Day 52 - near Nǎsturelu to Ruse, Bulgaria (35 miles)

I got up later than planned - a morning shower persuaded me to stay in my sleeping bag a little longer - and when I did rise I watched more rain showers drift across the horizon to the east. But today I was in no rush as I was heading to Ruse in Bulgaria only 35 miles away and could not check into my accommodation until 3pm. Early on I passed some small sandy cliffs, scarred by mechanical digging and alive with birds flying in and out of their hollowed out burrows but otherwise it was a slow and steady cycle similar to the last couple of days: more of the Danube road with its long, straight stretches exposed to the sun and wind, somewhat ridged, rippled and rough; more flat fields extending either side - corn, wheat and brassicas - broken only by the Bulgarian hills in the distance to my right; and more long, thin villages with their wide verges supporting flowers or animals, and their small, single-story functional houses, mostly of rendered walls and metal roofs. 

Vedia village - Typical Houses

Today's new best friend was Marcel who I met when I stopped for a coffee in a village a few miles before Guiriu, the Romanian town facing Ruse across the Danube. Most villages, however tiny, have a small shop-come-cafe but which is quite often someone's converted house with no obvious sign of its new function. I tend to notice them solely by the fact there is a plastic table or two outside, often occupied by men chatting over a morning drink. With a little miming and pointing, and some guidance on Romanian, the two women in the shop and I managed to communicate enough such that they knew where I had come from and where I was going and I walked out with a coffee and cake in hand. I settled in the one remaining chair at the one table outside where Marcel already sat, his morning beer half drunk. Again I found Spanish to be a common language and Marcel, a retired soldier, told me about his heart operation, his hernia, his home grown vegetables and generally bemoaned the state of the economy, his pension and prices.

I said farewell to Marcel and continued on to Giuriu. My entry on the back roads into the town was only a little different from the villages I had already passed through: the verge had become pavement, the houses were more tightly packed, and everything just felt more condensed. However, I soon joined more major roads leading to the 'Friendship Bridge' linking Romania to Bulgaria, a massive structure over a mile and a half long, completed in 1954 and the first bridge between Romania and Bulgaria since Roman times. There were more tailbacks of lorries to cycle past, a toll booth (free for me) and surprisingly, passport control when entering into Bulgaria. 

My last two miles from the bridge to my accommodation was mostly along a three lane road, strangely almost deserted and leaving me with the sense I was in some zombie apocalypse movie. I got to the area of my rented apartment, another area of low rise, boxy socialist housing, found a local cafe for lunch where I played 'lotto lucky dip' with the Cyrillic menu and then, an hour later than I had hoped due to some administrative failure, got into the small but well equipped apartment.

Tomorrow I am having a day off and after the last two or three days I feel could do with a little relaxation. So tonight is a night in: just me, some beer and snacks and the washing machine.