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oh god, no more food, please!
yet another battle fought. No winners, only pain.
this skirmish, i guess it could be considered an air attack, occurred on the 18th floor… with a view of the city…at sunset. it can only be classified as an ambush.
i was totally out gunned. no contest, i was doomed again from the start . i only went up for one drink…one…and only because i was told that it was a must see! the guy must have been a spy…i should have known better. what could i possibly have been thinking. bucuresti…dinner time…it can only mean one thing. more food. good food. really good food. the kind that you can’t walk away from. please no…stop, i beg you. i had a big lunch.
1 then 2 glenlivets, 2 glasses of vin de casa that were like liter size . my motorcycle could run 30 kilometers on that fuel. i can’t even walk. cheese (and more cheese) and fruit salad, octopus, and that lime creamy something with pistachio nuts…double espresso and i can’t move for $40.00…again.
why am i doing this to myself? my pants are so tight that i can’t breathe. maybe if i fart i will feel better. oh god, i really need to go to the bathroom. man, my stomach is so big, i can’t see anything below my waist. oh cuss, i can’t reach it either! my damn arms got shorter.
this is a typical romanian evening. in fact it is usually accompanied by an entire bottle of wine. it’s like thanksgiving every day. the food here is addictive and its cheap. romanian restaurants should have a warning sign put on the door. something about how eating, like cigarettes, is addictive, could kill you, and can make your unit disappear. or maybe they should take the example of the french and charge too much for small portions.
today, i finally figured out how the people here stay in such good shape. they hate pedestrians in bucuresti. well they don’t hate them, because at one time or another we all become pedestrians, but they don’t do much to accommodate pedestrians. the sidewalks are tiny. crosswalks are miles apart, and romanian drivers…well they drive, like mario andretti…escu. crossing a main street is like playing a game of frogger for your life.
romania is all about personal freedom. and driving has become the ultimate expression of personal freedom. i am free. you are free. i will be friendly and try not to get in your way, and it’s your job to do the same. when i drive, i am going to go, and go fast. i promise not to hit you, if you just stay out of my way. i saw in the newspaper yesterday that a guy got a speeding ticket on the road to constanta this week going 294 kilometers per hour.
i think it must be as a result of living thru generations of dictatorship, and secret police, and everything that we saw on television growing up, but didn’t really believe that it possibly existed. street and sidewalk construction with no barricades, cars parked on the sidewalks, sidewalks five foot wide. handicap ramps? I don’t think so. ‘dude, if you can’t deal with it, get the hell out’. survival of the fittest. i swear these people are descendants of the spartans. and life goes on…quite merrily thank you.
oh yeah, and i thought it was cool that I brought my motorcycle with new york plates over here. these people are totally unimpressed.
drum bun! (romanian greeting meaning good roads…happy trails, bon voyage, etc…)
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