Marcus L Endicott

Original Map Circa 1990 Bucuresti to Arad

Thursday, July 5, 1990

I was up with the sun, and had a big breakfast of bread, cheese, hot green peppers, fruit, and a vitamin. I packed-up amidst a horde of impish orphans, who clamored over my gear, for a chance to hop on my bike. They had to be dragged off like puppies. Thunder and rain came from the North across the Danube, from Romania, but finished by the time I left.

The road was wet. I wore my gaiters, for the first time, which kept my socks relatively dry, since I chose to reduce weight by not having fenders. I silently thanked my friend Roch Smith for the deal he gave me on them. I saw the Romanian town of Giurgiu, much smaller than Russe, and factory belching "smoke."

I rode about 10km through Russe, from the hostel to the border bridge. I stopped at the Corcom dollar shop to buy Swiss chocolate for a few dollars. I cruised on through the Bulgarian border without problem. Leaving Romania, there was a huge line of cars and trucks, the biggest line I've ever seen at any border, well over 4km. I was a big hit with those waiting, as I crossed the bridge in a completely empty lane, while theirs was packed. I got someone to snap my photo, crossing the line in the middle of the bridge. Immediately, the rag-tag Romanian guards got after me for "security" reasons. I rode into Romanian customs past scores of trucks, many of them Soviet (SU), others were Bulgarian and Turkish, with a Brit or two. I had no problem at the Romanian border. It took just a few minutes. They briefly poked in one bag, and asked if I had any guns... "just for sport."

It was a flat, windy ride all the way into Bucharest. I stopped for a chocolate break along the way. The Latin flavor of Romania was sorely welcome after alien Bulgaria... the Pepsi signs even perked me up. The transition from the countryside through the outskirts to the city center of Bucharest was trying; but, after asking directions at the towering Inter-Continental Hotel, I arrived at the central tourist office, where I got a big surprise, a "private room" for $10. It was near the U.S. Embassy, in the decent apartment of a helpful widow, just around the corner from the "Embassy of the State of Palestine."

After I rested awhile, my hostess insisted that my bike be washed before being brought inside the apartment, which one neighbor translated into French and another into English. Later, I went to the nearby Inter-Continental to look for a restaurant, but it was open to guests. I walked around in circles for at least an hour, trying to follow bad directions to another place. I finally ended up going to the Lido, which had an "AARP Travel Service" bus parked out front. I had to buy a ticket to get into the restaurant, which I later realized must have been a cover charge for the terribly loud, schmoozy band. But, I got over it, when two young American women were sat at my table. One was from somewhere in Montana and the other was from Los Angeles. The one from Montana had been studying at the university in Bucharest for nine months, and the one from L.A. came to visit her. We had a great conversation, over a dinner of fish, the waiter called "crap," salad, and desert of both chocolate cake and pineapple "compote," actually just canned pineapple, with lemon flavored tonic waters to drink, which took hours, all through ear shattering "music." I went back to my room before dark, where I listened to the BBC, and wrote in my journal. I had a fitful sleep, full of mosquitoes.

Friday, July 6, 1990

I slept late, after minimal night. I had a chocolate bar for breakfast with a vitamin. I went to the Hungarian consulate to try to get a visa, but it was mobbed by Romanians. I saw one older Romanian-speaking American blow his cool at some guy breaking in line, then watched as those around him convinced him to do the same. I left to register at the U.S. consulate.

The marine guard was not in uniform, but had a shot-gun at the ready. I had a long wait as my passport was processed. I got good service for the first time ever. The fellow called the Hungarian consul for me and confirmed that I could get a visa at the border. Also, he gave me a photocopy of an out of date ('87) run-down of tips for Romania. There were many Americans there trying to adopt kids! It was interesting to overhear their experiences; Americans were still "innocents abroad" getting soaked for their altruism.

I left there to find the "diplomatic shop," behind the tourist office. Luckily, I bought some sweets on the way, because I was unimpressed with the selection there. So, I decided to go to the Hotel Central, recommended by Lonely Planet, for lunch. I found the cafeteria gutted and abandoned, but food was for sale at stalls outside. I got what I thought was chicken, but turned out to be cold beef. Later, I found some ice-cream on sticks.

