Of Lurking Vampires and Mysterious Castles - Romania (Florence Week 5)

Sunday, February 25th

Back at the Life Church Italia, we decided to go to Lunch with the Pastor, a church connection event held after the service at a restaurant. When we signed up online it gave us the address, so as one does, I plugged it into google maps and led the crew on an expedition to find it. It was just a block or so away from the church, but we had to traverse across many large and busy streets, almost getting run over several times in the process. We ended up in some sketchy looking area with no restaurant to be found. That's not a good sign. This time, I tried putting in the name of the restaurant rather than the address, only to find that it was back in that same building that the church was in. Great, so we risked our lives for nothing and now we were going to be late. It's ok though because we had a laugh over it and Italians are always late for everything anyways.

Once we finally arrived at the correct location, we found the pastor, had a nice chat with him, and then found seats at a table with the others. We ended up sitting across the table from this Spanish - Italian mother and son (I just found out that they are not, in fact, brother and sister). They didn't speak very much English, so we attempted to converse with them in Italian which gave us a good chance to practice our Italian and Spanish. They asked us about where we were from, why we came here, and how we liked it, and in return we asked them where they've been in Italy and different things about their life and past. It definitely took us way longer to ask and answer simple questions due to the language barrier, but they were very gracious with us and helped us understand by using hand motions and big expressions, which led to a lot of laughter.

As we rode back on the tram after a delightful yet somewhat confusing conversation, I was delighted to find several cute little cani on the tram. Oh, to be a tiny dog chilling on a tram with no care in the world besides trying not to slide around during the turns. Happening upon a dog at an unsuspecting point during your day is the best feeling and I wish that all of you might experience that same joy today.

Monday, February 26th

In my interior design class, we went on a rainy excursion to Basilica de Santa Croce to practice drawing some architecture. When we entered the church, my professor gave us a quick history lesson, explaining that pretty much all of the important people from Florence were buried here. Well, except for Dante, but I'll get into that later. It started with the monks wishing to be buried under the floor so they would be humbled by people walking over their graves, and then other people started requesting to be buried there as well.

Here lies Dante's tomb, which is empty because Florence kicked him out but then later was like "wait, we are sorry Dante", but by then he was dead. They tried to get his bones from Ravenna several times so they could put them in the fancy tomb they made for him, but to no avail. 

Look familiar? Here also lies the Liberty of Poetry statue, which was the inspiration for the Statue of Liberty in New York! Very cool, but a little dream-crushing to find out that the guy who thought of the Statue of Liberty actually wasn't that original after all.

We then went into this somewhat humble-appearing room to analyze the architecture of it, but after he began explaining the symmetry and balance of the space as well as the meaning and importance behind it, I realized it was  actually quite beautiful.

After spending a short while sketching the room and studying its bones, we began our journey back to the classroom. I offered to share my umbrella with two of the girls from my class and after about 20 minutes I had two new friends! The first, a girl named Siri from Sweden, actually sits next to me in the classroom but we hadn't really talked much until now. The second was a girl from Holland, who I unfortunately don't remember the name of, but seemed very sweet and told us all about some of the traditional snacks in her country.

Tuesday, February 27th

In my design workshop class, the workload began picking up quite a bit and I began to feel slightly stressed about the amount of work I had to finish by the midterm. It is all pretty enjoyable for me which helps a lot but as the semester has continued on, the projects have become more complex and dependent on technology which has lead to some frustration. Despite the class I had just finished that supposedly taught me how to use several adobe softwares, I found myself struggling in my attempt to figure out how to accomplish what I needed to. Maybe speeding through those Linked-in Learning tutorials wasn't such a good idea after all.

I arrived at the Oil Tasting a little early, so when I saw a guy entering this intriguing-looking building nearby I decided to follow. I pulled open the giant glass doors and found myself in an old cinema that had been repurposed and was now a bookstore with elements of a movie theater as well as a balcony with tables and chairs for studying. As I browsed through the Italian books, I could hear the faint chatter from an old film playing in the background. Since I wasn't adept at reading Italian just yet, I found some beautifully illustrated children's books and travel guides to poke through.

Once it was about time for the LdM activity to begin, I headed over and began conversing with some of the other students. One girl was describing how her friend's necklace was stolen, snatched right from around her neck when they were walking home from the bar late at night! My goodness! I had brought my very-special-necklace-given-to-me-by-my-late-father under the pretense that I would always wear it so it wouldn't get lost, and what were they going to do, snatch it from around my neck?? Welp, there went that idea. I resolved that from now on I would not wear it on weekend trips or days I had to walk back from class at night.

