Tag Archives: Bucharest

The two-day journey home

Tuesday 30 September 2025 – The journey home from near the Ukraine border is not a short one. We discovered that Suceava has an airport, and so I suppose we could have constructed a route home, except (a) WizzAir and (b) Luton Airport. There are some hurdles not worth leaping. Suceava also has a railway station with a direct train to Bucharest, and that was our starting point for a 2-day journey home that was not without its pitfalls, though (spoiler alert) we were only delayed about an hour in our arrival home.

There was basically a choice between two trains, roughly 9am or midday. The journey, though, is nearly seven hours long, and so we opted for the 09:07 train, on the basis that should the Romanian train service cock things up we would at least have a contingency of the later train; and the earlier one would give us a chance to get to Bucharest in late afternoon when we could seek a decent evening meal before overnighting back at the Hotel Minerva.

The lady of the house at Maridor recommended that we start the journey to Suceava at 0730, since it’s about an hour’s drive and it’s no bad thing to have contingency. Privately, I think it also suited her, as it meant that she could drop Vilanel off at school en route.

It continued to be very autumnal as we set out.

We arrived at Suceava station

with about 45 minutes to spare before our train was due.  The inside of the station was not a particularly welcoming environment, with people moodily wiping the floors,

and what seemed like a limited choice of refreshment options.

The departures board showed that our train was on time, and would depart from platform 3, so I thought it might be a good idea to check out the scene and make sure we understood how to get on to the right platform. I managed to find some seats for Jane which were not occupied by deadbeats who had presumably slept the night there, and went out to scout around. At first, it was a bit depressing, as there was actually no indication of which platform was which, although getting from one platform to the next was simple enough – just walk across the track.

The straggly group of people gave me a feeling of which platform we needed to get to; but, more importantly, I discovered that there was a real coffee bar there; a welcome sight.

We got ourselves outside a coffee and bought sandwiches for the journey; there being a mini-mart next door, we got some fruit to accompany them. At the appointed hour, our train turned up

and we took our appointed seats, in first class, of course, dahling.

For me, the journey passed uneventfully – we had cellular coverage for most of it, so I read the papers for pretty much the entire journey. Jane took a more lively interest in what we were passing and some photographs of it: several ghastly communist-era buildings, many of which looked abandoned;

plenty of agriculture;

some modern infrastructure;

and, accompanying us for much of our journey, a massive road development, which will presumably be lovely when it’s finished, and ease the journey between Bucharest and parts north.

It was nearly 4pm when we arrived at Bucharest and everyone streamed off the train

and on to a busy station concourse.

Everything had gone smoothly thus far, and we encountered the first wrinkle in our travel when we tried to get into the metro to get to our hotel. We’d kept our cards from our previous time in the city and they were in theory good for several more metro journeys. Well, Jane’s was; mine, however, had magnetically given up the ghost, so I had to bumble about getting myself another one; hardly an imposition, but not welcome when blundering about with a suitcase in tow.

It was comforting to know that our room in the Hotel Minerva should include something almost more important than a bed and bedding – a kettle and a fridge. En route back, I popped into a Carrefour Express and got some milk, and once we’d checked in,

we could indulge ourselves in a mug of Twinings finest Earl Grey, which was very welcome.

Vlad the lad was on reception at the hotel. I’d been hoping that we might catch him having a crafty cigarette outside the hotel, in which case he would, of course, have been Vlad the Inhaler, but it was not to be.  He booked us a transfer to the airport for the following morning and we headed out to eat. Being creatures of habit, and having enjoyed our meal there before, we headed back to Hanul Manuc.  This was now 5.30 in the afternoon, and there was obviously Something Going On at the St. Anthony Church, as there was a massive queue to get in. It sounded as if a service was being relayed outside the church, so I suppose that’s where people were headed.

Hanul Manuc was exactly as before, except, since it was getting cool as the sun went down, blankets were provided for them as wanted.

There were more cats in attendance on this occasion, too.

We had another good meal there and, importantly, some of their rather nice apricot palinka (fruit liqueur); we’d sampled others up north,  but they were much coarser. Having eaten, we decided that we should seek out a bottle to take home with us, just in case it turned out to be the exception to the rule that local booze never travels well. As we emerged from Hanul Manuc at 7pm, I was astonished to see that the queue for the church had, if anything, got longer.

We found a shop which sold us some of the palinka (about half the price it would have cost in the UK), and peeked in through the netting surrounding Vlad’s castle as we headed back to the metro.

Thus ended the day, and we had to head to bed early, as the alarm was set for 0430 (ugh!), to get us to the airport in time for an 0825 flight.

