A day that is worth living

We say goodbye to dear mom Maria and her husband Christi. “Drum Bun”, (have a good trip) she says with one crying and one laughing eye. Maria squeezes, kisses and hugs us. Then she lets us go. The last night at the Americano also goes smoothly. With renewed energy, we set off in the morning and leave the small border town of Isaccea behind us. Although Mama Maria has sweetened our stay with kindness and warmth, we are not sad to move on. As soon as we pass the town sign, we are greeted by a ten percenter, how could it be otherwise? Tanja dismounts to protect her knee while I take on the challenge. I am delighted to be able to tackle the incline without having to push for the first time on this trip. “So, how’s your knee?” I ask when Tanja has reached the peak of the earth run. “Very good,” her answer relieves me. Mama Maria assured us that we wouldn’t have to cycle up any more hills from Isaccea onwards, but it was just as we had feared. The elevations we struggle with every day are barely noticeable to drivers and therefore obviously not visible. Although we are located directly on the Danube, the arterial road has been built into the foothills. I think the reason is that it makes sense not to build roads in a flood-prone area like the lowlands. Nevertheless, we are making very good progress. Our fitness is still improving and we take the hills in our stride today. Maybe it’s because we give our bodies plenty of time to get used to the strain.

The landscape here on the eastern border of Romania impresses us with its extraordinary charm. As we now follow the Danube back upstream to the border town of Galati, it lies on our right. From the road we can see a wide, lush delta through which the queen of rivers meanders. The lowlands are interrupted by small and large lakes. Reeds bend in the west wind. From time to time, inconspicuous houses stretch their roofs into the cloudy sky. The temperatures are perfect for us. Only rarely does a ray of sunshine force its way through a crack in the clouds and is reflected by the water below us. Sometimes we stop to take a few pictures. “Over there is Ukraine,” I say, pointing to the opposite bank of the Eben. To our left rises a gentle mountain landscape which is indicated on our map as Muntii Macin. We let our pedal cranks spin in unison. The last 16 kilometers before Galati, the hills bow down to a flat plain. The wind blows towards us. Only a few cars use this route. In front of us is a ferry station that takes us across the Danube to Galati, a city of around 300,000 inhabitants. We overtake waiting trucks and cars and suddenly we reach the shore. “You can buy your tickets over there,” explains a man who is also waiting in the car. While Tanja looks after the bikes, I get the tickets for our road trains. I have to pay 2 1/2 Ron, approx. 0.75 Euro per bike. As if we had booked the trip with a well-run tour operator, everything went like clockwork today. We are the first to roll our bikes onto the deck of the ferry. Then come the cars and finally the trucks. Cranes and chimneys disfigure the face of the capital of the Galati district. Galati itself is an industrial city with sawmills, mills, roperies, oil refineries, steelworks and a shipyard. As the ship departs, we stand at the railing and let our eyes glide over the harbor. This is where the ocean-going vessels from the Black Sea come to unload their goods from all over the world. The most important export goods include grain, livestock and timber. The town was first mentioned as early as the 15th century. In the 16th century it developed into an important Danube port. From here, goods were mainly exchanged with Constantinople. Development into an international port began as early as 1828, at the end of Turkish rule.

As we haven’t always had the best experiences with border towns, we are excited to see what awaits us here. For us, this metropolis is a leap into another country that is completely foreign to us. Three states meet just 13 kilometers from here. Moldova, Ukraine and Romania. But before we jump over the border to Moldova, we have to send films and picture CDS to Germany. Galati is therefore a short work stop for us.

