Day 25--Drobeta Turnu Severen to Calafat, Romania

TAKING A WHIPPING

Saturday, July 19, 2008
Drobeta Turnu Severen to Calafat, romania
Distance: 101 km (62.6 miles)

x+--We are out of the Iron Gates now and the Majestic Transylvanian Alps tower above us far to the north. We pedal the plains of Walachia through densely settle farmlands in Romania on the north side of the Danube.

We had the hotel people bring down our luggage from the aerie we stayed in last night—the stairs were very narrow, risers uneven, and we had two flights. Our room was under the eaves. I could stand straight in about an eighth of the space.

One of the sets of stairs to our aerie

Breakfast was strong coffee and a huge plate of sliced pork and cheese as well as some sliced cukes and a tomato. No one wanted their tomato so I collected them and the cukes. I had four tomatoes and a bag of sliced cukes plus two enormous sandwiches for the ride. One sandwich was made of the breakfast pork and what appeared to be two thick slices of bacon; the other of sheep cheese and yellow cheese. I filled my water bottles from the bottled water they gave us with meals. We were advised not to drink the water from the wells along the way. I arrived in Calafat with no water left, and by that time I had also eaten all the tomatoes and cukes. I did not eat the “bacon” or sheep’s cheese and ate only one slice of the very large, thick bread.

Shepherd and his sheep and a very interesting cemetery with roofed crosses at each stone

Flowers in a field and a view toward the Transylvanian Alps

We had two climbs today—one long and arduous with construction every kilometer or so and waiting in lines of cars and trucks. When we finally got to the top, we found that they had removed the surface from the road down the other side. It was completely sandy gravel, so we had no zoom off the mountain to cool us—thoughts of which had helped me climb the mountain.

I left the Rear Guard on this downhill because they seem to take the descents slower than the climbs. In this case, they were too slow and cautious, often getting off their bikes to negotiate the dirt & gravel downhill. By that time, I rode down it recklessly fast to catch a breeze.

When I got past the construction and reached the valley, I was pushed along by a terrific tailwind. I was sometimes riding at 38 to 48kmph (24 to 30 mph) with little effort. I soared the rest of the way to the Amfiteatru Hotel in Calafat . . . with the exception of the final 16 km (10 miles), which were into the headwind that had been our strong tailwind for so long. There was not a drop of shade with the exception of the trees along our first climb, so I booked it for the hotel.

There is a story behind this photo of a freshly blacktopped hill: We'd heard that one could get mugged or robbed in rural Romania. When I was very slowly and hotly climbing this long hill, I looked up to see a car stopping in the opposite lane about fifty feet ahead. Three men got out of it. I became fearful. My adrenalin kicked in and I pedaled up the hill faster than I have ever pedaled uphill in my life. I now think that the men didn't see me and had merely stopped to relieve themselves, a common practice in the countryside.

I got in at 2 pm. Judy got in at 4:30 pm. I showered and washed out clothes, and then strung a clothesline across the room and dried them that way This hotel has a pool and AC, in fact all the hotels in Serbia and now in Romania have AC, some type of unit high up on the wall that one works with a remote—very quiet and refreshing compared to the American window monsters.

Sitting on the bed with my cyclist's tan tapping out this journal whilst our clothes dry on our makeshift clothesline

There were many peasant and gypsy carts and horses along the route today. I still have taken no photos of one as I do not want to embarrass their drivers . . . and myself. Most waved a cheery hello (Bună ziua — sounds like boonə see ya) as I sped past, and the kids ran out to count coup or to high-five me. I’ve seen no gypsy wagons yet. Just countless utilitarian but rickety carts.

When Judy got in, she told another story, however. She and Carolyn were riding together well behind Harold who had biked ahead. As they passed a peasant cart, the driver lashed out with his whip, which caught Carolyn on the upper arm, the coiled copper end of it wrapping around her arm. Then he lashed out at Judy, but his whip got caught in her bicycle wheel. Fortunately it did not throw her. According to Judy, he and the woman in the cart with him were screaming at them. When Judy could not get the whip out of her derailleur and back wheel, the driver asked for money, holding up 5 fingers. A couple from a nearby house rescued the women and managed to get the whip out of Judy’s wheel. When the two started out again, the rogue in the cart tried to race after them, whipping his horse to a fury, but his meat horse was no match for their metal horses and the two got away. Carolyn has a painful welt around her upper arm. It began to turn black-and-blue almost instantly.

Tiny roadside gas station

Judy's photos of Harold and Carolyn--harold's hauling up a pail of water and the two are taking what has become their  "banana  stop"--Carolyn's holding up her banana

Speaking of peasant carts, I spent the day slaloming through horse apples, managing to get not one bit of horse hockey on my bike. I think I am a expert now.

Unlike in Serbia where the cars and trucks try to see how close they can come, the trucks and cars in Romania seem to be very polite to cyclists, swinging out and giving us plenty of room. This probably because they are used—in this area at least—to coming upon slow moving carts, horses, donkeys, livestock, bicyclists, and pedestrians. They drive fast but do not appear to drive as recklessly fast. But they do pass each other as they are passing a peasant cart, for instance, so I can look up to find three vehicles bearing down on me on a narrow two-lane road with no shoulder.

Our hotel tonight -- the Amfiteatru Hotel in Calafat--is lavish by Romanian standards, built by a football (soccer) celebrity, I understand.

Internet photo of our hotel that was built by a football celebrity

The hotel balconies poolside

View of hotel pool from our balcony

The view from ourmodern hotel--a study of contrasts

Dinner tonight started with bread & baba ganoush (eggplant hummus). It was delicious! Alex told me how his mother makes it: First you bake the eggplant then remove the skin and let it sit for 45 minutes or so to drain the juices. Then you. bake it again and then put it in a blender and blend it with a little olive oil, garlic, s & p. This is not the exact recipe so I must look it up in a cookbook or on the Web when I get a chance. Our next course was cucumber and tomatoes in vinegar and oil then the main course was chicken (tough and fried) and little balls of potatoes (hard and fried); dessert was a hot cheese cruller with raspberry jam and cream on it. Quite tasty.

The dinner table and our platter of baba ganoush

Our next few days are going to be very long and hot so to bed to bed—but not to sleep I tossed and turned for hours in the airless room.