SQUARRITES BOOK A REST

4^th October – 8^th October 2008 

 

Saturday began very early as 9 of the team met at Westbury Tavern at 1: 45 a.m.

Yup sent Dasher a text as the mini-bus arrived so that a swift pick up could be made at The Meir but the message was lost in the ether and Steve was absent.

It was suggested by some that he would be finishing off a block paved drive, though the general conclusion was that he was more likely to be finishing off reading a book.

Scottee mused as we waited in the dark that Romanians would prove to be all like the Cheeky Girls since they could not afford to eat.

Dasher arrived and the bus sped on to Uttoxeter to collect Sid for the journey to Luton as we listened to Scottee’s reminiscences of his trip to the pyramids. He had ridden on a camel named Moses and pointed out that few people were on first name terms with a camel. Sid commented that his wife also went on one and had asked “What about the smell”. The inevitable reply had been “The Camel will soon get used to it”

 

Dawn broke as we turned off the M1 and arrival at Luton Airport and fears that Wizz Air was a one crate outfit were dispelled with a display of 4 modern planes in purple livery.

The flight to Bucharest was undertaken in a haze of alternating consciousness as everyone caught up with their lost sleep.

Two mini buses were waiting in the bright sunshine to make the 145km. trip to Brasov.

Scottee commented on the large number of S Class Mercedes “obviously bought with cash meant for the orphanages but diverted”.

The road to Brasov was lined by neat but simple houses with buckets of fruit for sale and vines in most gardens. The air-con ensured that a near freezing temperature was maintained though Scottee considered it “ambient”.

The route passed abandoned factories next to an oil refinery with several miles of “nodding donkey” oil well pumps.

 

The route through the Transylvanian Alps was spectacular with forests of red, gold and green surmounted by high crags. A shepherd with 3 sheepdogs expertly herded sheep alongside the fast flowing river while allegedly shouting “Let’s get the flock out of here”

Our guide, Vlad Coman, (not to be confused with his disreputable cousin Vlad Conman) reported that the mountains extended to over 2,500 m. in height and that cable cars were available.

The buses stopped at a roadside taverna named Casa Noastra in the ski resort of Sinaia and 11 Ursus beers were quickly delivered.

In preparation to meet Dracula 10 “stakes” were ordered plus a calzone for the none red meat eating Scottee.

A sign displayed draught beer at a bargain price but a request to the serving girl was met by a very firm and loud “NO”

 

Arrival in Romania’s second City involved a sharp U turn to the Hotel Ambient for the night.

“A quick shower and ablutions and meet in the lobby for aperitif” said Yup “You will all have been supplied with a pair of teeth”.

The first bar was authentically Scottish with tartan decoration, beer at 6 lei a pint, a good choice of whiskeys and run by an aggressive Glaswegian.

The search for something more ethnic led up an alleyway to a very small bar. The lady host quickly stubbed out her fag and prepared to serve with a smoky smile but could offer only bottled beer

We arrived at the Taverna Sarbului (not to be confused with Sambuka) and settled down with a beer costing 8 Lei a pint. (It should be noted here that the local currency was 1 (new)Leu or, if plural, 10 (New)Lei with 1 Leu worth 25 pence. Beer at 8 Lei was thus around £2)

The menu appeared expensive but came complete with pictures that provided entertainment during the long wait before the food arrived. Scottee insisted that his Wiener schnitzel had been made from chicken breast and not veal though, judging by the size of it, it must have been a chicken with implants.

Yup’s meal was not spicy enough but the “Serbian Bread” was good.

11 meaty meals + beers cost 500 leu – around £11 each. It was Saturday night after all.

 

Sunday 5^th October

 

The day started early with a good breakfast that included bacon, chewy sausage and scrambled egg. After the cake course mini pizzas and grilled eggs on toast were added to the table to be stuffed down with the help of another cup of coffee.

Yup & Stubbee arrived at 9:35 for the agreed 8:30 meeting and were in so much of a rush that Yup had to return to his room to collect the itinerary.

Bill passed the time struggling with his new mobile to change from predictive text to normal. Keithee advised him that he needed a teenager. “That’s all teenagers are good for - texting and fxxxing” he added.