I called MER. They said to come by on Monday morning; as, they were having some heavy problem with their new ecological university now. I went to the central telephone exchange to phone Grandma in Atlanta collect. I waited in line about 20 minutes to book the call, and then only about 10 more until it was placed. She sounded okay, but was disappointed that I had missed Granddad's military internment. From there, I went to the tourist office to ask about postcards, which seemingly only they offered... at 10 cents each, hard currency.

I went back to my room for a nap. I woke up in time for dinner. I found the Hotel "Continental" much better that the Lido, at least in service, but the cost was about the same. I ate chicken "albufuera" and Bulgarian salad, with "Inter-continental" ice-cream for dessert, in a "luxurious" garden setting... surrounded by the hulks of gutted buildings. It was bucolic, though ironic.

After returning to my room, I called the Servas hosts. The son of one of them, Razvan, invited me out the next day. I wrote in my journal, and listened to the BBC. I shut the doors and windows. I woke up twice in the night to shit... with the runs, but no nausea or cramping, thank God. Otherwise, I slept relatively well.

Saturday, July 7, 1990

I slept late, due to being up shitting. I had half a chocolate bar and chamomile tea for breakfast, without a vitamin. I paid my landlady for another night, before calling Razvan for directions.

I took the subway to "Industrilar" and proceeded to get lost. I wanted to take a tram to Romancierilar, near the PTT(R) school. A young German-speaking conductor insisted on coming with me to help find where I was going. He got lost too. Finally, we met Razvan on the street near his apartment looking for me.

Razvan served me Pepsi, which seemed to taste like it does at home, and introduced me to one of his many girlfriends. The three of us went to the "country club" to sunbathe. Later, we went back to his place for dinner of pork chops and potatoes. Afterwards, I went back into town the way I came. I saw many fishermen returning home. I hunted for some dessert on the way back to my room, and bought some pound cake on the street. I had mint tea with my landlady, listened to the BBC, and wrote in my journal before going to bed.

Sunday, July 8

I awoke and packed. I had tea with my landlady, and ate some Yugoslav caramels. I biked over to Razvan's without problem, and got situated there. Then me, Razvan, and another of his girlfriends, Mihaila, took intensely crowded trams to the "black" market, which had just been moved to an enclosed location in order to clear the streets and allow controlled selling of tickets. It was a normal enough flea market, but incredibly crowded! There were lots of gypsies and pickpockets, and even a guy selling Western clothing labels!

From there, we went to the food market and bought tomatoes, potatoes, and plums. Back at Razvan's, we had a good lunch. We took restful afternoon naps. In the evening, we went for a bike ride. My bike squeaked massively the whole time. We stopped by MER headquarters to see if his brother, Silviu, was in, but he wasn't. So, we went around the corner to visit his sister. We were served wine and cake, and had a good conversation with her and husband, both electrical engineers. We also enjoyed their new baby. We returned via Ceaucescu's palace. Razvan said it was the second biggest building in the world, next to the Pentagon.

We arrived back in time to watch the World Cup soccer final on TV. Germany won! Mihaila fixed a good dinner. Afterwards, I worked on my computer and wrote in my journal. I slept on the sofa and was bitten by mosquitoes all night!

Monday, July 9, 1990

I was up early, ready to go to the Hungarian consulate. I ate breakfast with Razvan. We had bread, butter, honey, and milk. I took the metro to the consulate. There were already many people there when I arrived. I waited 90 minutes then tried to leave, but the door was locked.

I made it to MER by 10:00. I met Ion V. and Silviu P., but there was some confusion. For some reason they thought I was Jeff Smith. I spent the morning reviewing Duncan Fisher's Ecological Studies Institute report information with Silviu, in between his other responsibilities. We made arrangement to meet again in the evening.

