Our travels began breathlessly. Sailing off on the catamaran from Skopelos to Thessaloniki, hot-footing it to the station and, eager to clock up the miles but with no set route in mind, we jumped on the first overnight train north. A sweltering night and day through Greece and rural Bulgaria until we found ourselves in Bucharest, Romania.
Bucharest is an odd city. There is the immense parliament building, but much of the rest is still being re-built after the war and communist years took their toll. The old town is a billion euro development package away from being a gem of a place. Until then we walked the duck boards over the construction site.
You couldn't call it a pretty city but in our brief stopover, we definitely discovered some of Bucharest's wayward charm. Not least the free cake in honour of Saint Pantelimos and the fantastic reconstruction of traditional village dwellings in one of the many parks.
Bucharest is an odd city. There is the immense parliament building, but much of the rest is still being re-built after the war and communist years took their toll. The old town is a billion euro development package away from being a gem of a place. Until then we walked the duck boards over the construction site.
You couldn't call it a pretty city but in our brief stopover, we definitely discovered some of Bucharest's wayward charm. Not least the free cake in honour of Saint Pantelimos and the fantastic reconstruction of traditional village dwellings in one of the many parks.
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