Russian Flight

Last you heard we were stuck in Romania? No longer, my friends. The epic team, Iberian Jalopy Seeks Mongolia, does as it promised and seeks Mongolia. Two borders have been crossed. The Russian Bear has been breached. The car cannot be stopped (that's why we are replacing the break pads as we speak - it got too dangerous).

Celebrating our package, originally uploaded by wanders.

A long conversation at the border about the validity of a Spanish letter allowing us to drive someone else's car in Russia, we cross, we get stopped, we get searched, we get blackmailed. I pay up.
Conclusion - we don't want to be in Russia, so we are driving, nonstop, through this place, stopping simply to pee and switch drivers (back seat nappers hate moving taking the wheel) and eating tuna fish sandwiches and prianiki (Russian pastries) as we pass city after city and avoid cop after cop, hoping to escape the inevitable drain such interactions will bring on our bank accounts. So we press on, attempting to cross, unscathed, though overstressed, into Mongolia tomorrow (Monday, but maybe Tuesday - we are now 12 hours ahead of Texas), skipping Kazakhstan and any potential for border disputes. Ukraine held the first nine Mongol Rally cars that we encountered, followed, confused and passed, but that's a story for another time. Chris awaits, trying to understand the Russians fixing our car.
Bumpy, washed out dirt roads of Mongolia here we come!

Orlando among Transylvanian Peaks

Orlando among Transylvanian Peaks, originally uploaded by wanders.

At Plaiu Foii, our second campsite among the peaks of Piatra Crailui, near Zarnesti (thanks John)

Not Afraid of Transylvania

Leaving Piatra-Neamt again, this time very sure that our envelope/key to Ukraine was not coming to bail us out until after the weekend (5 days), we scoured the Transylvanian countryside for adventure and found some, including more roads leading to campfires and mountains. We found an NGO for Jono (YAY!) and I talked to an American Peace Corps Volunteer about his work in Transylvania, meaning he had to use both the romantic Romanian and more often the cryptic Hungarian tongue to communicate. He had done a lot of work with ecotourism, even getting a grant to build small Nepalese Biogas Plants which harness farm waste to heat houses. I was impressed and inspired by the work being done there, getting the itch to keep talking to people along the way, particularly as our coming countries could use plent of help. With his recommendation of Transylvanian pizza ("not great, but they make a lot of it") backing our decision, we drove off to the next town past Odorhei Secuiesc (don't ask how to spell the names in Hungarian unless you want to faint) and sat in a restaurant (Thats right!), ate some delicious pizza and tried to finish the local alcoholic beverage, Tuica: a so-called plum brandy that no one could stomach without the addition of seltzer water and some lemon.

Continuing on, we wound up the most beautiful road in... Romania? Europe? Planet Earth? It was awe-inspiring, designed to allow troops to escape a potential German infiltration, but for us serving primarily to get us half way up the mountain before we started trekking toward the tallest peak in Romania: Mount Moldeavu. Intense hiking, with ropes and no shortage of hand-holds, was interrupted once for the best lunch we had ever had on a windy ridge. We ran out of water before reaching what James' watch reported to be a higher peak than Moldeavu and turned around, but not before Chris extended the invitation for me to go at it alone, up that high peak, still three hours out, returning to Chris and James, who would wait back at the car with dinner ready. I grabbed a water bottle (already empty) and fought the rational thoughts holding me back only to crap out on account of my two friends who would be lost without my wit and eating abilities. We turned back and at the car watched jealously as one chubby kid zipped down a wire line at least five times, hoping our Romanian Nutella (too much sugar) was sweeter than the wind blowing past his ears while he descended. Finetti (chocolate-hazelnut spread) finished, we drove through the mountain tunnel, finding it ugly but scary, turned around and after driving through it again, descended the mountain, apalled that bikers would attempt the same windy road powered by zero petroleum products (unless, what was that in their water bottles?). We camped that night with a medium fire, collected in the poopy woods behind the campsite (Romanians use pink toilet paper, making it easier to spot, thankfully).
Next day found us wandering Brasov in the rain, grabbing a few needed items (groceries, postcards) and heading out before we knew it, towards Zarnesti, a fine national park of rocky mountains. We stayed there, met some Austians (who shared their extra bratwurst - perfect dessert for a rice and beans dinner) and, as I speed through the last of our adventures, losing steam as I go, hiked up some more steep steep mountains, guided by cables and our hands as we lugged salami, cheese, and bread up to an incredible view of the town and plateaued mountain peaks. Before returning to Piatra-Neamt to wait, with hope, upon our car registration and letter to allow our entry into Ukraine, we stopped at a river, bathed, washed some clothes, and made a tremendous fire late into the night (that means 10:15 these days), sleeping incredibly well in the warmth of lower atmospheres. Driving in to town this morning, we all almost died instantly of fear when our road turned from paved to pot-holey gravel despite our 80 km/hr velocity. We survived, got back on a paved road, and learned how nice it is to have asphault, something we can only really count on until our last 2,000 kilometers or so in Mongolia. And with that, and the overshortened story that we got pulled over but only with a warning that we were going too fast(on paper) and a warning that we hadn't paid the road tax (wagged finger), we are (should be) off, aspring to the heights of 1,000 kilometers a day, getting us into our destination country with enough time to lose, break, eat, and see something before the ever foreboding Kelly-Lieb bros' flight back draws the last chapter of this adventure to a close.

