Another break at work, another blog.
Let me tell you about Romania.
I went there. Yes. 10 days ago. Why? Who knows? When I used to think about Romania, the usual stereotypes would surface in the back of my mind. Dracula, morbid castles, forests, wolves, and - for the more intellectually inclined persons among us - Ceacescu.
Well, the forests and the wolves are alive and kicking. Ceacescu is dead and certainly not kicking. But Dracula? The only thing that sucks away your vitals in Romania are taxi drivers, and even in this instance we are talking about money as opposed to blood.
Let me be the first to say it. Or at least the first person I know to say it. Romania is beautiful. The Carpathians take on a life of their own in Romania, dramatically different from other mountains I have seen in Scotland, Vermont, France and Asia. The wildlife is flourishing - Europe's biggest populations of bears and wolves live there. History is diverse, Romania being a major crossing-point between the Turks and the Europeans, not to mention a stopping off point for Magyars and Huns.
In Brasov, the south-westerly gateway to Transylvania, we discovered a pearl in the heart of a medieval oyster: Kismet Dao Hostel. Basically, a hippy-commune-like hostel in the old town (Schei), we met several interesting characters, namely Chris & Craig from Guildford, Andy from Yankeedoodah Country, and Bob, the cute (female!) Romanian receptionist.
Cut it short: fantastic time drinking and strummin geetar'. We ended up following the Englishers to Budapest and drinking violently there. We TAUGHT them how to drink, muthafuka!!!
Anyway, Romania good, work bad.
