Tim's Balkan Bike Blast 4 - Timmy in Timisoara

The cash machine asked for my PIN number. Normally this is simple. Even though my bank card doubles as a credit card, in a cash machine you put in the bank number. 

Up came my name - Welcome Timothy Wills, push, push, select, select. 

Sorry try again.

Welcome Timothy Wills, push, push, select, select. Munch, munch. Bye bye card. 

Inside the bank and after a 5 minute queue I managed to summon up enough sign language that the cashier understood. I volunteered my passport, she retrieved the card. Then handed back my passport and kept the card.

I had no idea what the problem was. She found a manager who spoke English. He explained that the card company needed clearance from my bank as I had input my PIN incorrectly three times in a row. Now that was confusing. How do I get the Welcome Timothy Wills with a wrong PIN?

I managed to slip in that I had worked in Frankfurt 20 years ago with his new Chairman (well far more like for Jean Pierre Mustier who probably has a dim recollection of me as a troublesome individual who may occasionally be useful). Still it gave me enough kudos for him to be happy to chat and give me the branch fax number for my bank to send an OK to. 

He then showed me the machine that would convert cash Euros to cash Lei, so I changed 100 Euros, hoping that would suffice for 3 days in Romania.

I set off for a late lunch to refuel while digesting the wrong pin issue. Multitasking between ordering food, getting online and phoning the bank I managed to still appreciate the sunshine and the food. The bank was very good and explained that outside Italy the card only functioned as a credit card, so I had to input the credit card pin. Problem uncovered.

They would send a fax to release the card and inform the credit card company. That was a big relief. I guess I was not the first customer confused by this.

The only additional challenge for me was that I had no idea what the credit card pin was, since the secure letter with the details was completely indecipherable and I never wanted to send the card back to resolve the problem. I'll wait for the new one later this year.

So with lunch over (paid for with a different card) it was back to the bank. Along with half the town it seemed. The queues were long and slow moving. Luckily the manager saw me and about 5 minutes later called me over to then need 15 minutes of form filling before being able to give me back the card.

Greatly relieved I loaded the kit on the bike, checked the vague direction to get out of town, weaved through the traffic and only had to stop to check directions a couple of times before being on the main road east.

Well, the current main road east.

Which was through the countryside. 

That had different modes of transport.

There is an EU funded motorway under construction and sections were usable. 

I stopped early to refuel and started chatting with a proper biker who was smoking close to the pumps. As usual wifi was free, like almost everyone under 40 he spoke excellent English and he invited me to Biker Party No.9, some 100km closer to the Transfagarasan. His girlfriend came out of the shop and was very encouraging, again in excellent English. The only challenge was there was no accommodation and it was due to get down to 5C that night. He gave me the organiser's number and they set off.

However impractical, it seemed a fun idea and this was an adventure.

YOLO, you only live once.

But the number was answered by one of the few people who do not speak English, or German, or French or Italian. So I never went. It could have been fun, it could have been a disaster. But there was enough to get on with.

The main road wound across the country, with hills appearing and getting bigger. Clouds arrived and a couple of hours later, and well past wherever Biker Party No. 9 was, I pulled into a petrol station ready to put on the raingear.

Another young biker couple were there. We chatted about routes and rides. They had just come back from Italy and lived near Sibiu, which was my destination. The Dolomites was too crowded so they had tried a few other roads and were heading home. They offered to ride together but I was feeling solitary and anyway set off in the wrong direction from the petrol station. A couple of minutes later I realised the error but they were gone.

The next stretch was motorway. New and little traffic, but getting steadily wetter.

The fairly new tyres kept the Tiger stable and solid and it was easy to keep a steady 130kph, which is quite enough for me. Though I would be 'in the zone', overtaking and glance down to find I was at 150 kph. It was raining so slowing down was a simple choice. I even took it.

The worry about riding in the rain, apart from grip, and wet, is that a bike helmet does not have windscreen wipers. So your vision quickly deteriorates. I have no idea whether it is the design of the Nolan N43, or that I was going at speed, but the raindrops cleared themselves in steady horizontal streaks. That was a big moral boost.

An hour or so of motorway driving came to end and we were diverted back to the main road. The traffic was clogged up and my overtaking was prudent. So it was slow progress. By the time I got to the centre of Sibiu it was pouring.

The raingear was excellent, I was sealed like an astronaut, but you have to stop and ask people stuff, like 'Do you have a single room?' At which point you have to park the bike, lift the visor or even take off the helmet, get wet, get back on the bike.

I ended up circling the town, stealthily but not efficiently, and ended up in the restricted area in the centre. I parked next to an ancient arch with multitudes of umbrellas leading their owners into packed groups ready for a public concert, which was being set up.

Through the arch was Hotel Weigner. That looked promising. They were totally full apart form a single room way at the back. Perfect. The receptionist took pity on me and showed me how to get the bike into the main square to park in their locked up courtyard. That was another blessing. She said to sign in once that was done.

This was all going pretty well.

I unloaded and signed in, stupidly paid in cash and went up for a shower. The only part about stupidly paying in cash was that this was a chunk of what I had managed to change 

in Unicredit, Timisoara.

Still on we go. After the shower the rain had stopped, so I got dinner outside on the edge of the big piazza. The waitress tried to bring a menu, but I just asked for a beer and something local. That was the right choice. The beer disappeared quickly and the local dish was cabbage wrapped rice and stuff, which was very good washed down with a perfectly acceptable local red. All this to the sound of the public opera on a very large stage.

The opera finished at the same time as dinner, so I walked back through the arch to the dance-off on another stage there. Around the edge of that piazza were more bars, which was a perfect place for a smoke and a people watch, but I was tired.

On the way back to the hotel, a young lady asked if I had a cigarette, in German, that was just an excuse for a far more intimate conversation, which rapidly became an offer of 'zwei maedchen' (two young women). That was definitely not going to be a good way to end the evening and I managed to successfully cover the remaining 50 yards to the hotel without further ado.

The hotel seemed deserted, which was fine as I managed to remember where the room was and was asleep about 5 minutes later. 

Waking up was confusing, not least because of the time.