We’ve been to Bucharest before, it was 2014 and as part of a cruise we spent a week sailing around the Black Sea, and we had a lovely day exploring Romainia’s capital city. This time we fly directly and stay for a few nights before we board our boat.
Note I said boat not ship – we are not sailing the oceans on this vacation, we are about to embark on only our second ever river cruise. This time we are trying Viking the infamous company everyone knows because of their extensive advertising: they say they are the best; they say they were one of the first to market, but of course any decent Englander knows that was P&O almost 200 years ago!
We spend all morning doing prep for our holiday, ironing, packing etc. Well, obviously, I don’t, but I am responsible for tech, making lunch and fetching and carrying! By 14:00 we’re in the car hoping to miss the worst of Friday afternoon’s always bad traffic – the only time TF1 groans to a halt. Today we make it in 36 minutes, it could be worse, just 13 more than it should take.
Two minutes later we are in the queue for Wizz Air, this Maltese company is new to us. With just three check-in desks, and no lane management, there are three snaking lines right across the concourse, it’s quite imposible to choose the right lane, and of course we feel like we make the wrong decision.
We already know today is going to be frustrating. To start, Viking have failed to provide a transfer, they argue that our holiday starts on 04 July, but because we arrive on 05 we don’t get this courtesy; well the flight is scheduled to land at 00:25 so thanks for the exceptional customer service eh? It’s no big deal to arrange our own, our wonderful travel agent Yvonne soon sorts that out, but the principle stinks. Next we are told the flight is delayed by an hour, although this has since reduced.
Another change is also expected but that’s fine, we understand Mother Nature’s games so we don’t mind that we have an extra day in Bucharest and have to embark a day later because the Danube is low and the boats cannot make it all the way to Constanta where we should have boarded. That’s a few days off yet.
After 90 minutes we are checked in. Unfortunately security is very quiet so they invent some new rules to test us – today we cannot put all our phones and watches in one bag, so have to go round again. Then it’s a random drug swab. Despite these challenges it’s a doddle to get through, and we are soon in the lounge.
As usual on a travel day we have dinner at lunchtime, and then bring lunch to have onboard later as tea. However the meatballs in the lounge at TFS are always fabulous, so I succumb to a smallish plateful of whilst the hubster js more well behaved with just a doughnut, we both have Cava though.
I have the time to get some website updates done, waiting until last call before we head to the gate, by which time the queue has mostly dwindled and we walk on very easily.
Our flight is uneventful, we catch up on a few episodes of the current Netflix drama we’re enjoying, and eventually we land just before 01:00, it’s a long journey by bus to the terminal, and with no immigration we are waiting for our bags before 01:30. And waiting, and waiting. For a good while one still shows as being on the apron at TFS, but after thirty minutes it’s showing as just over a mile away, as the crow flies where we landed. Meanwhile children are playing on the belt, people are standing around as though this is normal, we’re getting more and more grumpy.
Finally at 02:35 they appear, and we’re off faster than most. Somewhat disconcertingly we see someone pick up our bag, but it was just a doppelgänger, and then as we leave a different woman asks us to prove our bag is ours, which it is.
Our Blacklane driver is unconcerned by the trivial matters of pedestrian zones or speed limits and at 03:03 we check in to the JW Marriott, and get four hours before it’s time to emerge for breakfast and our first tour.
