That, unfortunately, was where the similarity ended. Actually, that’s not entirely true. The written word is very similar, seemingly a strange mix of French, Italian and Spanish. The
Now, Bucharest is a funny old place, there’s not much one can say about it other than the fact that it’s Grand – in a proper Yorkshire type way. The streets are grand, the buildings are grand. Everything, in the parlance of a southerner is big.
It would be wonderful if I could tell you that I started to integrate into society and get a feel
(To the left is a photo of The Peoples Palace built by the self confessed ‘Genius of the Carpathians’, Nicolae Ceausescu – the dictator of Romania until circa Christmas day 1989 when they shot him. I say it was built by him, rather, it was built by the people whilst they starved as a consequence of the build project. So big I couldn’t fit it all in.)
Using my trustee Europe on a shoe-string manual I sought refuge in an Irish bar to see if I
Many beers were had and much fun – although I didn’t learn too much other than the Irish can drink as well in Romania as they can in any other part of the world! Oh, and Romanian girls are gorgeous – at least the ones I saw. How I got back to the hotel that night is still a bit of a blur, but I made it all the same.
Strangest moment – receiving a phone call from an agent offering me work. When asked, ‘Is it a good time to talk’ – i.e. are you at a customer site, I had to reply, “No, actually I’m in Bucharest”. Silence & much confusion.
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