Bucharest for Sale, 2 paand 'a' paaand

So this will be my last article for the Bucharest Magazine.. I think the quality of writing has been slowly sinking, probably about time I got back into a kitchen full time and did some real work.

Bucharest For Sale

How do you sell a city? How can you entice foreign tourism and trade to visit and invest? These are just two of the questions the reigning Minister for Tourism, Elena Udrea must ask herself daily. Romania’s current slogan, ‘Explore the Carpathian garden’, released to the world at last months Shanghai World Expo certainly captures the bliss of the countryside and mountain ranges which dominate the centre of Romania, but what about the city of Bucharest itself?

Some would argue that Bucharest doesn’t need to be sold like a commodity, it already has a strong infrastructure of public transport and a keen collection of hotels, bars and restaurants with which to welcome visitors from foreign lands. For many, however, Bucharest remains distant and obsolete.

Whilst parts of Romania have flourished with foreign investment the country still seems to lack an identity. London has Big Ben and The Houses of Parliament, Rome has the Coliseum, Paris has the Eiffel Tower. Romania has…well, it has a very large building, built by a communist ruler that remains largely unused. Of course, London, Rome and Paris are a lot more than their famous landmarks, they are short-break holiday destinations, they are romance and adventure, they are sophistication and elegance, they are everything Bucharest was once famous for and could be again.

Here then is my handy three point guide to renovating Bucharest into one of Europe’s leading Capital City destinations:

1) Arrival
Bucharest has two main airports, one of them excellent, the other slightly less so. Henri Coanda Airport, named after the Romanian inventor and aerodynamic pioneer was finished in 1997 after a new International Departure lounge was completed. It is small, modern and functional. Major International carriers use this airport and even at peak times when it can get crowded it retains a charm all of its own. Unfortunately Bucharest’s second airport is not quite so endearing. Baneasa Airport or, ‘hell on earth’, as a colleague of mine fondly renamed it, is an altogether different travelling experience. The building, once a main gateway to the city has fallen on hard times it would seem. The Airport is small and feels cramped with only 10 people inside, there is little in the way of leisure or entertainment to be found in or around the terminal building and possibly the only redeeming feature worth mentioning is it’s proximity to the city centre and major Hotels. Many of the ‘budget’ airlines use Baneasa and so it can be a difficult place to avoid for many of the cities tourists.
Possible the easiest solution would be to flatten Baneasa Airport completely and start again.

2) Finding Information
Bucharest has a rich and varied history, this is the place where Vlad the Impaler did his impaling, it’s been the scene of countless invasions over the years and is the home to the worlds second largest building. In the era between the World Wars, Bucharest’s elegant architecture and sophistication of the elite gave birth to its nickname, ‘The little Paris of the East’. There is something here for everyone, the key is finding it. Over the summer Bucharest opened its first Tourism Information Office in Piata Universitate, a major intersection and Metro station in the heart of the city. Unfortunately it remains closed at the weekends which just happens to be when many locals and visitors to the city need it most. Outside the office stand several touch screen information posts, but unfortunately as this goes to press the information is only available in Romanian.
Bucharest needs more information points, accessible to non-Romanian speakers. There are of course many excellent city guides available (your reading one of them!) but I fear many of the hidden treasures to be found in this city remain hidden.

3) Getting Around
So, you’ve arrived safely, managed to find information about the city and are ready to commence exploration, now you need transport. Bucharest has an abundance of options that rival many of the larger capital cities. Taxis are everywhere and very affordable, as are buses, coaches, trams and trolleys. The Metro is excellent with stations serving all corners of the city and a map that will eventually make sense. If you choose to hire a car then you’ll experience the same adrenalin rush as you would if you were driving in London, Paris or Rome. The real problem lies when one wishes to venture further a field and leave the relative comfort of the city limits. Heading outside of Bucharest by car is largely problematic due to the upkeep and extent of the roads and highways. Parts of the country have excellent roads (see Transfagarasan Highway for instance) but unfortunately relatively small distances by car can take several hours. Opting to reach your destination by train is also not without its frustrations. The train network that covers the country seems broken and is certainly in need of an overhaul. Journeys from Bucharest to Brasov, a trip which should ordinarily be completed within 3 hours can take up to 6, if not more.
Something needs to be done about the trains that link Bucharest to the rest of the country, whilst they are being fixed it would be great to have many, many more kilometres of usable, flat and smooth highways as well. Unfortunately renovation such as this does not come cheap so don’t expect them anytime soon. If the new Romanian brand slogan, ‘Explore the Carpathian garden.’ is to truly succeed Romanians must first find a way to get people out into the garden!

