Nea Fane – Un Biet Român Pripășit în America / A Hapless Romanian Stuck in The US

Two Men in a Boat During the War

Back in 2017, I was basically dragged to Misu’s place, but in 2023, it was totally different. It was like a partnership. We planned everything together in advance, we bought things together, and we prepared the boat together (actually, Misu did the prep while I mostly admired his expertise). It took me a while to figure it out, but it was actually the best strategy. Instead of waiting to be told, “Hey, you can come now,” I occasionally took the initiative and helped him (as much as I was able).

The same boat, the same car, the same two boys, just a little older and more experienced (!), but I don’t think much more mature. This time, I paid more attention to the boat: I looked closely at the famous propeller and at the trailer, with all the moving and non-moving parts, the connections of the electric cables (they didn’t make good contact after two years on land, but after the first speed bump they started to work, first timidly, then, after the next bump, we also had lights, brakes, and turn signals).

Due to the war taking place north of the border, we decided to be cautious, to stay in the southern part of the Danube Delta and not take the boat into the Black Sea (although it was very tempting) and to navigate the largest lakes, Golgovița and Razelm and the canals and try to reach Perișor Beach and, maybe, the town of Sfântu Gheorghe.

For good luck, I brought along Cosmin’s Romanian flag. It was a gift from his grandfather, and I decided to keep it close to my heart. Not only did it make us feel patriotic, but also helped us stand out to those spying on us from above. In modern warfare, the strategy is  shoot first and figure out what you hit later. So we thought we’d give them a surprise with our flag-waving skills. And give ourselves a better chance at survival!

Day 1 – Bucharest – At Parmac’s House Resort

We had an uneventful five hour drive, cruising under the speed limit with a 3-ton boat in tow. The air conditioning wasn’t working. It didn’t bother us (too much), but the cheese I had bought at the Obor Farmers’ Market (by special request from Misu) was sending oceanic waves of oppressive odor when the right front window was open, and Misu was getting dizzy, so I had to close it. By the time we arrived at our destination, we had finally mastered the strategy of  which windows to open for how long in order to maximize the air flow while minimizing the pungent fumes of our cargo.

I regret not being an influencer or having more followers on social media. There are some places really worth writing about. For example, the good people at Parmac Resort: a very intimate, homey feeling, from the concierge in deep slumber when we opened the door without waiting to be invited (she was as unfazed as we were, as though it were perfectly normal), to the server who told us to get wine and beer directly from the beverage fridge, to the restroom whose window opened directly onto the patio where people were eating and you could actually place an order while taking care of business. A very friendly (to say nothing of intimate) atmosphere. My friend asked me to read him the menu (while he was inside) and the other patrons started offering suggestions, although no one had asked them. A friendly discussion and lively conversation followed. In addition to a very good local wine (from the Liuta Winery), we also had some very tasty papanași (pronounced papanashi, a traditional Romanian dessert. They are similar to  fried donuts topped with donut balls, and served with lots of sour cream and jam).

We were offered the Honeymoon suite, as it was the only one left (or so they said). We took it, laughing so hard that we scared the fish and got some high-browed, side-eyed views from the fishermen.

Day 2 – Parmac’s House – Guta Portiței

Every day of this trip, I tried to wake up before dawn to see the sun rising, to relish the beginning of the new day, and to take some photos. I succeeded, and some of the photos are really good (I’m also very modest, not only beautiful, smart, strong, and well educated).

It was quite windy, but I didn’t pay any particular attention, I thought this is how it should be in the morning. When Misu finally woke up and looked out the windows and saw how windy it was, he had only one word to say: “Trouble!” Actually, he said something else, but it’s more difficult to translate and not especially recommended for minors. The “Trouble” was not long in revealing itself. When we left the smaller lake, Golgovița, (where we were protected, to a certain extent, by the shoreline and reeds) and got into the larger lake, Razelm, we quickly took three waves of three feet each to the bow of the boat. Mișu, making a rather pale and hasty calculation, said that it was about a ton of water per wave. We didn’t like it, and it shook us badly. The captain made a graceful 180 degree turn, known nautically as “a strategic retreat,” and we arrived at Gura Portiței, which was Plan B, in case of strong winds. Mișu knew the boat could handle it, and he could reach the other side of the lake, but it would be a lot of work and stress. However, being on what was supposed to be a relaxing vacation, we figured “why even bother?” Instead, we prudently crossed the town of Sfântu Gheorghe off our list and added Gura Portiței.

