There are a few things that you don’t want happening at 2 am in the morning. I never thought “people violently knocking on my door and demanding my passport” would ever be something, I’d experience, so it never made the list for me.
Through sleepy eyes, I gave the (Hungarian I suppose) police guy our IDs, hoping he wouldn’t require me to get out of bed, as my pants were next to me. Oh boy, was I glad to be wearing a top at least.
After what seemed like an eternity, he handed our IDs back and closed the door. Slowly, I was drifting back to sleep.
Just to be awoken again, not an hour later. This time, it was either Romanian police or military, who also wanted to see our IDs! Can you people not coordinate with each other? This is a night train, passengers are sleeping.
At this moment, I really, really missed the German-French border, where nobody seems to give a fuck who enters or leaves. We had been asked for our IDs on every border, starting Denmark, but never had it been twice right after each other.
What the fuck, guys, what the fuck.
That was the time, when the guy in the room next to us started snoring.
I didn’t get much sleep that night, and my alarm rang 6:30 – local time. 5:30 for my body, as we had changed time zones again. And looking out of the window, we had also either gone 50 years back or forward.
I used the remaining hours until our arrival to Sibiu to catch up with my diary and worry about the question if we’d ever see our interrail passes again.
In Sibu, 
I was pleasantly surprised by the lemonade, which was widely available, that consisted of lemon juice and sugar, instead of being sprite or something similar. I liked it much better.
After having seen most of it, we made a short trip to a nearby museum, which wasn’t like anything I had seen before. They didn’t showcase paintings or statues, but a village! According to
We called it a night rather early that day, as we hadn’t slept much the night before.