The hundred-mile barrier

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Trip Start Aug 17, 2009 Previous
Entry Trip End Dec 03, 2009 Next
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  Constanza, Constanţa, Romania
Thursday, October 1, 2009

In Miercurea Cıuc I ate pızza and promptly fell ill. After 24 hours of intense bodily functions İ was freed from the W.C. On my way out of town I stopped in at a bike shop and met Jolt, who out of pure kındness gave my traumatized-tarmac trundler an overhaul, lent me his internet, supplied me wıth beer and put me up in a shed behind the shop where İ slept like a log on an old wooden horse carriage. A great guy and a great bike shop. He arranges mountain bike tours amongst other things : zsolt@rockmachıne.ro Having had a fair few scary moments with dogs which absolutely detest bicycles İ thought it a wise investment to purchase a high-powered, high-pitched anti-dog gizmo. Indeed the dazzer seems to have some deterrent effect on some dogs. Unfortunately the truly vicious ones seem little bothered, that or they spent their youth as security dogs at rock concerts and now hear nothing. I havenīt been bıtten but am actıvely searchıng a rabies injection, ıncase the terrible rumours of rabid turkish dogs the size of elephants are true.

Over the next few days I really pushed hard with my cycling: on the day I finally and somewhat sadly left the Carpathian mountains I peddled 170 km/106 miles. On that day I met Sebastian, who had travelled from Germany in a 30-year-old East-German mobility cart. He told me how the engine had blown up 100 km outside of Bucharest and wıth the help of a local farmer had disassembled the 50cc engine and removed the cylinder and piston.

With the offending parts in hand Sebastian had taken the bus into Bucharest, found a mechanic who had given him the new parts, driven him the 100km back to his disabled, disabled-mobility cart, fıtted the new cylinder and piston and then left Sebastian, motor running, having refused a single lei (Romanıan currency) in payment. His blog is www.einfachlos.blogspot.com
good luck wıth the German and good luck to the German.

The Carpathian mountains were fınished for me, I was to continue south east while the mountaıns hook round westward. Arriving in Constanza on the Black sea coast I had been on the plain and lands dominated by man for some 300-treeless kılometres.

Constanza is a busy sea port and tourist destination. A kebab shop worker advised me to be careful as the city has a few very rich who drıve around flaunting their wealth and a lot of very poor of whom a few aspired at any cost to have what the rich have. Thus with his advice taken and his kebab making its way into my lower intestine I slept out of town.

On my way to Bulgaria I cursed a bear of a man called, unfittingly, Mimi. Mimi had convinced me that the coastal road to Bulgaria was quiet. How wrong he was! He was, however, right about a bag being full of live ducks.

I took the first opportunity to leave this road of doom, cruised south westerly and entered Bulgaria untwarted at a quiet border-crossing town which translates into English as Black Water.

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