When I was 8 years old, I visited Portita for the first time with my Grandfather and Uncle Pupi. At that time, it featured only a couple of bungalows by the lake, and the whole area was wild and beautiful. The only way to get there was by boat from Jurilovca (the small village on the other side of the lake). The best place to eat was a fishermen’s house, and you had to charm the fishermen to get in. Not just anyone was welcome at their table.

Being a dumb kid, I asked for meat, which totally confused everybody, and brought tremendous shame to my family. You know that saying: “We’ll remember this later and laugh”? Well, in this case, we remember it all right, and I still get pointed at and hear things like, “What a total fool you were!” In every Romanian book on raising children, the chapter on “every child gets a prize” seems to have been purposefully omitted. Instead, we were constantly reminded of our stupidity and ineptitude, as if they were not already sufficiently obvious. And let’s not even get started on what comments were heaped upon you  if you were bad at sports – everyone made sure to let the kid know, loud and clear.

Nowadays, Gura Portitei has become a very civilized, touristy place, with sunbeds, beach umbrellas, beach houses (beautiful, I’m forced to admit), a swimming pool, a bar, a fancy restaurant, and, of all things, a helicopter landing platform, which made me sad. It was the last thing paradise needed. Goodbye, wilderness. Hello, civilization.

We slept in the boat, it was quite interesting – I resisted an onslaught of mosquitoes, I barely convinced myself to stay behind the net and not take pictures of the moon and the many stars, looking into the quiet waters of the channel, as in a mirror, we fed ourselves, and the fish (with scraps), we hydrated well. Suddenly the boat didn’t seem so big anymore: I think I spent about half the time moving stuff. Sleeping in a small boat is not for the faint of heart. You want vegetables, move the water bottles, you want bread, make sure the coffee doesn’t fall on you, you want beer, move the luggage on the right, you want to sleep, move everything out of the cabin. You have no pillow, but then you brought a backpack, use that as a pillow, but be careful not to get a buckle in your eye. But we managed, the basic needs were covered: water, food, sleep, potty.

Being somewhat obsessed with clotheslines, I quickly pulled out a stump of twine from the bag and began to lay it out. Wow, what an earful I got from Misu: “Yo, Fane, open your eyes and see how many ropes of all kinds I have on the boat. I know them all and what they are used for, and each one has its purpose. If you keep coming with your string, we’re going to mess up because we can’t handle it anymore. Please put it back.” I put it back, ashamed. How could I mess up the feng shui of the boat with such a small string? But those socks had to be aired somewhere, so I put them on the curtains. And I forgot about them! Misu found them at Snagov, when he was doing the final cleaning on the boat after the disaster of the portable toilet, which spilled out on the way back. But let’s not anticipate.

Day 3 – Gura Portitei – Perisor Beach

Looking for something else on the Internet, I stumbled upon this image: on the right, the canal where we moored the boat for the night; on the left, the Black Sea and the resort.

Misu’s boat, described in great detail in my previous post, doesn’t go over 10 km/h (around 7 mph). It’s very smooth sailing, very relaxing. Speedwise? Well, we could never afford to be in a hurry. There are other boats for speed, this one is for sightseeing.

The lake that had been windy, stormy, and choppy the previous day was now scary calm. We sailed about 20 kilometers. It was foggy, and all you could hear was the engine purring: thick, like an old tiger.

