Night Train to Sofia With Love

Night Train to Sofia With Love
Armed with a sense of humour and a chocolate bar!

Krista Semotiuk is a twenty-three year old travelling woman who completed a solo four month trip through Eastern Europe and Turkey. In true networking style, it was her mother who introduced her to Journeywoman before she left on this adventure.

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The train between Brasov and Bucharest went by without problems but the night train from Bucharest to Sofia was quite another story!

It was about midnight. The train cars weren't marked. Luckily, I noticed a #475, written by finger, in the dust of one of the cars. I jumped on minutes before the train was scheduled to leave and made my way to my couchette. It was empty except for a few leering Bulgarian men who were into their booze.

No beds available...

No sooner did I get myself comfortable in my couchette when there was a knock on the door. A conductor explained that I had to move; the car I was in "was no good" (whatever that meant). He grabbed my backpack and I quickly grabbed my other possessions and followed.

As I entered the new car, the conductor shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. It seemed that there were no more beds available. But, the car was empty! I certainly couldn't believe him! I explained in choppy French that I had paid for a couchette all the way to Sofia--the entire trip--not only until midnight, as he was trying to tell me. He refused to relent and I refused to get too irritated.

Than, just as the train was about to pull away, I realized that I had left my mailing tube in the last compartment. This tube contained 15 posters that I had collected and carried for the first two months of my trip. Determined to recover it, I ran to the conductor and motioned that I had left something behind. He, in turn, motioned for me to quickly run off and get it.

Only in his undershirt...

The doors to the last car were locked but my flailing arms and bad French were attracting attention. Clad only in his undershirt, a cigarette in his mouth, the conductor in the car that was destined to stay behind, handed me my precious package. "Merci, merci, merci!", I called to him. By this time about 20 people were watching the entertainment and laughing, repeating, "Merci, merci!". I joined in with their laughter, gesturing at my absentmindedness. Posters in hand, I happily returned to my designated car and we quickly departed.

He wanted more money!...

Now the new conductor tried to explain that I had to pay him more if I wanted a couchette. Keeping a smiling face, I shook my head and explained back that I had no money, that I understood my ticket, I had a reservation, and that I wasn't stupid.

All the time that this was going on, one of the Bulgarian men from the previous car was trying to help me. But after a while, I realized that he just wanted to keep passing me in the corridor. It was a tight fit and he kept brushing up against different parts of my body each time he went by. The creep! I gave him a piece of my mind and he disappeared!

I shrugged my shoulders and contemplated how I was going to be able to stand for the next six hours. The conductor went back to his compartment. I stood outside, not intending to annoy, but singing and humming to myself.

Love conquers all...

Suddenly he reappeared and, without a word, opened a couchette for me. All full, huh? Nonetheless, I smiled gratefully, thankful that I hadn't given in, shouted, or stopped smiling during our previous negotiations.

After unpacking, I brought the conductor a chocolate bar which he happily accepted. Now, I had a conductor friend for the duration of the trip. Coming into Sofia, he made sure that I was awake and he helped me with my bags including all of my precious posters.

And, I swear, I'm absolutely positive that there was a tear in his eye when we said, "Au revoir" at the station.

Ed. note: In a letter to Journeywoman, Krista explained that travel in Eastern Europe can be difficult for a woman travelling solo. She was pleased that she had taken a friend's advice and packed extra doses of flexibility, patience, humour and, of course, lots of chocolate bars.

Which car, please?...

Never assume that by boarding the right train you'll end up where you want to go. It's the right car that's critical! Each car has an identification panel on its side, showing on top the name of the city where it originated and on the bottom, the name of its final destination, with the names of the most important stops en route in-between. But...don't be fooled. If you intend to get off the train at a small town not noted on the side panel, you have to find out before hand from the conductor which car you should be on.

Guys talk trains...

The only way to be sure of catching a train is to miss the one before it.

Just being in a train and rushing on to somewhere is extraordinarily nerve-soothing.

Going by railroad I do not consider as travelling at all; it is merely being 'sent' to a place, and very little different from becomin a parcel.

Travel Gods Smiled on my Train...

Since I always travel solo, I make it my business to journey early in the day. I like to arrive at my destination long before hotels, hostels and B&B's fill up.

One day while travelling in Britain, circumstances didn't allow for an early arrival and I found myself getting into the city of Bath quite late. I mused about this to my seat-mate, a lovely older gentleman who lived in the city and knew it well. My concern, I explained, was that the more moderate accommodation in town would all be gone and I would be stuck with a huge hotel bill.

He listened and then directed me to a friend who was the manager of a tiny gem of a hotel within walking distance of the train station. "Tell him I sent you and ask his advice," he said.

The hotel manager listened, smiled and asked what my "per night" budget was.

"Thirty dollars, I replied rather sheepishly.

"Welcome," he said with a smile.

