Hostel in Granada, Spain

Free breakfast (not just toast, but also waffle batter and iron provided), free welcome drink, free internet. The building has a nice roof-top terrace, and also a courtyard. Dinner parties every few days with a three-course, tasty meal (soup, salad, and main course) for 3.50 Euros. Free city walking tours, tapas tours, Spanish lessons. Friendly staff and other guests friendly as well. Price: 15 Euros per night.

2. Kismet Dao Hostel in Brasov, Romania

Free breakfast of just the toast and coffee/tea variety, but free laundry! Free half litre of beer per day (or pop or juice). Balconies off most rooms, basement lounge to be noisey in during the evenings. TV room with satellite and loads of DVDs. Awesome staff - they'll do whatever they can to help you with travel plans and then take you out with all their friends when they're off duty. Everyone ends up knowing everyone at the hostel. People end up staying here many days longer than they planned.

1. Gregory's Backpackers Hostel in Varna, Bulgaria

This place feels like a home. Like number 2, everyone ends up meeting everyone else because there's only about 20 beds. The Gregorys, husband and wife Terry and Georgie, will pick you up in Varna and take you out to the hostel in a nearby village. They show you around the place, learn your name and a bit of your life story, and make you feel welcome. The breakfast includes more than toast - there's some cheese, orange, tomato, and sausage. TV room with satellite and loads of DVDs. Various tours organized and nights out in town held. Great place to relax and have fun. Another hostel where you'll stay longer than you planned.

Ads, ads, everywhere an ad

I never realized how free of ads the Island is until I started travelling elsewhere. I mean, we get ads on TV, but they're not plastered along the roadsides or on streets, and we didn't have public transportation when I lived there so there was no way to put ads on that either. (Incidentally, if you don't know, it's provincial law in PEI that you can't put up billboards on the roadsides - if you want to advertise you business, you can get a standard government-made sign that will be put up like other road signs.)

In London, ads are everywhere - on posts, on taxis, on buses, inside the buses, in subway halls, on the subways. You know how if you're watching a television show and they repeat a commercial a few times, it gets annoying? Well, I've been seeing the same ads repeated over and over again in every Tube station, and I'm getting bored of them after a only a few days. I know many of them by heart now.

I'm staying at The Generator, which is the first hostel I ever stayed at back in June of 2002 (I was so young!). It's still as crap as it was then. It's clean and all, but it's huge (500 people) and feels very industrial, but I think they're trying to go with that theme. It advertises itself as a party hostel, but it's not even a good party hostel, meaning it just doesn't have a friendly, casual atmosphere. It's the kind of place where someone would pull the fire alarm at midnight. We didn't have to go outside because someone turned it off, thankfully since I had enough of standing around outside at night due to fire alarms back when I lived in East Campus Village in Edmonton.

I'm heading on a roadtrip for the weekend tomorrow, if I haven't mentioned it already, with some people from Vaughan Town.

I was sat on the Tube

The London subway system, or Tube, is an amazing piece of work. I have been on it and been enchanted by all the places that you can zip around too. However, go on the Tube during rush hour and one can quickly learn to hate people. At least I can. Everyone shoves their way around, you're crammed in amongst people, it's hot.

I don't know if it's a new thing or if I just never experienced it when I visited London many a year ago, but on the platform for the Circle and District lines yesterday evening, there was actually some guy (who I couldn't see anywhere) whose job it was to announce the incoming trains and to provide instructions regarding where on the platform you should wait ("plenty of space down to the left of the platform folks"), how to board ("please use all the doors"), when the train was departing ("please step away from the doors as this train is about to depart"), and at one point, he chastised someone like a mother shouting at a child with a shrill "LET GO OF THAT DOOR!"

Small English children, though they can be the kin of the devil, seem very proper and grown up to me. In part it's the accents - they speak the way that only educated adults in Canada speak (and those ones are putitng it on). Then there's the school uniforms, so that you see 10-year-old kids in blazers and ties.

In Hampshire, where I was a few days ago, the people play with their tenses. Stacey told me "when I come to Varna" where I would have said "when I came to Varna", as it was in the past. Two gentleman on a bus discussed how they were not going to give up their seats for some elderly people because "there's kids sat", i.e. there's kids sitting. It's typical to hear "he's stood there" for someone who's currently standing. I even picked it up at one point and referred to a woman as being "sat" at the table.

It's a mystery to me how I can hold a marker pen for only a second, in just my right hand, and yet I managed to get marker ink all over both of my hands. Do marker molecules tunnel?

