Deadly serious

After eleven days, three flights, countless trains, buses and taxis, we finally make it back to Heathrow. I have to admit, despite not being that much of a fan of the city viewed from the London Eye, it does make quite a picture from the sky. The pilot points out the centre as we fly over and banks, filling the windows with views of the South Bank. It is nice to finally be home. The holiday has been fantastic and a wonderful experience, but I think we've both reached our limit. It was certainly time to come home. We've done six cities in four countries and I feel I've learnt a lot about places I've known very little - at least from a tourist's perspective. But one thing has stood out above all else: the hospitality. Back in Heathrow I couldn't face another complicated journey so we sort out a cab that gets us home in about 20 minutes. Hello Bushey.

We're showered with drinks for the whole flight: soft drinks, wine, gin & tonic. If only we didn't have to all share a tiny vacuum bowl at the rear of the aircraft. Our meal isn't bad either with some sort of chicken with mushrooms and potato. The dessert, however, is a big creamy thing so I don't touch it. It all helps the three hours or so to pass, although not quite. By the last half hour I was feeling a little fed up. We're so close and I'm so exhausted I just need to be home.

It's a 3 hour 20 minutes flight, so a lot longer than I was expecting. I suppose I've lost track of where we are in Europe, how far east we've travelled. Down below and looking on the small screen overhead showing our location on a map, it would appear we're flying once again over the Danube. We've barely escaped it on this holiday. At least it's been an important feature of all four countries, even if for Romania and Bulgaria it represents their border.

We're flying British Airways back to Heathrow and after 10 days of hearing no English voices we are surrounded by them. It's odd but I don't like to hear English on holiday, at least not spoken by English people. All the romance seems to disappear. Almost all the air stewards are men, which I've not seen before and it's all very professional. Many passengers are elderly and the stewards are chatting with them. It's a whole different experience to the economy airlines.

At the airport we arrive with only 15 minutes to go before we reach the two hours they advise you to arrive. This is after starting at 9.30am this morning and multiple delays. Fortunately we only have to wait for about 20 minutes before the check-in opens but are confronted with very long slow queues, not what we needed after another long day. But we persevere and say goodbye to our bags. They've done us well for 10 days. We were through security very quickly and make our way through the shops to the gate. We look for some drink and food but the prices here are ridiculous. At about £6 for a sandwich our measly Romanian currency wouldn't stretch to it. Like Sofia, they charge in Euros despite this not being a Euro country. We couldn't even find some cheap Romanian wine. We settle on a couple of bottles of water.

It was now already 2pm and we were keen to find the bus to the airport. I'd considered a taxi which was still an option but I wouldn't take one from the streets outside the station. We'd taken a bus here and just needed the same one back. We even had tickets. However, asking at various train ticket desks we got no help. Indeed we were told numerous times they don't sell bus tickets at the train station. But we were only asking for somewhere to buy bus tickets (actually I just wanted to check our tickets were valid). Eventually some elderly lady with an accounting book of some sorts open beside a bus stop points to round the corner where we go and recognise the same shape of booth where we bought tickets at the airport. We show our cards (a bit like paper Oyster cards) and they say they already have enough for the return journey. But they had only cost us about £1.50 for two! We make our way back to the bus top where we eventually work out we're in the right place af...

We make it back into Bucharest and even manage to recover some of the lost time. I try to stay focused and not look too lost as we find somewhere to eat, avoiding all the taxi drivers touting for business. We find a Subway and get our favourite sandwiches we know back home. Outside we see a few people hanging round looking inside. The toilets have numbered locks and they are watching for the code. They enter, try a few codes, but they fail and are soon kicked out. We are reminded of the other side of Romania. With our backpacks and being so exhausted I feel a little more vulnerable, but nobody bothers us.

The train is quite full and we struggle at first to find our seats. Our friend, the police chief, at least got us on to the right wagon. On board we find a conductor who locates our seats and kicks out whoever was sitting there. Another passenger gives up space above for my backpack and Katarina's I squeeze between my legs and under the table separating us from two passengers opposite. This is a more modern train and, ironically, comes from Budapest. We settle down for a 90 minute journey to Bucharest at times hitting 140kph - speeds I didn't know they did in these parts of the world. We both drift in and out of sleep. All the while I wrap my hands around my bag to ensure nobody can take anything. However, a passenger on the other side of the isle has three smart phones laid out in plain sight. Someone is having a laugh.

At the station we find our train listed but can't quite work out which is platform one. Fortunately we see the police chief from yesterday and in his broken English he points to the right place but then also tells us the train is an hour late. It was fortunate I'd booked the early train and we still had hours until our 5pm flight. However, I had a feeling we'd still be pushing it. We had plenty more mileage to cover and memories of the Belgrade train still haunt us. We take a seat and wait - for 90 minutes - in the cold. By the time the train does arrive we're both freezing and very keen to get to our seats.

Our journey back home didn't begin particularly well with the taxi unable to get to the hotel. While waiting we noticed a lot of cyclists riding past and I was thinking it's just some cycle club. However, the reception informs us the taxi won't make it because the roads are blocked. So instead her colleague would drive us down (in his merc). Probably thinking we would be late he drives at fast pace past the cyclists and their following cars and we're at the station very quickly. However, I'd planned everything with plenty of spare time today for just these moments. After all, we have to make it back to Bucharest in time for a flight.

It only takes a few more minutes to complete our packing and check all the rooms for anything left behind (which of course is more difficult with all this space). Katarina's face in the lift door probably sums up how we're both feeling. Exhausted. But we still have one more journey to go: a taxi, a train, a bus and a plane. No time yet to rest.

We make it down for our final breakfast but I'm struggling to find an appetite. We're a little early so not everything is out so I choose a sausage and a little scrambled egg. But as soon as I put some in my mouth I have to put it down. I can't eat anything savoury - at all. I ate too much last night. I'm too tired. I've finally reached the limit of this holiday. However, I do find some melon and a little pastry together with a tea and some apple juice does the trick.

After another very warm night, we wake to wispy trails of mist clinging to the trees. It's our last morning and the train to Bucharest leaves at 10:15 so once again we don't have time to linger. I had gone to bed very early so after a decent time in bed (albeit broken by heat and an unquenchable thirst brought on by last night's meat, beer and wine) I get up at 6.30am and start to pack very slowly. By the time Katarina is up it's largely done so we're almost ready to go.