I was shown to a room filled with wonderful antique furniture. An inviting handsome old bathtub (on legs) stood over to one corner. Absolutely charming! It was immediately evident that the rate for this room was probably three times my "per night" budget. The Travel Gods were smiling down on me. Clearly I was being given a very, very nice present.

I must confess. I hardly slept that night. A lot of time was spent simply soaking in that big, deep tub ruminating about the joys of being on the road. And then, I wrote to all my friends telling them what a terrific time I was having!

I Hope Things Have Changed On Trains
...but just in case

After reading "Love on the Train", British journeywoman Paula Bardell sent us her memory of an unsettling train trip in the mid 80's.

When travelling from Athens in Greece to Dusseldorf in Germany via the Hellas Express during the mid 1980s, my female travelling companion and I had a rather unfortunate experience with a train guard.

We reached Yugoslavia (as it was still known in those days) at about 1 o'clock in the morning and went through the usual rigmarole with border control checking our passports. We were about to settle down in our seats for a couple of hours shut-eye, when the said guard -short, fat, drunk, and stubbly-faced - came stumbling into our carriage. He stood leering at us and began to talk away. We didn't understand the words but ..... At this point we both became aware of the large revolver hooked into his belt and smiled nervously, realising that he was inviting us back to the guards room for a drink.

Although my friend and I were unmarried, we had been advised by friends to always wear rings on our wedding fingers. We laughed at the time but this useful piece of advice probably got us out of a potentially unpleasant situation.

Thankfully the guard spoke a little German, and my friend had a school girl's understanding of the language. She pointed to her ring and told him that we were married woman with children, and we were meeting our husbands in Austria. Luckily her ploy worked and the guard staggered off muttering under his breath.

And the morel of this story? If you're going to visit countries where the male population view women who travel alone as morally loose, be sure to have your story ready and always wear a wedding ring.

Your's

Deep's

The Kind of Love !!

Two Women and an African Baby

North American Journeywoman, Dana Bookman has travelled the world (not all of it yet) in search of spirited adventures, extravagant experiences and the perfect beach. She’s under forty. The saga continues. This is Dana's telling of her extreme and wonderful human interest adventure in Africa...

I can still picture it in my head...

I can still picture it in my head. It was amazing. It was five in the morning and I was in a jeep on my way to watch the sunrise over the grasslands in a Tanzanian game park. I remember the smell of the rain, still left over from the night before, the sound of the early morning silence, I can still feel the bumps in the road jostling me awake every now and then.

I can still see her, lying there on the side of the road. We passed her so quickly I almost didn't see her. But there she was, arms waving, skin gleaming with sweat, calling to us. I remember thinking she must have been sleeping there all night, or maybe she was sick. The driver slammed on the brakes and as we backed up I saw the most amazing, scary, awesome sight.

The girl - and she was just a girl - was having a baby right there on the side of the road. Through the driver I learned that the one hospital in the small Tanzanian community was miles away. The 18-year-old girl had instead tried to walk to the dispensary which was closed at five in the morning. She had no choice but to start to walk toward the hospital.

Her husband worked miles away in the big city and she found herself alone and scared on the side of the road at daybreak with a strange Canadian girl speaking to her in a strange combination of English and Swahili.

I used my Swiss Army knife...

And there I found myself. Barely older than she was, and just as scared. This was her first baby, and mine too. The driver, a man, was a certified Tanzanian tour guide, but this was obviously not part of his job description. He would not even look at us, leaving me to struggle with my less than limited Swahili vocabulary, talking the girl through the delivery.

I don't know if it was from watching the hospital television drama ER or just plain instinct that told me how to cut the umbilical cord. I used my binocular strap to tie the cord and my Swiss Army knife to cut it.

She whispered thank you...

He came screaming into the world, brown and beautiful. In stoic silence she watched as I lifted the baby into my arms. And as I wrapped him in a towel I looked down at the tininess that was him. His mother, no longer a girl, looked up, settling on him with her eyes and then stood, with the help of the driver and climbed into the Landrover.

As we drove the rest of the way to the hospital, still silent, the mother reached out for her baby and held him to her breast. Her eyes softened when she saw his face, but still stoic, still shocked and pained she still did not speak.

When we finally got to the hospital she staggered down the path, a trail of blood and me, with the baby in my arms following. As she undressed in, what I can only assume by the lone, tattered crib, was the maternity ward, she climbed into bed and whispered thank you.

She took the baby, stared into his face again and asked me the name of my father. But Canadian names don't roll off the tongue so easily in Swahili, so we decided that Kumuka should be his name. It is the Swahili word for awakening.

Seeing the boy enter the world so suddenly, purely, resolutely, awakened something in all of us I think.

I can still picture it in my head.

Your's

Deep's

disabled children Story (please dont forget to read )

At a fundraising dinner for a school that serves learning- disabled children, the father of one of the school's students delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended.

After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he offered a question. "Everything God does is done with perfection. Yet, my son, Shay, cannot learn things as other children do. He cannot understand things as other children do. Where is God's plan reflected in my son?"

