Basil is quivering in his rubber tyres at Vampire Camping (yes really), Bran, Transylvania! We’ve told him that vampires are not real, but he’s not having any of it. He keeps calling for Peter Cushing* and has asked me to hang garlic round his wing mirrors. Basil really should get a grip on himself.
Last night things only got worse at Camping Casa Alba. More and more motorhomes arrived and the owner crammed them in dangerous fashion. Motorhomes were put in front of others, with the end result that if there had been a fire most motorhomes would not have been able to get out and the whole lot would have gone up in an expensive conflagration. Having said that, the fire would have had difficulty getting established because it rained heavily all night long!
I had a slightly embarrassing interaction with one of the Dutch motorhomers, who were at Casa Alba en mass. I noticed that one of them had a motorhome identical to Basil, if lacking our chunky chum’s winning personality. Sarah had seen him and his wife prowling round Basil making comments, so I decided to go an have a chat with him and compare notes. It’s a fact, or so I thought, that all Dutch people speak good English, so I got out of Basil and sauntered over the owner of Basil’s twin, who was sitting in a chair reading a book and said “Hello, do you speak English”. “No” he replied. Oh. I thought how am I going to take this conversation further so I said “Our motorhomes are the same”. He responded “Yes, same”. That was it. He went back to his book and I ambled back to Basil with my tail between my legs.
On waking up this morning Sarah said she had had an idea during the night and wanted to do something this morning for herself. Warily I asked what that was and she responded that she wanted to spend the morning shopping – yes shopping. Last night we had to find an ATM and the one we discovered was at a huge shopping centre close to our campsite. She pointed out that she had not been shopping for 3 months and thought it reasonable that she should have the morning to herself while I looked after Mabel and Melek in Basil, sitting in the shopping centre car park.
I explained that I couldn’t see the attraction of shopping when there is Dracula’s castle and Transylvanian Saxon villages to explore, but I saw she had a point. So I spent the morning sitting in a shopping centre car park in the rain, while Sarah shopped.
Once Sarah’s shopping bug had been sated, we set off to Transylvania. The drive from Bulgaria to Bucharest had, from a scenic viewpoint, been a bit dull. Flat as a pancake, but good farming land I would imagine. The first 60 miles north of the Bucharest were much the same, but then, in the distance we saw the Carpathian Mountains come into view and we were soon on the familiar ground of hairpin bends and third gear driving. The mountains are beautiful, densely carpeted with mixed forest, which is home to bears, wolves and lynx. The peaks are still snow capped and there were some shear rocky summits reminiscent of the Dolomites.
We finally arrived at Vampire Camping (45.528838, 25.369740) which at 87 Lei (€19) is again not cheap. It is however the nicest campsite we have been on since Greece, with the honourable exception of Camping Veliko Tarnarvo. The pitches are large and grassy and at the moment it is nice and quiet. The owner suggested we park on the gravel roadway because the rain has been so bad recently. We settled in and I watched the thrilling penultimate stage of the Giro D’Italia.
Basil, feeling vulnerable, at Vampire Camping
Our initial view of Romania is favourable. The roads are, so far, much better than in Bulgaria and the village houses are in a much finer state of repair. The villages are in fact rather pretty with wooden houses often decorated with fine fretwork and very singular in appearance. We have seen three horse and carts carrying hay, so earning a living from farming is obviously still difficult for some, but the country has presented a much better picture than its southern neighbour.
Later we will be travelling to the much more rural and isolated north of Romania and the situation may be different there. Time will tell.
* Any youngsters reading should look up Peter Cushing. He was an actor in a great many Hammer Horror films where he reprised the role of Van Helsing the vampire hunter on a number of occasions. He lived in Whitstable where I lived while at university and we would sometimes see him walking about town looking just as creepy as the parts he often played.