Then came the tunnel.
Today was the "Train of the Witches," a Halloween-themed run from Câmpulung Moldovenesc up to the painted monasteries of the Bucovina region. The carriages were packed. Not with tourists with iPads, but with locals. msts romania
The rain over the Carpathian foothills had turned the narrow-gauge tracks of the Mocănița into twin rivers of rust and mud. Andrei, a driver for the CFF (Romanian State Railway) for thirty years, watched the water bead on the brass of his pressure gauge. The locomotive, a veteran Resicza from 1952, breathed steam into the cold air like an old dragon dreaming of fire. Then came the tunnel
Andrei drained his țuică , tapped the pressure gauge, and whispered to the old Resicza: "Not bad for a dead railway, eh, girl? Not bad at all." Not with tourists with iPads, but with locals
"Pită, Andrei?" shouted Măria, the conductor’s wife, shoving a loaf of warm bread through the cab window. "You can’t drive on holy water alone."