We took turns looking for the cellphone signal, to know where we were. At first, Mișu said that they were jamming the signal because of the war, but after about two hours, he admitted that his phone was old and quite a piece of junk. Who was jamming? “They,” of course. While he looked for the signal, he handed me the rudder to keep the boat straight. I managed the fabulous feat of turning the boat almost 180 degrees while trying to keep it straight. I don’t know why Mișu was so amazed, if he let me go a little longer, I would have put her on the right track.

Perisor is considered the last wild beach of the Romanian side of the Black Sea shore. Probably not for long, as one of the “smart boys” bought the old fishermen’s house and the unsellable protected adjacent land and started building a resort, added some solid fences, video cameras, and one or more guards who were remotely keeping an eye on the property.

Day 4 – Perisor – At Parmac’s House

Who was up at 6 am to see the sun rising? This guy. Who took some great photos? This guy. And who saw wild horses running, well, wild? Also this guy! By the time Misu woke up, I was deep in conversation with the guard’s dog, playing games of who’s smarter, you or your master?

Perisor is the place where The Danube Delta and The Black Sea meet. In its narrowest place, the strip of sand is around 30 yards (at Gura Portitei, it’s about 100). As Misu puts it, it’s the place where the European Union ends and the Big Unknown begins.

We started the long journey back, taking a slightly different route to save some time. We passed some very narrow canals leading into larger lakes, with hundreds of birds, but we stayed at a distance so as not to disturb them. There were already enough tourists ruining their day. Finally, on the second attempt, we reached Holbina Bay, where again we were met by strong winds and high waves. This time, however, we had no Plan B. Our only option was to go through the waves and wind and try to reach the resort, La Parmac. After 45 minutes of so-called sailing, mostly up and down, left and right, a little forward, the boat’s engine died. Just like that: coughed twice and stopped running. With the last drop of fuel, Mișu put the boat into the reeds. And this is where we got stuck!

Me being me, I immediately assessed the food and water situation: we had supplies for three days. In two days I had a flight to Germany, so we were fine, but it would be even better if we could manage to move ourselves out of the reeds. Misu, being Misu, dove into the belly of the boat to assess the engine situation: because of so much movement, all the deposits on the bottom of the fuel tank had stirred up and clogged the fuel system. The engine was finished. Dead! Kaput!

There were only spotty communications with the real world. My iPhone 12 was working semi-decent, i.e. it had a signal from time to time. Mostly yes, but with a major problem in the form of caller ID “Restricted Numbers” because of Vodafone Romania settings. Misu’s old and much-loved iPhone was useless. Again. By chance, when I left Casa Parmac two days ago, I took a brochure with me. We started calling every number listed and, to our surprise, a nervous guy finally answered (actually, he told me about the “Restricted Number,” thank you very much, Mr. Admin. He was about to start yelling at us when we shouted, “Mayday, Mayday”). Not only did he listen to us, but he also helped: he knew a guy who knew another guy who was a cousin of another guy.

An hour later, a small boat with a huge, noisy engine blew by us. Unfortunately, we were so well hidden there was no chance for them to see us, and of course, they didn’t. The Pin Drop in Google Maps placed us half a mile away, in the middle of the lake. A very angry fisherman with a very small boat found us (the very big engine had chopped his fishing net). Finally, after much noise and fuss, we were towed away. I was taking pictures and making reservations for the night while Misu was trying to steer the boat to keep it straight, this being the only thing he could still do to help those people as much as possible.

And guess what: the room we got was another Honeymoon suite (I think they only had honeymoon suites) on two levels, with an internal staircase. All we wanted was a hot shower and a comfortable bed. Or so I thought, but Misu had to cook something. Right in the middle of the suite. He was hungry and very thirsty. But mostly hungry.

Day 5 – At Parmac’s House – Bucharest

To my surprise, Misu was up super early, serenading me with some “sweet” words, wondering why he suddenly got into the habit of waking up early. I was already up, though, taking advantage of the crisp air and the balcony, looking at the amateur fishermen who were getting their equipment ready.