London and money (or Easy Internet Cafes suck)

The second title comes from my attempt to post this last night from the aforementioned chain of internet cafes, and I was once again unable to (it's happened in other cities as well). I've learned my lessons - goodbye Easy Internet Cafe. You're easy, but you don't work.

I'm now in London and feeling my wallet hurt. I'm staying here 3 nights, going on a weekend road trip with some Vaughan Town folks, then probably coming back for a few more days to inflict more financial damage.

Walked through what seemed to be a Middle-Eastern district on Edgeware Road. There was hookah cafes (think the pipe thing that the caterpillar in Alice in Wonderland smokes) with groups of people of all ages sitting around (outside now that the smoking ban has taken effect since July 1 in England) having a smoke. Lots of women in variations on Islamic garb. That may not seem like a big deal, but do recall that I'm from PEI so I've never much of other cultures other than where I've travelled to and a few China towns.

I was just into Selfridges, the really huge department store in London (on Oxford Street). Huge is not sufficient to describe it. It is so large (in terms of department stores) that I don't think a suitable adjective has yet been created to describe it. j

The department store had up signs like "I shop therefore I am" and "You want, you buy it, you forget it". That last one doesn't promote spending in me, but I guess I'm not their target consumer since the place is pretty expensive. I felt at times that I was going to be asked by a security guard to show sufficient funds or leave. Especially when I was in the "designer hall". When the sales racks advertise £50 and under, you know you're somewhere expensive.

In the handbag section, each designer had its own little shop within the larger store. Each shop also had one or two men dressed in expensive suits who were not the salespeople, but security guards for the shop. There was no price tags on any of the bags, but I know from fashion magazines that I've been in functioning cars that cost less than most of those bags. If you want to know the price when you purchase one, you can't afford it.

I've occasionally thought about what my spending might be like if I were obscenely rich, and given that I like clothes I've often thought of the sort of stuff that I could buy with lots of money. In the end, I don't think that I could spend huges amounts on clothing. I felt I splurged when I spent £10 on a new pair of trousers the other day. I just feel stupid and guilty if I buy something that I consider to be overly expensive. I guess you have to be born rich to be able to spend like you're rich.

HMS Warrior and HMS Victory visit

The Warrior
I've visited an old ship before, in Boston, that was nicknamed Old Ironsides (can't remember the real name). The Warrior is iron-sided as well, but way cooler. The ship in Boston wasn't all kitted out like the ships in Portsmouth are, so yesterday I really saw how the ship functioned and what a sailors life was like. I am really not eloquent enough to describe how wicked it was, so I'll leave it at that and put up some pictures (I have loads of pictures, so more can be made available upon request).

To try to imagine the scale of this deck, notice that in the upper right of the deck there are two people clothed in black standing to the right of that white lifeboat. The ship is huge. It carried a crew of over 700. (Just noticed the photo is slanty again. I think that's my habit of putting most of my weight on my right leg).

A rope ladder, but quite stiff and with wooden crosspieces, so better than any rope ladder I've ever climbed.

Swords hanging on the ceiling and cannon cleaning and packing equipment hanging in behind. There were guns and swords on racks everywhere. The swords were all locked in, unfortunate since I wanted to hold one to see what the weight of it would be like. I looked around at the staff to see if one was dressed as an officer complete with sword, so that I could ask politely if I could just hold his sword for a moment, but no luck. I could tell just from pulling on a sword while it was in the rack that it's heavier than my fencing sabres, but that's sort of obvious given that the blade's a lot thicker.

Chain for the anchor, and my hand to show you how big it actually is. I could just lift one of the links with one hand. Considering that I picked up a 12 pound cannon ball up with one hand no problem, these have got to be heavier.

A fancy way to coil up your rope. I feel ashamed of all my coils, or piles, of rope now.

Largest gun on the main deck with the metal stripping allowing it to be slid to face pretty much any direction I'd say. Pretty slick.

On to the Victory!
So I finally got to see the famous ship from the battle for which Trafalgar Square is named, and whose admiral, Nelson, has monuments in his honour all around the UK. I didn't know these things prior to visiting the ship, but I finally put it all together. I'd been wondering who this Nelson dude was, and why a square in London had a Spanish name.
I like the colours on this ship. The old sailing ships are incredibly beautiful. The contrast between the Victory and a modern aircraft carrier that was docked nearby was stark to me. Modern naval ships are impressive, but I wouldn't call them beautiful or elegant. The Victory is all three (it's still a commissioned ship if you didn't know, in order to honour Nelson).

Speaking of Nelson, this is his "cot" aboard the ship. I think I would have opted for one of the bunks like they had in some of the cabins below so that my bed wouldn't have been swinging so much. The style of this doesn't exactly match up to the rest of his quarters, with leather chairs and well-made wooden dining sets.