I went to the Inter-Continental dollar shop to look for juice without success, and bought postcards, peanuts, and a Snickers bar instead. I then went looking for "cakes," and finally found some on the street. I went back to Razvan's for a late lunch of cheese and tomato sandwich. Afterwards, we went to cruise stores looking for laundry soap powder, which he had been doing for two days. We finally found some.

I went back into the city to meet Razvan's brother, Silviu, again. I had long waits for both the tram and metro, and so was late. I typed a file and patched into the phone line. I used the CCITT standard setting. Silviu placed a call and was connected in a reasonable amount of time. I lost the first connection by hanging up the phone. We were able to make a second connection without problem. I uploaded the file. There was no email waiting to download. It was exciting. Silviu and I discussed the hemp proposal and Rainbow into the night. Silviu took me back to Razvan's by taxi.

I had a good dinner of soup with Razvan and Mihaila. I wrote in my journal, before setting up my tent on the living room floor by suspending it from the ceiling light. It worked well to keep the many mosquitoes off.

>Topic 24 Romainian Ecologists Online
>gn:mendicott reg.eeurope 5:55 pm Jul 9, 1990
>
>Ecological Movement of Romania
>(Miscarea Ecologista Din Romania - MER)
>Strada Olga Bancic 11
>Bucuresti 2
>tel: (40-0) 11-29-43
> 11-37-15
>fax: (40-0) 10-48-58
>[president: Toma George Maiorescu]
>[vice-presidents (6x):
> Marcian Bleahu, culture
> Silviu Palalau, administration
> Dolphi Drimer, chancelor Free University of Ecology
> Sorin Racovitean (suspended), sport and tourism
> Alexandru Rosu, science
> Cristian Croitoru, youth]
>[George Scarlatescu, secretary of the executive committee;
> Ion Vladutiu, international relations;
> Ivan Truter, administrative director;
> Oana Crisan-Zara, member]
>[100,0L\ members (inclu$iug full members and associate members)]
>[federation of circa 134 local groups, including Bucharest (associate group),
> Giurgiu, Timisoara, Suceava, Brasov, Resita]
>[first national conference, April 6-7]
>[29 commissions:
> agriculture, water, natural monuments and species, ecological map of Romania,
> natural resources, non-polluting technologies, chemical pollution, noise
> pollution, architecture and habitations, ecosanogenetics and bio-ethics
> (sic), nuclear power and radioactivity, Danube Delta, culture a{nd ethnology,
> education and mass media, information and data, legislation, yoga, ecology of
> industrial products, politics and economics of environmental protection,
> protection of buildings, protection of artistic and historical monuments, new
> forms of energy, health and nature, trade, sports and tourism, animals, labor
> conditions, food and health, public health]
>["language pollution" ?]
>[publications:
> 11 different local newspapers (5 weekly & 6 bimonthly/irregular)
> "ECO" is the principal organ with a circulation of 150,000
> ENVIRNOMENTAL REPORT, vol.1 nr.1, published 1/1990]
>[programs:
> - campaigning for the conversion of Ceausescu's largest palace into a World
> Institute of Ecology
> - setting up a Free University of Ecology (private) with four primary
> faculties: Medicine, Engineering, Law, and Science of Nature (plus
> Ecological Agriculture & Sports by examination only)
> - construction of an ecological map of Romania with the help of local groups,
> listing all "hot-spots" and proposed solutions
> - focusing on the ecology of the Black Sea coast where there is considerable
> industrial development and tourism
> - transboundary national park with Yugoslavia (MER Mehedinti)
> - planning ecological information resource center
> - proposing organic produce standards and certification]
>[successes:
> - closed two highly polluting chemical industries at Copsa Mica (since
> reopened) and at Suceava
> - postponed construction on the Danube Delta
> - limited Italian toxic dumping at Braila]
>[problems:
> - main problem with the Danube Delta is eutorphication caused outside the
> Delta, further up the Danube (IUCN & WWF)]
>[member federation of Balkan Green Parties]
>[1 Senator & 12 representatives in Deputy Chamber (including president of
> parliamentary comission on Ecology), created parliamentary fraction with the
> Ecological Party of Romania (PER) and Social Democrats - supported by
> Romanian Democratic Agrarian Party]
>[formed EcoTeh consulting group for business purposes, contact at above]
>[needs:
> - offset press for newspaper
> - pollution monitoring equipment
> - video equipment (European standard) for creating educational spots for TV]