During the previous evening’s adventure, the deal with the front desk was that we would look for the guard when we arrived and get the key to room 6. When we arrived at 9:30 in the evening, there was no sign of the guard, and the group of slightly drunk guys who were relaxing on the porch had no idea where he was. In fact, they didn’t even know there was a guard. The door to room number 6 was happily unlocked, so we got in and put an empty frying pan with a fork in front of the door overnight as an alarm. The look on Georgiana’s face (the concierge) when I showed up the next morning to pay for the room was priceless. She looked at me as if she had seen a ghost. The word out at the resort was that there was no way we could have made it, although that boat anchored in the harbor was a dead giveaway, both literally and figuratively.

Getting the boat out of the water and onto the trailer was a job for a super-skilled person and his sidekick. For ourselves, on the other hand, we had to use an extender, and so I learned a new word (and resurrected a few others) and found out what that very long iron pipe was for. Everything had to be done by hand and with a rope (because there was no longer an engine), pulling to the right, to the left, braking with a big stone at the wheel, science, art, and precision, calculating speeds, vectors, wind, forces…and, when all else failed, relying on plain dumb luck. Finally, the boat was out, even if slightly tilted to the left on the trailer.

And so, we returned to Bucharest, whole, with some good stories and tons of pictures.

Finally, I want to add a map with the itinerary – some of my friends don’t know where the lakes in the story are, so here it is: on the left, overview, the lakes are at the bottom, on the right, detail.

Miscellaneous (almost final) thoughts

If you are looking for Casa La Parmac (At Parmac’s House), you may still find it on the map, but not as a physical location. By the time I’m writing this, it’s probably already sold and those wonderful people have been unceremoniously fired. The resort was in a bay, on the left side as you look from the lake. On the right there is a luxury resort. To compare, from $65.00 a room at Parmac to a minimum of $350.00 on the other side. From Fords and Skodas in the parking lot on the left to Bentleys and Porsches on the right. Goodbye double bed, goodbye organic eggs for breakfast with orange yolk, goodbye real sheep cheese, tasty tomatoes, and that super, local, Babadag wine for only $7.00 a bottle.

Throughout this trip, I witnessed the Delta becoming more and more of a luxury destination and less accessible to the common people. I saw only three places going through transformation; as for the rest, I don’t know, but for those three, each one changed from comfortably affordable to Luxury.

On the way home we passed many large and small vineyards where you can taste and buy wine directly from the producer, a good thing to keep in mind.

I was asked how an old tiger purrs. Like this:

And because something had to smell bad during this escapade, well, it was the camping toilet, a cube the size of a microwave with drawers. In fact, it wasn’t the toilet that smelled, but the excrement. The idea is great: you put some chemicals in a tank, and all the waste coming out of your body dissolves (the famous black water). The idea is not new; it was taken from Soviet scientists who were assigned the task of making butter from human waste. They worked and worked, then they went to the party secretary and said, “Look, comrade, we managed to change the color, give it a new shape and the consistency of butter, but we can’t get rid of the smell.” So, even though it dissolved and transformed into black water, some smell still remained.

In the whirlwind of departure, I didn’t check if the valve was properly closed and the black fluid was slowly leaking out. Luckily, the carpeting in the boat was rubberized and was easily washed with the hose. Let’s remember for next time.

I know you’re waiting for me to say that the cheese was the one thing that smelled bad, but no, it smelled exactly as that cheese should have smelled. It was a perfect cheese. Anyway, when we said our goodbyes, I was asked to pretty please take the leftovers with me. I happily obliged, and I gave it to my cousin in Aachen, a real connoisseur of stinky cheeses. He religiously ate it for breakfast two days in a row, while his father, who proudly tells everyone that, “In Germany, you can find anything” was mumbling under his breath, “even we don’t have THAT.”

Back at Snagov, where Misu keeps his boat, it took Misu less than an hour to repair the engine (with the right tools) and to set the boat properly on the trailer. The Winter can come.