Squeeze everything together: this is the sick ward, a dining area, and that's a cannon in the background. Healthy crew lived in similar circumstances, except that there hammocks were not boxy like these. The mugs on the table are made of horn, just as are the powder horns hanging about the ship.

It takes a lot of ropes to rig sails.

Here's some freakin' huge ropes. They were fenced off, so to give you the scale, imagine this: if you took my torso and squeezed it so that it were round insteead of the flattened off shape that I have, it would be about the same circumference as the bottom rope. So about 28 inches, give or take an inch.

Crushing snails

Sign on Portsmouth dockyard:
I think I read that that is a lowered level from "critical" last week. It might also be why it took me about 40 minutes to get through immigration at Luton airport even though it was late at night. I think the Non-EU passport holders line should be divided into two: countries the UK likes (Canada, Australia, New Zealand, etc.) and countries whose residents slow the line down.

Went on a Portsmouth Harbour tour yesterday, thought this cloud formation was cool.

Here's another interesting cloud behind the Spinnaker Tower. The tower's not as impressively high to me since I've seen the Toronto CN Tower but it's a lot more attractive.

The main bus station and ferry terminal in Portsmouth is called The Hard Interchange, commonly referred to as just "The Hard". Since I've actually been staying in the town of Fareham, I've been taking the bus into town each day. Today when purchasing my return ticket, I tried to make a joke out of it by saying "Hard return" please but the driver gave no indication of getting it. Not that I blame him :)

Stacey and I went for a walk to the town of Wickham last night when it was just getting dark. The sidewalk became a narrow path out between the two towns, and were brushing past bushes and crunching on what I thought were tree cones. On the way back, I heard a crunch and Stacey said "there's another snail!" I was shocked - I'd no idea that I had been crushing snails! I've had snails as pets (working pets, mind you). For a moment, I seriously considered sweeping my path like those monks who don't want to kill anything. The moment passed.

I went to the Historic Dockyards today to visit the HMS Victory and HMS Warrior, but I'll write about that in a separate post because I have a lot to say.

Fifty's nifty

On the bus to Portsmouth, I noticed that English motorways give you a lot more information than elsewhere in the world. Where there were some pylons ("cones" as they were called) blocking off some sections for some sort of road work, there were signs advising drivers that in the event of an emergency they could drive in that section. There were also signs telling drivers of wide vehicles that they were to straddle the white line on the shoulder. The transportation departments in the rest of the world just leave it up to the driver to figure out how to do these things.

Then again, roads in the rest of the world don't go from being straight to being circles every few hundred yards. Yes, I'm talking about roundabouts again. I am just plum astonished by their frequency.

I have seen road signs that rhyme over here. One is "Twenty's plenty", referring to speed in miles per hour (doesn't quite work in Canadian cities: Fifty's nifty?). Another I saw on the bus from London to Portsmouth and thought it was quite good, but oweing to my mental fatigue I didn't retain it and I'm kicking myself for it.

Maybe I just haven't been around children in Canada much and they are snot-nosed little punks as well, but English children seem to be an ill-behaved lot. In the centre of Portsmouth, on the high street, my bus drove by two young boys who appeared to be opening packets of sugar and sprinkling the contents over the bottoms of their bicycles, which were overturned on the sidewalk. They were then tossing the papers on the ground. I could not figure out any purpose to it. I've had children crawl over me while their parents were seemingly powerless to stop them. English parents in particular always seem to be shouting at their children in shrill voices.

While waiting for a lift from Stacey on Saturday, three boys who could not be much more than 10 years old each sat near me and one expertly rolled a cigarette. I was stunned. Upon hearing my accent, the boys asked me if I was American, and then asked me to say "potato chips". They seemed to find how I say it funny.

I met two Brummies (fellows from Birmingham) for the first time the other night. Stacey was making fun of their accents, as most English people will tell you that they dislike the Brummie accent the most, but I thought it was pleasant. It reminded me of the Beatles, even though I knew they weren't Scousers (Liverpuddlians). They also said "pop" like me for things like Coke, instead of "fizzy drink" so that made them ok in my books.

England sure does pack a lot of accents into a small country. Down here I find that people talk as though they are reluctant to let their lips touch each other, so it's an open-mouthed form of speech. Many of the women speak in a tone that at first made me think that I was annoying them but I now realize that it is just the accent. It is still a little disconcerting as it feeds into my paranoia about offending anyone.