Tuesday, July 10, 1990

I slept late. I had breakfast with Razvan, before he went to his work as a Dacia mechanic. I stayed to shower, wash clothes, and work on my computer. I worked all morning, until Razvan returned for lunch. I had a second Maxell MF2-HD diskette from the same pack go bad on me. I called the Romanian Cycling Federation, and made an appointment for 09:00 the next day. I also made an appointment to visit PER, the Ecological Party of Romania, at 16:00. Razvan played chess on the computer until a power spike wiped out his game... and my hardram! We had lunch of soup. He played another game of chess with the computer... and the same thing happened again.

I left for my meeting with PER, a long trip on tram and metro. I found the office, which was not very green in appearance, nor were the they. I talked with the vice-president and others for a good while, mostly about the U.S. Green Committees of Correspondence (GCoCs), the recent Strasbourg conference, and tourism, until another American showed up, VPI Economics Professor Nicholas Tideman from Blacksburg... a vegetarian. Afterwards, I went with them to meet with the MER president, the famous writer Toma George Maiorescu, who spoke only French, and Silviu, who translated. Nick presented an interesting exposition of his economic theory (see paper). I stayed late to talk with Silviu and Dino, a reporter from the 3RD MILLENNIUM newspaper.

Silviu took me back to Razvan's by cab again. I had a good dinner with Razvan and Mihaila. She admired my hand-woven friendship bracelet; so, I gave her one too. I took some snapshots of Razvan clowning with plastic ices cubes. I listened to the BBC, and wrote in my journal. I slept in my improvised mosquito net tent, which worked well.

Wednesday, July 11, 1990

I got up early, and left without any breakfast, other than a vitamin. It took about 90 minutes to get into the city center by tram and metro. I arrived at the Hungarian Embassy to find it closed, and was rebuffed by a representative. I bought cake and pastry at the Inter-Continental bakery, then went to the tourist office to get directions to the Ministry of Sport.

The Romanian Cycling Federation was no help at all. They complained that I failed to inform them by telex of the exact time of my arrival, and that the entire "federation" was out of the country competing. I was told that I could await their return on Monday. I realized that the Romanian Cycling Federation was a Communist sham consisting of nothing more than the national bicycle team, who were probably now riding the Tour de France.

I bought 2 more cakes, and went on foot to find the "Hanul Manuc" traditional Romanian inn for lunch, but got lost. When I finally got there, it was closed, apparently on strike; however, I was assured it would be open the next day. I found a cafeteria around the corner from the Dorobanti Hotel, near Piata Romana.

I met Dino, the reporter from the 3RD MILLENNIUM newspaper, at 13:00. We went to the nearby apartment of one of his friends, who lived with his parents, and listened to Pink Floyd and Deep Purple. Dino said he wanted to interview me, but really just wanted to pump me for information. He friend gave me a copy of Eminescu's poems in English. Later, we visited to the editorial office of his paper. It was located in a deserted Communist villa, with a swimming pool in the backyard. After the so-called revolution, the villa had been allotted to the Progressive Democratic Party, which he called "the farmer's party." I met some of his colleagues, who spoke even less English than he did.

I took the metro back to Razvan's, and met the young German- speaking tram driver again. Razvan, one of his friends, and I stuffed ourselves with cakes while watching Gielgud and Burton on TV in the movie Thomas Beckett, which was in English. That night, I dreamt that the U.S. government was going to imprison me for tax evasion in response to pressing them on civil rights issues, as in the film.

Thursday, July 12, 1990

I had cake and homemade cottage cheese, for the first time, with Razvan for breakfast. I showered, washed clothes, and worked on my computer all morning. Another one of my diskettes failed, the third one from the same lot and the second one on this trip.

Razvan and I went to look for a restaurant for lunch. Despite what they had told me the day before, we found the Hanul Manuc still closed. Instead, we cruised numerous electronics shops, but finally found a decent pizza.

