Rambling to Ramallah - Part I - Just BBBBecause

Originally posted on 15th April en route from Bucharest to Istanbul

Now this is the business. A (faux) wood panelled compartment, rainy Romanian countryside trundled past the window and no bog roll for 19 hours. This is international train travel and it kicks Easyjet's orange ass every day of the week. (Let's ignore the fact that I face a 1am bus replacement service due a busted bridge on the Bulgaria-Turkey border - all part of the experience, don't you know.)

So Bucharest to Istanbul. West to East. Occident to Orient. And the rest. It would seem apropos to reflect on the first half of my ramble to Ramallah.

I departed London St Pancras 12 days ago with the intention of spending the month of April enjoying some select highlights of Europe and the near East, catching up with friends along the way, and reaching Ramallah in time to begin another 6 month stint with Al Haq .

As an unrepentant alliterativist, the accident that my first 4 stops were Brussels, Berlin, Budapest and Bucharest was indeed a happy one. (I can't help it if I having friends who like to live in places beginning with B). Never one to be afraid of stretching a theme I could describe each city with an equally alliterative adjective. In order: Bureaucratic Brussels (sorry Brussels, beery is not a real word), Bold Berlin, Beautiful Budapest and Brave Bucharest.

The first three are fairly straightforward (and hopefully demonstrated by my photos) but my description of Bucharest requires a little explanation. My friend Alice moved to Bucharest in November to work for a charity specialising in palliative care. Everyday she braves packs of stray dogs, crowds of glum, impolite locals and Bucharest's butt ugly backdrop to raise money for the building of a much needed hospice. All for a pittance. And she put me up for 3 days. Bloody brave, if you ask me.

Typically I am rambling and brevity is a blessing (or so I'm told). Here are the highlights of the trip so far:

Brussels

- Picnicing in the park with several dozen members of the Greek diaspora surrounded by cycling Scouts on the sunniest day of the year so far. Thanks Nat.

- Cheering on the home favourites at the Tour of Flanders with Flemish cycling crazies. Thanks Stijn's Dad.

- Drinking Chimay Bleu in a smoke filled vinyl covered bohemian bar with my favourite Belgian (narrowly beating JCVD and Tintin). Thanks Stijn.

Berlin

- (Transfer in Cologne.) An oh-too-brief 10 minutes in the presence of Cologne's spectacularly dark cathedral. Flying buttresses kill me every time.

- Whisting Scorpions' Wind of Change whilst walking the East Side Gallery.

- Battling a headwind on Lowri's bright green foldy bike cycling along the disused runway of Tempelhof airport. The same runway used by Nazi fighter planes in WWII and then US cargo planes delivering supplied to a Soviet blockaded West Berlin in the 50s

- Feeling arty touring the micro exhibitions of the Pictoplasma festival followed by a screening at the glorious Kino Babylon.

- Laughing at the utterly dismissive, sarcastic tone of the DDR museum. In essence: 'Silly deluded Communists.'

Budapest

- (Again actually en route). Trundling along the banks of the River Elbe either side of the German/Czech border. Hundreds of brightly painted houses nestle in valleys beneath dramatic cliffs.

- Listening to my heartbeat (Werner Herzog style) whilst sitting in the utter darkness of the Pal-Volgyi caves. A rare experience in our perma-tanned modern world. (No photos but you could always just close you eyes and stick your fingers in the your ears.)

- Stumbling across marvellous street opera and humming along to Alice's good luck tune.

- Jogging the early morning Danube on a purpose built 5km single lane running track. Eat that Clapham Southside!

- Getting wrinkles on wrinkles in the wonderful hot baths and saunas with new friends, Jess and John.


Transylavania

- Dining in the birthplace of Vlad the Impaler. Makes you look at tooth picks in whole different light.

- Eating my weight in melted cheese and smoked sausage in the cavern restaurants of Sibui.

- Absorbing the peasant lifestyle at the fantastic open air museum. Pretty Windmills aplenty.

Bucharest

- Touring the concrete behemoth that is the absurdly large Palace of the People in Bucharest. It is second only to the Pentagon in terms of square footage and a looming symbol of Ceaucescu's horrifying regime. Can't help but think that it was 5 billion euros misspent.

- Delighting in encounters with the  handful of cheery locals amongst the hordes of sourfaced Bucharestis. Life here seems to be iike perpetually riding the London Tube - bloody miserable.

- Enjoying the cheesy dancing whilst eating cheesy pancakes, cheesy chips and cheesy doughnuts at the marvellous and distinctly uncheesy Caru cu Bere - the prettiest place to eat in Bucharest.

As I put the finishes touches to this post 22 hours after I started I'm pleased to say that the countryside now streaming past my window is sunlit and Turkish. The 3 and half hour border crossing was a pain but you'll hear no complaints from me. The snowy Bulgarian hills we passed late yesterday afternoon was worth the ticket price alone and now the world's coolest city (apparently) awaits. Stelios can go hang.

Part 2 to follow soon. Sure to be a Turkish Delight. Oh dear...

The best of the rest of my photos can be found here