Photos for the last month

I've finished adding what photos I had that were in the realm of decent. If you go back as far as June 13 (Brasov, Romania), that's where I started adding this time round. Not every post has photos, but a fair few do and those that do have a fair few (going for a rhyming thing there, or something).

English BBQ

This is Stacey, who I'm visiting in Portsmouth (we met in Varna) barbequeing in the rain. Like any good English day, it was really sunny earlier so we thought we'd barbeque for supper. Then the rain started trickling, then absolutely pissing down. Out came the umbrella.

And the food's just about done and now the sun's coming out. Stacey says the weathers "taking the piss out of her".

More photos should be coming for my posts for the last month, since I've downloaded my photos to Stacey's computer and will be uploading them as I get a chance. I'll let you all know.

You're being watched...

I don't know if you know this, but I've been using Google Analytics on this site just out of interest to see what traffic I get. I started doing it last fall (autumn to those of you in the UK), but then when the new version of Blogger came out it must have intefered with my tracking. For awhile I simply thought that no one loved me and didn't visit my site. I eventually realized otherwise and fixed the problem back in June by setting up things again.

So here's a map of the world showing where I've been receiving visitors from. If you search my name on Google (and why wouldnt't you), this blog now comes up, meaning that people are finding me so I will have to watch what I say ;) But then I've also forwarded the link on many an e-mail, so some of these people do actually know me. Others may be finding me through the "random blog" button in Blogspot. And a few times it is actually me if I view my blog somewhere (I know the eastern European ones are me).

That big circle in eastern Canada is centred around Charlottetown because I get the most hits from there.

Anyway, it's reassuring to know that I'm not writing into the void. Thanks for the visits!

Lost phone

While I was in Madrid during the parade, I lost my phone at either a restaurant (where it fell out of my bag, I think) or someone pickpocketed me in the crowd (the master of ceremonies from my Vaughan Town program had his wallet stolen that night, so "is possible" as the Spaniards say in English).

So if you have my 07787 mobile number, I can no longer be reached at that number. I'm using my old 07726 number. If you need that number, just drop me an e-mail or a comment.

Blown away by Pride

I spent the last week doing another Vaughan Town. It was lots of fun although quite tiring - I lost a bit of sleep each day I think and it caught up to me by the end. I didn't lose my voice this time round. Once again, I was one of the people that the Spaniards found hardest to understand. The other Anglos found that a bit puzzling because they think that I pronounce my words clearly. It's not my pronunciation that the Spaniards find difficult, it's how fast I speak. But they also tell me that it's good for them to listen to me because they learn eventually to keep up with me.

At the first of the week, I was unsure as to whether I would enjoy the week as much as I did the first one. In the end, I think I did enjoy it as much, although it is hard to compare as the people are so different from one week to another.

In Madrid prior to my departure was Pride week, and the parade was last Saturday. Given that my hostel was at the parade end (there are sort of two parades - a political one in the afternoon and then a party one in the evening into the night) - there wasn't much point in trying to sleep while the parade was on anyway, so I wandered around the streets with some girls from my hostel. I have never seen anything like it. I was told that there was something on the order of a million people in the street. There were gay people who had travelled for the event but there were also locals of all ages and sexual orientation. Old ladies sitting on the side of the street watching, people out with their kids. It was just a massive party in the streets. Everyone was friendly - people were drinking, but I didn't see any of the aggression that often accompanies drinking.

For a country girl like me, it was amazing just to see that many people having a party. To top it off with the acceptance of homosexuals that was present was even more amazing - there's many places in the world where that kind of event couldn't happen without protest.

After the parade ended at around midnight (the partying went on in some streets all night as there were still people about in the morning), I watched as a whole team of workers moved in with leaf blowers, brooms, bins, street-sweeping machines and garbage trucks and cleaned up Gran Via from an absolute mess to being open in under an hour. I was impressed.

Unfortunately, I didn't get any pictures of the parade because I didn't have my camera with me (and I discovered that my phone was missing when I thought: I'll take some pictures with the little camera on it).

Now I'm back in the UK, having flown to Luton last night. It's a bit of a relief to be where people speak English in some ways - I can figure out bus schedules and the like.

Happy Canada Day and the simple joys of a bed

I'm in Madrid, heading out to Vaughan Town on July 1 so I'll have to teach the Spaniards about Canada Day.

Last night I slept in a bed for the first time in two days. In those days, I slept stretched out on train seats on a trip from Romania to Hungary, then beside a pool at the Turkish baths in Budapest, then on the floor of the Budapest airport the next night, and stretched out on some seats in the Berlin airport yesterday. Having a pillow other than my handbag was a real treat, as was a mattress.

I did take a picture of the public bath I visited in Budapest this time round, so here it is.

