negotiating bucharest

When we arrived in Bucharest my new friend and protector indicated that I should follow him on my bike as he made his way on the No. 85 trolley bus from the station we had arrived at to the one that the international trains left from. If I happened to get lost he said he would get off the bus and come back to look for me. It was raining heavily, it was beginning to get dark, it was peak hour; nonetheless, his plan must have seemed like the best one available at the time because I agreed without seriously questioning its viability. I really didn’t want to spend the night in Bucharest.

The bus arrived and then sped off. I set off in pursuit. Immediately, it started raining more heavily. A couple of times I missed the traffic lights and lost the bus. The peak hour drivers weren’t terribly bicycle friendly or aware. The roads were awash with dirty water and I was very, very wet. My guide was sitting on a seat at the back of the bus looking out the rear window observing my progress and making encouraging or despairing gestures as the mood took him. I started to think following the bus wasn’t such a good idea. However, since no alternative presented itself I persevered and after about 35 minutes we arrived at Gara Nord. My guide appeared pleased, and not altogether unimpressed, that I had made it.