Romania is not a perfect country, such a thing does not exist. Suggesting that Bucharest should revamp its airports and build more roads and rail tracks is merely preaching to the converted, everyone realises there is a necessity for improved travel infrastructure but funding such work, in the current financial climate is a tough ask.

Perhaps then we could start with minor changes to the city, small day-to-day improvements which, over time, would improve the image visitors have of Bucharest and of Romania. First I suggest removing all the overhead cables that can be found around the city. I also advocate banning the sale of sunflower seeds, the shells can be found all over the city as they are discarded onto the street. Will these two changes happen? Probably not, but it would be a start.

Escape The Heat

Escape the Heat

As a child growing up in the UK, the summer holidays were a constant source of excitement and bitter disappointment. For 10 months of the year a raincoat, umbrella and water-proof shoes would be stationed by the entrance hall, always in arms reach whenever venturing outdoors. And then the season would change, the air would be full of the smell of freshly cut grass, the early evening tranquillity cut, albeit temporarily, by the sound of the ice-cream van as it lingered on the street corner enticing the local neighbourhood with it’s gentle music and promise of iced delights from within. The BBQ would be wheeled out from its 10 month hibernation, dusted off and lit. We would plan day trips to the sea-side as we feasted on slightly undercooked chicken and over cooked sausages. As the eagerly anticipated trip to the coast grew closer, buckets and spades would gather by the entrance hall, beach balls and suntan lotion would be stock piled next to them, it would be the best summer holiday ever! And then, of course, the sun would disappear behind the clouds and it would rain, dampening all hopes of a day on the beach. The BBQ would be covered and wheeled back into hibernation and boredom and despair would settle in. These are my memories of Summer in the UK. I may have exaggerated slightly, I can certainly remember a few long, hot, dry summers accompanied by hose-pipe bans to try and conserve the water. I can also remember many wonderful trips to the beach accompanied by varying levels of sun-burn or sun-stroke.

The point of this article, however, is not to reminisce, but rather to strategise a game plan for those stationed in this beautiful city for the next 5 months. Summer in Bucharest can get hot. I don’t mean ‘warm’ or ‘humid’ or even ‘slightly uncomfortable’, I mean ‘blisteringly’ hot, ‘surface-of-the-sun’ hot.

The easy answer may be to just position yourself directly under the nearest air conditioning unit and not move for a few months, but for many this is simply not an option. For the vast majority, daily actions such as work, shopping and socialising must continue.

Many Buchurestians will simply head for the mountains or the Black Sea Coast. Bucharest, you see, sits in the middle of a large flat expanse of land with a mountainous region to the north and a coastal region to the east. The mountains, as well as offering beautiful scenery and wildlife offer a much cooler climate due to their positioning above sea level. The coastal region consisting of the main town, Constanta and its neighbouring holiday resort Mamaia offers a large expanse of sea front with cooling light winds and of course the ability to take a dip in the Black Sea to cool off from the ever prominent heat. There are endless terraces and bars to choose from to sit and relax with your favourite iced beverage and it’s not uncommon to find Djs playing the latest music on the beach front whilst holiday makers frolic amidst the waves. Both options, be it the mountains or the beach contain numerous Hostels, Inns and Hotels which can rapidly become full over the weekends, so keep that in mind when planning an escape from the city.

Whilst these two options ensure a relaxing weekend, they do not solve the problem of the weekday grilling you may feel you’re receiving in the city between Monday and Friday.

Many a warm summers evening I’ve found myself in one of the city’s numerous shopping malls, not only do they offer a plethora of shops, cafes and restaurants, but they nearly all benefit from being very well ventilated, helping to keep you at a pleasant temperature. One trick that worked for me last year was to escape the heat of the afternoon by venturing to the cinema. Again they keep the majority of cinema screens at a very tolerant climate and I found it a great way to keep up with the endless stream of summer blockbuster films whilst not feeling like my blood was literally boiling in my veins.

