Well, almost. We were assured by all the airport staff we spoke to the the bikes would come up the carousel. Couldn't see how that was going to be possible and we were the only ones left after everyone else's bags had come up. Clare composing her letter to BA. Eventually they arrived. Loading them upside down on a trolley we made a dramatic entrance to the arrivals area trying to push them through doors that were too narrow. Miraculously we were met by a Tony Yates look alike who gave us a tour of Bucharest with its French architecture and Cauecescu's grand folly of a palace.Over the bridge to Bulgaria - a pleasant evening in a beautiful town with a rock group that could have been Bulgaria's equivalent of Coldplay and spectacular fireworks as it's St George's day. Incredibly warm. A meaty meal in a local Taverna - no Bulgarian currency to hand!
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