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doesn't
understand English he gets the same story for free once again, this time
in German, inclusive a dumb & innocent smile from me. He can still
utter two questions: Journalist? Boy was that a wrong question 'cause all
he gets is an explanation on my position within the Romanian Afghan Hound
Club (bet he has never heard of this bunch of weirdo's), but he still succeeds
to put the more difficult second question: Where's your car? So I put on
my # 1 Eastman Color amazed look
and
tell him en-passant that all that stuff comes by train from Romania and
I just got someone to drive me to the border from the e station.
Right, I got him, he snaps the entry visa into my passport I get both passports
(new and old expired one) back, the 50 DM bill finds it way most naturally
back into my passport and as soon I want to leave I hear
him asking in a very bad
Romanian:...your country...you know what they did to us, I turn round,
drop my head and admit: Yes those are our leaders, we had to do it
although 75% of Romanians don't understand why...just a couple more steps
and I happy to throw the large suitcase on the small metal table near the
barrier - customs officers must think
I'm a nut case but I'm just
happy to rest my muscles! A quick glance into the travel bag and I get
a quick nod from the NCO, the I open the suitcase...the eyes of the customs
man slowly become cyclopean so I can do only one thing: start talking as
fast as I can in a strange mixture of english-german-serbian-romanian so
his only escape is to call the one
most intellectual amidst
their crowd - ne listens just a moment and concedes: let him through he's
just a dog guy! As a token of uninterested thanks I let them have the four
baseball caps and as I start walking like a weight lifter with all those
more than 80 lb. hanging from my arms I can hear them dividing between
them my Italian caps.
Ha! I succeeded! I'm so
happy as if I've just crossed the border between
Tchechnia and Switzerland.
I more or lass pull the suitcase
and then I see the ancient red Renault and inside two black familiar shaped
figures and suddenly there he is in front of me: a smiling 2 meter high
giant: we write each other e-mails and letters since more than 10 months,
we feel like brothers and yet we meet for the first time, here in the surreal
place. A short hug quickly followed by a firm wish: Djordje, please
take my luggage before I fall down! I can see the question in his eyes
so I
answer without delay: it's
all from family K. and other German breeders and judges! As we put the
stuff in the car we also have a "collateral damage" - the liquor bottle
which was supposed to be Joseph's present falls off the chair and smashes
on the hot tarmac - followed closely by the seemingly most used curse in
FRY: pizda mutii Milosevici, pizda mutii Clinton!
And now I meet the two black
silhouettes: Hurrikan as cunning as his sun Sunny and Wiki, thin and beautiful.
Dj gives me the shortest
but most sense full judge appreciation on the pair and we trot off towards
the restaurant as Dj has decided that I MUST be hungry and on the other
hand I also want to spend the 230 dinars I still have after bringing Sunny
to Bucharest from Pancevo. The menu makes me feel like at home in Romania:
a "ciorba" dressed with yoghourt,
a fresh cucumber and white
cabbage salad (I had too much meat already today!) and a good turkish coffee.
While we start talking I
suddenly see where Sunny gets his habits from: Hurrikan jumps through the
small open window and starts investigating the Serbian side of the border!
In due time and after his maybe last reprimand on Serbian soil he's back
in the car. Back at the table Dj tells me: Hurrikan is a catastrophe, no
way of letting him off the leash! Wiki...she'll just walk by your
side even without on!
So we get to financial side
of the trip: 1700 Dm change ownership, shortly but difficulty followed
by my 230 dinars - the answer as as quick as determined as he pushes a
50 US$ bill towards me. I don't wanna take it, he insists: I know you Romanians
are the poorest lot in Europe except for Albanians and the dog food you've
sent me and the calls you
made to olivia mean 100
times more - well, after all he's my brother! I tell him that I already
received earlier that day some Dm which will cover at least my travel costs...to
cut it short I take the money and promise to use it as travel money to
bring Olivia whatever money might be directed to me from the afghan list.
This part settled, as two
ordinary people we change to politics...such a mess, a people caught between
the implacable, inhumane evils determined to subjugate the Serbian people:
Milosevici si NATO! And of course the other war, in the media: Milosevici
propaganda from home versus NATO TV propaganda through NATO relays, the
lies from CNN and the dubious and arrogant comments from comments jamie
shea&Co, and just a single loser: Yugoslavia!
Of course we speak in low
voice but you can never know who sits beside your table so I'm eager to
know about his trip from the small village opposite to Novi Sad to the
border post in Horgos: his friend, a Collie breeder took him early morning
across the Danube, Dj lying on his back keeping tight in his arms the two
Affies and praying that the 4 HP motor
does start...the morning
is quiet but huge fumes come from the petrochemical complex once more bombed
the night before and the air alarm hasn't yet been called off , safely
on the other side of the bank he changes clothes and jumps in his fathers
car and starts the 120 km drive to the border through small villages as
the highway is still sealed off of for private traffic - he took this car
as it consumes less and is so old that the risk of it being requisitioned
by the army is
near zero! he discloses
his biggest fear - what if he would have been stranded in the middle of
a dusty road, 50 km from the border keeping on leash his two hounds and
me waiting and waiting at the petrol station at the border...I ask about
his house, his family...no drinkable water, no gas to cook diner, just
electricity...but if NATO destroys this also
they are all doomed...the
hospitals see already the first signs of a rapidly deterioration of health
standards and immuno-genetic related diseases...his grandmother's house
is next to one of the former bridges - no windows any longer...tales of
war, tales of horror...
