It’s cloudy and rainy when we walk into the piercing shop in Brasov, Romania. One of those bone-chilling days where the right idea is to stay inside and do nothing. But, with a new city outside my hostel door, sitting inside is the last thing I want to do. So, with a new friend atContinue reading “How Piercing My Nose Changed Me”
Located in Transylvania, Brasov, Romania is a small city (and one of the most visited in the country). Here, people can explore the nearby mountains and local Dracula lore, rent cars and go on day trips, even wander the narrowest street in Europe, measuring a whopping four feet across. My favorite thing to do whileContinue reading “Daily Wanderlust: Brasov’s Town Square”
Brasov, Romania is where I got back in touch with my travel bliss. Thanks to staying at a superfly hostel, a roadtrip complete with steering wheel death grips and an afternoon black out, this quaint town in the Transylvania region of Romania forever captured my heart.
“Ooooh … Istanbul … so lush,” Gemma had exclaimed before I departed from Spain to Turkey. In my mind, there was something so exotic about Turkey, some mystical, magical place where Europe hit Asia with thunder. Arriving into Istanbul, I was far from disappointed. When I boarded the Havas bus at the airport (I flewContinue reading “Istanbul (not Constantinople)”
Remember, 10 and 2, D. 10 and 2. And, go slowly. Very, very slowly.
Car packed with the three Aussies, I pulled out into Brasov’s traffic.
Oh. My. God. I hope we don’t die. I hope I don’t kill anyone. I hope I don’t hurt this car because I really, really cannot afford to lose the 400 Euro deposit.
My shoulders were tight and nearly touching my ears. My arms were locked straight out. And my hands kept tight on the steering wheel as nearly six weeks of not driving paralyzed me.
How did I get roped into being the driver?
I was laying in bed Saturday morning when I met Chris, a shaggy brown-haired, adorably cute Aussie.
I was exhausted — the night before Benjamin, Tomym and I headed out with Scott and Heidi (my friends from Budapest), along with a group of four who had rented a car for the night to get out of Bucharest. We enjoyed traditional Romania fair at Sergianna (delicious) and then headed back to Crew Bar, where we were treated to complimentary drinks and a game involving dice ensued.
Actually, it was a nasty little game that revolved around rolling one die and stating before the roll if a specific number was rolled, then something would be done.
For example, Benjamin said if he rolled a four, he would drink a double shot of whiskey. And Scott said the number he rolled would be the number of shots he would drink. And Ryan, a new member to our group, said if he rolled a two, he would buy a bottle of wine.
The die won those rounds and more, and after we left Crew Bar, we ended up in Kismet’s basement, playing cards and drinking more beer.
After attempting to stay awake with Benjamin to watch “Beer Fest,” I slowly crawled back up Kismet’s spiral staircase to Ageeth’s Room to my bed.
And, that’s where Chris comes in.
A year ago, when I lived in Atlanta, I remember marveling at the city’s sheer gorgeousness with the changing of the season. The pink flowers that would sprout from the winding trees. The bright green grass that would pop up overnight. The light wind that would gently blow during days spent at Piedmont Park, taking in the South’s spring.
I would never in a million years have imagined spending my spring 365 days later in Europe, living in a prolonged (and amazing) spring for nearly two months.
It was a rainy Saturday afternoon in Brasov. Benjamin, Tommy and I went into square with the intention to buy wood for an afternoon barbecue (wood was a bus ride away), but ended up just eating our way through the city.
We sat together, enjoying our “fast food” sandwiches when we saw the neon sign blinking in a window above our heads: “Legal Weed.”
We looked at each other.
Weed was legal in Romania???
We needed to investigate further.
The three of us went upstairs to the “spice shop” to ask questions.
No, weed was not legal. BUT, this … spice concoction … this was legal.
We looked at each other again.
“Should we try it?” I asked.
I knew as soon as I boarded the train for Brasov, Romania from Budapest, I was going to get out of my funk.
I arrived way too early in the morning for anyone to be awake at Kismet Dao. The overnight train dropped me in Brasov at 7:30 a.m.
I exited the station and was greeted with more rain, but I didn’t mind. I had a good feeling. Even when the cab drivers tried to swindle me (“I will take you to the hostel for 15 euros, it’s a good deal”; “I will take you for 10, it’s a better deal”; “The meter is more expensive”), I didn’t let it get to me.
I departed Madrid with such apprehension. I wanted to stay, but knew it was time to head out and keep traveling. Budapest was the destination, but I wasn’t too excited, despite the marvelous things I have heard about it. I loved being with my new friends, and heading to Budapest meant a departure from myContinue reading “D vs Budapest: The down and dirty recap”