All that...and a Post Box!

Cluj Napoca, Romania

It's funny. Right before Damon left, I asked him if he had ever narrowly missed catching a train -- i.e. had he ever run up to a moving train quite late and had to jump on at the last moment. I believe that the literary term in use here is "foreshadowing."

Damon's answer was "no," although he has on several occassions gotten on trains in which he had no idea where they were going. If only Damon was here earlier today.

The plan was to leave Budapest on the 4:10 PM train. Sarah got the schedule online, and we were quite certain that it was leaving from the east station. This was in part because the Web site indicated so, but also because we had attempted to buy the tickets the day before at the said station and heard no other word contrary on the source of departure.

After making lunch, we left for the train station with a quick stop at the Internet cafe and American Express exchange for some Romanian lei. (By the way, I am now a multi-millionaire. So are you if come and visit me here.) We hop on the metro with (what we think is) plenty of time to buy tickets, chill out, board the train, etc. All the while, we were looking for a post box so I could drop off the postcard that I got for little sister Lizzie. If only she had sent me her address sooner!

And if only Damon was there. He always insisted on arriving at the train station 15 hours in advance. Sarah and I were there over an hour in advance, and I was already kind of nervous. So we walk up to the line to the purchase the tickets. Oh...by the way, the train leaves from the west station, the teller informs me.

Yikes. Now we're both really nervous. Less than an hour to get to the other side of town, and we're supposed to catch the "tram across from the McDonald's" to get there. Exciting.

As I finish up the purchase, Sarah goes to scout out the tram situation. This is when the story -- at least from our perspective -- got interesting. There we were: tickets purchased, hostel in Cluj Napoca booked, and a train to catch on the other side of town in 45 minutes. More exciting.

We frantically search the McDonald's area and cannot find the darn tram. We even ask a local teen, and he tells us an even different route. You know that feeling you begin to have when your favorite team is down by an impossible amount with just minutes left? That's how I felt. But Sarah came to the rescue, as she recommended checking around the corner.

Eureka, there was the tram. We hop on board with 25 minutes to catch our train. I'm following our route along the map, estimating in my head how long it takes us to go one city block then multiplying how many blocks we have to go. Yet all the while Sarah is multi-tasking. "You know what would be great," she says. "If it took six minutes to get to the train station and there was a post office in front so you can drop off the postcard for Lizzie."

Are you kidding me? We're about to miss the train and she's thinking about the postcard to Lizzie?

But guess what? The bus did in fact take six minutes to get to the station. We jump off and bust through the crowd. As we turn the corner, the gates open and there in the bright sunlight: a post box. (There was a musical interlude at that moment -- one of those higher-pitched, angel-resounding "Laaaaa".) I slipped the postcard in the box without even breaking stride, took 100 more steps, and we both boarded the train.

The story would be a little better if we had to jump on the moving train that I had asked Damon about. Still in all, it was quite an adventure. Fun. Exciting. But mostly nerve racking!