Another option is to head for the tranquillity of one of the city’s parks. Whilst there is no direct evidence that the temperature is any cooler than the street, the simple act of sitting under the shade of a tree, or on a terrace, can have wonderful results. My favourites are Cismigui in the centre and Herastrau in the north of the city although I have been told Parcul Carol and Parcul Tineretului, both slightly south of Unirii Square are equally cooling and attractive.

At this point it is maybe wise to give a few hints on where to avoid. For some, using the public transport system in the city will be a daily necessity, however, be warned, the vast majority have no air conditioning. Windows stay open on trams, buses and the metro which allow for a mild breeze whilst the vehicle is in motion, but the second it stops the heat can rise to almost unbearable levels. This coupled with the fact that at peak times (between 8-10am and 5-7pm) overcrowding is common, can often mean that I avoid them altogether. Bucharest certainly doesn’t need more cars on the road, but there is a luxury in being able to travel with air conditioning that public transport, at the moment, simply cannot match.

The next question, assuming you’ve escaped at least the worst of the heat and are sitting in a shaded café, bar or terrace, must be, ‘what to drink?’ What one drink could possibly quench your thirst whilst cooling you down? For this there can be only one answer, Romanian ‘Lemonade‘. Here they serve the most refreshing, simple iced lemon beverage known to man. It took me a while to be swayed by its enticing almost magical properties, but once I had tried it I knew there was no going back to my favourite brand of soda. Usually mixed by hand with fresh juice, the lemonade not only takes the sting out of the midday sun but also serves you up a generous dose of vitamin C. Scan the menu for popular alternatives such as lemonade served with mint, or often with orange and lime, delightful alternatives on the classic recipe and equally delicious.

With these hints and tips it is possible to enjoy all Bucharest has to offer this summer, whilst maintaining a regular temperature and cheery disposition. And remember, if all else fails, head to the mountains, that’s where I’ll be.

