‘We can pay by card’

Dawn over the Black Sea

Well I have to start this blog off by saying how very saddened I was by the tone and content of Andy P’s blog yesterday, especially after the supportive and nurturing way I have written about him in my own efforts. It just goes to show that some people simply don’t appreciate the support, love, and encouragement you give, and instead turn and bite the hand that feeds them. Not being of a vindictive nature I have decided to turn the other cheek and to continue to write about Andy P in the same positive manner as before.

The party on Friday night was a great catch up with many of the ralliers we had met at previous bashes and also the opportunity to make friends with a lot more. Tents were pitched on the beach overlooking the Black Sea and some people (I wasn’t one of them) partied into the night and out the other. Andy and I were in our beds by about 1.00 am lulled to sleep by the monotony of the dance music beat which really wasn’t to our taste. In fact Andy P had at one stage in the evening approached he DJ and, quite courteously I thought, asked if he could play some Val Doonican because he thought that would really get the party ‘rocking’ – no pun intended. I can’t repeat what the DJ said in case any kids are reading this but it ended with the word ‘Grandad’ and implied in no uncertain terms that Andy was to ‘go away’.

I got up at 6 in the morning because I was bursting for a wee and saw the sun rise over the Black Sea. It was absolutely fantastic and the sunrise was also very spectacular. Very quickly the temperature rose and so we packed up our tents and were on our way by about 9.00 am and stopped off at a Carrefour to buy some food for lunch. We each chose a range of salads from the deli but I got the impression that Andy wasn’t entirely impressed with my choice of sauerkraut and a rather nice sliced cucumber one in vinegar and herbs. My suspicions were confirmed when Andy later threw the latter on the floor in the town square where we stopped for lunch, claiming it to be an accident.

From Constanta to the Bulgarian border only took an hour or so and the Border crossing was very quick. We had decided by then that we were going to crack on to the Turkish border so that we had that behind us too which meant that managing cash in different currencies becomes quite a challenge because you don’t want to end with spare cash when you leave a country because it’s difficult to change. One way of using up any spare cash is to use it to fill up with petrol. This can take some while to organise however whilst Andy goes through his pockets (and mine) to collect up every last cent, groat and farthing to ensure that nothing is wasted.

What makes it even more challenging for me is that whilst Andy P is normally generous by nature he is a complete tight arse when it comes to changing money in case he doesn’t get the very best exchange rate currently quoted on the international money markets, even when changing vast sums such as £20. Andy’s stock response to my request to change some money is to bark ‘we can pay by card’ and drive on, whereas I always prefer to have a little cash in the host country’s currency in case of emergency such as the purchase of a cold beer. This conflict came to a head at the Turkish crossing when I suggested we get some Turkish Lira at a little money changer on the Bulgarian side so that we had some cash to pay for emergencies …. like the purchase of a cold beer. ‘

‘It’ll take too long, we’ll change some on the other side,’ he barked at me.

It took me a few seconds to work out that Andy’s response implied that time in Bulgaria passes more quickly than time in Turkey, something that I think both Einstein and Professor Stephen Hawking were/are unaware of. Still, Andy does have an ‘A’ level in physics so perhaps he knows something that they don’t.

‘But what if there isn’t a money changer on the other side?’ I persisted, because I too can dig my heels in a little if necessary.

Andy P looked at me with a pitiful stare. ‘But there’s always been a money changer on both sides.’

‘But if there isn’t one on the other side we ….’, I trailed off when I saw the steam beginning to come out of Andy’s ears and, despite my deafness, I heard the huffing and puffing.

Turkish passport control was very smooth and the problems only started when Andy took the docs to the next window, (there were lots of windows to be visited). I saw his shoulders drop visibly and he had the look of a broken man.

‘So what can we do I heard him say?’ an undisguised note of panic in his voice. Turns out we had to buy some special Turkish car insurance before we could enter and coincidentally there was a little hut across the way where we could buy it. It was either 95 Euro or 100 dollars US. Andy made his way over to the hut. A few seconds later he called over to see if I had any Euros on me. Rather surprisingly to him, and it has to be said, to my glee, he couldn’t pay by card! Even more special from my perspective was that it needed only a cursory glance to confirm there was indeed no money changer to be seen on the Turkish side. I guess in a way Andy’s physics hadn’t let him down as it was indeed quicker! Like a true friend I resisted the temptation to gloat, knowing that I had the luxury of this blog where I could gloat to me heart’s content to the rest of the world.

So we entered Turkey with no money and in the darkness of a strange and seemingly unwelcoming town we searched the alleyways and backstreets for a bank so that we could take some money out and… buy a cold beer. Andy must have been feeling slightly chastened at this point because he agreed to change the princely sum of £25 saying that ‘any cash left over we can put into the petrol tank.’ I helpfully told him that this was likely to block the fuel filter but it may have been a little too late at night for him to fully appreciate the humour in this. Refreshed with a beer inside us we eventually ended up in a little hotel for the night for £15 each where we dined in our room on cabanos, cucumber, tomatoes, olives and a can each of cold (luke warm actually) Heinz baked beans eaten straight from the can. Life doesn’t get much better than that.

Bloody luxury