Come on Sun!: You can do it!

January 8, 2014

I felt rather sad to be leaving the hostel. The previous night I had stayed up until the early hours of the morning chatting with the other guests over a few drinks (I only had one glass of wine though, honest!) At one point I asked Gerry to tell me an interesting story. He thought for a long time and then came up with one.

"Well, there was the time I was attacked by Roman gypsies" he said.

'This should be good!' I thought.

"They are highly skilled these gypsies. Incredibly talented thieves you know. Very good at what they do. Imagine doing something for forty years. They become highly skilled."

'Sounds like you're buying for time to think of something Gerry, get on with it.'

"I was on a very packed bus just outside of Bucharest. These four gyspsy women got on. They were big women you know, 25 stone each, and they headed directly for me."

'A packed bus does sound like a good place for an ambush'

"They came at me. Well of course I am trained in combat. I put three of them on the floor in seconds, to the applause of everyone else on the bus."

Don't laugh, don't laugh. don't laugh

"The fourth one, and remember they are highly skilled, highly skilled. She, quick as a flash, grabbed my mobile phone. At this point I pulled out my knife. She was shocked by this, they aren't used to people fighting back you know, and she dropped the phone. Err, um, so then I put her on the floor as well. There was a big pile of gypsies on the floor now. I really wish someone had the sense to have filmed this."

'So do I Gerry, so do I'

"Then the bus came to a stop and the women, they were very agile, big, but very agile, got up and were off the bus before you knew it."

And Gerry sat back and nodded. He had finished (making up) his story.

But for all his questionable tales Gerry was actually a really nice guy and a thoroughly entertaining one whose company I greatly enjoyed. The same may be said of the Italian man, (who was, incidently, becoming strangely infatuated with Gerry,) and the Polish couple, and Anna of course. So it was with some sense of sorrow that I said goodbye and left and with the realisation that perhaps the budget can be extended to staying in one or two more hostels along the way; they aren't so bad after all.

It was another foggy day and I spent it cycling out of Chisinau to the south-west which took me on a (surprise, surprise,) very hilly road. It was basically climbing up through some mountains and to make the whole thing even more terrifying and miserable the road was busy and had no shoulder. So thats a) fog so thick I could barely see anything, b) constant climbing up steep gradients, c) lots of traffic and d) no shoulder to get out of the way of this traffic. Sorry Moldova, but cycle touring really doesn't get much worse than this. Quite frankly I'd have given my right pannier to be back in that hostel listening to another of Gerry's anecdotes.

A night in the woods near to the top of a pass appeared to have solved everything because in the morning I was greeted by an old friend, and you'll never guess who. No, not Gerry, guess again. I'll give you a clue; It was the first time I had seen this friend since Lviv. No, not Hanna, what would she be doing appearing in the woods in Moldova!?! Oh, you're never going to get it, I'll just tell you. It was this guy:

There was not a cloud in the sky! It was a beautiful, crisp, clear morning, with the sun rising through the trees and blue sky overhead; I felt revitalised, happy and excited for the sunny day ahead. I cheerfully cycled up to the top of the pass which only took five minutes and then, on the other side of the peak I immediately found myself back surrounded by the same thick fog that had ruined my day the day before. It was only gone from the side of the mountain that I had ridden the day before, it still clung to this side of the peak. 'Oh well,' I thought, maintaining my optimism'I'm sure it will only be like this for a few minutes, once I get below the clouds it'll be beautiful and sunny.'

The opening match of the Goose World Cup had to be abandoned today due to heavy fog and the fact that both teams turned up in white kits. And no one brought a ball

And it turned out I was right, the fog did only last for a matter of minutes. One thousand, nine hundred and twenty-eight minutes to be exact (thats two whole days folks.) I shouldn't complain too much though, because on the second day the terrain flattened out considerably and it was only the twenty kilometre-per-hour headwind that was driving me to insanity now (and the fog, of course.)

But let's look for the positvies. Oh dear yes, let's look for the positives. Well, the further south I went, the more friendly people became. It was almost impossible for me to take a break at a bus stop or a well without somebody coming up to me to say hello and ask what the hell I was doing cycling about in the fog like this. And at one point I was called over by a group of men who were working by the road cutting branches off trees. I say that they were working, what they were actually doing was standing around by a fire. They invited me by the fire to warm up but as I had just cycled up a steep hill I was actually sweating and had no great desire to do so. Instead, because they were so nice, they gave me a glass of wine which I drank even though it was midday. The rest of the day seemed so much easier after that.

And then there were the birds. Southern Moldova seemed to be the land of the birds. At different times I saw geese, ducks, chickens, all crossing the road. And then I came across a gaggle of turkeys in the road. I took out my camera and held it up to get a picture of them as I cycled past, assuming that they would just move out of the way. But a few of them, presumably in blind panic at my absurdly overloaded bicycle, ran down the road in front of me. I continued snapping photos and pedalling slowly as they ran on ahead and I began to worry that whoever owned the birds may consider me to be trying to steal them, or at least blame me for herding them a considerable distance away from where they were supposed to be. I imagined the shock the owner may have had upon looking out his window. "Martha, get the gun, our turkeys are being stolen by a man on a... is that a bicycle? It looks like he's already got five or six stashed away in those bags and... is he filming the whole thing?"

"Well this road seems like a good place for us to stand"

The fog cleared at the end of the second day, and the beautiful sunset promised better weather to come

On my final morning in Moldova I awoke with some optimism because I had seen the weather forecast, and the weather forecast promised that it would be a beautiful sunny day. It promised. Not that I realy believe these mystics who claim to predict the future so I wasn't entirely surprised to wake up to this:

It was utterly freezing with a thick frost and a thick fog and I was cursing those charlatans at the Met office as I set off into it. But after a while the sun began to appear faintly through the fog, thereupon beginning a great battle. The sun was coming in with a left hook, a right jab. The fog stood firm, not wavering, solid, and the fight swung back the other way. The sun was on the ~~ropes~~ horizon. But then it fought back with a solid swing of the right arm, but the fog continued to block the sun as much as possible. It was a great blocker. "Come on Sun!" I cried, "You can do it! Get into him! Beat him up! Come on!" Then I was momentarily distracted by the sight of a fat man on a cart being pulled along by a donkey, "You should be ashamed of yourself sir. Come on Sun! Go on! You can do it!"

It was an epic and long-fought battle yet finally, when enough blood had been shed and my voice was hoarse from shouting, the sun finally emerged victorious and my last day in Moldova was to be a beautiful sunny one. Except by this time I was almost at the Romanian border.

Goodbye sheep, goodbye Lada, goodbye mystery piles of sand at the side of the road, goodbye Moldova, thanks for the memories

MOLDOVA SUMMARY:

Time: Nine days

Distance: 660 kilometres

Best bits: The people were very friendly

Worst bits: Lots of contenders here although I think the absolute worst thing was the paradox of cycling uphill for nine days and finally ending up at sea level.

Top tip: Visit in summer, it looks much nicer in the sunshine.

Yeah, it is quite nice when you can see it

On to Romania we go then I suppose, just me and you old boy

08/01/14 - 37km

09/01/14 - 82km

10/01/14 - 50km

11/01/14 - 73km in Moldova

Today's ride: 242 km (150 miles)
Total: 12,209 km (7,582 miles)

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