Jaffa Cakes by Proxy for Brett

23 April 2009

Ploesti, Romania

Sigishoara is a little German dream of a Romanian medieval city; the Germans have nearly all been kicked out (the Communists charged West Germany $8000 each to let them leave in the 1970s and 80s), but they left behind this place. There's a romantic little cemetery too, scattered with stark stones engraved 'Pro Patria' and iron crosses, all from the First World War—strange to think of Saxons in Romania going off to fight for Germany in France.

Romanian is a crazy language—the Romans only held this land for 175 years total, and yet they claim what they speak is the closest thing to Latin in the modern world. It feels like a made-up language, actually, like I can almost read it...but not quite. They've been conquered by every army that ever had a spare 10 minutes, so the people are a right mix of mutts. 

Have been driving ages today, from Sighisoara down to Bucharest, by way of Sinaia and Bran. Bran Castle is gorgeous, perched on a hilltop overlooking a river (and many sellers of Dracula t-shirts, clown wigs—it's a Romanian thing—Dracula mugs, Dracula ashtrays, Dracula toothpick dispensers, Dracula carvings, etc.). The last English queen of Romania, Marie, redecorated it circa 1910 in the Theatrical-Medieval Style...it's the sort of castle one can see oneself moving right in to.

Meant to be bushcamping tonight again, poor Lindsay was distraught, but having failed to find a spot to match last night's picture-postcard of a location, we're going to go on to Bucharest and spend 3 nights in a campground there. Which frankly is a bit of a relief—washing machines and showers most welcome. The first bushcamp was amazing--we all felt like we were living in the Odyssey brochure. Picture perfect rural idyll, lake and fields and farmhouse and all. Practically Wisconsin.

On food crew today (again—this comes around much too quickly). But once again saved by John and Tee, who were up well before the 6:30am required of us. David fears all these early starts are going to make us Morning People, but I trust in my innate lack of appreciation for anything that happens prior to noon. It shall see me through these difficult times. Hotdog sandwiches for lunch in Bran, and promised some sort of South African chicken stew for dinner. Cheryl tells us that last year, all the girls came back fatter and the boys thinner—not going to happen to me. I AM going to be fit and tan by Thailand. I swear to god, if I come back pudgy I will be seriously crabby. Now, must get back to the pack of sour cherry jaffa cakes I just bought (happy birthday, Brett!)