(Retroactive post that I started writing but didn't get a chance to put up.)
Last Monday night Megan and I said farewell to Rhi, Ryan, and Nellie on the Galata Bridge and set off for our 20-hour long, Bucharest-bound train, the fancy-sounding "Bosphorus Express".
Just getting to the train was an adventure -- because of construction at the main station, the train would be leaving from a different station outside of the city. We had to track down a public bus to take us, which we somehow managed to do despite lacking basic knowledge of bus routes, bus stop locations, or the Turkish language.
An hour outside the city, our bus reached the end of its line: the side of a quiet, unlit highway. Nothing resembling a train station in sight. After some discussion (if it can be called that) with our bus driver and his colleague, we were led (and then abandoned) across half the highway and directed down toward a dark cluster of buildings.
The two of us continued walking, a few lonely cars zipping by every so often. Our conversation with each other was not constructive in any way.
"Um. Where are we going?"
"I don't know. What's happening?"
"What the fuck?"
"Where are we?"
We stumbled across the median, down a driveway, along a walkway between an abandoned building and a heavy fence. Somehow, we ended up at a bridge over train tracks and a sign that said "Halkali" -- the station we needed.
It was tiny, and empty. Someone whistled from a few platforms over -- we realized there was a man sitting there. We headed in his direction. (And also questioned our own judgment for walking, without the slightest hesitation, toward whistling men in dark train stations.) Turns out he was the conductor, and very friendly, and spoke English.
We looked at our not-so-fancy-looking "Bosphorus Express"... a couple of dark little carriages sitting on an empty rail. We clambered aboard our car and found it almost empty, save for perhaps four or five other passengers. We plopped down in our little compartment: a dimly lit, spartan room with four bunks and a table. We made it!
It was a little while before our train started moving -- our locomotive was yet to arrive, and something was wrong with the air brake. But finally, it did get underway, and we exclaimed, "We're moving! We're moving!" and we were off into the night.
A few hours later we were roused from our sleep. The train was leaving Turkey and entering Bulgaria, and we had to get out and have our passports stamped. In line at the little office, we realized just how few people were traveling with us -- maybe 12 on the entire train. The train stopped a few more times in the night; we were woken and our passports examined, our tickets stamped, our baggage inspected.
The next morning, we woke up to our train rolling through picturesque Bulgarian hills, in and out of tunnels, along valley floors and ridgelines. We munched on the pastries I had bought -- some of which were quite strange. Some not very good.
The best part about long train rides is that you have this cozy little room and the world just passes by your window. You can sit and stare out the window, or you can take a nap, or eat some snacks, or read a book, or talk... you can do any of it at any time, for any reason, in any order. And so we did. I finished a couple of books. (The Kindle is a great invention.) We ate more pastries and biscuits. We napped. We rationed our remaining water. (Poor planning there.) We talked about other train rides. I sat and watched the world go by.
Bulgaria was green and peaceful -- at least, the parts our train was running through. Around lunchtime, the train stopped for an hour or so in the town of Gorna Oryahovitsa -- we hopped off to go explore. We tried taking a walk to the center of town, but we had to climb a big hill to get there. We had just reached the top when we discovered that my phone, which I had been using to keep time, was 20 minutes slow. Whoops. We headed back to the station, stopping to grab some snacks and groceries and beer from a little mart. Megan wanted a coffee at one of the cafes -- "for the experience" -- but they only gave little instant coffee packets. We grabbed a lunch from a stand, though our inability to speak or read Bulgarian was a challenge. The vendor ended up taking out every food item he had, so we could pick. We ended up buying a delicious sausage, and we ate nervously sitting (then standing) by our train, which seemed like it might leave at any instant.
In the evening, our train crossed the Danube and entered Romania. Amusingly, the view from our train, of beautiful green fields and a spectacular blue sky, disappeared the instant we crossed the bridge. "Romania, you ugly," Megan muttered. The sky was a dark gray, the fields brown and barren.
It was nighttime when we pulled into Bucharest's Gara de Nord station. We both wanted the train to keep going, but we were here. We pissed off an aggressive taxi driver (by borrowing his cell phone and then taking a bus instead), made our way to a hostel, grabbed some dinner, and made plans for the next day -- when Ryan and Nellie would rejoin us!
