Stories: Crossing the Romanian Border
Displaying 1 - 1 of 1 -- Add Story
| Submitted by Wayne Goates:
I had worried about crossing the border from Hungary into Romania after reading stories of 6-12 hour delays and various problems with border officials. I must have spent 10 hours or more searching the internet and writing embassy officials to gather information about the border crossing into Romania, all without really getting any detailed or useful information. I was delighted when it only took 15 minutes to cross the Hungarian check point at Artand and I wondered why I had worried so much.
The Romanian crossing just down the road at Bors, however, was a different story. The lines were much longer, for one thing. Finally, after waiting more than hour, we were only 6 cars from the check point; and though I had already taken some photos of the border crossing, I decide to get just one more, close up picture. I got out of the car, took a quick picture, and immediately a border guard came out of an adjoining booth, pointed at me and started yelling in Romanian. He then crossed two lanes of traffic to the booth for the line of cars we were in, and waited for us. Have you ever done something that seems like a good idea until 2 seconds after you do it; when you wish with all your heart that you hadn’t done it? It didn’t help that I remembered reading about Romanian police and military personnel confiscating cameras from tourists who had taken pictures without permission. Here we sat in a long line of cars, hundreds of miles from anyone who could help us, while an angry border official waited for us and our camera. My wife’s questions weren’t particularly reassuring. She wanted to know what on earth had possessed me to take another picture, drawing attention to ourselves; when the last thing we wanted was trouble with the border guards. I’m not certain what foreboding and self-reproach we may each feel before the final judgment, but I got a taste of it as we waited for our turn to be interrogated by the scowling border guard.
When we reached the booth, the guard who had singled us out, stood there, obviously waiting for us. He was giving instructions to the individual manning the booth. We couldn’t understand anything they were saying, so we just handed over our passports and waited. They kept asking for something else, so we handed over our international driving licenses. Still, they wanted more, so we dug out the car rental papers showing that we had permission to drive into Romania. They were asking more questions that I couldn’t understand, but I remembered having read somewhere that tourists were required to have at least $200 on them, so I replied “two hundred dollars”. Then it occurred to me that maybe they thought I was trying to bribe them and that it might not be the wisest thing to tell them how much money we had. After numerous attempts to understand what they were asking, and about the time that I was considering handing over our digital camera, the guard who had been waiting for us, asked in good English “What do you do? Where do you work?” When I said I was a school teacher, he replied, “Not FBI?” He laughed as though this were a good joke. We laughed too, weak with relief. No doubt he still chuckles occasionally when boasting on slow days at the Bors crossing to other border guard about the scare he gave to those stupid Americans. I have included two pictures of the border crossing. Under the circumstances, I didn’t think it wise to take a picture of our “friend” as we drove away. |
| |
|
|
|
List All | Add Story
|