Vlad met us with a large bus with a surly driver and seats that instantly reclined every time Bill took a breath but was powerful enough to quickly climb into the mountains for some spectacular views of Brasov in the mist.

We made our way to the ski centre at Poiana Brasov and on through the rain towards Bran Castle.

Our Vlad informed us that the Impaler Vlad had been imprisoned in the Castle for three weeks during 1377 though his castle lay elsewhere. Bran Castle had been equipped with 55 cannons to guard the entrance to Transylvania.

We climbed the slippery steps up to the entrance where Jacko took a tumble, Bill took his hood off to reveal his grey hair to qualify for a pensioner rate and Scottee took a photo of a nice pair of knockers on the door.

The castle had been the home of the Romanian Royal Family until the 1940’s and, though sparsely furnished, was adorned by photos of the last Queen in various Hollywood type poses. It was fairy tale cute and contained all the right ingredients including a secret stairway within a wall.

Scottee and Richie sheltered from the rain under an overhanging projection in the cliff face as the rest got wet contemplating the meaning and timing of fate.

 

The side shows were grouped in the square and included the usual tatty souvenirs, genuine plastic Dracula relics and an old lady proudly displaying her wares that included a bucket of apples, walnuts and pots of honey.

We paid our Lei and entered the House of Horrors via a bridge within a rotating drum that induced each visitor to cling onto the hand rail to counter the disorientating spinning effect while trying to avoid decorating the drum with pavement pizza.

The displays were simple but effective and included live but severed heads and impaled torsos. The coffin lid opened and the vampire sat up like a coiled spring but the action caused so much vibration he appeared to masturbxxx as he rose. Dirty sod!

 

We were aware that Elf ’n Safety rules had probably not yet been adopted in the new Europe as we made our way into a chamber with a Werewolf in a pit but equipped with a vicious looking pitchfork.

Yup had the willies well and truly put up him as he tried to escape the range of the pitchfork. He escaped to the corner but the werewolf merely climbed the balustrade to threaten him as he cowered and was only saved by the sound of the approaching Steve as the werewolf shrank back into the shadows in order to greet his next guest.

Yup made well his escape and checked the cleanliness of his trousers as he watched in delight as the werewolf startled Steve.

 

Club Villa Bran lay off a narrow track beyond a farmyard. The track was so steep that steel bars had been set into the concrete ramp to form a ladder but had been ripped out by traffic to leave jagged projections.

Expectations were justifiably low but were soon lifted as we entered the restaurant which appeared to be a grand hunting lodge constructed of tree trunks and branches.

The walls were built of cut logs set in mortar and a huge open fire burned logs in the central area with smoke rising through a stone chimney hung by chains from the high ceiling.

We were ushered to an upstairs table with spectacular views of Bran Castle set within the tree clad mountains.

Yup lifted his ban on starters and ordered a soup but Scottee confessed that he had no appetite after he had perhaps over indulged at breakfast with cakes and cheeses followed by more cakes and pastries. “He was now full of shit.” remarked Keithee.

Craig also claimed to have little appetite but ordered a vast wooden platter of “tortacello”

The Chef’s special turned out to be orange tennis balls of polenta (made of maize meal) with heavy garlic presumably to ward off the vampires

Scottee observed that the locals were all very fit and considered it was all due to clean mountain air and goat’s cheese as he helped Richie to pour his beer. He spoiled the assistance by dropping the bottle to break a plate and spilling the beer.

Richie sentenced him to be impaled.

The meal and wine turned out to be too good and we dallied so long that Vlad’s schedule faltered.

A reindeer bade us farewell to rejoin the previously empty roads that were now busy and traffic jams slowed our progress while Bill continued to break more seats.

“I shall write to Mercedes about these seats” he said.

 

Perles Castle stood magnificently within a landscaped estate but had closed its doors for the day. The café was simple but inviting though the hostess caused some confusion by quoting prices in old leu. The cost of the Ursus beer proved cheap when the price was divided by 1000.

The bus began the journey back to Bucharest but as he turned a corner in Sinaia the driver’s view was so masked by his windscreen collection of charms and St. Christopher medallions that he nearly hit a couple on the zebra crossing.