Once I had recovered from that horrific news, we headed over to Pruneti, the olive oil shop. I had signed up to go to this event based on the description "taste the heart of Tuscany", while unbeknownst to me it was an occasion where we were expected to drink straight olive oil. When I found out, I decided to still go, as it seemed like an experience essential to my Italian repertoire, but I certainly hoped we would be given some bread along with the oil.

When the tasting began, I was surprised to find that they wanted us to drink the oil straight up before trying it with bread in order to taste the true flavor of the oil. They instructed us on the proper way to taste olive oil, which is to warm it up with your hands, take a sniff, put a few drops on your tongue, and then make a reverse hissing sort of motion with your mouth to spread the oil over your tongue. Once we had all done so, garnering a bit of laughter from all of us at the silliness of our actions, the oil ladies began to inquire about notes of flavor we gathered from the oil. In what I imagine to be a wine-tasting sort of fashion, they described how each different kind of olive produced a different kind of olive oil which gave it subtle but distinct flavors such as herbal, fruity, or spicy. We tried about 6 varieties of oil, all varying in type and intensity. After tasting the 3rd one, which was the strongest of the herbal oils, I accidentally inhaled some and coughed up a hack, almost dying and startling the other students in the process. While it was a bit embarrassing on my part, we all had a laugh about it, and it broke the awkward tension a bit.

As I walked back to Il Santo in the rain, I became suddenly hyperaware of my thoughts and emotions. I felt a strange sense of safety and at peace in my little umbrella bubble, perfectly in sight yet hidden away from the world at the same time. It was a wonderful feeling, brewing up a longing in me for more rainy days just so I could revel in the feeling once again.

While there was plenty of water to be found outside, I came back to our room to find that our water was off. Rather than stew in our disappointment, we decided to have a little shower outside instead. So, Morgan and I went pounding on Ginger and Kinley's door asking if they wanted to splash about in the rain with us, and to our delight they agreed! We all stomped into the park with our rainiest boots and coats, then sang and danced all the way around the square. We swung around a few lampposts, living out our "Singin in the Rain" dreams, waltzed through some puddles, and attempted some harmonies which more likely than not made us appear to be quite drunk, then swished and splashed back inside, each one of us completely drenched but full of joy.

As we went up the stairs, we found some socks that someone had left in the hall which Kinley said belonged to the guy a few doors down from our rooms. Being the kindly neighbors we are, we brought them to his door and Kinley laid them out all nice for him. Despite my initial doubts ("Kinley, why are you touching this strange man's socks??"), we had the urge to put little googley eyes on them, but since we currently had a lack of googley eyes, Morgan made the next best thing: a little sticky note man to put partially sticking out of the sock so it looked like he was wearing them. We quickly ran into our room so Morgan could draw the sticky note man, then went back outside to put him in the sock, only to find that the socks were GONE! The owner of the socks must have heard our scheming in the hall and snatched the socks before we could put the sticky note man in them! We decided to just put the sticky note man on the ground and walk away, but then, as right as I was about to go through the door back into Morgan and I's room, the guy opened the door and called out "thanks for the socks!". I almost died of embarrassment, but I laughed it away hysterically and responded with something probably very incoherent.

I opened my fridge for some milk to heal my racing heart but was faced with the sobering reality that I only had approximately 9 drops of milk left. I lamented to Morgan over my lack of milk, to which she responded with a surrepticious smile and opened her fridge to reveal a surprise milk!!! Thanks Morgan! You are the best. Seriously. Anyone who gives me milk is instantly promoted to Best Friend of All Time Forever.

I ended the day with a Tim Keller podcast on faith and it was SO GOOD. I raved about it to Morgan for about 30 minutes after, and I would definitely recommend that you all listen to it as he has a way of explaining things that just make sense and I found it to be a very useful tool in thinking of answers to people who have doubts or question Christianity. The episode is called "Faith and Proof" from the podcast "Questioning Christianity with Tim Keller". Check it out! I know you want to.

Wednesday, February 28th

I'm 21. Woah. No way. Now I can legally go out and get drunk! Not that I would want to, of course, but now I have the freedom to make bad decisions if I so wish to.

