We have an early start and its raining. Quick bowl of cereal and off we go. Its 341 kilometres to Timisoara, and we have to change trains at Arad. Some of these trains make Thames link city flyer look like the bullet train! Our journey starts at 08.06 and should arrive in Timisoara at 16.04. But, on the plus side, we see the countryside. Its a mix of very old technology and very new. We see horses pulling carts and ploughs, and we see high tech modern tractors. Crossing acres of flat arable land, the soil looks rich and lovely. Pockets of hamlets, small towns and isolated farmhouses dot the countryside. Some of the houses are very rundown, missing tiles, sagging roofs. The rain has cleared and its a glorious day. People are out tending their plots of land. Everyone seems to have a decent sized plot, with space for fruit trees and veg area. Most have chickens, ducks, turkeys or guinea fowl. Some have a pig or a couple of goats. Everyone seems to have a dog. 

I think we are the only non Romanians on the train. Its not very busy. We have learned not to try to travel at weekends. It was explained to us that since students were given free travel (yes, free!), there has been a problem where students book up seats to go home for the weekend, then don't use them.  Result is empty trains you can't buy a ticket for. Very annoying. One of our fellow travellers is an older Romanian lady, she speaks no English but smiles shyly at us. She is going to Timisoara too. 

The train slowly chatters on. These trains are old but clean, except the toilets which are pretty disgusting. But there is soap, water and papertowels! (Always carry wetwipes in case).

We have a train picnic, hard boiled eggs, cherry tomatoes and ham sandwiches. No buffet car here.

We realise that the train is getting behind schedule. We have 31 minutes to change trains at Arad. This is getting eaten into by delays. Our lady companion is questioning the guard. We understand the rough drift of the conversation but not whether we will get to Arad on time for our connection. Its 57 kilometres from Arad to Timisoara. How often do the trains run? Will we have to take a taxi? Is there a taxi? How big is Arad? Questions to which there are no answers. We follow our companions lead, putting on jackets and rucksacks and queueing in the corridor to disembark. The train doors open before it has stopped and people scramble down the metal ladder to the platform. They all head for the escalator. We have the train procedure perfected now. I go first and Norman dangles the drag bags out which I catch, then he follows behind. Getting on a train is harder as the bags have to be lifted up. They are heavy. We sprint (ok, sprint is an exageration, shuffle fast is more accurate) to the escalator keeping our companion in sight. I glance across and see a platform sign saying `T`sara, linia 2`. Our connection leaves at 14.48 its now 14.45! Come on!!!!!!!! Escalator is crawling on go slow. Up we go, over the top, down the otherside, fast shuffle up the platform to the waiting train. Guards are looking ready to blow whistles and wave flags. `TIMISOARA?` `Da, Rapid`. (Yes, quick). I get on, Norman hoists up bags and follows up the ladder. My heart beat is pounding in my ears, my chest is heaving. There are no reserved seats on this train, first come, first served. Then we see a hand waving, our companion. Bless her. Two seats with luggage space. Wow! My heart rate gradually slows back to normal as we sit waiting for 15 minutes for the train to move. All that rushing to wait! We all start giggling. 

The other traveller in our section of the train is a working man. Overalls and a bit dirty. He is eating a loaf of bread and a whole salami. The salami is huge. He takes great bites out of bread and salami, quite a feat as he has few teeth. He would be a handsome man if he had teeth.  Turns out he is Albanian. He speaks a little English and between the four of us we have a laugh about how the trains are unreliable in all countries. Then some students in the next section start making a noise (I think its called `rap`). They are soon quietened by fellow passengers who are obviously not fans of that genre of music. Thank God. 

We say goodbye to our nice lady in Timisara. Its been a long day. Our host has to text us the street name in Romanian as the taxi drivers don't recognise the English translation. Off we go.