Afternoon of January 27th. I decided, before staying a few days in Timișoara, to make a stop in Arad. Despite the cold and misty rain, I walked around the city on foot, and honestly, despite the Mureș River that capriciously winds through the city, I would have been disappointed with it if providence hadn't led me to the Camino Social Place café where I stopped to work and ended up meeting nice and interesting people. The city has beautiful churches, like everywhere in Romania, but I had the feeling that the beauty was limited to a single street. It doesn't even have a typical town square. The tourist can go to the church, have lunch, and drink a coffee, but I must be honest, it didn't give me any desire to live there. The nature? It's nice but falls short of the Danube's banks, which dipped south after Budapest only to head east again in Belgrade. It doesn't have the sublime Carpathian mountains either. Well, I missed Romania so much that I couldn't resist. And it was a sensible choice; otherwise, I wouldn't have had such a pleasant evening. How hospitable these people are!
Let's focus on the next day: I catch the train at 7:30 a.m. towards Timișoara. A 57 km trip took... guess... 2h33. No delays. Don't ask about the landscape because I took the opportunity to sleep a bit more. Finally, I discover Timișoara—what squares, my God! What rich colors, filled with neoclassical theaters and a Baroque cathedral! I didn’t know Timișoara was the very first city in the world to have electricity. Even before Paris.
It was also in Timișoara that the first movements to overthrow Ceaușescu's communist regime took place in 1989. By the way, I visited the communism museum. I liked it because the association managing the space has a cultural pub, but I must say, it smelled more like wannabe hipsters than culture to me—more like left-wing people with iPhones. Back to the communism museum: you can see phones from the previous century, a fridge the size of a small scientific laboratory—no one could lift it alone, neither I nor anyone—games from the era, other trifles that nevertheless allow visitors to immerse themselves in post-war Romanian communism.
I wanted to socialize but in a different place. I found "Under the Bridge" after work hours. Even the girl who had quit her old job to work at the communism museum didn't take offense at my criticism of the museum's cultural space. We drank beers. For the second time on my trip, I talked with progressive people who are pessimistic about the climate of social insecurity in Western Europe. I agree with them—there's something off in our Western Europe. In Budapest as in Timișoara, I feel very calm, much less defensive than in a big Western European city.
Not so perfect visibly; many apartments accept bookings without payment, to pay on site in cash without receipt, obviously. Nothing against it if they offered something in return, but they take advantage to ask for even more, still used to foreign tourists paying high exchange rates. I stopped at a popular restaurant in the center of Timișoara. The authentically Transylvanian music appealed to me. The interior was perfect: tables with solid wood chairs, embroidered tablecloths in the regional style. And I love the fact that the staff doesn't speak English. I ate a delicious tripe and vegetable soup and then wanted a goulash. The only downside was feeling almost obliged to give a 10% tip, which doesn't fit the trip I'm doing. The staff complained that customers no longer tipped because everyone pays with cards nowadays, but they implemented a system allowing the customer to choose to contribute 0, 10, 12, or 15% tip. It's not a money issue. It's about not finding that lifestyle attractive—too robotic. But it's not time yet to explain what I mean by robotic. Oh, I also want to mention that for the first time I was approached by someone begging for money. She came with a sob story... but since she seemed nice, I gave her 10 lei (about 2 euros). She wanted more. I politely told her to buzz off. She thanked me and left me in peace.
I arrived in Timișoara at the end of January, when winter no longer announces itself dramatically but installs itself methodically. It had snowed a few days earlier, and the city still bore signs of that visit: remnants of snow piled on sidewalks, a humid cold rising from the ground, and that pale light that only exists when the sky wavers between sun and fog. It wasn't a city covered in white, but one that remembered having been...
The ice rink in the city center was wonderful but abandoned—I don't know why; I passed by several times and never saw anyone skating. Me, skating? I'd like to, but I need to work. I even went to the university to see if I could find some quiet to give lessons.
The next day I went north of Timișoara. I must say, since I've only said positive things about that city, that the wide avenues make life boring for those who like to walk. I want to strongly thank Mihaela, who hosted me for two days. I don't feel like leaving Timișoara at all, but I must continue my journey. My initial idea was to visit Belgrade, but I feel like staying in Romania. So I'm heading to Bucharest on an overnight train. In second class without beds. I honestly thought I'd have a more uncomfortable start to the night. My ticket says seat 74, car 724. I'm sitting in seat 74 but I know I'm not in the right car. Clearly, the conductors don't care. I have four seats and a table to myself, not to mention the other four equally empty ones next to me. No Wi-Fi, let's not exaggerate. But two outlets just for me. The train was supposed to leave at 9:42 p.m. There was the inevitable half-hour delay. No one complained. I don't know what time I'll arrive in Bucharest... Well, I should feel happy to enjoy this train that, despite being electric, has a charm we no longer find in Western Europe.
Unfortunately, I haven't known about my wallet since waiting for the train. I remember paying for a coffee in cash yesterday afternoon. I might have left it at the café. If so, no doubt I'll have good news tomorrow. Otherwise, I don't know. If I'd stayed at the house where I was hosted, my wallet would probably have been found. Let's be rational: I had the wallet with me around 5 p.m. yesterday. It might have stayed at the café, fallen from my pocket (unlikely), or someone might have stolen it when I was at the supermarket today and left my bag on the floor for a minute—I think that's equally unlikely since I kept my eyes open.
In summary, 80% chance my wallet with ID, Revolut card (confirmed no one used it), driver's license, about 40 euros in Romanian notes, and other cards is either at Mihaela's house or the café. And if not? I think I can easily get a new Revolut card, a citizen card at the embassy, and screw the rest. Ah, here's the diligent railway worker with his ping-pong paddles signaling the train can continue...
I don't want to dramatize the wallet situation. I share with the reader some unforeseen event, in this case unpleasant, that can happen to the pilgrim. With a bag full of bread, cheese, hummus, water, and beer to get through part of the night, what am I complaining about? Not knowing where my wallet is. Sherlock Holmes, what would you say in my place? That when almost everything is impossible, the answer lies in the least unlikely?
I repeat, there's no drama here, and I allow myself to convey my frustration because I hope it adds a breath of suspense to my journey. My wallet is where it is. I don't believe praying will make it move. And I also don't believe that whoever hears prayers, if they exist, should prioritize mine.
Still, I chose to go to safe regions—no, I'm not going to Afghanistan or Syria. Nor even Ukraine, although that was my initial intention regarding the latter. I commit to talking later about Ukraine, what drew me to go and what made me not go. For now, I want to emphasize that what I write is not literature—just a report of my travels—there's no fiction here. And that's why I don't consider this work I've started writing proper literature. I don't intend to climb Mount Everest, take sides in an armed conflict, or risk crossing a desert alone. I want to travel safely—I don't plan any epic journey. Still, being a relatively athletic guy capable of walking dozens of kilometers a day with luggage regardless of the weather, falling asleep without needing lullabies, not complaining if I don't find food... I'm not afraid of the unforeseen that sooner or later will knock on the door. Basically, I want a balance between pilgrim adventure and tourist travel.
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