Holiday -- part 2 Transylvania

Noni's always wanted a Transylvanian skirt.

I bought two of them in my student days in Budapest: both came from little old ladies selling beautiful hand-made garments in underground stations. One of them was a long wide linen skirt with a tiny bit of lace at the bottom. Twenty years later, it is still in a fine shape. The other one was black with loads of tiny red flowers -- it's now got too many holes for either of us to wear.

The quest for Noni's new Transylvanian skirts began a few years ago in Budapest. Friends gave some tips, and we followed them all up: we went to the markets at Ecseri and Petofi csarnok ... only to be disappointed.

So this last summer, having driven from London to Budapest, a decision was made to venture further east to Transylvania.

It was hot. A brand new motorway from Budapest to Debrecen gave us a good start. Then we made the unfortunate decision to stop for one night at the blatantly neo-communist Hajdu camping in Hajduszoboszlo.

Service was appalling. It was back to the 1970. Four fat ladies with no charm, no customer service or foreign language skills were fiercely demanding at least four documents from each traveller ... with an air of extreme self-importance, they were filling in monstrously long forms by hand to check people in. At the same time they were arrogantly turning down people on the phone. It was absolutely shocking -- the only time during this last stay in Hungary when I felt my blood pressure rising uncontrollably.

And the famous Hajduszoboszlo spa was also fairly disappointing. Crowded, bureaucratic, expensive. The slides were fun and the new pools looked good, but the old bits were depressingly run-down. And we had the worst langos ever!

On to Transylvania, it was a mixed experience. On the positive side, Vasskert camping is Sovata was fantastic. Beautiful, quiet setting, luxurious facilities. The echoing sound of cockerels and dogs in the morning is still in my ears. It was weird but brilliant.

The threat of bumping into a brown bear stopped me from running into the forest ... so my runs were restricted to the roadside.

Which brings me to the subject of roads: in the land of the Seklers, they are bad. It's not roads: it's potholes. And I mean it: potholes only.

We looked at the map and plotted a nice 50-mile day trip to the Red Lake and the Bicaz Gorge ... and we ended up spending five hours driving. I thought the car would break up every minute. But the views were fascinating, and there was an element of fun trying to overtake horse-drawn carts carrying logs or fantastic amounts of hay (plus at least three children on top of the haystack) on zigzag roads.

We loved the forest fruits bought from roadside vendors. The haggling over the price. The hundreds of shops selling Transylvanian skirts in Korond. The pizzeria in Sovata where Dani's favourite spaghetti has been incorporated into the menu. And the storks proudly surveying their villages from their nests.

And it was also a weird but great experience to find that 200 miles from the border, everybody spoke Hungarian.

It was a mix of new and old -- one moment you see a cart and have a time-has-stopped feeling. Then in the next you have the best cappuccino in the world in a funky bar in Sighisoara -- a 500 year-old cellar, tastefully converted, and equipped with WLAN. Then again, you step outside and there's absolutely nothing to stop you from falling into a wide open manhole right in the middle of the busiest tourist street -- a frequent sight in Transylvania.

So go and see it before it the carts disappear -- but mind your step.

Summer -- part 1

It was out longest trip ever. It was also supposed to be a budget holiday with a lot of camping. It was not to be.

First, we drove from London to Neustift. We very nearly didn't make it. Heavy rain, traffic jams in Germany, and being up all night all contributed to a phone call to the camp site to cancel the booking at about 1800. There was no way we could pitch a tent: we were too knackered, it was too late, and it was miserably cold and wet.

So to a get roof above our heads, I called good old friend Patricia, owner of our "best loved hotel" award many times over. I told her we were just passing through on our way from London to Budapest and needed a room for one night. A luxurious hotel apartment on the top floor was promptly allocated to us, with the key hidden in a large pot of red geranium at the entrance -- their usual procedure for guests turning up after reception closes at 1900.


We had the best night's sleep -- but it came at a cost of £100. Hardly a budget hol!


We emerged for breakfast at 0900. The sun was shining, and Neustift looked its very best: glorious Alpine scenery, ski lifts already running, tiny spots of colour -- the first paragliders descending from the Elfer --already visible in the sky. We could not just leave paradise behind after one night.

But equally, we couldn't afford to stay at £100 a night. So a long chat, big hugs and farewell with Patricia followed, with her emphatically wishing us a safe journey to Budapest.

I decided not to tell her that we were actually only moving over to the campsite for three more nights to enjoy our Alpine mini break. It was a big mistake.


On day three, Noni and I were walking down on the zigzag road from Elferhutte after conquering the Zwolfernieder ... sunburnt and happy, about to meet the men at the Elferlift station.



When going round the last bend, we bumped into two lonely figures -- mind you, at that point, everybody's coming down the mountain to catch the last lift to the village, so it was very ususual to see people going the other way. A man and a woman, in trendy hiking gear, the woman wearing a huge pair of purple sunglasses.


Which she promptly removed when she saw me, shouting excitedly: Erika, are you still here? I thought you were in Budapest!

It was awkward, but Non says I sounded all right, explaining how the kids wanted to stay and as we had a tent with us to use later on in the hols, we decided to stay.

Still, it was a very embarrasing moment ... but at least I found out from Patricia that if you wanted to watch the best sunset in the world, you should be heading up to the Elfer at 1700...