False Expectations

False Expectations

Life can be stressful for the potential visitor to Bucharest. It certainly was for me when I first discussed the possibility of moving here. I, like many other enthusiastic but cautious overseas travellers embarked on a research mission. It was my goal to educate myself about Romania, its culture, its language, its often confusing social and political history and its efforts to secure a seat in contemporary Europe. With the benefit of hindsight I can now appreciate what an utterly futile task I had set myself. My local library and vast selection of book stores where surprisingly ill equipped for such a mission. Yes, I found many guidebooks that would offer one or two chapters dedicated solely to Romania or specifically Bucharest but it was not enough for me. Each time I read a passage dedicated to Romania I was constantly being reminded of bad drivers, packs of rabid dogs intent on tasting tourist blood and the dichotomy between the affluent, ‘fitze-crowd’ and the poor, who either remain in the countryside existing as they would have done 200 years prior, or those that were up-rooted and forced to occupy city dwellings, often without connection to clean water or electricity. The excitement surrounding my imminent move to Bucharest took a slight downward turn. I tried my best to remain positive and leaped head first into learning the language. There are, naturally, many web sites equipped for exactly this task. If I could converse with the locals, I told myself, then I would unlock the hidden secrets of the country, I would be able to rise above the petty criticisms and warnings found in holiday brochures and guidebooks and unearth the heart of the city and its people. After about 30 minutes my new found eagerness had once again left me floundering. I must admit to not being the most gifted language student, however, I had a mildly successful grasp of the Italian language that had afforded me many wonderful holidays and countless, ‘Grazie’s’ and ‘Prego’s’ with the natives. I also was quietly confident in my ability to order breakfast or ask for the nearest train station if I was to ever find myself stranded in Germany. The Romanian language, so I was told, is a romantic language leaning with heavy influence towards the Latin tongue, a mix of Italian with a delicate seasoning of Slavic influence. I was able to maintain a secure grasp on what I deemed to be the most important words; Please - Va Rog, Thankyou – Multumesc and Hello – Salut or Buna. My obvious failings were not enough to dent my enthusiasm completely and so I consoled myself with the notion that I would be better equipped to learn the language once I had arrived, there would be countless opportunities to speak with Romanians and my language skills would improve dramatically in a short space of time.
The moving date, which for so long taunted me with its distance, somehow managed to spring forward, driven no doubt by my childlike excitement to live and work in a foreign city and my general naivety in being almost totally unaware of what I might find once I had arrived.
The actual process of relocating to a different country carries with it many opportunities for disaster, thankfully my particular resettlement went without fuss. I won't use this space to relive the trauma of waiting over 3 hours in a Bucharest downpour outside a seemingly abandoned cargo shed for our personal belongings to be unloaded from the main terminal. I also don't intend to waste words describing the heart-achingly epic taxi drive from aforementioned cargo building to new downtown residence. I did, however, learn two vital lessons on that first monumental day in Bucharest; firstly, that driving around the centre of the city in rush-hour traffic is to be avoided if at all possible and secondly, Bucharest taxi drivers are not as megalomanic or as potentially dangerous as the guidebooks and case studies I had read previously made them out to be. Our taxi driver not only spoke wonderful English, but was also coherent in French, Spanish and Italian.
My whirlwind education didn’t just stop with the taxi driver, on the second day I found myself outside a supermarket close to my apartment, shopping bags in hand waiting for the now familiar yellow Dacia taxi to transport me home when I was approached by the most terrifying sight I had witnessed so far. A pack of scruffy looking dogs of mixed breed, size and bloodlust approaching from the neighbourhood opposite. I froze, nervously I wondered whether the chicken breasts and sausages I’d just bought could be used as a diversion tactic allowing me just enough time to run as fast as I could whilst screaming in terror for everyone else in the car park to find safe haven away from these monsters I’d read so much about. My initial concerns however were unjustified, the dogs ignored me, not only did they ignore me but they seemed completely disinterested in the car park full of shoppers. One of them, an off white Labrador with a slight limp looked so completely pathetic that I almost wanted to take him home with me.
As I began to settle and find comfort in my new surroundings I was able fully immerse myself in the Romanian language. I must admit to fumbling my way through small conversations and making plenty of mistakes, but each time I do I am politely corrected by my Romanian peers. My one remaining blockade to learning more words and phrases in the native tongue is that the vast majority of Romanians I deal with daily speak excellent English. I don’t just mean in the spheres of Business relationships but in my visits to the shops, local markets, banks and cinemas. There is a warmth to Romanian people that the tourist guides and travel books allude to but can never fully explain.
Each day I am greeted with fantastic modern architecture nestled amid historical grandeur. Parts of the city still remain somewhat bleak and grey but it is this conundrum between the beautiful and the ugly that urges me to explore further. Bucharest is far from perfect, but it’s even further from the descriptions I found printed in some of the guidebooks and travel brochures back home. All of my preconceived expectations have been unravelled. This city has ignited in me a thirst for knowledge and adventure, a desire to completely immerse myself in the culture and the traditions so that I may emerge a more complete person, a true modern European.

My Visit To Cluj-Napoca

Cluj

If you are visiting Bucharest for an extended period or merely fancy stretching your legs and exploring more of the surrounding country you could do a lot worse than plan a visit to Cluj. Situated some 426 km from the capital in north west Transylvania this rather grand city has plenty to offer both the avid historian and casual visitor alike.

Cluj is the fourth largest city in Romania and with its grand central square and mix of Gothic and Baroque architecture it proudly promotes its importance today as a key city in not just the region of Transylvania but in Romania as a whole.

It could be argued that Cluj, or to give it its full name, Cluj-Napoca, feels slightly foreign, there is a sense of wide open space and a calm, relaxed atmosphere in the centre of the city quite unlike the hustle of downtown Bucharest.

The town as is stands today was founded by the Germans in the twelfth century for the Hungarian King. It remained an important provincial capital for Hungary right up until 1920 when a treaty was signed uniting Cluj with the Kingdom of Romania. The name, ‘Napoca’ was added to ‘Cluj’ by Ceausescu in 1974 in a show of national pride and in recognition of the fact that the earliest settlers, some 1850 years ago, were from the Dacian Empire and not Hungarian.