For my first alcoholic drink of official US drinking age, I think I'll get a Guernsey Highball. Apparently, that's how you order milk at a bar. HAH! You really thought, didn't you? Fooled once again.

Update: the plant babies are healthy! I am sure it's because I have been such a great mother to them, although I really need to be more consistent with their nightly lullabies. My plants are happy again, and so is my soul.

The weather forecasts rain for the whole week except for today; the rain stopped just for me! I usually do love the rain, as I get to be all moody and soulful as I wander about with an umbrella listening to melancholy tunes or read a book by the window with the sound of rain pitter-pattering on the roof, but sometimes a little change of pace is nice. Plus, it's very difficult to take photos in the rain while juggling an umbrella in an attempt to not damage your expensive camera.

My first event of the day was a mosaic tour, which was a 30-minute walk across the city, so I got to bop around the streets listening to Fulton Lee. If you don't know him, look him up. I would describe his music as a mix between funk, pop, and indie, which makes for a great mood-booster when you are determined to have a good day.

After making some small talk with the other students, we arrived at a little workshop where the mosaics were made and displayed. When I had originally imagined the mosaics we would be seeing, I imagined them resembling something you would see in a modern art museum (still cool I guess, but not my usual preference), but as I stepped inside, I was struck with awe as I took in the beauty surrounding me. The walls were filled with mosaics of all sizes depicting mostly Tuscan scenery as well as other such works of majesty.

The lady welcomed us in and began her tour, walking us through every step of their process and even delving in to some of the history as well. She showed us the giant slabs of stones which they used as their materials, describing the qualities of each, where they were from (they were from all around the world! places like California, India, France, China, and Germany), and what parts of the mosaics they were often used to make. Once they cut the sone into thin slices, they traced out a design on a piece of paper, then cut the stone into the correct shape using an interesting technique which involved using a bow-like tool (with a wire instead of a string) as a saw and adding wet sand to the wire so it would cut through the stone. After each piece was cut, they glued them together onto a slate, filing them down until they fit together perfectly. Watching them perform these tasks made me think about just how long this process took them, especially for the larger mosaics that were made up of hundreds of tiny pieces.

Click here for some videos!

I absolutely loved watching them work and learning all of the little tricks they used to make the mosaics so enchanting. After she had finished explaining their process, she took us around the show rooms and told us about many of the pieces. As she talked, I studied them closely, admiring their beauty and craftmanship, but when I saw the price tag on one of the small ones I almost gasped aloud. 2,000 euro! For a 5x7-inch mosaic! While I can understand the price from a perspective of the expensive materials they use, the technique involved, and the long hours that it takes, I don't know how anyone would have enough money to spend 2,000 euro on a mosaic. And most of them were larger than 5x7 inches, so I can't even imagine how much those were worth!

The star of the show was sitting in the center of the room: a large rectangular gilded table, mostly ebony with tiny pieces of stone inlaid in it, forming intricate designs of beautiful flowers, branches, and delicate animals. She told us that it was a replica of the one in the Pitti Palace (which is just across the Arno near the Boboli gardens) and had taken 10 years to make! If a 5x7-inch, relatively simple mosaic cost 2,000 euro, this table must be worth at least a million.

After the tour was over, I wandered around, took some pictures, and found a little border collie wandering around the shop. I made friends with him, then after a little more wandering I found a mosaic of him on the wall! I later overheard the lady telling another student about how the dog is so much a part of the workshop that they made a mosaic of him. That is so sweet!

After soaking up all of the beauty that I possible could, I walked back to Il Santo, letting my internal cruise control take over. I while later I found myself walking down Via Faenza, which was a little strange since it was out of the way. But as I looked around, I realized why. I take this street to class most days and it has become my sort of comfort street, and once I'm there I can easily find my way home. Via Faenza is calm and comforting, unlike Via dell'Ariento which is one street over and which houses the leather market that is teeming with street vendors constantly vying for your attention and money, their eyes following you and shooting lasers into your back as you try to walk past. Via Faenza is a pedestrian street only, so there are no taxis sneaking up behind you in an attempt to run you over, and it is filled with adorable little restaurants, gelato shops, cafes, and artisan shops. Over the past several weeks I've grown attached, and am now pleasantly familiar with the creepy mask shop threatening to haunt my dreams if I get to close, the restaurant with the giant metal turtle outside it which doesn't seem to have any sense of how loud is too loud to be playing their music, and the two homeless guys chilling on a blanket with their dog, always eating some kind of sandwich and bopping their heads to some hip-hop music. Becoming familiar with a place besides your home is a feeling I always cherish, and one that I am delighted to have found in Florence during my semester here.