Wednesday 1 October 2025 – We duly got up and were ready to leave the hotel (with the packed breakfast that they’d created for us). This is the point at which the first unexpected setback happened – our transfer didn’t turn up, which is not the start that we wanted. After fifteen anxious minutes, I got the hotel to order us a cab, which (a) turned up promptly and (b) got us to the airport for about a third of the price of the hotel transfer service.

We went into the terminal building, which is not in terrifically good shape, truth be told,

and stared at the Departures screen

which had a gap against the BA check-in entry. We tried not to worry that we should somehow magically know where to go, and we spent half an hour staring at the screen, willing a check-in area to appear, whilst around our entry all the other flights appeared to be operating OK. I consulted the BA website, which showed that the departure time for our flight was unchanged at 0825 – but the arrival time was listed as being 30 minutes late. We resigned ourselves to standing there until the gods of international flight decided that we could proceed, and eventually our check-in desk number appeared on the screen, so we rushed off, dropped our bags and went through security.

It was a bus ride to the aeroplane, but apart from that the flight proceeded smoothly. We even got free hot water and milk from the cabin staff so we could make our own tea – I happened to have a couple of Twinings finest Earl Grey teabags about my person, you understand. The plane took off a bit late but landed exactly on schedule, so why there had been notice of a delay is a mystery that will never satisfactorily be resolved.

The next wrinkle in the travel came as we got into the arrivals hall at Terminal 3 to find that no taxi was there to pick us up. The driver eventually called me to say that traffic was really bad but he’d be there as soon as he could. So we went and got ourselves a coffee and chatted with a lady who was similarly  awaiting a delayed taxi. Something Was Definitely Afoot – I could see that there was congestion all around the airport. Our driver turned up – having taken over an hour to get from Terminal 5 to Terminal 3 – and we discovered what the issue was as he went to pay for his parking. There had been a major fire in the tunnel that leads to the terminal buildings, which is obviously going to cause ructions. To be fair, Heathrow responded by opening all the barriers at the car park, so we didn’t have to pay for parking there.

In the end, we arrived home only about an hour later than we might have expected and it was sweet indeed to be able to put ourselves outside some more of Twinings finest Earl Grey before getting round to the unpacking and laundry.

That was the end of our two-day journey to get home, and we once again reflected on what a great experience the last fortnight had been. Would we recommend it to others? Yes and no, is the answer. The monasteries are absolutely worth travelling to see, assuming you like That Kind Of Thing; but the walking between them was pretty unrewarding. I would recommend rather that people fly to Suceava and rent a car to get around; less healthy exercise, maybe, but more efficient use of time and greater flexibility. However, we’re both profoundly glad that we’ve been able to see the monasteries and experience some rural Romanian culture and hospitality.

Th-th-th-that’s all for now, folks. Once again, these pages will go dark for a few months until our next holiday travels. I hope you’ve subscribed so that you’ll be able to join us when we leave these shores once again. Bye-bye for now.

 

Bucharest! It’s…complicated

Friday 19 September 2025 – We’ve had a day wandering round Bucharest and my brain’s full. In a single post, it’s impossible to do it justice, so basically here are some random jottings from the day. We started with a guided walking tour, a goup of 12 of us, steered and educated by Horia,who led us through five kilometres of huge architectural variation and 20 centuries of turbulent history. When explaining how the country of Romania and the city of Bucharest have developed, his explanations almost always started, “It’s complicated….”. Frankly, given the history, I’m not bloody surprised.

  • Firstly, it was under the Romans in the 2nd and 3rd centuries and called Dacia (that’s pronounced Dachier, not Daysier, btw, so you can correct people’s pronunciations when they talk about Dacia Duster cars).
  • Then the Romans withdrew, as you do when your empire collapses (UK, look out!) and there were waves of Goths, Huns, Slavs and any number of other barbarians passing through.
  • By the 13th or 14th century, the area consisted of three principalities – Wallachia in the south, with Bucharest as capital; Moldavia in the east; and Transylvania, which was controlled by Habsburgs from Hungary. Don’t confuse Moldavia with modern Moldova, which is a real country and which occupies some of the area called Moldavia. Come on, keep up at the back.
  • From the 14th century, the Ottomans got into the act, expanding into the Balkans from Turkey until their influence butted up against Christian Europe as they squeezed Wallachia and Moldavia.
  • In the 15th century, Wallachia became a vassal state of the Ottoman empire, which meant it was largely left alone but compelled to pay tribute in funds and military support. Occasionally the locals resisted this liability, as you might understand, and the Ottomans responded by invading. The most notable rebel was one Vlad Țepeș; yes, “Vlad the Impaler”, who was the most effective leader of resistance.
  • Vlad, Horia told us, was in charge of an army numbering 5,000 which successfully repelled an Ottoman force ten times as large. He exploited Bucharest’s location – a swampy forest, basically, and used lepers and plague victims as soldiers – the first use of bacterial and biological warfare? Ottoman soldiers were reluctant to engage, ran away and were easy to trap in the forests, where they were impaled. Vlad invented a new and more brutal way of impaling victims so that they tended to die more of dehydration than of being actually, you know, impaled, and then left them in the forest as a warning to the Ottomans. Psychological warfare: nasty, but effective. Despite this resistance, Wallachia remained a vassal state to the Ottomans.
  • In the 19th century, Romania sought indepence, and fought with Russia against the Turks to fight free of the Ottomans, becoming a kingdom under King Carol 1 in 1881.
  • After the first World War, Transylvania became part of greater Romania.
  • In the second World War, Romania allied with Germany, but then switched sides at the end, allowing a Soviet takeover in the aftermath of the war. Ceausescu at first worked for independence from the Soviet regime, but turned into a harsh dictator, equivalent, in Horia’s view, to how North Korea is today
  • Eventually, the people got fed up with Ceausescu and rebelled in 1989. Since then it has officially been a democracy, but Horia was firmly of the opinion that elements of the Ceausescu regime managed to stay in control, and today’s Social Democratic party is their legacy; corruption and incompetence are marring Romania’s efforts to be a modern, efficient country.

