Ceausescu the megalomaniac

ABOVE: The Palace of Parliament (take my word for it)

Nicolae Ceausescu , ruled Romania (in brutal dictatorial fashion) during 25 years (he was executed by firing squad in the 1989 revolution). He was also a well known megalomaniac. There is no better evidence of this than the Palace of Parliament in Bucharest, the 2nd largest public building in the world (after the Pentagon), 3rd largest in the world in terms of volume - all in all a monster of a building. It also happens to be the most visited tourist site in Bucharest - I had to go and see it for myself.

LP recommends you approach the building from Piatta Uniiri - it claims the building can be seen from a mile off. Yet that morning, when I stepped out the metro station at Uniiri, I found myself engulfed in the densest mist - even the 2nd largest public building had vanished behind the white blanket.

As you walk down B-dul Unirii towards the parliament, you realise some resemblance to Paris Champs Ely sees: The tree lined avenue is there, so too are the wide pavements, and the stone buildings . But that´s where the similarities end - the paint on the facades here is peeling fast and discoloured from the pollution - there´s no Gucci, Chanel, nor Michelin 3* restaurants. Instead you notice a lot of empty shops and, those that are operating are , anything, but classy outfits.

The actual Palace of Parliament is huge (no surprises here), more chandeliers than I care count (7000), 250 kg curtains, football-pitch sized carpets and so on. Impressive also is the fact that it is entirely made from Romanian sourced material.

Rest of day was spent drinking heavily and eating like a pig in a classy downtown restaurants - then straight onto the airport and a wonderful 7 hour delay. Long live the low cost airlines.

Peles Castle & Black Pistes

Peles Castle, Sinaia





















Take my word for it: Castles don't get any nicer than Peles Castle in Sinaia - It was to Ceausescu what for Bush is Camp David - a place to entertain politicians, the rich, the famous the world over. Having seen the magnificent outside facade, you walk in expecting a disappointing part B - but oh, no, no - it actually gets better, and, by the time you leave, you're in a state of total awe. The owner is the current King of Romania, and, if his initial words are to believed, the castle will go on the market for 35 Million Euros in 2010. A bargain if you ask me.

Lunch consists of a badly burned corn-on-the-cob, and then onwards (and upwards) to the cable car for a ride to 2400 metres, and the top of the Bucemi mountain range. The cable car is crammed with skiers - there are only a handful of snowboarders, the kings of the mountain , in Romania at least, are the skis - for how much longer I wonder. At the top, I get a 360 view and what a wonderful panorama - I snap my camera a couple of times, and tell myself I need to come back next year and try the black piste. That's until I realise there's a 2 hour queue to get back down the mountain. I'll leave it till they've worked on their infrastructure a bit...

Last day tomorrow, a short train ride down to Bucharest, a visit of the main sites (are there any?) and then off and away back home - it's been another great trip.

My Castle, My Home

It's 7.15 as I stumble into the bar at Sihshoarra train station. I am in dire need of a strong coffee. I sit down at a table, and take a look around - there's one middle aged, ragged-looking man slumped on a bar stool slurping from his beer, across from him another equally ragged man with a half-filled shots glass giving one-way conversation. More than coffee shop, this looks like an afters bar with half the energy.

Caffeinized and with breakfast-to-go , I board the 'personale' train for Brasov - there are 4 types of train in Romania from personale (they stop EVERYWHERE) all the way to intercity - I'm in for a slow ride. We leave with 'fire in the disco' blaring out the loudspeakers. I look around my carriage, and can only see middle-aged men dozing in their sleep - wrong music for this morning crowd.

Once in Brasov, I take a bus right back out into the countryside, and head for Rashnov. Rashnov competes with Bran for having the nicest castle/palace in the region. I decide to go to Rashnov castle - my guidebook claims it's more authentic and somewhat less touristy.

A little later, I am trudging in ankle deep snow, on the side of the mountain, heading for the palace on the top. There is not a soul in sight. I am surrounded by tall conifers and pine trees - the incoming rays of sun are melting the snow that has collected on the fir branches, and, every now and then, I hear a big thud as snow comes crashing down. It feels like I'm getting bombed - thud, thud, thud. I take cover under my rucksack and keep heading up.

When I finally make it to the top, I get looks of astonishment from the castle staff

Staff 1: "you come up mountain? "
Staff 2: "many snow, much walking"
Staff 3: "that's veeeery long way. Why you not come with steps from town. Only 5 minutes"

If only I had read my guide book...