For lunch, Morgan made us these delicious sandwiches she found on Pinterest which were made by toasting 2 slices of a baguette with butter and spreading brie and berry jam between them. They turned out absolutely delectable, and honestly one of the best meals I've had in Florence so far. While it was definitely not the most nutritious meal, it was the kind of brunch I imagined Audrey Hepburn had at a cafe in Paris, and that made me happy. The brie was perfectly melted, oozing out the end of the sandwich and creating a mess all over my fingers, but I didn't mind as I was in the midst of being transported to another dimension. The perfectly toasted baguette paired with the warm and creamy brie and tart and sweet berry jam made for a combination that was, dare I say, otherworldly. Thanks, Morgan, for making such a wonderful birthday gift!

In sketchbook class, we met at a public library adorned with arches and a lush garden in its courtyard. There was a beautiful breeze as we sketched on the benches scattered among the trees, until it grew colder and the professor led us inside and into an area with an open space in the middle where we got a nice view of the arches stretching across the 3 floors. After our break, we met in the cafe, and I began working on some of my sketches again like the others, but when I looked up, the rest of the class was gone! After frantically scampering around a bit, I managed to spot some girls from class in the elevator, so I joined them, and they eventually led me to the others. However, there were no seats in the square where everyone was sitting, so the three of us found desks inside the library to sit at and sketched from the pictures we had taken. It was an interesting time, sitting in the library drawing the Duomo while listening to some entertaining subjects of discussion (courtesy of the two other girls I was with) such as their fake ID’s, stories from when they went out drinking the past weekend, and some drama relating to their friend's fling with some Italian guy. They asked me a few questions here and there to be polite, but for the most part I stayed out of their conversations, which was probably for the best as I doubted we would have much in common to discuss.

When I arrived back at my room, I opened my door to find my bed covered in confetti, with little gifts scattered about and some very poufy party decorations taped to every available surface. I almost teared up at my friends' thoughtfulness (at least I hoped it was from my friends - that would be sort of terrifying if it wasn't) as I read the note saying to meet them next door when I was ready for dinner. I went out into the hall, running into an unsuspecting Ryan (the Hawaiian guy from the Cinque Terre trip) with a skateboard who was in for a treat as he witnessed the following events. I knocked on their door and was met with several confetti canons blasting into my face and a chorus of "HAPPY BIRTHDAY"s and "SURPRISE!"s to which I responded by yelping in surprise (which I guess was the intended effect), then bursting into laughter and tackling them with hugs and thank-you's. They explained to me that we were not in fact having leftovers for dinner as I had been led to believe, but actually going out to the 50s diner down the street!

We had a lovely time at the restaurant; it was the coolest most retro place you could possibly imagine, complete with a life-size Elvis and Marilyn Monroe. Kinley took my picture with Elvis, because it's ELVIS, and then we were seated by a man in a candy-striped server outfit. There were neon lights and signs every which way you looked, and tons of funky decor, including a little TV which was playing clips from Grease, some 50s people lindy-hopping, and the like. The female servers all wore roller-skates (the poor guys must have been extremely uncoordinated or something to have had their roller-skate privileges revoked), and skated about, fulfilling my childhood dreams. I had gotten so close, only my diner didn't have nearly as many neon lights, was lacking and life-size Elvis, and I didn't get to wear roller-skates.

I was a little taken aback by our server's strong Italian accent, as it was a stark contrast to her outfit and the all-American decor surrounding her, but we ordered burgers and fries, and then had a round of dessert afterward. While everyone else got shakes, I ordered a waffle with ice cream (as I had missed waffles very dearly) and when it arrived it had a candle on it (how did they know??? just kidding, I saw Morgan very discreetly whispering to the waiter after I had ordered) and they all sang Happy Birthday to me, which was very sweet and slightly embarrassing at the same time due to all the attention it brought upon me. I thought the waffle was quite delicious despite being deceived by the miniscule scoop of ice cream I received, and I ended the night by not-so-subtly lindy-hopping to the music as we waited at the counter to pay the bill.