 

The journey back through the oil fields was one long traffic jam enlivened only by Richie’s tirade regarding the meaning of “a 50% chance of precipitation” so that we arrived at the Hotel Rembrandt bored, tired and thirsty.

Rooms were quickly taken with Axe allocated a penthouse with a balcony.

Every room came equipped with double beds that were dismantled within seconds of arrival to make twin beds and furniture rearranged to make barriers between.

A quick visit to the Hotel bar for the complimentary drink followed by several more uncomplimentary ones preceded the excursion to Caru’ cu Bere

The restaurant was definitely the place to see and to be seen in.

Scottee pondered whether the building style was Baroque, Rococo or Art Nouveau? Bill declared it to be Victorian Gothic and definitely impressive.

Several girls in gypsy dress appeared to be in charge. The head girl wore flat shoes but would have stood a fully metricated 2 metres tall in high stiletto sling backs and fish net stockings. She allowed us to stand by the ladies loo that doubled as a confessional box while we fantasised and considered our options.

A large table was soon cleared and we settled in with litre steins of beer while Steve resisted the urge to order a lemonade side order.

Yup ordered chicken while most went for fish on the proviso that it did not come with polenta.

A wonderful spread was presented though only Steve’s sizzler was warm. Stubee asked for more bread that never arrived and left him feeling hungry.

The time must have passed quickly and it appeared as if suddenly everyone, including the girls, had left and the waiter turned cold and unfriendly.

The meal including 1½ litres of beer and several glasses of wine cost 75 lei each.

We reflected on the good value as we sipped Jack Daniels at 26 lei back at the Rembrandt bar.

 

Monday 6^th October. Bucharest

 

Breakfast was displayed in the bar and included a Tupperware type boiled egg cradle containing 5 (presumably half a metric dozen) eggs firmly welded to each other with boiled egg white.

We set off to University Square to explore the building site that was the Metro system but no maps or directions were available.

Jacko lost orientation in his visit underground and strode off in a new direction.

The shortcut through the park to get back to Revolution Square proved a worthwhile break from the traffic as we relaxed in the café by the fountain in the lake. Scottee and Craig ordered orange while the rest chose coffee.

There appeared to be no pavement cafes or bars to sit at and watch the world go by and little to ogle even if there had been.

Axe found The Winston Churchill Bar and considered it unpatriotic to pass by.

Two beers each plus Bailey’s and sambukas for the Beardy boys were drunk before the bill was carefully apportioned and settled.

Stubee, the king of the kebab, led the way over the road to a Turkish takeaway and ordered an Eastern concoction using a mixture of sign language and pointing.

However “hold the mayo” could not be transmitted or interpreted and Stubee walked away with a gift wrapped soggy envelope.

Eager to avoid the sign language most merely pointed at the Stubeekebab and nodded for a repeat complete with generous dollops of minty yoghurt and sauerkraut.

Jacko found a comfortable section of kerb and sat down to carefully unwrap his parcel but, unfortunately, opened the wrong end so that the contents of the already sodden bundle ruptured to release the contents over his crotch and he was forced to spend the rest of the day looking all overcome with a very suspicious white stain.

Scottee avoided the queue by buying from another greasy spoon round the corner and settled down to eat it on the step to a flower shop.

The irate florist appeared with a broom and berated Scottee about the communal mess that surrounded him. Scotee protested his innocence but, as he did so, dropped a soggy lump of his Turkish delight and was lucky to escape without a brush round his ear.

The general conclusion was tasteless, disappointing and lacking spice.

 

The Indian Restaurant was found and a reservation made for 11 at 9:00 p.m. though the owner believed the reservation to be only a distraction story to allow the group to visit his loo.

Satisfied that we had probably done the town we set off back via a stop for Yup to make his traditional purchase of local vodka.

 

A quick power nap and shower was all that was needed before a re-group in the bar where the new barmaid offered a choice of dark or blonde. A couple from Canada had booked into the hotel and enquired about the Squarry Club. Not only were they familiar with the game but they owned their own Squash courts.

Jacko led the way to the Metro at Piata Unirii and purchased a ticket for 11 that had to be passed 11 times through the automatic entrance gate.

The nearest station to the Indian was Obor which was in the far North East to our starting point in the South so that any train in either direction seemed OK.