The ferry docks after just 15 minutes. This time the heavy trucks are allowed to disembark first, then the cars and finally us. A friendly Romanian helps Tanja to push her bike up and we are already in the middle of the rush hour traffic of a big city. We pant up a steep hill and reach an ugly arterial road. It takes a while before a driver has the mercy to let us cross the main road. “Where do we have to go?” asks Tanja. “I wish I knew,” I reply and study the map. We need a guesthouse or motel here. But as we are traveling without a guidebook for weight reasons, we have to rely on our luck every time. “There’s a petrol station over there. Let’s go and ask there,” I shout to drown out the traffic noise. “You have to go back down the hill and along the Danube. You won’t find anything suitable in the center in that direction,” a man explains to me. I think about whether I can rely on the man’s statement and whether I really have to go back down the mountain. “What do you think?” I ask Tanja. “Without me. Who knows if he won’t send us in the wrong direction again. I’ve fought hard for this hill and I’m not going to give it back so easily,” I hear. Then I ask the man again if he is really sure. “Yes, for sure. You won’t find anything there. You know what? I’ll drive ahead and show you where to go,” he suggests in good English. Although Tanja is still a little reluctant, I manage to convince her to give up her mountain again. We now speed after the car that is keeping the road clear for us with its hazard warning lights. “Another angel”, it goes through my head, because it’s not the first time that complete strangers have helped us so selflessly. The route passes directly by the Danube. The landscape is so beautiful that I think I’m in a fairytale world. Where are the stinking ugly chimneys we saw from the other side of the river? Certainly not here, because trees line the promenade and villas line the slopes. He stops in the middle of the wide, beautiful avenue. “There’s a guesthouse up there. If you want to ask there? Maybe they’ll take your bikes. If not, ask at the hotel a few hundred meters further on. Do you see it?” he explains, pointing down the wide boulevard. “Thank you very much,” I reply and want to say goodbye. “You’re welcome. Do you know? I’ve been to Germany many times. It’s a fantastic country. I always buy the cars for the Galati TV station there. It’s a very good deal and you have great cars,” he laughs and drives off. I climb the stairs to the guesthouse. Then I step onto a green, very well-kept English lawn. I can hardly believe my eyes, because there are white chairs and tables in the garden. “What a fantastic place to spend a few working days,” I whisper. Full of anticipation, I open the door to the elegant villa. As soon as I enter the room, I am greeted in perfect English. “I’m very sorry. Our hotel is almost always fully booked,” I say, disappointed. I stand around for a few moments, somewhat perplexed. “If you like, I can call another hotel for you,” the very helpful lady suggests. “Oh, that’s nice. I’d love to,” I say happily. Then I get a note with the name of the hotel and an explanation of how to find it. Only 10 minutes later we reach Hotel Alex. “You are welcome to leave your bikes with us”, says the girl at reception, at least as friendly as all the other people we have met in this city so far. Tanja and I are surprised. Galati, an industrial port and border town, welcomes us with an openness and hospitality we have rarely experienced before. The girls at reception don’t miss the opportunity to help us carry our equipment to the room. “We wish them a pleasant stay in our city,” says one of them. “Oh, thank you very much,” we reply in high spirits. In the evening, we stroll through a busy and leafy pedestrian zone to the Danube. The life and activity here seems cheerful, as if people are waiting to step into another world. Somehow there seems to be a kind of joyful spirit of optimism here. For us, the situation is not entirely comprehensible. Is our mood reflected here? Or is it the residents who vote for us? Why do we find this place so pleasant? Strange. Could it really be that this neighborhood is so positive? Whatever it may be, this is how I could imagine the rest of our lives unfolding. Since the beginning of this stage, we have had the feeling that something has happened to us. Serenity, love, friendliness, good experiences, pleasant encounters, hospitality and courtesy are soon the order of the day. Although our previous trips were mostly under a positive star, there is no doubt that there is now more harmony. We don’t know whether this is a snapshot of life. If so, then we want to enjoy this moment as much as we can and penetrate further into the heart of Eastern Europe and into the hearts of the Eastern countries.

We find a reasonably priced restaurant boat directly on the Danube. The evening sun has long since dispelled the clouds and is also trying hard to please us. Large freighters and ocean-going vessels glide slowly past us in the last warm light of day. In the distance we can see the Muntii Macin, the mountains we cycled past just a few hours ago. The unconventional and strange-sounding music of a local band echoes across the expanse, blends with the gentle chugging of the freighters and is carried off into the distance by a gentle breeze. What a day, this day. A day that is worth living.

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