Attempting the Why

I have come up with an answer to the question "Why are you driving to Mongolia?" while pondering in our car, as Romanian showers fell on our metal roof: excerpt as follows.
Answer? "In seek of adventure!" We have hit countless European countries by storm, flying through them at 120 kmh. The garden of Europe and we're romping right through, not appreciating every bug, but seeing the flowers we pass, allowing a detour to climb a tree; as our bang before we fizzle off our restless carbonation we want a romp. We do not feel like sauntering through museums, we'd rather climb on the sculptures. Europe has been our playground and we seek the jungle gyms of Eurasia, the tangled web of Post-Soviet borders and on to the Gobi Sandbox, to play with horses and desert bears. We care not for reservations or train tickets. On a whim we enter Romania detouring a mere 50 kilometers (more of the border guard's whim than our own to be honest). Our car is the ticket to vast countrysides, gorges, rivers, traffic, gas taxes, and mountaintop views. And so we seek Mongolia, but not simply the destination, more the journey and possibly the ride of our lives.

Romania Continues

While waiting til Monday to actually enter civilization again, we uncovered a website leading us to the Transylvania climbing in the Cheile Turzii (Turzi Gorge?), which was hard to find but even harder to fathom - disgustingly beautiful gorge filled to the brim with Romanian tourists, one woman even hiking the trail in her high heels, and crawling with climbers.

Cheile Turzii

We stumbled upon two local boys, Steve and Constantine, quick to offer their climbing guidance, grabbed the bit of gear we had and headed off to touch some rock. They belayed Chris up an easy climb, told us about the Romanian countryside, paused to consider my request to lead a climb myself, and then let me scale the wall, carrying my rope us as I went, risking life and limb and eventually forgetting (as always) to turn around at the top to take in the view before being lowered back down. These guys hooked us up, offering to show us everything and let us climb whatever we wanted, but we were all tuckered out already. That night we said our goodbyes, escaping a potential night at a bar to eat our rice and beans with a rigged up mini-pot support system and a free campsite, with permission even!

Beer advertisement? No, dinner.

