A Clear View of Romania
We have a clear view of Romania, no unsightly wiper blade streaks. And every stop sign here has the potential to make our next views even clearer. We were accosted this afternoon by two windshield washing gangs, one right after the other. The act goes like this: two boys run to the car, pull a wiper blade away from the window; they squirt; they squeegee; it's too late to protest. Then a tap on the window and a plea for money, all within seconds. I stopped an attempted third attack by switching my wipers on high when I saw the boys dash forward. They watched the blades wave but they couldn't catch them.
Later in the day we understood the need for the constant washing - to remove the constant finger-printing. We stopped in two town centers (to exchange money, buy bread) and instantly beggars were everywhere, pawing and tapping on the glass. At one point John moved the van while I was buying bananas to get away from a band of beggar boys. I in turn was running to where the van was to escape a beggar woman carrying her baby. She had followed me for two blocks with her hand outstretched. When the van wasn't there I stopped and she caught up to me. She pointed to the corner. Sure enough there was the van. I'm sure she expected payment for helping me find it; but even without her help I couldn't have missed the only white high-top VW in a town of old Romanian Dachas. John rounded the corner, popped the passenger button and without missing a beat I opened the door and hopped in. Where was the film crews? It would have made a great getaway scene.
The rest of our day, despite being seen through clean glass, was rather grey. And not just in the clouds above, or the pavement, or the belching trucks, or the cement poles holding up endless high-tension lines. Buildings everywhere are dilapidated; towns are run-down; heavy industry destroys landscape and spews black smoke into the air, broken-down cars dot the roads (even a police car at a gas station stopped and couldn't start again). Not even the two crumbling castles we spotted on hills warranted more than a "Oh look!". We watched them flip like a filmstrip through electric lines. The only color we saw today was from the hand embroidery for sale hanging from lines on the road sides and from the women selling them. From 9 am to 3 pm we drove 250 kilometers (30-40 km speed limits and disintegrating roads prohibited faster travel) and what we saw confirmed for us that this was indeed a poor country; the poorest we have been to so far.
Tomorrow we will be in Transylvania; the Lonely Planet assures we will be in places not to be missed. I look forward to having lunch at Count Dracula's house, visiting the Bran Castle and hiking in the Bucegi Mountains. Hopefully not all of Romania is as tired and worn-out as the places we have seen today.
