The title refers to this
Months after stepping out of Hungary, I eventually decided to leave the country for three days. The original plan was to hitchike until Oradea (or Nagyvárad in hungarian), Romania, spend a day there and catch a train back to Eger on Wednesday. As some of you may know, one of my fav quote is as follows:
The good traveller has no plans nor intention on arriving
Well, this time I had no intention not to arrive as it was planned. Guess what, nothing went according to my ideas.
The whole thing started a bit slow, getting rides in the hungarian plain Alföld (more precisely-Hortobágy) takes time. Not to mention the burning mid-July sun... with a stupid color invertion, here is how we looked like during these hours (Nalan-Egle-Me):
After 6 hours we reached Debrecen, east to Eger (normally it should be around 1,5 hrs on highway) on road 33 (secondary). Not much time left until sunset, so catching a ride towards the border and also a bus brought us just 10 kms short on reaching Romania. Monday's last car finally took us to Oradea, just before 20.00 (ROM time).
In order to keep attention, important sidenote: what do you get if you mix a turkish passport, an EU visa plus entering Romania, a non-Schengen country? Answer: going back to Hungary is only possible by visiting another country.
Couchsurfing is still awesome, our host is a cute, young couple. The flat makes us feel like we were at home, and their little baby boy, Peter is the icing on the cake:
Oradea is a busy, green town in Western Romania. People speak both Romanian and Hungarian, so the being abroad feeling is not complete for me. Not that it takes anything away from the values of the town, we have a great day strolling through the streets.
The schorching sun makes us run for shelter, Laktobar is definetely the place to hide in with its retro feeling and extravagant decoration:
After refreshments, the castle is our final destination. The little pond there makes the girls fully satisfied with the sightseeing:
Our day is complete with a few drinks in Moscow, an alternative bar situated in the centre; we all prepare for going back the next day. But Wednesday morning wakes us up with a shocking information (remember my sidenote): Nalan can't go back to Hungary directly. After a few calls to turkish embassies, the previous sentence is more than confirmed, we are obliged to visit another country before re-entering Hungary.
Egle has to catch a train back to Eger, so we rub a few teardrops in the station, and plan our next move.
This is how we do it, desperately waiting 4 hours to for our train to
Arad (bank of river
Kőrös):
Getting to Arad makes no difference when purchasing a map makes us realize there is no way we get to the Serbian border from there. So
Timisoara (Temesvár) is our next stop. Hopes are low and concerns are high as we recognize: no train nor bus to the border, not even the day after. Making peace with the idea of hitchiking to the frontier on Thursday, renting a motel room is the last action of the day. My apologies, the last one is the moment of joy when (after a well-deserved and needed shower) we eat our dinner:
Our luck reaches another level when the fifth car stops and takes us to the border next morning. Things looks suspicious: no cars, no people there, but being convinced we are at the right place, we head towards the crossing. And here I make my biggest (and so far, only) violation against law:
In case you wonder, FYI: the picture immortalizes the moment when I already passed the Romanian, and about the cross the Serbian border. Illegaly. No surprises when on the Serbian side a sentry guard runs and shouts, and then takes us to the building, saying
problema.
Our map lied, big time. The frontier is closed. After three hours of waiting in a room (from which we can't get out), they happily announce: we can go to Serbia. Hooray! Wait a second... Romanian patrol car rolls in, and takes us to
their office. They make us write a declaration about why we violated the closed border, how we came here etc., telegram style but short novel length. After an hour of desperation, being questioned by officers, whose English is below-basic (and that's a compassionate assesment), the miracle happens: they let us go.
We don't even recognize walking three kms in the plains (that's a lie though), and crossing the border to Serbia is the biggest relief since
Pál Schmitt's resignation.
Srspka Crnja is the first town we cross, without googleing or a native speaker this name is a definite tongue twister. Who cares, if an albanese moslim confectioner who speaks Hungarian takes you to
Kikinda? No one, right? So our happiness is unmatched when we get on the bus that heads to
Horgos, the closest Serbian town to the Hungarian border:
From here a taxi takes us to
Szeged: we are finally at home. No bus nor train again, but it doesnt'bother any of us- we are in Hungary. Motel, and taking a bus in the dawn- we finally arrive to Eger 11 am., Friday.
The pleasant trip, designed for three days got and additional two; but the memories and adventure we got counts much more than any kind of difficulty we faced.
Next year, same time, same place?