Cluj-Napoca still reflects its Hungarian background, there are Hungarian speaking schools and colleges, theatres and even an opera house. To say the Hungarian and Romanian population live side by side happily may be simplifying matters slightly, under communism Cluj, like many other major cities, was industrialised, its inhabitants grew and it became the largest city in Transylvania, but it managed to maintain an air of grace and dignity with its centres for learning and the arts, its café culture and of course its grand architecture.

I visited Cluj just after Easter having been invited by Romanian colleagues who were enthusiastic that I should not miss out on this cultural landmark . Cluj has an airport with the flying time a little under one hour from Bucharest but we chose to drive so that we could take in the surrounding countryside. There was also an ulterior motive for our choice of transport; driving would allow us to stop off roughly half way through our journey and eat what was promised to be some of the best ‘mici’ the region has to offer. The car journey is long and after the first 4 hours we were all glad to pick up the scent of grilled meat as we pulled up outside the restaurant.

Having filled up with the obligatory ‘mici’ bread and mustard, we were able to finish our journey in high spirits. The whole party agreed that the ‘mici’ were by no means amazing, but having them grilled in front of you whilst sitting on rough wooden benches waiting in anticipation and savouring the sights and sounds of the countryside was truly delightful.

On arrival we checked in to our Villa which offered en suite apartments with a communal breakfast room. Glad of a warm shower and change of clothes and feeling almost human again after the gruelling car journey we ordered taxis and promptly headed for the town centre in search of a meal.

The first thing you notice, apart from the ultra modern shopping mall, are the two churches that dominate the centre of the city. Sitting in the centre of the main square (Piata Unirii) is Saint Michael’s Church, a colossal gothic building which dates back to the 14th century. In the 19th Century a neo-gothic tower was added and it remains the tallest church tower in Romania. In front of the church is a statue of Matthias Corvinus on horseback, he was King of Hungary in the 15th century and something of a hero to the Hungarians and Romanians for his deeds as a Christian warrior and for his diplomacy in building strong ties with the surrounding heads of power. Less than 1 km away is the Dormition of the Theotokos Cathedral, an equally grand structure and the Orthodox equivalent to Saint Michael’s. It was built in a mix of renaissance and Byzantine styles between 1923 and 1933. The main dome of the Cathedral was inspired by Hagia Sophia in Istanbul which is often considered to be the epitome of Byzantine architecture and was the largest Cathedral in the world for almost 1000 years.

We ate in a typical Transylvanian restaurant decorated to look and feel like a stone and timber banqueting hall. On arrival we were offered a glass of Tuica, the plum liquor that historically is taken as a aperitif, before working our way through a platter of the regions cheeses and meats. There were also bread and olives, pickled and fresh tomatoes, sweet peppers and what I still claim to be the finest vinette salad I’ve ever eaten. The main course was however the highlight of the evening. We had been urged to order the steak by our Cluj hosts who were definitely in-the-know and so we all eagerly obliged. The waiter proceeded to attach a bib to each of us before bringing out the steaks. They were served on a sizzling stone slab set upon a wooden platter that also contained roasted potatoes and pickled cabbage. The meat was initially cooked very rare and then continued cooking on the stone in front of you. The quality and taste of the meat paired with the theatrical presentation made this a dish that I’ll remember for many years to come. The meal was finished with a platter of tempting desserts, again typical of the region; there were sweet plum and potato dumplings, pancakes with jam and papanasi smothered in whipped cream, all were magnificent.

Our next day was spent exploring the city and café-hopping, we had chosen to steer clear of the shopping malls and instead opted for a somewhat vigorous walk to the top of the hill which flanks the city to the south east. Cetatuia Hill is approximately 500 metres above the city and offers marvellous views of Cluj and the surrounding country. This is also a favourite place for couples and families to take a stroll or simply relax in the various parks and terrace cafes that occupy the area.

With the sheer bliss and tranquillity of the hillside it is easy to forget that many have claimed Cluj to be Romania’s technopolis. During the 1990s the city’s reputation suffered a decline due to the over nationalistic policies of its then Mayor Gheorge Funar, but today, having embraced its multi national heritage, it thrives. It plays host to the largest University in the country, Babes-Boylai University and is also the home of many well known Romanian and international brands such as Banca Transylvania, Ursus Breweries and Jolidon, the manufacturer of lingerie and swim wear which boasts outlets in Budapest, Milan and Paris. Nokia recently invested 200 million euros in a factory and state of the art research facility in the city and the planning and development of two more fashion malls are well under way with the first to be completed by October 2010.

