Jones

We left the camp site quite early as it was a big driving day. It might also be a big camping week so first to a local supermarket: Tesco. Tesco is about as inspiring in Hungary as it is in the UK. Despite that we managed to stock up on booze, a local sausage and bread.

Then a couple of hours drive to the Romanian border. Lots of people (and the lack of a V5C) had made us fairly trepidatious about this crossing but it was very easy. There wasn’t even any culture shock compared to Austria – Hungary. Romania is also immediately easier to deal with – Romanian is a Romance language so you can guess a lot of the words and at least pronounce the ones you can’t guess. We are also back in the world of sane motorway tolls so we can travel on the grown-up roads.  Still, no motorways this far north as we drove within a stones throw of the Ukrainian border. 

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Our only real stop was Sapinta to see its Merry Cemetery. The Merry Cemetery is a function of the local Dacian culture which holds that as the soul is immortal, death is a moment filled with joy and anticipation for a better life. I suppose the implication is that this here now – you reading my words –  is purgatory and the next bit is better. Anyway, their graves are little cartoons and happy stories or even jokes.

Google translates this as

> UNDER THIS HEAVY CROSS LYES MY POOR MOTHER-IN-LAW THREE DAYS AWAY WE LAY HER DESIRE YOU WHO PASS BY HERE TRY TO DECIDE THAT HOME IF SHE CAME AND LOOKED AT ME WITH YOUR MOUTH YES SO I WOULD BEAR IT. THOSE WHO READ HERE DON’T SUFFER FROM YOUR BELOVED MOTHER-IN-LAW FIND A HOUSE TO LIVE IN

This was particularly apposite because on the way up here we’d been listening to a podcast about British humour and the fact that the mother-in-law joke was uniquely British but dead. 

The graveyard was quite something but the church was no slouch either. 

A very exciting final judgement 

…and a good array of saints

Not quite so noteworthy but a big difference to Hungary is that Romania is definitely a tourist destination. The streets to the cemetery were stuffed with tat vendors.

Our stop for the night was Camping Păstrăvul a small field at the end of a narrow road. On the way up we got stuck behind a horse and cart. Everyone who’s been to Romania talks about this but I’d dismissed it. We’ve seen five horse drawn carts since then. As I try to decide if I’ll replace my three year old Apple Watch in a few days time, It’s sobering to see such an old technology remaining useful and well used.

In the field we got talking to a solo Belgian, some Czech bikers and a Swiss couple in a 4×4. We’d seen two of these groups on the road over here. I get the feeling that Northern Romania is like the NC500 and we’ll be meeting the same people over the next few weeks. 

Across the road from Restaurant Păstrăvul which serves its own trout in three ways: fried in polenta, fried near polenta and fried with polenta a small distance away. I had “in” jane had “a small distance away”. They were both great. The waiter spoke excellent English and it turned out he’d been an electrician in Romford before Brexit.