The audience was stilled by the query. The father continued. "I believe," the father answered, "that when God brings a child like Shay into the world, an opportunity to realize the Divine Plan presents itself. And it comes in the way people treat that child." Then, he told the following story:

Shay and his father had walked past a park where some boys Shay knew were playing baseball. Shay asked, "Do you think they will let me play?" Shay's father knew that most boys would not want him on their team. But the father understood that if his son were allowed to play it would give him a much-needed sense of belonging.

Shay's father approached one of the boys on the field and asked if Shay could play. The boy looked around for guidance from his team-mates. Getting none, he took matters into his own hands and said, "We are losing by six runs, and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team and we'll try to put him up to bat in the ninth inning."

In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shay's team scored a few runs but was still behind by three. At the top of the ninth inning, Shay put on a glove and played in the outfield. Although no hits came his way, he was obviously ecstatic just to be on the field, grinning from ear to ear as his father waved to him from the stands.

In the bottom of the ninth inning, Shay's team scored again. Now, with two outs and bases loaded, the potential winning run was on base.

Shay was scheduled to be the next at-bat. Would the team actually let Shay bat at this juncture and give away their chance to win the game?

Surprisingly, Shay was given the bat. Everyone knew that a hit was all but impossible because Shay didn't even know how to hold the bat properly, much less connect with the ball. However, as Shay stepped up to the plate, the pitcher moved a few steps to lob the ball in softly so Shay could at least be able to make contact. The first pitch came and Shay swung clumsily and missed.

The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly toward Shay. As the pitch came in, Shay swung at the ball and hit a slow ground ball to the pitcher. The pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could easily have thrown the ball to the first baseman. Shay would have been out and that would have ended the game.

Instead, the pitcher took the ball and threw it on a high arc to right field, far beyond reach of the first baseman. Every one started yelling, "Shay, run to first. Run to first." Never in his life had Shay ever made it to first base. He scampered down the baseline, wide-eyed and startled.

Everyone yelled "Run to second, run to second!" By the time Shay was rounding first base, the right fielder had the ball. He could have thrown the ball to the second baseman for a tag. But the right fielder understood what the pitcher's intentions had been, so he threw the ball high and far over the third baseman's head.

Shay ran towards second base as the runners ahead of him deliriously circled the bases towards home. As Shay reached second base, the opposing shortstop ran to him, turned him in the direction of third base, and shouted, "Run to third!"

As Shay rounded third, the boys from both teams were screaming, "Shay! Run home!"

Shay ran home, stepped on home plate and was cheered as the hero, for hitting a "grand slam" and winning the game for his team.

"That day," said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face,"the boys from both teams helped bring a piece of the Divine Plan into this world."

And now, a footnote to the story.

We all send thousands of jokes through e-mail without a second thought, but when it comes to sending messages regarding life choices, people think twice about sharing. The crude, vulgar, and sometimes the obscene pass freely through cyberspace, but public discussion of decency is too often suppressed in school and the workplace.

If you are thinking about forwarding this message, you are probably thinking about which people on your address list aren't the "appropriate" ones to receive this type of message.

The person, who sent this to you, believes that we can all make a difference. We all have thousands of opportunities a day to help realize God's plan. So many seemingly trivial interactions between two people present us with a choice:

Do we pass along a spark of the Divine? Or do we pass up that opportunity, and leave the world a bit colder in the process?

You have two choices now:

1. Reply if u Like or
2. Forward it to the people you care about.

You know the choice I made.

Your's
Deep's

MY LIFE (The story of my love)

Hi Friends,


The real story of my Life.

"The Day i was in Love",
"The Day i was online in my office,One Message came saying "Hi this is xyz what is your Name !!
And there it started conversation,the Girl is to stay in kenya,And the Boy Stay in India.
And Conversation went long long long TIME, And it was so Lovely Conversation,
In that conversation there was No cry,No sex,No bad talkings,All was Just About Friendship and Family,the way she was talking at the same time the boy replys was so touchy feelings,And so true.

And Like this conversation was going on so nice and they both where so happy in hands of God's Love.
And one day that girl asked that boy's Cell Number.and he gave his cell number,
And the First call came that day Night.(From kenya To India)!!,And the boy was surprised who is this,And there he said "Hallo,There he heard saying Hi This is xyz,How are you,the boy was shocked and surprised and said in slow voice hi iam Fine,what about you...
The call was just 5mts talkings.and last she said ok bye,Its nice talking to you.The boy's reply was Thanks for calling from so long.God bless you..And there phone disconceted."

After that what happend... Did She called him again....??Or she came online...??
U want to know.Leave me the comment,i will reply u all my LOve LIFE""..

Thanks for reading.
Waiting for your Reply.

Your's

sd..

Stories that make some one fell great

Hi Friends,


your Deepak welcomes you to feel the love.
The real Love Stories that happend in there real Life.
so come lets give them strength and support.

yours
Deep's