Afterwards, we went to MER to meet Silviu, who gave me MER contacts along my route across Romania. Earlier, he had given me a letter of introduction. I also met there an interesting old fellow, another American, from the War Resisters League.

On the way back, we stopped by to visit some of Razvan's friends. I gave them the Austrian Rainbow flyer. I listened to the BBC. Mihaila made a great three course dinner of soup, vegetables, and a sort of white lasagna. Afterwards, I helped her and Razvan roll up red string into a ball for weaving, a common native handicraft. I wrote in my journal and crashed.

Friday, July 13, 1990

I didn't know it was Friday the 13th until I wrote this entry.

I had cake, cheese, and milk for breakfast with Razvan. I went into the city by tram and metro to meet Dino, the 3RD MILLENNIUM reporter. On the way, I stopped by the Inter-Continental bakery and scored two fresh sweet breads, something like coffee cakes, and the Comturist shop in the Dorobanti Hotel for 8 Snickers bars, made in Europe, for $4, at 50 cents each, for the road.

I met Dino, who was late again, thinking we were going straight to the League of Students, but he was acting strangely. First, we met with a medical student friend of his, which was a waste of time, then went to his apartment, before getting pizza. We finally went to the Justice School and met with the vice-president of the League of Students, who spoke to us about the history of their movement and imprisoned leader Marian Munteanu. I gave them the Austrian Rainbow flyer.

Dino and I went back to the pizzeria for ice cream, then to the national tourist office to get addresses of local tourist offices along my route. They were completely useless, having neither an addresses list of local offices nor any information on camping. They had no maps and didn't even know the right way out of town. I tried to enter the Ministry of Tourism next door, but was physically chased out by a woman with knitting needles. That idiot reporter insisted on asking at a new Israeli joint-venture travel agency, which yielded nothing.

Dino also insisted we meet his girlfriend, formerly his best friend's girlfriend, for ice cream. Actually, she was quite interesting, but made us late for the start of the demonstration. I began to feel like this guy was trying to distract me. He was also very pushy about his National Liberal Party and rabid anticommunism. I finally ditched him, and walked around the entire march, about 3,500 strong. I saw no evidence of ecologists there. I was at the Justice Ministry when the marchers presented their demand for Munteanu's release, then followed the march on a tour of sites of the revolution to Piata Victoreii. The march ended there at a paramilitary police cordon, with more than 10,000 people wearing white to symbolize nonviolence.

I returned to Razvan's by metro and tram. I ate a snack of cake and cheese, listened to the BBC, and wrote in my journal, before falling asleep. Razvan and Mihaila came in later. We chatted while they ate. Razvan asked me for money again. I was sorry that I didn't change it with him.

Saturday, July 14 ,1990

I woke up early, and packed. I had milk, cake, and cheese for breakfast with Razvan and Mihaila. Before I left, Razvan virtually demanded money, then stammered that it was not enough; even though, it was the amount he originally said he needed "to go to Austria." He said he could not draw me a map of out of town; because, he didn't know the way. I decided to go to the city center and ask at the tourist office.

At the tourist office, they were quite sure of the direction, which took me right back by Razvan's... to the autobahn. From there, I had to go way around on terrible roads through small villages, before getting to where I wanted to be. My two water bottles full of Gatorade were welcome. I stopped in a beautiful wood near the community swimming hole for lunch, of a Snickers bar. There were many gypsy wagons on the road.

I stopped at a garage to get my crank bolt tightened. They had no sockets, so modified an open-end wrench on a grinder to fit, then gave it to me! They wouldn't take any money. At the end of the same village, I was accosted by some youths who blocked the road, grabbed at my things, and threw stones. I resorted to roaring at them like a lion, which caused them to pause long enough for me to get a head start.

This was my longest day yet, at 130 kilometers, the last third of which was extremely agonizing. I pulled into Pitesti just before sundown. Some kids came out on bikes and escorted me to a good hotel. It cost 875 Lei, but I used an old exchange receipt. A porter helped me carry my loaded bike up the stairs to a nice room. After a hot shower, I ate cheese and cake in the room, listened to the BBC, wrote in my journal, and slept well.