In anycase here we are - at Rashnov palace which competes with Bran for one of the most visited tourist attractions. And I am on my own. You read right. All 8 staff of the Rashnov Citadel and myself...My castle, my home! I enjoy it to the max: throw myself in jail for a while, have a go at archery (it was never my thing), flirt with the cafeteria girl, flirt with souvenir shop girl, and
, when my idyllic world is shattered by the all too familiar sound of Spanish at 80 decibels , I make a quick dash for the exit and the steps down to town. It's a treacherous walk - the thud, thud, thud of the snow crashing down on me felt less life threatening.

Brashov is a nice town - again it's the medieval look that does it for me: the coloured guesthouses, the peeling paint on the facades, the cobbled streets, the soft street lighting...the mist which has lingered on for most part of the day adds to the effect.









It's dark by 5, and given the freezing temperatures outside, I decide there's no better plan than find the one place that will solve the entire night ahead. And I find it in the (very Romanian) name of "Cafe De Les Artes": I have a hot cup of tea to bring some warmth into my frozen limbs, eat goulash (not really romanian, but near enough) that will restore my energy levels, wash it down with romanian cabernet sauvignion that makes me merry , and finish the night off with gin-tonics that make my head spin...

Off and Away...

It's hitting midnight, and am in El Prat Airport about to check in. I gaze up & down the line - I see only Romanians, their huge suitcases and thick winter jackets. I make a mental note that it's going to be really cold, and wonder why no other Catalans had planned the same trip.

We're alone - aside the Romanians and myself the airport is practically deserted - There are only Romanians at the Security pass, when I go and take a leak, I recognize the man next to me from the check-in line; when I'm not sure what gate we're leaving from , I need not worry. Just follow the crowd - we're all going the same way. You wonder, with all this proximity, whether by the time you get to Cluj Napoca you'll be at the point were you're exchanging E-Mails and phone numbers with your fellow passengers.

The eerie airport silence is suddenly pierced by a repeated announcement over the public address system - last minute call for two guys travelling to Birmhingham. I picture them both passed out snoring on an airport seat obvlivious to it all, and cruely let out a grin.

Flight goes without incident (resonable considering I collapse into sleep as soon as I take my seat), and we touch down on Romanian soil in the pitch blackness that is 5am.

I grab my bags and head for the bus stop: I want to get to the Cluj's main railway station, and then head out to the countrysdie. I flag down a bus, ask driver if we're going to the station - he nods, I get on. After a while we stop - the driver waves me over and makes signs for me to accompany him. We walk over to another bus, he talks to the driver and tells him where I'm going. I think back to BCN and wonder whether a bus driver there would ever do anything remotely similar. When we get to station, I thank my new driver and, using universal sign language once again, ask him how much the fare is - I haven't paid a cent since leaving the airport - he gives me a warm smile and shakes his head as if to say: nothing, you're welcome...incredible.

I buy my ticket (Romanian prasebook coming in handy), give Cluj Napoca a quick whistle stop tour, and then board the train for a 4 hour journey through rolling countryside (unthawing by this stage) to Sighisoara, a medieval Saxon town: citadel perched on a hill-top, cobbled streets, half-a-millenium old townhouses...and also where Dracula was born. I've come at a good time - the streets are practically deserted and tourist-free, I can only imagine (and frown) at how this place must change with the summer tourist season.

Tomorrow, I'll keep on the move and head south to Brasov...more stories from there.

Date with Dracula: 4 days in Trasylvania....

"We are in Transylvania and Transylvania is not England;Our ways are not your ways, and there shall be to you many strange things" Dracula

We shall see - off and away tomorrow, flying to Cluj Napoca, and then making my way down to Bucharest via Sighisoara,Brasov and Sinaia

Raw India

There was no need for Plan C. We just managed to take off on Tuesday - cloud cover in Leh normally means no flights as, quote from an Air Deccan worker '' behind the clouds there are mountain peaks'' - this comment did not go down very well with Itxaso (co-traveller) , who hates flying and had witnessed a plane literally 'skim past' the 6000+ peaks earlier on that morning. Itxaso's prayers included, we made it to Delhi to be greeted by the usual multitude of people, smell, noises and INCREDIBLE HEAT - some 35 degrees hotter than Leh! From there on, down to Agra and the Taj Mahal - what a work of art, or should I say work of love - it was built by a Mughal emperor as a token of his love for his deceased wife - 20,000 builder over a period of 20 years. Impressive monument and impressive high number of tourists too.