22AA

Noni needed some bras. Her breasts had grown, making her life uncomfortable.

So we went to our local M&S where a very friendly assistant promptly measured her up and declared her a size 32C.

I was hugely impressed -- but not for long, because as it turned out, our local M&S did not have a single pair of teenage 32C bras in stock.

We were kindly advised to try our luck at the Kingston M&S, which must be the biggest bra shop in the whole wide world.

Everywhere you look, there are shelves loaded high with brass. And an impressive display of the stuff hanging from millions of hangers. This is surely the place, we said.

However, the teenage section was almost completely empty... and we were told that adult design bras would not fit her, so we should stay clear.

Well, me being a no-bra person -- except for my running -- I was pretty much puzzled by that instruction but I didn't dare to argue. I know nothing about bra sizing but I think a 32C should be a 32C, no matter your age.

Anyway, the teenage shelves had next to nothing in Kingston, so we needed help ... Another friendly staff was found and asked about the whereabouts of teenage bras. "Oh, didn't you hear?," came the answer, "we've had an unfortunate incident here". "???" "Well, there was a fire last week, and all our stocks were destroyed ...luckily it didn't spread to the adult bras."

A day later, accompanied by a recalcitrant Dan on his scooter tram , it was back to our local M&S.
I told the staff that we must buy some bras this time, so another helpful assistant measured Non up again, just to double check. And surprise, surprise, this time she was found to be a 30B ... and there was teenage 30Bs galore at the shop, so we bought four pairs and left in a state of considerable relief.

But not before Daniel also had himself measured. He was found to be a 22AA of which he proudly informed everyone on our way home. Complete strangers were stopped to listen to his boasting of "Do you know, I've just been measured up, and my bra size is 22AA."

Holes for baddies

Dan's been digging holes in the front garden lately. He says it's for baddies to fall in if they come to our house. If good people fall in by accident, a vehicle with a grabber comes up to rescue them.

Half marathon

I'll be running a challenging mountain track -- the Silvretta half marathon in Austria on August 30.

It is a tricky one -- especially a steep, 460 meter climb in a three kilometre stretch, early in the run.

I suppose it could be worse -- if it was towards the end, it would be even nastier.

The usual advice is to start your racing career with a shorter distance. And a flat course. But I love stretching myself, and I feel fairly confident about this.

Also, I'm very practical, and there are three pretty sensible points to consider here:

1. August 30 in Galtur is perfectly timed for our drive back from Budapest to London -- and we wanted a different route for our return journey anyway. By contrast, the Budapest half marathon on September 6 -- which I was briefly considering -- would have involved an awkward flight back to Bud four days after arriving back in London.

2. I've always wanted to go to Galtur.

3. There's a children's race for Dan and a junior race for Non -- not that she's eager to run it. But Dan's interested in putting his hands on a trophy.

So, Silvretta half marathon it will be.

What do you prefer?

It's one of our favourite new-ish games with D. Yesterday, it went like this:

Me: What do you prefer, strawberries or raspberries?
He: Both.
Me: Boiled eggs or scrambled eggs?
He: Boiled.
Me: Trains or buses?
He: Both.
Me: Mushrooms or tomato soup?
He: None of those. They're disgusting, yak.
Me: Your turn.
He: What do you prefer, snuggling up to me or going to Bush?
Me: What a silly question, snuggling up to you, of course.
He: But you go to Bush so much...
Me: What do you prefer, snuggling up to me or going to school?
He: Both

Good answer.

Camping nr St David's

Beautiful Caerfai Bay in north Pembrokeshire.

Clifftop camp site, right on the Coastal Path. Ten minute walk down the cliff to a spectacular sandy beach. Steep cliffs full of daisies, foxgloves and butterflies. The sun was out, and it felt like the Mediterranean.

Camping was exciting. We didn't get much sleep though. First night, it felt cold, strange and very new; we were tossing and turning for ages before falling asleep. Then I woke up in the middle of the night feeling a bit rough. No wonder -- two of out of our three Tesco quality air beds deflated and we were lying on the floor.

The next day we bought some self-inflating mats in lovely St Davids's, so slept more comfortably... until we were woken up by the wind. It sounded scary; we thought the tent was about to take off. It didn't. But it could have.

The third night turned out to be the scariest, though. At 3 a.m., I heard an animal's paws pouncing around the tent. Then I heard a man's harsh voice: MAX! GET BACK INTO THE TENT. RIGHT NOW! YOU NAUGHTY!

I envisaged a blood-thirsty bull terrier ready to dig its way into our tent and attack Daniel. Nothing less. So grabbed two torches to prepare for the onslaught. I was lying wide awake for a very long time, listening out for funny noises that continued into the dawn. Eventually I dosed off, clutching the torches.

I should not have worried. In the clear light of the morning, I spotted the near-invader: it was a tiny black spaniel.

All in all, it was a fantastic break. The kids took to camping like duck to water. They loved everything about it: pitching the tent, cooking the sausages, cleaning up. There was even a fight about who should come with me to wash up the dishes!

Daniel spent most of the time on the beach, working on complex engineering projects in the sand. There was a fair amount of mud throwing, too, and playing "you can't catch me" with the waves. It was brilliant.

Noni loved kayaking, swimming and walking the coastal path. To much of her delight and surprise, we discovered nearby St Non's Bay which was extremely beautiful.