We’ve made plans to visit the area again soon, we didn’t get to see the Botanical Gardens which is one of the largest in south-eastern Europe and contains some 10,000 plant species. We also plan travel approximately 50 km outside of Cluj to the Apuseni Mountains and Scarisoara Caves. Here limestone underlies most of the Apuseni Nature Park and is responsible for the areas impressive landforms and upwards of 400 caves, many of which can be explored.

Cluj Napoca is an ideal place to find tranquillity and to experience the warmth of Transylvanian hospitality. It manages to somehow preserve the rich history of its Hungarian patronage whilst also showcasing its vibrancy and attractiveness as a University town and cultural centre.

Papanasi

I've been writing a few articles for a local magazine, thought I'd share them here for those interested.

Papanasi
Romania’s Best Kept Secret
More than 100 hundred years ago, Lin Yutang, a Chinese academic wrote, "Our lives are not in the lap of the gods, but in the lap of our cooks."
For some, food is simply fuel, eating is merely a task to enable the body and mind to function. For others, however, food can transcend the ordinary and become something quite surprising, something magical. I have a secret that I would like to share, I have found a little piece of that culinary magic here in Bucharest.
Before I begin to tell the story I feel it only wise to document my initial perception of Romanian cuisine. I am by no means a food connoisseur, although I do take a healthy interest in the world of gastronomy. I wanted Romanian food to surprise and enlighten me, I wanted it to help educate me in the subtle vibrations and meanderings of this hidden city. I wanted it to provide a window into the city’s culture and traditions, a spyglass from where I could understand better what it is to be Romanian. What I found after my initial search was wholesome, healthy plates of food that almost met my expectations, but ultimately left me disheartened.
But then it happened. I found the magic.
It was a bitterly cold February evening, the restaurant was chosen by Romanian friends because the Ciorba de Burta (Tripe Soup) was apparently the best in Bucharest. They were right, it was good soup, equally impressive was how they showed me to add vinegar to the soup and salt to the pickled chilli served with it before eating to enhance the flavour.
For our main course we were served a large plate of grilled Pork in a spicy tomato sauce. It was a dish that requires no effort to grow very fond of. What it lacked in refined presentation or fancy garnish it more than compensated for in great flavour and texture.
I would not usually eat dessert but my Romanian friends assured me that the chef makes a superb dish called ‘Papanasi’ and that I would be foolish not to try it. I had followed their advice up until this point in the evening and had been guided through the menu superbly by them. They had my trust and I willingly accepted their recommendation. At this point I must stress that the meal had been enjoyable, the food was more than adequate and the bottle of Transylvanian red wine excellent.
Then the dessert arrived. Two large ringed doughnuts, generously topped with a rich, sweet fruit jam and a decadent mountain of cream. I am not sure what I was expecting but it was not this. Almost immediately I sensed the aroma of freshly cooked dough with the sublime sweetness of the fruit jam and cream.
The first bite revealed to me that what I thought was a doughnut was actually far more refined and much less sweet. I have since discovered that the key ingredient in Papanasi is a soft Farmers cheese found in most markets across the country.
By the third mouthful I was hooked, this was like a drug. What started as a warm comforting experience was spiralling out of control. Despite my stomach telling me that it was full, my eyes, hands and mouth kept on working to devour all that was in front of me. This dish requires a strong spirit and even stronger willpower, the voice inside my head was screaming at me to stop eating, but I ignored it and instead focused my energy into remembering to schedule at least two extra gym visits the following week and pondering whether a walk into work instead of using the car might be the wisest choice of action.
It is true that Papanasi is not the lightest, most health conscious dish to end a large meal with, but it is by far the most seductive, devilish and decadent plate of food I have discovered in Bucharest so far.
So what does Papanasi tell us about the Romanian people? Does it describe their tenacity, their strong belief in family values, their unrepentant efforts to forge a worthwhile and powerful position in Europe? Quite possibly, but I think it also tells us that they really know how to enjoy a meal.
Just don’t forget to schedule those extra gym visits.