Sunday, July 15, 1990

I showered, packed, and had breakfast at the hotel of bread, cheese, jam, butter, tomatoes, and tea. My left knee was very sore most of the morning, but was gone by noon. I tried my spirulina for the first time, and put too much in a water bottle with Gatorade. It tasted like grass, but made me sing for the first time this trip!

I lunched at a roadside table, careful not to expose the plastic packaging of my Snickers bar, duty free peanuts, and Yugoslavian hard candy. Later, the proprietor of a roadside snack bar gave me a free bottle of real juice, the best I've had in Romania; he wanted to look at my bike. I passed a group of 30 Dutch cyclists with a sag wagon, traveling from Amsterdam to Istanbul in about a month's time.

I arrived in Rimnicu Vilcea in the middle of the afternoon, and checked into Hotel Altus after various bizarre money matters. I paid $30 for an awful room. Shortly after, two guys knocked on my door and asked to change money. When I told them I couldn't buy anything with it, they suggested antique art objects. I replied, "What do I want with antique art objects on a bicycle!"

I ate cheese and cake for dinner in my room, took a bath, and listened to the BBC, before going to sleep early. I awoke with bedbug bites at midnight. As soon as I turned on the light, the same fellows started knocking on my door. I didn't answer, but they didn't stop. I called the desk. The knocking finally quit, but I slept terribly.

Monday, July 16, 1990

I was up at dawn, and breakfasted on cheese and cake. I was very happy in the morning. I passed a restored village open air museum. I also passed a good, crowded campground at Calimanesti, a resort town with a beautiful old grand hotel and nearby working monastery. Calimanesti is at the mouth of the beautiful, ancient passage through the mountains, some of which is along an aqueduct or raised roadway in the lake, created by a dam. But, all the way the water looks dark brown, or ferrous... like its not alive. Kilometers 214-235 of this mountain passage are closed to South -> North traffic Tuesday through Thursday 12:00-18:00.

I found myself out running gypsies and bands of children periodically throughout the day. The gypsies were trying to sell me things I didn't need, forcefully. The children were demanding chocolate, candy, and gum.

I lunched at one of many roadside rest stops with picnic tables. This one was shaded by cherry trees, which had recently been butchered, presumably by gypsies for their characteristic woodwork of spoons, etc. Before leaving there, I watched a man and his son brutalize a bony pony, trying to make it pull a wagon overloaded with hay... and a fat wife riding on top. Later, I passed a roadhouse surrounded with gypsies lunching and dealing. Afterwards, two swift wagons with healthy ponies and clean, magnificent men with long hair and traditional dress overtook me. I was careful to stop around other people, in this case a crew of road workers, until they passed. I took water from a "curative" spring, with no subsequent problems! I stopped every 5km to drink, and every 10km for rest. The highway markers became my friends.

After 93 klicks, I rolled into Sibiu around dinner time, and went straight to the Imparatul Romanilor, a "Hotel Lux" in the restored old town, recommended by Lonely Planet. It cost $48.75 for a nice room. I had dinner in the hotel restaurant of chicken, rice, peas, macaroni, and two orders of ice cream for the equivalent of a black dollar. After dinner, I met a young Daily Telegraph correspondent from London, brandishing a Tandy 200 laptop computer. We talked briefly about mountain bikes. He had been to Pakistan with one last year. He was now covering the trial of Nicu Ceaucescu, son of the late dictator.

I watched German TV, before writing in my journal, and listening to the BBC. I was frustrated as my only pen had gone bad. I dreamt my passport disintegrated.

Tuesday, July 17, 1990

I was up shortly after dawn, and packed. I breakfasted at 07:00 in the hotel restaurant on hot chocolate, cheese omelet, bread and jam. Afterwards, I loaded my bike and checked out. There were lots of Americans in the hotel.

