On November 1st I launched an invitation looking for people for a trip to Alba Iulia on December 1st. I had only seen the town through the car window, passing by to other destinations, so I wanted to visit it. During this month I managed to get together four friends, just as willing and ‘patriotic’, and we planned the trip. So, on the evening of November 30th I met up with Adina, Cami, Ionut, Dia and Daniela (who couldn’t come with us, even though she’d have wanted to), for a serving of courage in a cup of mulled wine or in a glass of beer.
Afterwards, we left for the train station. The train was waiting, the tickets had been bought in advance, everything was ready. However, we were less ready to travel for 4 hours in a freezing train. If the train to IaÅŸi is called The Hunger, this one for Sighetu Marmatiei should be The Cold. Without taking off any of our clothes, we bundled together with gloves, hats and scarves. Long live the Romanian Rail Transport Company which increases the price of the tickets every 3 months! We got to Alba Iulia at around 3 AM, all frozen, and when we saw the (admittedly little) snow, we started a little snowball fight to get warmer. Then we went, of course, into the joint next to the train station, to finish off all their coffee and tea.
In there, only people with bulging eyes or men sleeping on the tables, the specific fauna of the Romanian train station. We held our ground until some smart asses started getting too “friendly” with the girls. It was time to go before we lost our temper, and there was no point in tempting fate, anyway. The buses has started to run, so after we made a tour of the city with one (we fell asleep, what?), the second took us to the place we were aiming for - Cetate (the Citadel).
It was a beautiful morning. Dawn was breaking and the sky was blue. But it was so cold! So we quickly found a nice little warm bar, with decent people and which served mulled wine. Yes, I know, at 6 AM… but we’re not alcoholics. The wine did its job and we were all pleasantly relaxed. Until the hunger woke us up from the dream, that is. We remembered seeing a shaorma place in the bus station and we headed towards it.
After we drank and ate it was time for fun, right? We bought tricolor flags, we pinned flowers to our jackets, we entered the Cathedral (where I think I saw actor Horatiu Malaele!), we went to see the statues of Mihai Viteazul and of Avram Iancu, we talked to the county police (eh… girls and men in uniform!) and finally we stopped on the boulevard of the parade.
The parade started at 12, with Furdui Iancu and two others singing ‘Noi suntem romani’ (’We are Romanians’). The military fanfare followed, and then the county police, Military Academy students etc. Around 200 soldiers, but no military vehicles. Good enough, considering they almost canceled the parade in Bucharest.
The parade of the national clothing followed, a true procession of horses, carriages and people dressed up in traditional clothes specific to the areas they were from, each with musical instruments and traditional Romanian dances. A wealth of sound and color, to try to chase the cold away.
We were really stiff and stuck to the guarding rail after two hours and standing still. In the end we left for a warmer spot. We ended up in a self-service restaurant where they had warm bad wine and a coffee to match. It didn’t matter; it had to be warm to enable us to think further. The hunger was making itself felt again and the cold and tiredness were probably having the same effect, so we left towards a pizza place in the same bus station. We spent the rest of the day there, with pizza, beer and coffee, until it was time to leave for the train station.
The train was at 6 PM. We took the bus in the wrong direction again, we circled the city and we got to the train station exactly on time. Round-trip tickets are a godsend, they save you so much hassle. Run after the train, get into different wagons, call each other on the mobile - the usual stuff for us. We stopped exactly in the compartment where the ticket collectors were sharing their loot and we respectfully asked them to do it someplace else.
This time we were lucky: the train to Galati has so much heat you could think it was free. It was suffocating, but this didn’t stop us from falling asleep immediately and dozing happily all the way to Timisoara. We woke up in the train station, on the verge of being thrown out by the employees who thought we were homeless. The trip ended in the same Irish pub, after a walk with the flags around town for people to feel the event. One last good night beer and we left.
As we were exiting, a question brought us back to earth:
- Did Romania play, by any chance?
- No, it was December 1st! :((
Original post: here.
Richie is 28 years old, from Timisoara, and works in the tourism industry. He has a lot of hobbies and too little time for them.