Sunburn, Snow, The Mountains and Death

It is with a half smile and heavy heart that I write now, some 3 months since my last post. I have sailed through my 'honeymoon' period of the first 2 months where everything was a different shade of brilliant, every corner held a surprise and each new sunrise brought with it a hungover thirst for more excess.

I have also successfully weaved my way through months 3 and 4, filled with late summer evenings, a slight whiff of homesickness and a mild nagging voice telling me that this magnificent new city is not without its problems.

I now find myself sat on the edge of a cliff staring into the abyss and wishing for time to slow down or even reverse so that I could take a breather, assess, and plan my next move carefully.

I realise a few over-used metaphors slipped into that last paragraph which I humbly apologise for but describing life here in Bucharest without using cliches is like making and omelette without... you get my point.

Summer was warm, hot even. I'll go as far as using the word 'roasting'. My fair, anglo-saxon skin, spittooned with freckles is more at ease with the Scandinavian climate than the Eastern European grilling it has received. I'm now the proud owner of 4 shirts that have an impenetrably dried, crusty residue under the armpits as a result of the particular glue formed by my deodorant and my constant sweating. Maybe the worst part of this little ditty is that I'm sporting one of these tops right now and as I flap my arms, funky chicken style, the calloused material simply rubs into my skin, I become warm, sweat a bit, and this sweat then adheres itself to the malignant lump that is my 'formerly' favourite shirt and the problem increases. I, of course, should just throw the offending garments away, but they each hold fond memories for me and i'm not ready to say goodbye to them yet (more of that later).

Summer was also a time of merrymaking, as it is for most. Parties were attended, food and alcohol consumed in abundance and conversation participated in through to the early hours. All in all good times (when I managed not to be sunburnt.)

Then it finished. It took roughly 10 hours for the heat to subside and Winter to begin. No time for Autumn here, which is a shame because I rather liked the smell of Autumn, all smoke and leather and Horlicks. There's snow 80km north of Bucharest, traffic was brought to a standstill, which I can't quite fathom because at the best of times traffic is at a standstill, and the air-con controllers were rapidly left down the sides of the sofa in exchange for the heating system manual and Google Translate so that one, not blessed with a Technical Engineering degree from the University of Bucharest, might know how to turn the fucker on.

I'm getting a little ahead of myself in the general timeline, I missed out the rare excursion Eli and I took outside of Bucharest. We trod for the first time on Transylvanian soil. We successfully drove over the lower Carpathian mountain range to arrive in Brasov. A delightful Medievil town sat in a 3/4 bowl shadowed by snow capped peaks and lush green, bear infested forest. Maybe the only drawback of this breathtaking expedition was our failure to actually see much of Brasov outside of the main square and the interior of a mediocre touristy restaurant.

And so to Death. Having covered the other topics layed out in the heading I may as well end on this bitter note, it's the most recent event, having happened only last week, and one that I shall remember with mixed emotions for a while yet. Little 'George Michael', or simply 'Blacky' as he was known when all persons of colour were well out of earshot, was sent to an eternal slumber last Thursday morning. He's always had a ravenous hunger but bizarrely was loosing weight. This was coupled with his inability to control his bladder. Ahhh, with a soft smile do I recall my early morning plods to the toliet that quickly evolved into splishes and splashes of randomly deposited pools of piss. A trip to the vet, several hours of IV fluid replacement and a blood test told us that he was not a well kitty. He was transferred to the Veterinary clinic at the University of Bucharest where they continued to prod and poke for a further 5 days. Diabetes was the cause of his symptons we were told but regular insulin injections were not doing the trick. Long story short he was not going to get better. I spoke with Eli later that evening and we led each other to the same, responsible and caring solution, we would have to say goodbye to the little wretch. There was only one problem with this plan...I wasn't ready to say goodbye. Me and 'Blacks', we were a team, a crime fighting duo, me at the wheel, him riding shotgun, we racked up the miles weaving through the downtown metropolis making vet appointments. We'd shared the highs and the lows, the good and the bad, but we were a team. You can't just break up a team can you? Can you?