I like Hungarian statue style for some reason I can't pinpoint. I also like the fact that they put up statues of historical figures all over the place and are quite proud of their history, even though no one else really knows about it. I think we should try that more in Canada - instead of the Heritage Dept. spending money on free flags or whatever it is they do, they could put up a few statues. Here's some heroes of Hungarian history that I don't know anything about.
At Budapest, we boarded a bus that drove us all of 150 ft to our plane. I think this must have been due to safety regulations that didn't allow for us to cross the airport road that the luggage cars and fuel trucks drove on. At Berlin, and other airports I've been to, they provided a crossing guard. Seems that's more expediant than putting us all on buses for a 10 second journey.

Travelling the last couple of days, I have become aware that I'm a good size for travelling. I wouldn't want to be any taller or bigger and try to fly budget airlines. I flew Easy Jet this time round, and my knees were a mere few inches from the seat in front of me (the seats don't recline on those flights because if they did, you'd be lying on the person behind you). On trains, I'm just the right length to stretch out on compartment benches, and ditto for making a bed out of two airport chairs and a coffee table. I'm big enough to carry my luggage, but small enough to squeeze into where I need to. 5 foot 5 inches works well.

Oh, beware the airline MyAir. Two French girls I hung out with in Sighsoara discovered, by a chance checking of e-mail, that their flight had been moved to two days later and that there was no other flights to allow them to get back home when they needed to. We spent some time searching on the internet and managed to find them a flight from another city on another airline, but it was more expensive then the flight they had originally booked. And if they hadn't checked their e-mail, they would have shown up at the airport to be told that they didn't fly that day.

Itinerary

Not sure if I posted a general outline of where I'm going over the next while, so I'll do it just in case.

June 28 I'm flying to Madrid (via Berlin) to do another Vaughan Town from July 1-6.

I'm flying to an airport in the vacinity of London after the Vaughan Town, going to spend some time visiting London (ouch! says my wallet) and some other places in England (thinking Hadrian's Wall as one stop) as I make my way north to Edinburgh.

Hope to visit some people in Edinburgh for a few days and then head to Isle of Skye for two weeks for a Scottish Gaelic course (go ahead and laugh, I don't care) that starts on July 30.

After that, I will hopefully be on track to getting a job and will rejoin the world of the earning.

Don't you wish your girlfriend is hot like me?

I was thinking that while I was in Eastern Europe I might do some clothes replacement shopping, as new clothes would be slightly cheaper here. They are, but I didn't count on the clothing style being quite so different.

In the east, branded clothing is even more popular than in the UK (where it is more popular than in Canada). So all those shops I avoided, leaving me with the cheap shops that I like to frequent. The clothes in the cheap shops in the east tend to involve lots of glitter and slogans in English on the tops, like this post title (complete with grammar mistake) or something like "Your boyfriend bought me this" or just simple stuff like "superstar". Not really my cup of tea.

I suppose I could blame the clothing choice on the ignorance of English on the part of the buyers, but then I've seen shops in Glasgow selling shirts that read things like "porn star" or "I'm not drunk enough for you to look good yet" and the like.

Home of the Impalers!

I'm in Sighsoara, Romania for a couple of days until I head to Budapest to catch a flight. Sighsoara is the birthplace of Vlad Tepes, also known as Vlad the Impaler, the model for Count Dracula. If the local high school hasn't named their school team the Impalers, then they're missing out on a cool name. Choosing an appropriate mascot that's not too controversial but not stupid looking might be difficult though - look what happened with the Rural Raiders (here it looks sort of cool. On the actual mascot, in the suit, nope, but can't find a photo).

It was a bit of a relief to get back to Romania because here at least I know the alphabet if I don't know the language. Then, spending only a few minutes in the Bucharest train station could kill that relief. Carrying a backpack just makes me a target for people wanting money. There was a guy there sporting a badly photocopied ID badge offering information then wanting payment. Last week when I was there, a guy dressed in imitation of a railway employee pointed out the correct train car to me and some other travellers, then grabbed the beer can of one fellow and took a swig as payment. He later came into our compartment asking for tickets and changing that to a demand for money.

The gypsy kids are also annoying. I think they pick me out as foreign just be my looks and they have followed me along the street, demanding money I presume (they speak Romanian to me, which makes little sense if they know me to be foreign). One girl approached me when I was sitting on a bench, wanting me to buy a bunch of weedy flowers and all my repeated "no's" could not dissuade her. She laid the bundle down on my bag and I gave it back to her. She set the flowers aside and started tapping me on the shoulder. I swatted her hand away each time (when people start touching me, I feel that they've really crossed a line) and she eventually gave up.

