OH LOOK BLOGGER DECIDED TO DELETE MY HALF-WRITTEN ENTRY.
Fucking computers with their shitty stuff. Too bad I'm too sexy to fucking care. CHECK MY WHEELS, VROOOOOOMMMM. WHO WANTS TO CROOOZZZ?!
Mike and I swoon over that superior Romanian engineering. Dacia representing in Cluj-Napoca, the only other city in Romania we visited during our quick jaunt (Mike's going back, he'll have more to say about this country than me. Me? I'm in Bosnia right now).
BUT ANYWHO, Mike feels the glory of THE LORD, and that glory is warm and lovely.
(speaking of glory, there's this small Bosnian child looking over my shoulder at everything I type. I wonder if he can read English. He's backing away right now, so I think he can.)
On that note, check out the central square in Cluj! Pretty pretty pretty.
Mike is entranced. And hey, who's the fellow in blue jacket next to him?
Why, it's Lou!
Lou kicks it old school - old MEDICAL school. We met him in Tallinn, way back in the nascent days of Lukashenko during potty training. He was all "come to Cluj" and we was like, sup we'll be there in late October. So in late, um, December, we finally manage to meet. And Lou was an awesome guide and dude and needs to come to America and not work at Lake George but hang out with us instead. We talked about basketball, medical school, forensics, and he sent us packing with awesome Romanian goodies. Awesome dude. I give him permission to date my future daughters. Hail Romania!
The Old mayor of Cluj really hated the Hungarians in his city, because apparently Hungarians are easy to hate with their fucked up language (Szyghiierghzys Magyar) and their delicious paprika. Whatevs, but old mayor dude decided to paint all the benches the color of the Romania flag. Wear your civic pride on your butts, Romania!
Important people(s) lived here:
They is dead now. Word.
So as a day trip from Cluj, I (sans Mike) went to the salt mines in a town called "Turda". They were big and salty and big. How big? Well, first you hike down this megatunnel,
...and then you go down these stairs...
...which lead you to this platform:
...which circumnavigates the top of this HUGE FUCKING ROOM:
How big is that room? Look closely at the bottom. Those lamps are the height of a regular street-light.
...and then you go further down...
and 2) ping pong
And then you escape. That's it for the mines!
LOOK I AM AN ARTISTE.
Here's some of Turda.
RUNAWAY TRACTOR VROOOOOOOOOM FAGGOT.
Turda represent. I got some delicious homemade cheese at the market - Mike thought it tasted like turdbutt, but I was digging it.
Also, back in Cluj, we got some homemade wine:
These natives were from Columbia. Lucky for them they weren't mistaken for gypsies, or I could have shot them and only gotten charged with disturbing the peace. I wonder if they go to cafes together and talk about hegemony. I'm a loser.
Speaking of lost, where did these people go?
UM NEVERMIND. Shout outz - pictured above is Kim, our excursion buddy in Cluj who we met in the hostel. We talked about silly stuff and drank homemade wine. Twas good.
Anywho, the old Cluj synagogue is now a DYI art space run by some swinging Hungarian dudes. And I mean swinging Check out Scary Spice on the far right. She was making out with dude in the middle while her huffy boyfriend walked in. Good times in syngogue attics. Philanderer approved!
Captain Awesome then decided to try on my glasses. Looking good! But your language is still mud, sorry.
Cluj was an awesome city, much cooler than Brasov and with more energy, more neat little nooks, nicer people, and a wholly better atmosphere (and with like one-tenth the tourist traffic. I don't get it either).