The first train in was boarded and we set off in a clockwise direction around the City to eventually arrive at Obor to begin the long trek Southwards to the Haveli heritage cuisine restaurant which lay behind the Indian Embassy and could therefore be assured to be authentic.

The table for 11 was ready with a large “Reserved” notice and our waitress, Angelina, quickly served the first beers.

Axe commented that he had been married for 15 years. To the question “Did you get your crystal wedding gift?” he replied “No, just the Solicitor’s bill”.

Keithee remarked that it was a wonder that Yup had kept his figure with all the food he ordered. Scottee noted that Yup had an hour glass figure- with all the sand at one end.

The meals were served in small balti dishes all as ordered but were all lukewarm.

Jacko managed to rub a chilli pepper into his eye and had to be led to the loo by Sid so that he could wash his already closing eye. “It’s just as well you hadn’t rubbed your penis and made that shrink” said Keithee. “You should have rubbed your brain and made that smart instead”. “Or perhaps they are the same organ” he added.

Scottee was wearing his locally bought after shave which was guaranteed to result in sex late at night.

The long walk back to the hotel was along by now familiar streets and even the underpass construction site seemed ordinary.

 

Tuesday 7^th October. Bucharest

Breakfast was again taken in the mezzanine bar where Bill again bumped his head on the beam every time he filled his plate. It was rather like being on an aversion therapy diet.

The night had been warm and muggy so that windows in all rooms had been opened and everyone had been bitten by mosquitoes.

However Scottee claimed that he had been saved from being bitten either because of his sex spray or that Richie had proved much more “juicier” to the insects.

Suitcases were packed and rooms vacated by 11:00 in readiness for the final day in the city.

The main square was busy but unexciting. We stood by the turning point for the trams and noted that the drivers were all burly women.

The tree lined mall leading to Parliament Palace was spacious with wide pavements but with few cafes and little atmosphere.

The Plaza in front of the Palace contained a stage from which loud music was being played while beyond lay dozens of old buses with filthy interiors.

The sound of a chanting mob could be heard approaching and a concerned security guard advised our absence. Observers stood at every prominent place on the rooftops surrounding the Plaza and Richie made some loud reference to sniper fire. Not wanting to become part of the protesting rabble we moved off towards the Palace entrance.

The Palace visit was only possible by guided tour but only 4 tickets were available.

Subbee, Bill, Keithee and Jacko were first in the queue and paid their 15 lei entrance.

Jacko was frisked by the guard who was particularly interested in the Dracula teeth that he could feel in his pocket through the fleece.

The Palace was built under the orders of Nicolae Ceausescu to house all the offices of the communist state but was now occupied by the Romanian Parliament with much of the building unused. Built on a vast scale in the wedding cake style favoured by Stalin and constructed almost totally in marble the guide, Bogdan, rattled off endless superlatives regarding quantities and dimensions.

A succession of grand marble staircases and vast halls were presented until we reached the balcony for the impressive view down The Mall towards the City Centre.

Bogdan informed us that Ceausescu had never addressed his people from the balcony. The only person to make the address had been Michael Jackson during his world tour in 1988 though he had spoilt the occasion by calling “Hello Budapest” to the massed throng. Good old wacko Jacko.

Protests during 1989 had been met by gunfire and thousands may have died at the hands of the secret police. However in the closing days of that year a revolution was accomplished and Ceausescu was executed alongside his wife by firing squad.

 

We gathered back together in the newly pedestrianised street leading to the hotel and settled down to beers and pasta.

In order to preserve traffic free conditions a compressor had been set at the bottom of the hill to blow fly ash the short distance to a shop undergoing refurbishment though the hose was some metres short. Three men were required to load the downhill hopper and a further 4 to shovel the ash from the discharge point to the shop doorway. The operation was further complicated by frequent blockages that needed to be cleared.

An old man passed up the hill every 5 minutes pushing a wheelbarrow loaded with one bag of cement to return empty. He was either restocking the builder’s yard at the top of the hill or he was the major distributor in a thriving wheelbarrow trade. A real one wheeler dealer.

 

Steve’s stomach cramps and his fears of an impending laundry problem forced him to seek refuge in the toilet of Craig’s room that he had negotiated to retain for an additional night.

