Well, so I returned from Romania, with the help of Jack Daniels.

Let me explain to you that I’m not an alcoholic, but Carei isn’t really a place where you just go for vacation usually, you know, to bathe in the sea, look at castles and buildings or museums, no, not at all. It might’ve been a warm country, yes, but the sea was 1100 km away, and I didn’t see any lakes during my stay. But, my uncle had a swimming pool, which I jumped into with all my clothes on at one time.

I didn’t take many pictures while I was there, but let me show you our street;

The road might look flat, but it was filled with bumps and holes.

This is not one of the streets you see when you google Carei, but it’s where we spend most of our time. Where 50% if not more of the taxis ended up dropping off or picking up passengers for those twelve days I spent there. But I guess it’s not technically my street since my family and I lived at a hotel by Strand.

Strand is a relatively small waterpark in Carei, but it’s always filled with people. I didn’t really go there during the day, but we could see over the fence from the hotel, I went there one night though, and got a little drunk, and spent the whole coming day watching Animal Planet at the hotel. Animal Planet was the only english channel we could find. We had borrowed a fan from my uncle, and if it wasn’t for that fan my hungover day would probably have been a lot worse. Now the worst thing I had to do was get a bottle of water, you know, non-sparkling.

The downside where this country where everything is hot, everything is cheap, everyone is fun, is that no one speaks english. I met two danish guys who spoke english at Strand, and a Romanian dude, and our friend Anita spoke english too, and maybe one of the taxi drivers.

But at the hotel no one spoke english, I had been told they spoke german.

But they didn’t really speak much german either.

So in my horrible hungoverness I went down into the lobby to get a bottle of water, since the tapwater in Romania is nothing short of lethal, and told her I wanted Water with no bubbles. The result was a look of confusion from the woman by the reception. Wasser ohne blublublub? Upon which I even made a bubbly gesture. Don’t ask me what a bubbly gesture looks like. Anyhow, my explanaition sparked a reaction; the woman went and got me a mirinda, which is basically a fanta. I managed to tell her that’s not what I wanted, and we went on trying to communicate for a while.

One thing that made it a little more annoying to get that water was that there was a wedding at the hotel, and the whole place was clad in fancy bows and silky cloths and flowers and people were all dolled up all around. But I was really thirsty.

Since there's been a lot of text for you to read, here's an intermission, another piece of my uncle's street. My artsy sense said it would be a good idea to place more pictures in the post but I don't really have any pictures of the hotel or much pictures in general. I didn't wanna carry my camera around when it was so hot. And don't let the nice cars fool you, the road was bumpier than something very bumpy.

In the end I ran up to the hotel room and got an empty bottle of water to point at and tell her what I wanted, but when I returned the woman had disappeared and I stood around and waited until another woman showed up to help me.

Sure, this is not really a horrible ordeal or anything of the sort, if I wasn’t hungover it probably would have been nothing, but I never had trouble getting water before, and feeling sick with a headache made this a little adventure I could have lived without.

Anyways, I’m not really done with telling you about Strand. We were at the party, and stayed until they closed, upon which time we went to a bar with Anita, and the clock was roughly 4:30 am, and not that many bars were open, we didn’t wanna go home. So, the bar was a bar where my brother had gone to before, and seen people doing shady business, but as I said, not many bars were open. And we hung around until 6:30 am, approximately, and then called for a cab to take us home. But at the bar we met a guy called Francis. Francis was fun.

That wasn’t the last time we went to that bar, but some days later someone got stabbed there, so we stayed away.

Anyhow, Romania was fun, I said I’d come back next year so maybe I will, and bring Harold along to do stupid things with me.

Now bye, I might have forgotten things, but I just woke up, so in case I suddenly remember something really important I’ll edit my post later.


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