The Dacia Express

It is 9 AM and my lids still feel heavy. A female voice is making announcements in an unfamiliar language outside while other passengers are roaming the hallway. The three people I'm sharing the cabin with are still asleep aboard the Dacia Express, 1000 cars long.

Well, I don't know how long the night train to Bucharest is, but I do know we're deep in Romania, at the Cluj Napoca train station.

Yesterday I had taken the early bus to Vienna, where after having dinner and getting some supplies for the approx. 20h train ride ahead of me, I found myself lending a patient ear to an octogenarian giving me an account of all of her aches and ailments. She had moved (fled) from Romania 50 years ago, now lives alone in Passau, Germany, since her husband died and was on her way to an apartment she inherited in Brasov.

I only noticed they had changed the platform when I saw the blue-grey sleeper arrive at the track next to ours and we rushed as fast as her physical condition would allow, hopping onto the train just as the conductor was closing the doors.

The cabin was surprisingly comfortable and had enough room to store the luggage. The six-berth ones further down the train did look a bit more cramped though. After getting a set of clean linen, I clambered up to the top bunk and made myself comfortable. I was woken up twice in the middle of the night as we left the Schengen Area and crossed the border from Hungary to Romania to get our passports checked - but resumed my slumber fairly easily. All in all I feel I had a good night's rest.Okumaya devam et