When I got back to my room, I received an email saying that google maps didn't post my review of the pastry place because they thought it was fake!! But overall, it was quite a lovely night, thanks to my wonderful new friends who are just the sweetest, and I will be forever grateful to them for making the day special for me.

Thursday, February 29th

I was rudely awakened in the morning to the cleaning man barging into my room before noticing me, muttering a quick "oh sorry", and hastily exiting. To be fair, they did tell me to not be in my room between the hours of 9 am and 2 pm so they could clean, but I accidentally slept in and was not prepared for such a terrifying experience so early in the morning. I appreciate that they clean the rooms for us, but for me personally, I'm not sure if the clean sink and sheets are worth the anxiety I feel every Thursday morning. I then quickly got myself together a tiny bit and then went downstairs for about an hour, hoping that was enough time for them to clean the room. I then went back up so I could finish getting ready before my class, but when I reached the hallway, they were cleaning Ginger and Kinley’s room but hadn't cleaned ours. Welp, they either skipped our room or hadn't cleaned it yet, but I didn't want to risk a 2nd terrifying experience today, so I just went straight to class. In my pjs. Yup. I bet that was a sight to behold. At least I had had the sense to grab my computer before I left.

I arrived to class and once Morgan was finished laughing at me, I glanced behind me and saw the Swedish guy from the first week! He didn't quit after all! But now both of his arms were in casts... that explains it.

I couldn't concentrate for the entirety of the class as I was a ball of stress thinking about how I was going to proceed after class. We had our 4 pm train to catch to get to Rome for our flight to Romania, and I had about 30 minutes (because of the 30-minute walk back to our room and the 15-minute walk to the train station) to shower, get dressed, and pack all of my things for a weekend trip out of the country. Yikes.

As soon as class ended, I ran down the never-ending staircase and practically sprinted back to my room in order to save as many seconds as I possibly could. I was able to get everything ready with just enough time and I was finally able to relax a little until Morgan and I got a message from Kinley that apparently the train was leaving early so they had started walking and now we are running! AHHH! Why are we always running?! I do not have the stamina for such strenuous activity! We rain into the train station and up to the ticket stop, our chests heaving as we tried to catch our breath. The others quickly scanned their tickets and walked through, but the internet wasn't working on my phone and my ticket wouldn't load! I finally gave up and slipped through the doors, then ran to the platform. We jumped on the train, which was the most packed train I had ever seen, and anxiously weaved back and forth through the cars trying to find our seats.

My ticket loaded and I finally found my seat, but my elation was short-lived as a few minutes later I realized I had left my headphones in my room and would now have to go the whole trip without any music, podcasts, or movies. After I had finally accepted the fact that I wasn't going to be able to jam out to my favorite country tunes, I was left with one last somber thought in my mind: I miss you, Benjamin. (For those of you who aren't aware, I am not referring to a long-lost lover or anything of that sort. Benjamin is my penguin friend (my air pods with a case in the shape of a penguin) who I lost a few weeks back somewhere between church and the grocery store.)

Alas, I was now forced to experience the world around me. (That was a joke, by the way. I do that already - or at least I hope so) In all seriousness though, being without my headphones was not so bad, as I was able to listen to the rumbling chugging of the train, which provided a good backtrack to the book I was reading. It's good to live like the olden days sometimes.

Once we arrived at the Rome train station, we scampered around in hurried circles in an attempt to find our connecting train to the airport before it left without us. We finally found the train (which was in some strange obscure location all the way down at the end of one of the platforms) and found a couple seats squished together in which to huddle in. I wanted to open the window because it was a bit stuffy in there, but got attacked by Morgan and Ginger saying "no, trains don't have windows that open cause if you did open them, your eardrums would get sucked out". I sincerely doubt that, but yall can believe whatever makes you feel better.

After a long and convoluted path to the airport, we finally arrived and got in line to get our boarding passes printed (one of the apparent requirements of RyanAir). This being our first RyanAir flight, we were a little nervous as they had a lot of extra charges for doing certain things, and, being broke college students, being charged extra wasn't something we could really afford. Kinley and I had checked in online earlier that day since we saw an email saying that it was a 60-euro charge if you checked in at the desk, so we asked Morgan and Ginger if they'd checked in just to make sure. They hadn't yet, but it was a long line that we were in, so they pulled out their phones to check in right there. Everything would have been fine if the RyanAir website hadn't been down, causing Morgan and Ginger to grow increasingly anxious the longer they waited for the website to load. For about 20 minutes they tried every method they could think of to get checked in, but to no avail.