Yup was also suffering and set off to climb into Craig’s bed even if Craig was already there.

The group was therefore split into three with the invalids in the hotel, the Beardy boys in search of cheap beer and the remainder off for a final culture tour of the City.

The Beardy boys met up with a Romanian now living in New York but back on vacation and had learnt of the crazy rise and spectacular fall of local property prices.

 

We approached Dracula’s restaurant with teeth carefully hidden but found the door would not open.

The restaurant was so small that the door had been converted to slide sideways but succeeded in fooling everyone who tried to enter or leave. They must have lost many potential customers.

We were ushered to our table that completely filled the largest room to be welcomed by our host and introduced to our guide for the night.

The guide was dressed in full Hammer Horror cape and make up and was genuinely weird as he told the Dracula legend in a voice reminiscent of Peter Laurie.

However he interpreted the pained expressions of the stomach gripes as disinterest and gave up.

Yup and Stubbee were the first to be rendered helpless by the mystery bug followed by Steve to reduce the party to 8. Craig then left with an unusually quiet Richie to leave 6.

A census among those remaining revealed only Axe and Scottee to be “chipper”.

The food arrived in unusual presentations with lots of meat impaled on a scaffold of spikes over a burning pot of lamp oil the smell of which permeated the meal.

Dracula arrived and enunciated in a loud voice like a true thespian drama queen.

He seemed not to notice his audience staring back at him with fixed stares and prominent vampire fangs and continued dropping copious amounts of candle wax all over his cape from the candelabra he held high above himself.

He ushered us down into the dungeon and chose Sid and Bill to pose with him for photo opportunities as he boomed a diatribe in perfect English.

The return to the hotel was taken at a leisurely pace; after all we had another 5 hours to wait, as we detoured to find a cash machine for Axe.

 

Wednesday 8^th October.

We returned to the hotel bar and settled down to wait for the taxis. Scottee played chequers with Keithee and quickly learned the rules. “I’m better at chess” he claimed and was again challenged by Keithee.

One game was lost before Scottee finally got his eye in to produce a stalemate.

Two young couples turned up at 2:00 to negotiate rooms for the night though they were clearly not for catching up with their sleep.

The invalids assembled and Richie lifted his shirt to reveal that he had indeed proved “juicy” with a display of festering mosquito bite marks stretching over a wide arc across his back.

The sickness was variously attributed with some blaming the minty yoghurt of the dodgy kebab; some cited the mosquitoes while others considered that the curry had been truly Indian even down to the authentic “Delhi belly”.

Three taxis arrived though Keith insisted it was still Tuesday.

One driver looked remarkably like Henri Paul and confirmed the suspicions of madness by speeding off with a flurry of wheel spin to 130 km/hr over the cobbles of the otherwise deserted streets.

As soon as he encountered tarmac he accelerated to 160 so that we made the 20 minute run to Henri Coanda airport in less that 5.

We boarded the plane for the return to find access to the extra legroom seats by the emergency exit blocked by an unusually burly hardman flight attendant.

Bill had a quiet word in his ear and he saw Bill’s point of view and relented so that Bill was able to stretch out while Steve was allowed to accompany him with an annoying grin.

On arrival at Luton Yup rang the taxi to learn that the driver had been involved in a 9 car shunt on the M1 but would get us home somehow.

The minibus arrived with bits flapping in the wind and steam coming from the radiator.

Richie quickly packed the luggage with an efficiency he put down to years of playing Tetrus.

“I’ll just crash out on the way home” said Scottee in an unfortunate turn of phrase while Axe contemplated staying in Luton in readiness for the London outing.

 

The bus limped to Toddington, the first services on the M1, and Craig was kept busy filling water bottles to top up the radiator as Yup helped by taking a photo. However the burst was losing as fast as Craig could replenish and we set off once more.

We bumped and limped on to Rugby where we transferred to another independently operated bus called in by our unfortunate driver. The second driver was a merry sole who cheerfully informed the fist driver that his rear sub frame had broken with the result that the bus was a write off. “You’d be better off abandoning it here” he suggested.

We continued home as Yup sweet talked the second driver with the consolation prize that he could be offered the contract to ferry the Squarry Club on its future outings

What a wonderful end to a superbly organised trip.

 

Jacko