I remember bringing him home Wednesday lunchtime, his last lunch. I remember giving him his dinner, his last dinner. And I remember crying. I don't think I actually adopted the fetal position but you get the picture...Raw burning emotion unlike anything I could remember past the age of 6 or 7 poured out of me. I woke on Thursday to a stunning blue sky, Eli left for work, not without a tear in her eye I might add, and I was left alone with the cats, but especially with 'Blacky'. We had a chat, me and him. I didn't hold back, I told him how it was and how it was going to be. I stepped into the shower and let the water hide even more tears as I trained my mind into understanding that he was a sick animal that was deteriorating quicky. I was playing the role of the good guy, putting his friend out of his misery, sending him on to a better place....I just about believed myself. . . just.

What happened next comes to me in fragments, like a badly edited made for TV movie. I think my body has blocked the actual memories as a way of pretecting itself from more self-inflicted harm. I remember taking him from the flat, then we're driving, then I'm walking with him into the clinic. My 'I'm-the-good-guy' mantra starts to crackle and de-tune itself as the Vet thanks me for my actions and assures me that there isn't anything else that I could have done. I mumble a few parting words to my 'besty' as he sits in front of me, he responds by leaning in for a final snotty rub of his nose on my cheek. That's the last memory I have. I sort of remember standing up to leave and picking up the cat box only to realise that it was lighter than I remember, I tried to focus on my mantra, my defense against unwanted and untimely outbursts of emotion but at the very moment I needed it most it wasn't to be found.

I began the drive home, empty cat box on the back seat. The radio was on...and I was singing. I don't sing very much, i'm not very good at it, but I was singing. By the time I arrived at the flat I was actually happy. I may have even whistled.

OK, that's me done, demons have been faced and overcome. It's pissing with rain outside and I'm cooking Roast Leg of Lamb with roasted carrots, parsnips and potatoes tonight. I've got 2 pathetic cloves of garlic and no rosemary or thyme so I'm off to Billa, a most excellent supermarket.

Ooh, Just remembered I didn't get a chance to explain how little 'Blacky' helped me give up alcohol, but it's not a very exciting story so maybe that's for the best.

I didn't sign up for this.

At approximately 03:00 this morning the first born ginger kitten left us to return to ginger cat heaven. Eli had nursed him the afternoon before when it was apparent that he lacked the grit and determination of the other three when it came to finding his mum's milk.

I only know it was 3am because that's when Eli presented me with a lifeless ginger body she'd lovingly removed from the cosy environment of the 'kitten corner'. I'd never had a cat die on me before, but in the early hours of this morning, faced with a kitty corpse, I remained calm, if not a little distant from the minor tragedy.

In my heart I knew that this was how nature had intended it to be. Natural selection dictates that the strong survive and the weak perish. I think I'm glad that 'little ginge' passed as soon as he did with limited knowledge or understanding of his environment. It was quick, it was merciful.

As for Adriana, the mum, I'd be lying if I said I couldn't see remorse in her eyes, a sad sense of loss for what might have been, but equally I may have misinterpreted her feline expression. Mother Nature knows best, invariably mums know best, and so with this calming mantra looping continually in my head I think it's best to brush aside the loss and continue on with minimal fuss.

This sad, touching episode has not yet come to an end, rather it has left me with a small problem. I have in my freezer a very dead 'little ginge'.

Making a decision on what to do with a corpse at 3am this morning resulted in using the freezer as a holding bay, a decision I do not regret, but one that merely sprouts newer decisions to be made.

I instantly opted for cremation but am now backtracking on that idea. Burial seems the right thing to do, but we live in a penthouse apartment with no access to terra firma.

We will need to contact a vet to get mum and kittens checked over very soon and so there is always the option for them to dispose of the body.

If I put it out for the rubbish collectors, I need to be assurred that I won't be racked with guilt afterwards. This option seems, at first, to be the quickest and easiest but I have a nagging doubt that it is not the right thing to do.

So there you have it, not the most uplifting, comic, care-free of posts but merely my musings on what's been a troublesome 24 hrs. I even forgot to mention the tremendous electrical storm that circled overhead last night. The upside to that was that I now know our winter terrace roof that runs 3/4 of the way round the outside of the apartment is not watertight.

I certainly did not sign up for this.