The Carpathian mountains are for the most part large rolling hills, but there are several rocky peaks of a light grey colour. The land between the mountains is a large plain, flat as can be.

The roof tiles here are red, as they have been in small towns in Portugal, Spain, southern France, northern Italy, Hungary, and Bulgaria. Since most of these countries do not have red soil, I wonder where they get the tiles from? The houses in all these countries look quite similar despite the vast distances between say Portugal and here.

Town clock tower - the window to the right of the clock shows statues for each day of the week, generally the god for whom the weekday is named.

Main commercial street as viewed from the tower.

Just a building that is sort of representative of the town's style.

Feeling guilty for being rich

Travelling from Varna to Russe (on the Bulgarian border with Romania) I met some high school students who wanted to use me for English practice so I sat with them. They questioned me about Canada and my visit to their country, and one of their questions was whether I thought Bulgaria was poor. I told them that on the surface the country doesn't seem poor (except for the trains that I'll get to in a bit) but that I know it must be because I can buy things so cheaply.

The students asked me how much I was spending on my trip and when I told them about 2500 Leva (1250 Euro) they were astonished, saying that is about half an average annual salary. They were further amazed because I had said that my job didn't pay extremely well and yet I had saved that money in a matter of months.

That being said, all these kids were carrying camera phones and wearing branded clothing. Those kind of items aren't that much cheaper in Bulgaria, so either they're not doing too poorly themselves or they spend absolutely all their money. Still, I felt a little guilty for having so much money.

I mentioned the trains being a sign of the country's poverty. Firstly, train travel is cheap compared to other countries (I paid 4.5 Euro to travel over 200 km) and bus travel is even cheaper. But the trains in Bulgaria are the oldest and dirtiest ones I've been on. I could smell the toilet before I even got on one train, so I sat as far away from it as possible and fortunately I didn't have to use it. The seats are dingy and small - eight seats where there'd be six elsewhere in Europe. Trains still have compartments, not the open seating that you find in the west. In Romania and Hungary I've also been on grubby old trains, but they also have some new ones for the intercity runs.

Buses can be just as grubby and are a rough ride by times. Seat upholstery is often torn open. One bus I took in Bulgaria had what I believe was the transmission protruding from the floor and covered by a blanket. That bus' side doors would not close but that provided needed ventilation.

Other than the transport, I found nothing else problematic in Bulgaria really. The locals were all friendly (excluding train station employees who don't seem to be nice in any country in the world) - when walking through the village I stayed in, little kids would shout greetings in English and older people would smile. One woman at a restaurant washroom, upon learning that I was from Canada, very enthusiastically tried to get across some point about Canada being number one and Bulgaria being number four (in sports or something? I still don't know).

It seems that a lot of older Bulgarian men get to sit around and drink all day while their wives are out working. All the menial jobs, except hard labour, are done by women, and the really old women still try to make some money by selling handicrafts.

There are huge beetles in Varna. One of them could take on a mouse.

Death notices are posted on sheets of paper tacked on to posts and trees, bearing a picture of the deceased. I couldn't make out anything more than to gather that these people were dead (Cyrillic makes things tricky), so they could be full obituaries for all I know.

Pretending to be rich

I'm leaving Varna today, heading back Romania way as I make my way back to Budapest where I have a flight in a few days.

Varna's been fun - the hostel I've stayed at is one of the best I've ever patronized, the city is neat and the beaches are nice.

Beaches here are... organized we'll say, compared to the ones back home. There's bars and restaurants on the beachfront and they put out umbrellas and lounge chairs which they will charge you for using. But they will also serve you on the beach, of course. It's very different then the canteens you get at places like Cavendish beach.
You can be charged for a lot of things here. Going to the washroom - even if you're in a restaurant, there's often a little old lady ready to collect your 30 Stotinki (the Bulgarian cent, basically) for the privilege of using the facitilies. In the city's cathedral, I was admitted free but told that if I wanted to take photos I'd have to pay 5 Leva. Then there's the beach stuff as mentioned - an umbrella will run you 3 Leva I believe. That's under two bucks, but if you add up all the little bits it's not so cheap any more.

I hung out with some folks at one of the beachfront cocktail bars yesterday. It's expensive by Bulgarian standards but still cheap to any of the tourists. A swanky kind of place that none of us could afford in our own countries. The clientele, besides tourists, consisted of many bulky men with beer bellies and numerous tattoos, and their slim, attractive wives - the kind that only money can buy, I guess. The lounge had two swimming pools with pillows all around, which you had to pay to use, and then loads of white couches with pillows. So for a few hours I got to pretend to be a rich girl, which was alright.
Since everything is so cheap over here, there's loads of foreigners, mostly from the UK but now others from Germany and other European countries, who are buying property over here. Small houses needing work are going for 7,000 Euro even, and it seems that decent ones are in the 30,000 range going upward of course (from what I gathered from the displays of all the real estate agents in the city).

