A Town Called Turda

20 April 2009

En-route, Budapest to Turda, Romania

One of the more unexpected and yet entertaining aspects of this sort of trip is the Frantic Petrol Station Shop. As we near borders in countries with their own currency, we generally stop off to get fuel, and out come all 22 of us desperate to spend our euro, kruner, or forints. We descend like a horde of locusts, buying up snackfood shaped like animals, chocolate eggs, bags of pretzels, and bottles of coke. Clerks look on in fear and awe. Have just done this in Hungary.

Spent yesterday in Budapest—we've been there before, so spent the day in the lap of luxury instead of touring about. Brunch at the Gelert Hotel, an Art Nouveau beauty, eating from the extremely posh buffet on the terrace, overlooking the river, in the sunshine. Spent the afternoon in the famous Gelert Thermal Baths, which we missed the first time around. They're immense, a range of several pools (hot and cold, inside and out) with Art Nouveau mosaic domes and columns. Lovely to spend hours lounging in hot water. The Romans knew about the hotsprings in Buda, the Ottomans made great use of them during their occupation, and the Hungarians have kept the tradition up.

Now on to Romania. I'm looking forward to Romania especially—whenever you read in the paper that some nutjob has done something especially bizarre, it's a good bet they were Romanian. I suspect British newspapers just make things up and say it happened in Romania, as no one goes there to check. We're checking.

Tonight is the first bush camp, no loos and no washing machines, no proper campground at all. Staying near Torda, in Transylvania. Then to Sighisoara tomorrow. We're going to be in Dracula country, apparently there are underwhelming Goth festivals in the summer, but sadly we shall miss all the angst and Doc Martens. May break out the liquid eyeliner though. You know.