Room, non-exclusive

After stowing away our tent, we indulge in Octavia’s culinary delights. I enjoy the fried hands while Tanja devours the cake. As soon as we have finished, our hosts reappear. They put coffee and bread on the table. We drink the hot, good-tasting and uplifting brew. But then we insist on having to leave. We definitely want to reach the small town of Lehliu-Gara today. It is not easy for us to say goodbye after the wonderful days we have had. We give each other a hug. Dan’s eyes become moist. It’s fantastic that you can build up such a heartfelt connection with complete strangers after a short time. Sometimes I feel as if I’ve known one or the other from another time, the feelings we have for each other are too pleasant.

At 9:30 a.m. we pedal our bikes over the dusty track to the main road. Dan follows us in his old car. We part ways for good on the road. We pedal along at around 10 to 17 kilometers per hour. Our muscles have not yet become accustomed to the strain. No wonder. A slight headwind curbs our euphoria. After 23 kilometers we reach Lehliu-Gara at around 11:00 am. We pass various street restaurants. People wave and some shout. The children and young people at a school are cheering us on. We feel good. Normally, only the Tour de France riders and us are greeted in this way after just 23 lazy kilometers. We consider whether we should continue. The next overnight stop is 54 kilometers away. Too much for the first few days. As we are cycling a mountain of equipment, the distances have to be counted twice for us. We don’t want to overload ourselves in the first few days, but rather get used to longer daily stages at a leisurely pace. Sure, we could also camp somewhere wild. But at the moment we want to limit ourselves to invitations, as with Dan. Simply pitching your tent in a field is not necessarily advisable. There is too much theft here in Romania, at least that’s what we’ve been told. We would therefore have to take to the bushes unseen. Unfortunately, people are constantly working in the fields or herding sheep, cattle or horses. There is usually always a pair of eyes watching us from unseen angles. For today, we check into the only commercial accommodation in the city.

“Do you have a room available?” I want to know. “There,” I understand, which means yes. The lady kindly leads me to our chamber. If we hadn’t already seen a lot on our travels, I’d be devastated. We climb the stairs to the second floor, which are completely overgrown with greenery. It goes through a musty dark corridor. To the left and right, pitted doors yawn at me. She inserts the crooked key into one of the rear gates and lo and behold, the thing opens with a loud creak. My gaze falls into another dark, very small room. It stinks of old smoke, the wallpaper is from the 50s. The sparse furniture is on the verge of collapse and the mattresses are completely worn out. “I hope there are no other inhabitants in there who nibble on you at night,” I think. “Camer not exclusive,” says the lady apologetically. “Yes, not exclusive,” I confirm. But it costs the equivalent of 25 euros. A proud price for the hole. There is no negotiation. Either we pay or we leave. In the end, we agree to stay. We carry all the equipment into the establishment and lock our bikes and trailers in the backyard with three locks. Then I set about getting to grips with my new picture archiving program. My head is spinning. It is always difficult for me to get to grips with computer programs. But because we arrived so early, I have the time. In the evening, after I’ve paid quite a bit of tuition, the pictures are in the laptop and labeled. “I’m getting better every day,” I praise myself. Then we order our dinner. Because the restaurant looks very good compared to the rooms and the chef has even put a white cap over his head, we hope for a tasty dish. When the food arrives and we are ravenously hungry, the disappointment is great. The chef is not a chef. There is no doubt that in a previous century, his life would have been sought after for this achievement.

Unsatisfied but happy with how well the journey has gone so far, we retire to the dark room. As soon as we, the only guests in the hotel, have laid our bodies on the mattress, the battle begins. Dogs bark in packs right outside our window and do everything they can to keep us awake. Mites seem to be jumping at us from every nook and cranny, because Tanja and I have to sneeze terribly. These invisible critters obviously love the 30-degree atmosphere and reproduce by the millions. Whole squadrons of mosquitoes have been waiting for a long time to finally get their prey. We fight back wildly until only the chemical mace works and the mosquito repellent puts our enemies to flight. In short, it’s a terrible night, which is why we long to return to the fishing hut.

We look forward to your comments!