The building style is a little different over here as well - here's an example and then the cathedral exterior.

The lace-curtained bus

The hostel where I'm staying is in a small village, so the hostel will bus you into town every day or you can take the local bus. There's one bus that runs back and forth on the line, and it's quite the old machine. For starters, the bus driver doesn't collect your fare, there's a woman who rides along on the bus all day who comes by to collect your money and issue you a ticket once you sit down.

The bus has lace curtains hanging in the front to block the sun, as well as a lace doiley over the console at the front. The suspension isn't too hot, so it's a bumpy, squeaky ride. There's no air conditioning, so we drove to town with the front door open to get an extra breeze. The villagers transport an odd assortment of things with them. One older man had some carrots and herbs wrapped up in newspaper and a bucket of meat.

The twenty minute trip to the city costs about 55 cents (27 p).

Bulgarian restaurants are pretty laid back, which I'm told is typical of Bulgarians in general. In the restaurant sense, your food will get to you when it gets to you. Dishes don't all come out to everyone at once, they come when they're ready. So sometimes the main course comes out before the salads. It can be a little annoying when you're absolutely famished and every one at the table has gotten their food except you, but otherwise it's not really a problem.

Harpoon fishing

This photo is someone else's; I'm the brilliant white person in the middle who appears to either be doing some calisthenics or handwashing some clothes in the sea. The Black Sea isn't black at all as you can see from here.

I went to the beach with a bunch of people from the hostel today (about 11 of us) and we had two spear guns and sets of snorkeling equipment between us. So a bunch of us tried harpoon fishing - snorkeling amongst the rocks and hunting out little fish that are called gobi, I believe - just fat little ugly brown fish. I love snorkeling, although I've sort of forgotten that I do. I did it once 6 years ago and haven't since, an error I hope to correct in the future.

I didn't manage to catch any fish, although one fellow caught 8 which is the hostel record. I enjoyed the snorkeling more than anything, although the hunt of the fish was fun as well.

Arrived in Bulgaria

I'm in Bulgaria now - staying at a great hostel in a village outside of Varna, on the Black Sea coast. I wanted to make it to the Black Sea, but even Romanians were recommending that I bypass the coast in their country for another, so here I am. Getting here involved an overnight train that made lengthy stops at the border on each side, and then I had a long wait in a town called Russe on the border (from 1 am to 6 am). I spent it wandering around town with a Kiwi guy and we were invited by two Bulgarian fellows, one of whom spoke a little English, to play pool.

If I said that Hungary and Romania were cheap before, well Bulgaria beats them still. I had a decent, filling meal last night that cost me 3 Euro (4 bucks). I can hardly buy food from the grocery store and cook something for less than that, at least not without eating the same thing for days on end. So I'm living like a king here.

The local gas stations have specials on - get a 500ml can of Becks beer and a bag of Lays chips for something like a Euro. Quite different than Canada's Coke and chips combos.

They sell beer here in two litre plastic bottles, which I've never seen before but maybe I didn't look, practically everywhere (the above mentioned gas stations, the train stations). Around Europe, alcohol is much more available than in Canada (especially PEI where it's all government controlled), but Eastern Europe has it available more than anywhere I've been.

Toilets here lack a bowl, so are basically a hole in the ground. Those where there is a bowl you can't flush toilet paper (I guess the plumbing can't handle it) so there's a bin next to the toilet to dispose of the paper in. And you know what: here's a picture (a friend took this).

Change in mints

I'm heading off to Bulgaria hopefully today, on an overnight train from Bucharest. There may or may not be a direct train depending on who you talk to - I've met backpackers who have taken this train, but the train station people in Brasov insist that it's not possible to take it. I'll see when I get to Bucharest.

I'm going to Varna, on the Black Sea coast. I wanted to go to the Black Sea, and was planning to do so in Romania, but travellers and Romanians have been recommending to me that I go to the coast in another country than Romanian as it's nicer (less built up, better accomodation, etc.). I've gotten a recommendation on a really good hostel so I'm headed there.

I've been in Brasov 8 nights now, and honestly I could just keep staying here. The hostel I'm at is great. It feels like a home and there's great people around. I've met lots of other travellers and local young people. It's been interesting hearing the perspective of Romanian people around my age on their country and it's future and past.

