Fields of Flowers and the Black Sea Coast – early May 2004

After our ferry ride back to Tulcea from the Delta, we left the port town and headed south towards Constanta. Our ride to the coast was characterized by two things: fields of flowers and a very strong wind. There were mainly three types of fields that we passed: those that were cultivated and that were chartreuse in color; those with bright yellow wild flowers; and those with clumps of tiny white flowers. It was a pretty area. But the strong wind made it difficult; it was just as strong as it had been before Tulcea, without the cold rain and the mud. I was thankful for the hills and the towns, which blocked some of the wind. My legs hurt a lot.

We passed a pretty national forest and towns where children waved and yelled “Hello” and “Good-bye” to us. Slept in one of those fields of tiny yellow flowers by a canal. Passed through Flori’s hometown of Babadag, where a young gypsy boy and girl tried to pull whatever they could off my bike, as I was advancing slowly uphill. Everything was attached tightly; the only thing they managed to grab was the plastic bag of garbage, which tore open from their grasp and left a stream of trash in the street behind the bike. They bent over in hysterics, laughing as if it was the funniest thing in the world. It annoyed me even more that the woman standing next to them just looked on without saying anything. She obviously condoned their behavior and was probably hoping that they would steal something of value. An old man ran uphill after us to beg for food. One legend says that the name of Babadag comes from the name of the leader of a group of Turks who was given land here by a Byzantine emperor. Another says that its name means “Turkish mountain” (“Baba” means Turkish and “dag” is a mountain).

After almost giving up against the harsh winds, we reached the sea. We stopped at the first campsite because of the rain. It was closed for the season, but the owner said we could stay anywhere we liked along the beach, if we wanted to. So we picked a nice spot of beach, took cover against the rain, got ready for bed, and then Stephane was called back out into the rain by a young guy who had gotten his car stuck in the sand and wanted help pushing. Probably looking for a romantic night on the beach with his girlfriend, and it turned into a nightmare.

We were woken at 6:30 the next morning by two men in uniform saying claiming that we were on military property. They asked for a fine of 1 Million Lei (25 Euros), but went away after we insisted that we didn’t have it. It was strange – there were no signs or borders of any kind, and it seemed an obvious camping site.

The wind was still strong, and the sea, as well. We continued along the coast and passed a long stretch of beach and coastal resorts. Mamaia, just north of Constanta, was the principal resort town, with one luxury hotel after another. The most popular vacation spot in Romania, it is a thin strip of land 7 km. long located between the sea and a fresh-water lake. Campgrounds, hotels, and restaurants. Even the Rotary International. In May, it is empty except for a whole host of workers who are busy trying to clean up the town and prepare it for the flood of tourists who invade the town in the summer. Legend says that the town got its name from the cries of a young girl yelling for her mother as she was being abducted by a Turk.

Mamaia touches the city of Constanta, which is Romania’s second largest city and largest port. There is a very nice park overlooking the sea. One fashion that little girls are wearing: 3/4-length pants with fish-net stockings underneath.

South of Constanta, the seaside towns continued, and we passed one after another. Efforie-Nord, Efforie-Sud, Costinesti. The fields of yellow flowers turned into bushes and forest farther south towards Mangalia. Then came resort towns with names such as Olimp, Jupiter, Saturn, Venus, and Neptune, with restaurants such as The Trident and resort complexes such as The Pluto. Afterwards the towns of 23 August and 2 Mai.

We started looking for a campground in the early evening. We wished to stay in Romania one more night before passing the border into Bulgaria. None of the campgrounds were open, and then in the town of Venus, we found a woman at the reception who said that they were open, but that she would have to check on the price with her husband, who was out fishing and wouldn’t be back for awhile. It was strange – there was no running water, no electricity, and her original asking price was grossly exaggerated. We haggled with her over the price, but then her behavior seemed fishy to us, and Stephane was all for leaving to find another place. As we hesitated, the frontier police came up and told us that they had had problems with poaching and had fined her husband, and that the campground was closed, that we should go to a campground another 12 km. farther down the road. They were insistent that the area was filled with “bandits” and implied heavily that the woman was dishonest.

We thanked them and headed off in a hurry. It was almost dark, and the drizzle was turning into rain. We reached the campground in Vama Veche, 2 km. before the border, just as it was getting dark. We were happy to be there. It was clean, had toilets, hot water, showers, and security. All for 1 Euro/night!

My legs felt as if they were going to fall off, so we stayed an extra two days. At 1 Euro/night, we could afford to! Plus, we had a filling breakfast for under 1 Euro, as well.

The first day, the wind was so strong that it almost blew our tent over. It picked the stakes right up out of the ground and one side of the tent caved in. I stood on the inside and pushed as hard as I could against the tent while Stephane re-pounded the stakes into the ground and secured it with ropes to the railing of the terrace. After the fury of the tempest had subsided, the sun came out, and the wind was so strong that it completely dried the tent in five minutes!

Vivia and Mihai, who worked there, were very nice. Invited us to have lunch and dinner with them. Fish soup and pasta. They both have families far away and come here to work between May and September. Like many other Romanians who have to go where the work is.

The wind calmed down a little the following day and we walked along the beach. It was fabulous. Red cliffs and rocks right on the beach, and clear turquoise water. No one was around except for a couple of people collecting mussels from the beach. We had the rest of the beach to ourselves. We sat in a secluded cove to read.

I was very, very happy to be on the beach. The sun, the sand, and the sea air did me good. It makes you feel free, light as a feather. It was glad to be here off-season. I saw a postcard of the beach taken during the summer and every square inch was filled by people or tents. You can camp on the beach for free in Vama Veche.

The beach, the cliffs, and the warmth of Vivia and Mihai – what wonderful last memories of Romania.