We're now over in Varanasi/Benares , 600 km south-east of Delhi - this is India with no make-up, India in the raw. It's one of India's holiest cities (on the banks of the Ganges) where pilgrims flock to bathe, worship,meditate - bodies are cremated on the 'burning ghats' and ashes scattered in the Ganges. I get the feeling there is no 'in between' feeling for Varanasi - you either really like the place, or you're counting the minutes to leave. I , personally' really liked it, if a bit uncomfortable at times.

What's left of this trip? Unfortunately, very little - we're taking a night train tomorrow to Kolkatta for 24 hours and then onto Heathrow - it's been one unforgettable trip....

On the move down south...

The plan for the last few days in Ladakh was to visit the Pangong Lake (shared 1/3 by India, 2/3rds by China), a high altitude turquoise water lake, seemingly beautiful. Unfortunately, we're missing a 'bridge' (it apparently collapsed 2 days ago) so we have had to come up with Plan B.

We've decided to bring forward our flight to Delhi and will be leaving (weather permitting) tomorrow at the crack of dawn- if all goes to plan (it doesn't always in India), we will be in Agra by tomorrow night - the Taj Mahal awaits and so too the multitude of people, the smells, the noises, the intensity of classic india - am bracing myself...

Our time in Ladakh has been the best of the best - stunningly beautiful region with warmest, kindest people you're ever likely to meet.

Hope you're all keeping well - thanks for the comments, keep them coming.

Back from Trekking....

We're back (with aches & pains) from 5 days of trekking - great stuff. For a region that's sometimes incorrectly described as a 'high altitude dust bowl', the landscape was ever changing and extremely colourful - red rock, green rock, orange rock - you name it , we saw it.

The trek involved 3 mountain passes (from 4300 m to 5000m) - one pass in particular stands out, with a 1500m non stop climb which brought back the 'horrors' of the Kilimanjaro submit climb - really tough.

For those of you following previous posts, we did get treated to corn-flakes for breakfast and banana-apple tart for dinner dessert - in between some tasty noodles, veg-fried rice, and some local food for more acquired and refined tastes buds - e.g. salted butter tea. This may be good fuel for the steep terrain, but I couldn't find the way of getting it down me.

Unfortunately, It wasn't all plain sailing and wonderful - this morning we were 'stranded' on the highest pass (5200m) in the middle of a snow blizzard - our guide had asked us to start the ascent to the pass on our own (we should have refused), and by the time the blizzard hit us on the peak he was nowhere to be seen. The mist closed in on us till the visibility was down to a couple of metres - it was bitterly cold and , although, I was trying to keep moving, I could feel myself getting colder and colder.

Our guide finally surfaced 45 minutes later - in my disbelief, he had decided to come up with the ponyman, helper (and gear), singing and whistling as he reached the summit. In outrage, I ran over to him and screamed:

' Where does your responsibility lie? With the donkey or with your trekking party? '

-No response-

'F***cking get us down this mountain NOW!'

And he did just that - a struggle at times with normally visible paths erased by the blanket of snow, but we made it all right.

We're now back in the comfort of Leh and doing what most tourist do here: Take it easy, slow down and help ourselves to more curry jalfrenzy and cold Kingfisher beer - lovely.

The Road to Lamayuru & Pre-Treck worries

Sept 18th
Up at the unoddly hour of 0430, we put on our gear in sleepwalking mode and enter the pitch blackness of Leh, our head torches lighting the way ahead - a local notices us struggling with our overweight backpacks and offers us a lift to the station - we gladly accept. At the station, we find 30+ neatly parked buses, their respective drivers all claiming that they are going to Lamayuru - our guidebooks claims there is only 1 - interesting discrepency. We're clueless until we find the one and only other tourist in the station who is able to clarify things for us.
We have no bus ticket which in Ladack (and many other countries), means you are relegated to the back row seats - the worst whether you're in India, Boliva or Niger: we spent more time in mid-air, our bodies leaving the seat at every bump and turn - this early morning action is doing my stomach no good, and I can feel last night's curry jalfrenzy making it's way up my gullet - an hour later, we stop, I hobble out the bus and am in serious pain - I can hardly walk 5 yards, let alone 5 days of trecking...
After 6 endless hours, we finally make it to Lamayuru, a tiny adobe village perched high on the mountain side and crowned (like most villages in the area), by a buddist gompa(monastery). I take a quick assesment of my stomach, and decide I'll leave the monastery for my next life and instead take out my camera , zoom out to the max, and take a photo instead.

I spend the next few hours lying down, working my way through a packet of alka-selzters - amazingly they do the trick, and by late afternoon, I am cured, and decide that I can't let the monastery pass me by - it's a steep climb. It's ALWAYS 'steep' in Ladakh.