The next morning, we grabbed two bags of water bottles and cameras, trekking back onto the well beaten trail in search of the Hungarian Cave, the largest cave in Romania, so Constantine said. We got lost, clambered up a rock slide, gave up and headed down the nearest trail, only to begin climbing uphill- what's this? - and on to - could it be? - the HUNGARIAN CAVE! Score! It was beautiful and provided cool shade from the sun, which beat down on our dehydrated necks as we brought bottles but planned to get water from a spring we had not reached before turning off the trail. We each downed 500 mL (yeah, that's right - metric system) and then headed back uphill for a view Constantine had also recommended. Tired again, we headed downhill, just fast enough for Chris to fall, scrape, slide, bounce and land on his feet, looking down at a large clump of hair and skin left on the outjutting rock. Gross. We got help from a first aid carrying climber, meanwhile I tried to inquire about where climbing was near the Hungarian Cave only to be scolded for trying to climb without proper equipment (I hadn't even done anything yet). I think that when you roll up with one team member already bloody, people doubt your responsibility.
We ate some lunch in the shade of a fine tree, wolfed down some ice cream and then attempted a dip in the river, which was only half a meter deep (metric!). I promptly sat in the water and rinsed a bit of my four day stench off, while Chris and James sauntered slowly back and forth along the edge of the water, hesitating a bit. We left, much, well a little cleaner, all shirtless as our clothes hung out the car to dry in the Romanian sun. A mega-super-ultra-store later and James had the tackiest sandals ever and I got excited to try Romania's version of Nutella - Finetti. When Monday rolled around, we headed to the nearest city to find an address for this car registration and permission letter to be mailed to. The post office was quick to shut their window as soon as our postcards had stamps, not interested in any other questions from us, so we headed to information. A very very kind Iona, who spoke terrific English, said we could have our things mailed to her, but that overnight would take at least two days. We are passing a week here now, awaiting a package that has yet to be airmailed from the Basque Country, but holds the tickets to the rest of our trip. Its looking like an optimistic Friday or realistic Monday departure from Romania towards the vast Soviet countryside and I still don't know a single word in this language. We met a Peace Corp volunteer here, Jack, and after two days (one very eventful, one rainy) we have returned to Piatreneamt (our post-worthy city) to take him up on his couch offer - maybe even a shower and some cleaned pants?
The area of our two day detour was another gorge, recommended by an Austrian we camped by before hitting up this city, and full of interactions with the Germans we met at the gorge. We sat around a campfire (finally!!) and shared stories with the kind hearted chaps from near Leipzig only to wake up to a rainy Sunday where they had missed their bus. Yours truly took one for the team and wound around these wet mountainous roads, scared of risking not only mine and Leao's life, but also that of the four Germans recklessly bestowing me with their safety as well. We made it to town, one liter of petrol left in the car (~1/3.8 gallons) and I made $15! "Youll need it," the Germans assured me, and I wound back down the twisty roads toward my Kelly-Lieb brothers, realizing on my way that these 40 kilometers were the furthest we had been apart in three weeks.So here we sit, fully detoured and domesticated, hoping for the phone call to tell us our papers are in the trustworthy hands of a Spanish postal worker. Six thousand kilometers does not yet sound like enough for the trip to stop here, so rest assured fair reader, we shall find a way to continue and triumph over the seemingly unconquerable Ukrainian road.

eger winery

eger winery, originally uploaded by wanders.

Hungary for Romanian Countryside

Departing from Croatia, we reentered the European Union with much less hassle than expected - first guard simply confirmed the US insignia on the front of our passports and the second set of guards laughed to eachother about this new American dream of driving to Mongolia - and into Hungary! We stopped just inside our new haven and without a non-Euro penny to our names proceeded to try to find housing around the intimidatingly large Balaton Lake, but failed to actually find swimmable waters and after rejecting the idea of camping next to a small oil rig, found a plot to set up camp on. The next morning we headed into Budapest, again rising somewhere around 5:30 due to the rising sun insisting on poking its head up earlier and earlier as we headed West, no one yet interested in changing time zones.
Budapest signs directed us toward an information hub - travelling again with simply the map in our European Road Atlas - which only offered hotel info, but did guide us to a bank so we could load up on kuna and fuel. After discovering the conversion rate and starting to heavy our tank, we were appalled at a one hundred dollar gas bill and stopped the tap early. Turns out a 65 euro bill was just as hefty only we had never paused to calculate its dollar value.
Full of gas, we parked by the Parliament, wandered around, found a bookstore to replace my recently lost moleskin journal (and credit card which I promptly cancelled four days later - don't worry no charges yet) and check on the info about our couchsurfing host that night, and generous Italian who allowed us to shower AND wash our clothes! Budapest was beautiful and reaching our budget in prices, and following a morning romp up to a castle, we departed for the Hungarian countryside and some sites we had found in our host's Lonely Planet guide (yes, we caved).

new plans in romania, originally uploaded by wanders.

Egger was an amazing town with some old castle remnants we walked around but not into and some amazing wine stored in a cellar so oldly constructed and anciently named that noone can date either occurrence. This proved perfect in providing us with an enormous 2L bottle of red wine that was actually tasty which later soothed our wounds when upon reaching the Ukrainian border we found them unwilling to accept our temporary registration for the car. New plan - wander the Romanian countryside and maybe even Transylvania while we pass the weekend and await paperwork being sent from the ever helpful Elias Uria family in the Basque Country.