As we check our watches we
see it's time to part...he has got to arrive home before the evening alarm
starts again, I also have a train to catch in order to give Wiki a new
safe home as soon as possible. Cocker Spaniel breeder turns to be our needed
amateur photograph...a quick series of snaps, I take Hurrikan and Wiki
on the leash, a last hug...big
tears roll over my brothers
eyes: please take care of my Hurrikan and of my beloved Wiki...head down,
almost crying myself I head once more towards the serbian customs: before
I start explaining and showing the papers Dj yell something to
them , they nod and after
a short nod from the border guards I leave Yugoslavia....I hope nothing
will happen now...short of entering the Hungarian side I turn round and
wave back...then I meet astonished Hungarian guards proudly wearing their
bullet-proof vests, they don't seem to understand that I lack at least
one hand as I try to pull my passport whilst also holding the dogs, a small
plastic bag and A small painture of an afghan Dj has given me ...eventually
a guard takes the
leashes and is instantly
pulled in two absolute different directions...he, he..wonder if he'd ever
think 'bout having such a
pet... The custom guy seems
being in need of action so I give him the same treatment: at least 100
words he can't understand at all plus a stack
of papers (BTW, most of them being the judging certificates of Hurrikan
who is Yugoslav Champion) and as he nods desperately not wanting to hear
anything more from me I superiorly tell him that he had forgotten to ask
me to show him Wiki's pedigree! Nevertheless I leave ASAP the customs over
hearing a smart remark on "those stupid Romanians and their crazy dogs
from Serbia"...he, he... Josef is already waiting for me...I hand him solemnly
over the "collateral loss" the smell shows good quality, but...it lands
in the nearest bush and we head back to Szeged. Dj calls us on Josef's
mobile phone and suddenly all happens very fast: Szeged railway station,
a photo of Josef and his car and I jump in the first class coach of the
5 wagon local train to Bekescsaba: Thought all was over? No way!
One hour later the train conductor steps into the compartment: No dogs
in first class and where's the dogs ticket? I'm already pissed off so I
tell her that back home in Romania I don't need no ticket and can take
whatever train or couch that pleases
my dog! Of course she wants
both a fine and us to move over to the last wagon of the train, but boy
has she got a problem as I offer her Deutsch Marks and she can accept only
Hungarian Forints! So eventually we close a deal: We move to second class
and she doesn't need any longer a ticket for Wiki...the shuddering journey
has a quick effect on Wiki's
bowels and oop the poop
on the corridor...so I have to scoop the poop, clean the corridor and eventually
relax by lighting a cigarette while disregarding my ulcerus...but there's
Bekescsaba and just 1 hour to my connection back home!
We take a stroll around
the station where I find some women from Carmen's hometown of Craiova and
we have the usual political talk about Romania , the stupid President we
have and off I am! Of course, the train is late, but I decide that we should
have the most pleasant trip possible regardless of costs..a short sprint
and I'm at the doorstep of the sleeping coach coming all the way from Paris:"
I need a bed!"! Of course they have so first of all I get Wiki on the bed
and only then start the
negotiations - we agree on 50 Dm, followed by a pack of Marlboro Lights
and the promise not to show myself on the corridor before arriving at the
Bucharest "Gara de Nord" station: tired, but happy we part two Wiener Schnitzels
and as Wiki falls quickly asleep I start preparing again the papers needed
for the last border crossing.
Control is more or less
inexistent on the Hungarian side (that's one of the major advantages when
crossing the border in sleeping couch) and 1/4 hour later I hear the first
Romanian words in the last 18 hours. Wiki gets only admirative glances
and the lady from customs is asking as she leaves our compartment: "sorry
sir, but I hope you do have papers for
her?" - i grab the papers,
but she's already gone and Wiki gain asleep...
My mobile phone starts receiving
messages again: seems that Carmen is
sick worried about me, as
are also other friends including my mother who
want's to know what she
should prepare for Wiki when we arrive in the
morning at home. I start
writing some notes on the trip and eventually
persuade Wiki to let me
also have a piece of the bed...
Sharp on time, early Sunday
morning we're in Bucharest...a last
negotiation with the cab
driver and 10 minutes later I open the door to
my apartment in down-town
Bucharest...Sunny has felt my arrival and is
ready to greet me in his
usual way but he sees Wiki...and the rest is
history....
Aurel
Aurel's
Page in Afghanstoo-l Gallery |
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