Three months around Europe

It is the question you hear from customs officials all over the world.
“ Are you carrying a sword?”
“ A sword?” I asked, making thrust and parry gestures like a senile Zorro.
“Yes ,a sword.” He was not joking . He was after all a customs official on the border of one of the most unhappiest countries in the world, Moldova.
“ No Sword”
“ What about drugs ?”
Yes, I have drugs” His beady eyes lit up – Ukranian customs official
nabs Kiwi pensioner drug king. “ Show me. “
I showed him my anti inflammatories and some anti crapping drug, my doc recommended.
He looked deflated and sent me on to passport control.

The road from Odessa to the border of Moldova actually goes through Moldova twice. The first time for about five kilometres where you are given a piece of paper to hand in. Then you continue for about 130 km to the border proper.

I don't know what was up with Eva, but the road she took me on was a dirt road, washed out by recent rain, without any life or traffic. But checking by the map and compass showed I was headed to the border so I kept going. I spent my remaining Ukranian currency, the zit or something like that, on a fill of Mustang juice from the last WOG station before the border.

After customs, passport control and police I was away into Moldova.

Lonely Planet describes the capital Chisinau as a party happening town. Then in the next paragraph says it is renowned for police shakedowns and Moldova as one of the least happiest nations. Bit of a dichotomy there. Can just imagine the party: “ This is great fun . But it will end soon in a police raid, thunderstorm or acute depression. Probably all three. We cannot be happy for long. We might skew the survey “

So I just decided to transit Moldova into Romania. Mr Moldovian
Custom/Immigration official had more braid than the Auckland Blues , was small and full of self importance, strutting about like a cockerel. If I had a sword I could have sold it to him for about 2 million Moldovan zygotes. ( NZ $3.50)

“ Where you go in Moldova? “ asked Cock Braid.

“ I am just transitting to Romania.”

“Why you not go visit our capital. It happening place ,”

“ Yes, I would like to but I have an important appointment in Romania with a despot.”

“You need transit visa and green card , you buy from Captain inside.”

OK another shakedown , but no. I paid 2 euros , was given three hours to cross Moldova and even got a receipt. Obviously hadn't read Lonely Planet.

I spent an uneventful night in Galati, where the restaurant I chose for its very full menu only had fried chicken, chips and bread.

I headed for Brasov, the capital of Transylvania , home of Dracula and HQ of Vlad the Impaler. My intention was to visit his castle and research some new uses for 4 by 2s for my chippy mates.

Brasov bills itself as the best city in the world. All sun umbrellas had to boast this brand position and up on the hill there was a faux Hollywood sign.

Despite this pretentious branding, Brasov is a lovely medieval city. There was a free , light classical concert by the local philharmonic in the town square and when it finished I followed the crowd to the big band concert at Deane's Irish pub.

Hayden Deane, the pub owner was a former doctor in Belfast, had made some money in real estate and was now spending it on his big band. We got to talking and he invited me to the show.
“ We have a big pre wedding celebration tonight, but you can prop up the bar – the drink is on me. We don't often get Kiwis here and my old man had a great affection for them.”

But not only did I get free drinks and a seat at the bar , I was introduced as a famous New Zealand motorcyclist and drummer.

When this introduction was made the crowd looked at me and clapped . I made a self deprecating bow as only famous motorcyclists and drummers can .

At the interval I was approached by the bride and groom from the wedding party. And wouldn't you know it they were keen motorcyclists and musicians and had seen the film, the World's Fastest Indian three times.

“ Come sit with us and talk about motorbikes and drumming, “ they said indicating a huge table with about 40 people sitting around it.
They were all beaming at me and waving me over. “Will you be drumming tonight, “ someone asked. Never having drummed before in my life but reluctant to lower my status, I responded with a lady boy limp shake of my wrist and said injured.

Anyway I got on like a house on fire with Licvou and Magda and the upshot was I was invited to the wedding taking place in the country tomorrow. I would be their guest.

They wrote everything down and put these instructions in my shirt pocket.

“I was going to look at Vlad's castle tomorrow? “ I said not wanting to impose.
“ It will be there the next day. Anyway what is interesting about a king who puts sticks up people's bottoms,” said Magda. “ Romania is just known for him and Ceausescu's palace and policies. We are not a cruel people, let us show you another side of Romanians.”
Well that put it into perspective. I was on the guest list.

I can't remember much more of the evening, but I can report the party was not stopped by police , thunderstorm or acute depression.

As Hayden said in one of his songs

Brasov. My kind of town.

Till next time

Safe riding