It’s amazing how the weather affects your perception of things. It was sunny and a bit warmer this morning and the brown grassy hills looked quite nice. Walking was quite enjoyable. Sadly, the weather deteriorated about lunch time. It was cold again and we had patches of rain. Sylvia was not keen to continue along the ridge and Mark and I didn’t have strong feelings either way so we dropped down into a valley and camped near a river.
Above left: Mark and Sylvia sitting in the grass during a fine patch of weather. Above right: Barren hills.
It’s almost getting too cold to be using a travel sleeping bag now. I’ve been cold the last two nights despite wearing my down jacket and fleece pants to bed. Maybe it’s time to fly back to NZ?
I cooked dinner and we had cous-cous. Except, we didn’t. We had something that looked very much like cous-cous but was really quite different. In fact, that’s not quite right. It was so inedible that was scrapped the “cous-cous” entirely and I served a delicious feast of potato flakes and canned tomatoes. Surely worth the long wait. The others weren’t too worried as Mark had worked his magic and we had a nice fire to keep us warm.
It turns out that misleading packaging and our complete lack of knowledge of the Romanian language had caused us to by four big packets of what was essentially vegetable stock. And very salty stock too. It didn’t help that it was clumped in little balls like cous-cous and looked like the stuff when I decanted it into our bowls. To my surprise, after pouring boiling water over it, the little balls dissolved leaving a solution that contained enough salt to be really quite horrid.
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