We started the tour just outside Hanul Manuc, the restaurant we’d eaten at yesterday evening. Just there is the St. Anthony church and the remnants of Vlad’s castlewhich are being developed as a museum. The restaurant itself used to be a caravanserai, a place where merchants would come and stay to do business, for days or even months, before moving on. The caravanserai occupied what is now the courtyard that we ate in. Interestingly, the paving leading into itis not stone, but wood.Apparently, much of Bucharest was once paved with wood, although not of this high quality.The route of our tour led us through the Old Town, some of which remains, but much of which was demolished in the communist era.

I found the place impressive but dilapidated. There were many fine buildings, and much evidence of the French influence that led to Bucharest being called “Little Paris” in the 19th century

Victoria Shopping Centre

Palace of the Deposits and Consignments – a banking hall

City Library

Military College

Athenaeum

but there are many places where the architecture is a tortured mix of the classical and the communist era.Some buildings have a distinctive red disc on themwhich means that they are at risk of falling down if there’s another earthquake (there was a big one in 1977 which destroyed a lot of Bucharest, but not as much as the communists did, apparently).Many of these fine buildings are really quite dilapidated, Horia suggested that this is a combination of neglect under the communist regime (if they didn’t actively tear them down) and current private ownership which has neither the funds nor the will to pay for the upkeep.That said, there are many quirky corners of the old town.and its streets are thickly populated with bars and restaurants.There is so much to the old town that I can’t possibly do it justice without you drowning in photos, but it’s a great place to walk around, with a lively vibe – and plenty of crowds.The other thing there are a lot of is churches; Romania is a very religious country, as we saw in the devoted obeisances paid by people in the churches we visited. Some were in the old town, some outside that area. A big attraction for tourists and locals alike in the old town is the church of the “Stavropoleos” Monastery, which is beautifully decorated outsideand in.Of course, the communist era ranked very highly in Horia’s itinerary. We visited Revolution Square, site of what was the Romanian Communist Party Central Committee building (now the Ministry of the Interior)where one can see the balcony from which Ceausescu gave his final speech before realising that there was going to be an uprising which would unseat him.I remember seeing the news coverage of that speech, and the look of panic on his face as he realised that he’d lost control of the people and that the peasants really were revolting.We passed the Palace Hall, a 1960s communist era buildingwhich now bears the scars of the revolution that unseated Ceausescu in the form of bullet holes.It’s not the only building with bullet holes scarring it – there are others, reflecting the desperate efforts of Ceausescu to retain power by ordering his troops to gun down the rebels, which only delayed his unseating by one day – but it was a very bloody day.Our tour ended at the parliament building, which is simply immense – the heaviest building in the world and largest apart from the Pentagon, apparently.It was started in 1984, in the Ceausescu era and by the time he was deposed it was 70% finished and by then more costly to destroy than to finish. Accordingly, it was finished in 1997, and now has some 4,000 rooms in it. As well as serving as police, military and secret service headquarters, it apparently pays its way through tours, exhibitions and other events, but consumes a significant portion of the city’s electricity if all the lights are on.Other churches we visited included the Cathedral of the Patriarchy, which is south of the old town and is a striking building with a beautiful courtyard beside it.Inside is, like the others we visited, elaborately decorated.Back in the old town we also visited the Russian Orthodox church of Saint Nicholas,another building which is beautifully appointed outside and in.A few other photos from our walking around the city.The last thing we did was to take an early dinner at another of Bucharest’s famous eateries, Caru’ cu bere, the Beer Cart, the “7th Most Legendary Restaurant in the World”. We’ve been legendary on two days running, and I can tell you it’s quite tiring and very filling. The interior of the place is extraordinary.We indulged in more traditional Romanian sausages and much photography whilst we were there. Apart from walking back to the hotel to try to work off some of those sausages, this was the last thing we did in Bucharest. Tomorrow, we leave for parts more northerly, where Vlad’s name crops up again, as well as another famous character, about whom we will, I’m sure, learn more when we get there. Why don’t you join us?

