1999 Biking East Europe

Wednesday, September 8 – Arad, Romania – Hotel Roberto, 4 000Ft
Distance cycled: 27 – Maximum speed: 26 – Average speed: 10
Exchange rate: 16 000 lei : $1

We are sitting in the large open window of a beautiful coffee shop on a side street in Budapest awaiting our omelette breakfasts. Charl is ogling the women walking by and could quite happily spend the day thus occupied. There is something about European women. A greater sense of style, a greater awareness of themselves as women, of their ability and desire to attract. The coffee shop, Ket Szerecsen, has a Mediterranean theme with sponged terracotta walls, African pictures thereon, copper lights with coloured glass insets. And a cute friendly helpful waitress much to Charl’s delight. A dinky toy Skoda, panelbeaten and unpainted, squeezed into a half space parking spot on the corner opposite us and a very modern miss in jeans and extraordinarily high platform shoes got out and passed our window while taking her Marlboros out of her bag. A little later a traffic cop arrived complete with video camera. He was obviously disapproving and prowled around her car filming it from all angles as well as in situ.

Today we plan to do our laundry, drop our bikes and luggage at Keleti train station in preparation for our journey to Romania tonight, visit the Kerepesi cemetery and do some shopping. Lekker rustig.

Currently sitting in Budapest’s only self-service laundry – very busy and very efficient providing full service as well as dry cleaning – where we were handed a sheet explaining the procedure in English. The only thing we get to do ourselves is put the washing in and take it out and tell the lady at what temperature we want the machine set – and this qualifies as self-service. During our search for this place which had moved since it was written up in the Lonely Planet guide, I left Charl holding the bikes while I popped into Pizza Hut to make enquiries. I opened their door and called Hello but no-one was there so I tried the restaurant next door (who said I could use their bathroom to wash my clothes!). As I left the restaurant I heard the Pizza Hut alarm going mad and realised it was I who had set it off by opening their door! No-one came running to arrest me, however, and after several minutes it reset itself and stopped wailing! Charl went walkabout while the washing was going roundabout and I chatted to a shy Japanese woman travelling Europe on her own for nine months and watched with slight embarrassment and considerably more amusement the antics of a no longer young American couple. His hair, though completely white, still long enough for a girl and a ponytail – a relic of the 60s – she sweet looking and girlish but bossy, shushing him every time he said anything. They immediately upset the busy proprietor by taking over the entire counter top with magazines, washing and maps. And quite clearly expected immediate service despite the number of other people in the shop!

After dropping our bags (not, upon reflection, our bikes as planned) into a locker at Keleti train station we paid a visit by bike to the Kerepesi cemetery. I have visited many a graveyard on my travels, being fascinated by the rituals of death, but never one quite so elaborate. In the more human-size end of the cemetery we encountered many children’s graves dated 1955 (why?), many adult graves dated 1956 (the revolution?) and of course 1945 graves – in one three sons dead and buried, the mom later joining them in their final resting place. On most of the graves, however, were large statues: Christ, mourning women, poets, soldiers. One headstone an enormous statue of a dead woman with mourning children gathered at the foot of her four-poster bed and a man perched disconsolate at her feet with his mandolin. Others were buried in mausoleums with gold leaf images. Many had old black and white photos of the dead still living. We also came across a new grave in the centre of a large piece of lawn and an artist still chiselling at white stone creating an incredibly ugly structure of flying horses with men clinging to their backs surrounding the flower-decked grave.