In Ladakh....

We're now in Leh (3700m), capital of Ladakh, some 600 kms north of Delhi - Ladack also known as 'Little Tibet' and 'The Land of High Passes' is the highest and most remote part of India, and sits within the province of Jammu & Kashmir - as opposed to the Kashmir region , Ladakh is incredibly safe and conflict-free. Main religions are Muslim (on the western part), while the area around Leh (Eastern part) is strongly and vissibly buddist - buddist monks , monasteries, chortens, stupas, prayer flags can we seen everywhere. In terms of the terrain, it's classified as a 'high altitude desert' with peaks reaching 7000m - the valley sides lack any sort of vegatation, the valley bottoms resemble desert oasis and are a vibrant green.















The 3 day journey on the Manali-Leh Highway (don't envisage dual carriageways, rather end-of the-world mountain tracks) was simply incredible - breathtakingly beautiful from beginning to end! The following description will not do it justice by any means, but here's a few lines to give you some flavour of what it's all about: Snowcapped 7000m+ mountain peaks and glaciers flanking the valley sides, huge waterfalls falling endless thousands of metres to the valley bottom , flat plateuas that stretch further than the eyes can see, deep gorges with snaking turqouise rivers at its base, incredible rock formations (rai, incredible strata), buddist chortens and colourful prayer flags (also called wind horses) marking each of the mountain passes. We acclimatized on route, so by the time we reached the highest pass (5300 m), all I could feel was a slight spinning of the head and a pounding heart beat - the rest was just pure exhiliration! Aside the usual prayer flags, there was also a flag proclaiming 'Basque country independence! ' - Incase you're wondering, I didn't put it up there. The road can also be done by motorbike (we saw a couple), and for the extremely fit by mountain bike - we saw a few Spanish 'nutcases' near the top!


















Leh, itself, is as laid back as it gets - Quote from a book am reading " There is nothing whatever to do. That is Leh's Charm...nothing to do but to slow down, laze , to become one vast transparent eye" . Ok, maybe that's a bit of an extreme statement, but it's certainly really peacefull and quiet.

We've spent the first few days visiting nearby buddist monasteries, most of them perched high on rocky outcrops, and sorting out the next part of our trip - a 5 day camping treck which we start tomorrow...we've been promised cornflakes for breakfast and fire-baked cakes for dessert -mmm, I'll let you know whether their word holds true.

More stories and hopefully some photos (can't do uploads here) when we get back from the treck

Ladack here we almost are

....and (finally) a post from India, Day 4.

India greeted us via means of Delhi and what an experience that was - almost overwelmed by the smells, noise, masses (humans and cows) and the touts that seem to be everywhere.. Did we get cheated? no, but almost....One of the most memorable moments was experiencing a full blown monsoon thunder storm - we ran for cover in a nearby temple, kids on the other hands were playing (or should I say lying down) in the flooded streeets!

Didn't wait around to get out of Delhi and we left 24 hours later - took a train up to the Himalayan Foothils (Kalka) and from then on, an incredible 6 hour journey by 'toy train' - 800 + bridges, 100+ tunnels rising to 2500 m to the alpine-looking town of Shimla in the province of Himachal Pradesh - former summer getaway for the British, - still conserves many aspects of your classic English village - streets such as 'The Mall', tudor houses, english post boxes, booze shops etc. English weather? yeeh it was somewhat overcast.

What else? Been playing some cricket with the locals - nothing really to be too proud off: as a batsman, I sliced the ball into a nearby fruit juice bar (while somehow getting troden by a motorised auto rickshaw), as a bowler/fielder, I bowled off centre and then missed the easiest of catches, letting the ball go into some serious undergrowth - ball not lost but close..

We're now 10 hours north of Shimla in Manali starting to see the Tibetan and Buddist influence here. Manali is the starting point for the 485km Manali-Leh Highway - the 2nd highest motorable road in the world, open 3 months a year and only 1 of 2 access points into Ladakh (the other one is via Kashmir which has it's obvious security dangers). We'll begin tomorrow by taking a bus at the crack of dawn for a 6 hour, 1000m climb to Keylong (3300m) - we'll take it slow and easy there for 2 days (some short walks and hopefully a chance to dig into some of my indian literature, which is weighing my bags down), and then onwards and upwards past two 5000m+ mountain passes to reach Leh on the 16th. More news from the other side of the mountains....

Countdown....Ladakh here we come!

4 days counting down and we are off...sorting out last few things, but almost done....

(the square marks ladakh)