The road was not too bad, little up and down, all the way to Sebes. The villages were all neat and clean, very Germanic, not Balkan squalor like below the mountains. My mirror finally broke, after being damaged in the accident in Bulgaria; but, I fixed it. I ate a Snickers bar, peanuts, and hard candy for lunch, just before Sebes. I arrived in Sebes about 13:00, was not impressed, and decided to push on to Deva.

I got very thirsty, for about 15km, but finally found water running into a cattle trough, and had no subsequent problems! I bucked massive head winds, which could almost bring me to a stop coasting down hill. I arrived in Deva about 18:30, after 112 km. It is one of the towns destroyed by Ceaucescu and replaced with massive blocks of high-rise apartments. I checked into Hotel Deva, which was a huge place saving electricity by keeping lights off. The second floor "Mezzanine" looked like it was being used as a brothel. I was told a room cost $41, but was charged $42 the next day.

After showering, I was required to eat a terrible "schnitzel" in my room. In typical bogus Communist-Mafia style, the half empty hotel restaurant was "reservata," with big, ugly bouncers controlling the door, and lots of hungry people waiting outside. Dead tired, I wrote in my journal, and listened to the BBC. Luckily, I had found a pen refill in the road, and doctored it up to work in my pen.

Wednesday, July 18, 1990

I got up with the sun, and packed. I had an omelet with tomatoes, and tea for breakfast. I had to pay a dollar more for my room, because the "rate changed overnight." I bought 3 liters of grapefruit drink at the "free" shop for dollars. A local "journalist" was still pestering for an invitation to America. The night before, he tried to offer me $200 dollars for it.

I set out under gray overcast, gazing at misty and humid Deva castle as I rode by. Towns in the Mures river valley were decidedly Germanic. The climate was also cooler and wetter. It was easy to see why Germans and Hungarians coveted the beautiful forests of Transylvania, because it was just like home. Juice with spirulina, Hawaiian algae, kept me going all morning, almost without break. I ate a Snickers bar for lunch, under a beautiful tree.

There was no campground, "Popas Turistic," near Savirsin [sp?] as marked on my Hungarian map (Cartographia, Budapest, 1:1,000,000, 1989.) So, I stopped in a wood ready to guerilla camp, but instead decided to down a dinnertime candy bar, drink more juice, and push on. But wonder of wonders, just as I emerged from the wood and looked up, right in front of me was a Cadillac with a New York plate... and two cute teenage girls getting out! I piped up, "Hey does that car float on water?" Then the ugly, heavily accented mother and fat father come out with a sharp "NO!" Whereupon they turned and ignored me. I figured they were probably tired of hearing that one, and mounted up and rode off into the sunset. The two girls were still standing there, with open mouths. It was the second U.S. car I saw in Romania. The first was a VW bus in Bucharest with California plates. Later, I was to see both a New York Mercedes and Kansas Mercedes in Arad.

I was straining to make a hundred klicks before trying to camp, and had to remind myself to be careful and remain alert. It was too much like work. But after Batula, I turned a corner to find a truckstop campground, and arranged a bungalow. I dined on Inter- Continental coffee cake, listened to the BBC, and wrote in my journal. I rigged the body of my tent as an effective mosquito net, tied my bike to the door, and locked my food in the dresser away from mice. I slept well, but dreamt of an infinitely detailed, impossibly hightech stainless steel needle and syringe... and trying to hide it from Grandma.

Thursday, July 19, 1990

I woke up at dawn, after a good sleep, and buried my shit in the woods. I breakfasted on both the last of the coffee cake and Gatorade, packed, loaded, and left. I passed through more beautiful areas, including some wine country, and lunched on Snickers.

I arrived in Arad early in the afternoon, after riding 75 klicks, and checked into the Hotel Astoria, at $50. After showering, I tried to contact the local MER, without luck. I saw a dude freak and bust the post office plate glass windows with his head, but left my camera in the hotel. I bought some Mars bars for a snack, at the hotel dollar shop. I used my last Lei on a good chicken dinner at the Parc Hotel. Canned pineapple never tasted so good. I wrote postcards until late, listened to the BBC, and wrote in my journal.

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