by My trip across (and up a bit) to Cluj took a bit longer than expected; some major road works took out a section of motorway, adding an hour and a quarter to my journey. It was just as well I’d given myself plenty of time. I checked in to the same guest house as in 2016. I made sure to book a real place, with obvious signage and a manned front desk, to take the stress out of the whole thing. The Asian lady at the desk though didn’t speak Romanian and had only passable English. “You couldn’t have got us two rooms closer together?” “Okay.” My room was two floors above my parents’. After checking in, it was off to the airport to pick up Mum and Dad. I was surprised how quiet the place was, even at 9:30 pm. It’s always an amazing thing, meeting my parents at an airport, and indeed seeing other people’s reactions when they meet their friends and family.
The next morning we had a typical Romanian breakfast – cheese, ham, olives, tomatoes – then walked into town. Cluj had beautiful architecture just like I remembered it, but it was now on a whole different level of busyness and noisiness. Things are happening in Cluj, but I think I prefer Timișoara’s pedestrianised centre with its three squares. It was also quite hot in Cluj – just under 30 – and Dad really struggles in the heat. We walked up a hill to the Botanic Gardens which were beautiful and above all peaceful; while Mum and I happily wandered around, Dad found a bench in the shade. (If I’m honest, I started to flag a bit, too.) We then wandered slowly back to the guest house via an impressive market, as good as anything in Timișoara with all its meats, cheeses, fruit and vege. For dinner we had rather bland pizzas from a place attached to the train station.
On Wednesday we stayed mostly in the shade or inside, which was a result. First we visited the art museum, as I had done ten years earlier, though this time I had a critic alongside me. It was obvious even to me that the artwork, which included Nicolae Grigorescu’s, hadn’t exactly had a curator to take care of it. Over the years, most of the works had acquired a brownish-grey drabness, which was a shame. Grigorescu’s paintings in particular, where he captured rural Romanian life, were brilliant all the same. Our next stop was the Ethnographic Museum which was very well done and, as I always say, not entirely historical. We got back to our accommodation in mid-afternoon, which I didn’t mind at all. That evening we spent a long time walking up and down the main street looking for a place to eat, until I found a Chinese restaurant on Google Maps. We all had a damn good meal there.
First thing on Thursday I finally finished off my round of Scrabble games. My final tally of seven wins and seven losses was just enough to keep me in the third division. It was touch-and-go because my points differential was so poor: I won a number of close games but got thrashed in others. (I’m used to it being the other way round.)
And then we were off. Unlike when I drove from Timișoara by myself, we took the scenic route to go the other way. A very scenic route. We skirted the Apuseni National Park on a very bendy road which Mum didn’t particularly enjoy. Our first main stop was at Horea, a small town dominated by timber. As usual with Mum and Dad, we had a good look at the cemetery. At sometime around three or four we stopped at a town called Ștei, located near the Bears’ Cave which I visited all those years ago with my friends from St Ives. At one stage I handed the car keys to Dad. I didn’t choose the best time to do it. He almost careered off the side of the road as we rounded a sharp bend. As I took the keys back, we rose to 1200 metres amid low cloud which at one point cut my visibility to close to nil. We kept getting ear-splitting alerts warning of biblical-level floods on the way. “Do not travel” was the stark message.
Our final stop along the way was at Săvârșin for dinner. Above a small supermarket was a two-dollar-style shop and a restaurant where I had pasta, Dad had a schnitzel, and Mum had a salad. On the table next to ours were a couple of bikers (the motorised variety) from France.
Then came the torrent. We went back via the motorway and it absolutely sheeted down. We got home, relieved, shortly after nine. Kitty had been properly fed and watered.
I’ll put up some pictures in my next post. Mum’s 77th birthday is on Sunday. We’re going to try out the opera (a first time for me) on that day. Mum and Dad have now booked their return tickets to the UK; they’ll be flying to Luton early next Friday morning.