It Begins – again! Arrival in Bucharest

Thursday 18 September 2025 – After what seemed like, oh, only ten days or so, here we are travelling again. Oh, wait – it is only ten days. We’ll have to try to get a better handle on our plans to give us just a little more time between trips. Anyway: travelling, so the alarm went off again at some obscure hour (actually 0500, to be precise). A remarkably smooth and well-choreographed set of movements around the house saw us up, packed, breakfasted and ready to go just as the taxi arrived to take us to Heathrow.

Our flight was uneventful, but a bit cramped for me; BA is obviously squeezing its customers as well as its margins, and we touched down in Bucharest only slightly earlier than our transfer driver had evidently expected. But we linked up eventually and had a somewhat traffic-laden journey to our accommodation while in the city, passing one of the reasons that Bucharest has the nickname “Little Paris”.

Our hotel is the Hotel Minerva, which is just this hotel, really; but it has air con (needed, because it’s nice and warm and sunny at the moment in Bucharest), a kettle and a fridge. Our room had clearly been set up for single occupancy, but the chap on the front desk, Vlad (yes, really), promised to arrange extra towels and pillows for us.

It was getting on for 4pm by that stage and we were somewhat peckish, and Vlad The Receptionist suggested the names of a couple of restaurants in the old town that we could investigate. So we went for a walk. Obviously.

Actually, we didn’t. The old town is a half-hour walk from the hotel and we were hungry, so we decided to take the metro, the nearest station of which was only 5 minutes walk away. It took us past a couple of buildings which give a clue to what I suspect is the often tumultuous history of the country: a fine (if slightly dilapidated) house which would not be out of place in central Paris;

and one which screamed “communist era brutalism”.

We’re due a walking tour of the old town tomorrow so doubtless will learn a great deal more; I might even remember some of it with which to regale you. It being a capital city, there are a few down-and-outs on the street, some just plain begging and some having an entrepreneurial spirit.

We got to the station, where we discovered that one could buy a mag stripe card good for 10 journeys for 40 lei (about £7), which we decided would suit our purposes for today and subsequent visits, and descended into the bowels of the metro.

It became swiftly apparent that it was rush hour. People were streaming in great numbers, observing a “keep right” rule which is occasionally written on the walls, and means that great numbers can make their way smoothly in opposing directionds, but which makes life complicated when you find yourself, as we did, on the wrong side of a stream. We forced our way through by being very British and apologising for any injuries we caused en route, and got on a southbound train, which was like rush hour metro trains in every major city.

We emerged into nice warm sunshine at the central station called Unirii. Heading towards our restaurant, we passed more of what looked very much like communist-era apartments

and also some much older and more charming buildings.

On the right is St. Anthony Church,

which is a Romanian Orthodox church and, it transpires, the oldest religious building in Bucharest. We popped in and admired its striking interior.

There was a steady stream of people paying their respects at the altar.

They all had a particular ritual they observed in bowing and crossing themselves in a specific order. Around the side and back is a place for people to light candles and pray

THANK YOU TO THE GOOD GOD AND ST. ANTONIE THE GREAT FOR YOUR HELP AND FOR THE FULFILLMENT OF OUR PRAYERS

It was very interesting for our short visit and doubtless we’ll come back on tomorrow’s tour to learn more about what is a very beautiful building; but for now we were peckish and so headed to one of Vlad’s recommended restaurants Hanul Manuc (which means, we’re told, “Manuc’s Inn”.

Through the arch is a splendid courtyard

On the edge of the courtyard are a bar and a kitchen, which was cooking up a storm.

Our waiter, Marius, introduced us to the local Apricot Palinka, a very tasty liqueur, and we indulged ourselves in some Romanian cuisine (well, the menu said it was, and who are we to argue?): stuffed cabbage leaves for Jane and “Mici” – skinless sausages – for me. It was delicous and the dougnuts with cream and blueberry jam we had for dessert were simply gluttony. There were beggars here, as well.

Heading back to the hotel (via a supermarket to get milk for our tea), we passed this sign:

Who knew that Bucharest was the first city to be illuminated by kerosene lamps? Not us, that’s for sure.

I took a few more photos in the metro on the way back – the stations are quite imposing, in a largely brutalist kind of way.

We have the whole day in which to explore Bucharest tomorrow, including a guided walking tour in the morning. Before we head up to the north of the country for the main objective of our time in Romania, I’m quite looking forward to getting to know this city a little better.