We have finally arrived at the focal point of our trip: Romania. Our greeting at the border was to get pulled aside and have our passports and vehicle papers checked. Apparently 7 Americans in a tiny French plated clown car cause some alarm. On the plus side, the border agent took our passports and vehicle papers and bid us farewell, prompting a collective "uhhhh. . ." from the car. He realized his mistake and started laughing. Always a good sign!
It was a short drive from the border to Arad, where we checked into the lovely Villa Cristian. We haven't paid yet, as the old man at the desk conveyed that he didn't speak English and that we could talk to the boss tomorrow who does. There was something about Michigan in there too, but I have no idea what!
We met a fellow traveler in the parking lot who initially greeted us in German. We at least understood that ancud answered in the negative (in German no less). He looked with puzzlement at our French plated car and we volunteered that we were American, where he promptly switched to English and politely asked what in the world we were doing here?!
We had a chat about family roots and he proclaimed that we were probably all cousins of some sort, as he too has Donauschwaben ancestors. We talked about family history, he gave us a map of the area, we got directions to the grocery store (right, left, right, left, right, left), and we went on our way. Amazingly, we found the grocery store!
After loading up on grocery store dinner items (bread, cheese, salami, wine [an excellent local merlot that was a whopping. $3], beer, salad, chicken), we had a nice meal outside the hotel on the patio. And though it occurred to us to buy a knife, a corkscrew, and a bottle opener, only one person thought to grab a fork, which had to be shared. Luckily, most of what we got was finger food!
Having lost another hour to a time zone change, we're now 10 hours ahead of home. Now it's off to bed in preparation for a day of wandering around old graveyards and churches, in search of people with names similar to ours.
(Sorry there's no photo of Matt. Those are good hands cutting dinner though.)
Was it Brian's turn to use the fork?
ReplyDeleteIt was a plastic knife. And yes.
ReplyDeleteI distinctly remember arriving at our first campsite on the Grand Canada Adventure and discovering, in the dark, that we had no knife with which to cut the ham for our sandwiches. Now, nearly two decades later, the fine tradition of creative cutlery substitutions lives on.
ReplyDelete