I have never felt so popular as when sitting in a bar the other night with some fellow travellers and some Romanians we've met. All the locals just seem to love everyone. People who could hardly speak English sat down and tried to talk to me, and if they couldn't say much at all they'd still managed to say "I like you" at some point. People were affectionately patting me on the head as they went by. All this and many couldn't understand a word that I said (maybe that helps in liking me!).

The currency here is the leu (lei plural), and $1CAD=2.2 lei, and 1pound=4.7 lei. Now, that's not as bad as Hungary where you're getting into the hundreds of forints before you equal the dollar, but even so they don't really like to divide the lei up here, perhaps because it's not really worth so much divided up (a Coke will cost you about 2 lei). So the bani, of which there are 100 to a leu, doesn't get used much in actuality. If your total comes to 3.20 lei, shopkeepers will often just take 3 lei from you if you don't have 20 bani because they don't have the coins to make change with (or they don't want to bother, perhaps). If the total comes to 3.80 lei and you give them 4 lei, you will generally be given "change" in the form of a mint or a toffee or something like that. An odd little system - change in mints.

Brasov, Romania

I arrived in Brasov from Budapest and I'm still here. Was planning to spend about 4-5 days here but fatigue and the flu has kept me in one spot a little longer. I'm feeling better today so tomorrow I will probably head to the Black Sea coast.

If I thought that I had time-travelled in Budapest, the effect has been even greater in Romania. Brasov is a modern town but in the villages nearby people still use horses on their farms. Very small tractors (like a lawn tractor with a cab) seem to be used for the rougher work and then horse-and-cart is used for tasks like gathering up piles of weeds or transporting things. Older people wear "traditional" clothing - I spied several middle-aged women hoeing weeds in a field with their skirts hiked up over their knees.

There's a lot more old cars of the like that I saw in Hungary. Lots of Trabants, plus a Romanian make, the Dacia.

I was out to Bran Castle, the one that Bram Stoker based his Dracula castle on. It's nothing like how I would have pictured Dracula's castle, but it had a secret staircase and seats built into all the windows so I liked it for those features alone. It was filled with Romanian schoolchildren and other tourists so that was a bit annoying.

I think I have a short right leg or something. A lot of my photos are coming out slanty when I don't intend it. So here's Bran Castle on a slant.

You know you have a lot of rooms when you have a "Waiting Room For the Music Room" (hey, you can see the top of my head in that sign!)

Houses in the hills as seen from the castle.

I took a walk up some of the hills around Brasov - there's a Hollywood-like sign of the town name that I walked up to with some French girls. I fell off the trail twice, proving that I can't (yet) speak French and walk properly at the same time. My hostel was down a street to the left of the square that you may be able to see in the centre of the picture by the church steeple in the picture below.
The hostel staff here are Romanian and I've hung out with them plus their in-town friends. It's astonishing to me to see someone who can hardly speak English sing along perfectly to song-after-song of English-language pop music.

Finally, here's a close-up of a standard roof with the red-brown tiles.

Final Hungarian thoughts

I'm out of Budapest now, having taken a train to Romania. More on that in another post.

I'm not sure what it is that I like about Budapest, but I would say that I like it. It has many things that I dislike in a city. It's often dirty, there's graffiti everywhere (I'm Canadian, I expect my cities to be clean). It's poor - I've seen more people sleeping on the streets in Budapest than anywhere else - on main streets as well. So I can't explain even to myself what I like about it. It would be like trying to explain why I like chocolate or milk.

Hungarian is a very tricky language. I was told that they have "around" 46 letters, because double consonants and double-double consonants are considered letters. So I only managed to learn the barest number of words. I try to learn "hello", "goodbye", "please", "thank-you", and "sorry/excuse me" in the language of a country I visit, as I figure they're essentials. In Hungarian I learned only "please" - kerem (spelling not correct) - and "thank-you" - kozonom - and that was only after having a Hungarian teach me how to pronounce them. I figured out a few other words that were less useful from signs: sugar is "cukor", sale seems to be something like "akcio", and then there was "szex" on signs with silhouettes of women near the train station, so I'm sure you can figure out what that means.

I must say that, despite the bother they may have caused many people at the time, I'm glad the Romans spread themselves so far over Europe. Because it means that, even in difficult languages like Hungarian, there are words that I can figure out. "Muzeum" - I can figure that out. Or "politizik", or however it was spelled - I can tell that's politics. Those Latin-based words have been my friends in many languages. "Possible reservation train..." and then city name can get you pretty far in any country so long as you pronounce the words with an accent that is similar to the locals.