When we reached the check-in desk, Kinley and I reassured them that surely, they wouldn't charge you 60 euro because their website was down, causing you to not be able to check in. Kinley and I went first and got through with relative ease despite the chronically irritated RyanAir employee who seemed to be regretting every decision in his life that had gotten him to this point. Now that I think about it, his canine teeth seemed a bit longer and pointier than usual...

Kinley and I anxiously waited a ways away as we saw Morgan and Ginger conversing with the RyanAir staff, both with disgruntled looks on their faces, for what seemed like forever. Whatever was going on couldn't be good. When they finally were finished, they headed over to us and relayed the news with somber eyes that not only had they indeed been charged 60 euro because RyanAir's website was incompetent, but also, since they were the last to check in and RyanAir had overbooked the flight, they were now on standby, meaning there was a very high likelihood that they wouldn't even be able to get on the plane!! Kinley and I stood there in silence with our mouths hanging open as we slowly processed this shocking and horrific news. Morgan explained that if they didn't get on the flight, at least they would be given 300 euro as compensation, but it was still horrifying to think that for our first ever trip we had planned together and had been looking forward to for over a month, we might have to split up and leave Morgan and Ginger behind to solemnly return to Florence. This was way worse than any outcome we could have possibly imagined. Besides the plane crashing or us being murdered in some dark alley in Romania, but still, in comparison to the array of remotely possible things that might occur, this was quite possibly the worst.

Morgan and Ginger decided that they would only go if only two seats were available, so at least they were together, and Kinley and I were together as well. After coming up with a game plan, we made our way through security (which took a bit longer than expected due to me trying to scan the wrong page of my passport for about 10 minutes) and into the poor people section of the airport (the RyanAir plaza). We huddled together in a little corner, grateful to have found a few seats amongst the sea of people. We said a quick prayer together and then began consoling ourselves with snacks and began trying to distract ourselves from our misery by laughing at the stupidest things. As Kinley was rummaging around in our duffel bag, Ginger's electric toothbrush which was inside a plastic bag with a bunch of other things, began loudly vibrating and drew quite-a-many stares in our direction. We all burst out laughing as Kinley desperately fumbled to turn it off and didn't stop wheezing, hacking, and snorting for about 5 minutes.

Joining the gigantic clump of people outside the gate, we anxiously waited to see if Ginger and Morgan would make it on the plane. We had to wait until every other person had boarded before going up to the gate, and Kinley and I waited with Ginger and Morgan until right before boarding was about to close. There was a bus outside waiting to take us to the plane and we were worried Kinley and I would miss it if we didn't go right then, so we hurried out, saying a quick goodbye in case they didn't make it on the plane. We squished into the bus and clutched out hands tightly together as we watched with fear in our eyes through the glass walls as Ginger and Morgan talked with the Airline staff. I exchanged a worried glance with Kinley as Ginger began digging through her backpack, becoming increasingly animated in a way that told us she couldn't find whatever she was looking for. Oh no. Had she lost her boarding pass? Or even worse, her passport? After several minutes of watching this horrifying scene unfold, I saw Morgan light up, look over at Ginger, and then they both began walking through the gate! They were coming!! Kinley and I could barely contain ourselves, hugging each other and jumping up and down and probably receiving some confused looks from the other passengers. After hopping on the bus, Ginger and Morgan explained that Ginger had in fact lost her boarding pass, but the staff said it was ok and let them on the plane anyway! What a blessing. I guess RyanAir isn't that horrible after all... if you ignore the few hours of mild panic that is.

The flight went pretty smoothly besides being scammed out of my aisle seat by the lady who apparently didn't want her middle seat, so she was already sitting in the aisle seat when I arrived. Instead of moving to the middle when I showed her my ticket, she just acted confused, speaking something in Italian and pointing to the middle seat. This wasn't a hill I wanted to die on, so I gave up and squished into the middle seat, telling myself that she probably had some condition or special circumstance preventing her from being able to sit in her assigned middle seat. I got some free entertainment when I actually thought for the first 20 or so minutes that there would be complementary snacks and drinks on this 35-euro RyanAir flight, before mentally smacking myself in the head for having such an absurd notion in my head and bursting into laughter at my internal commentary.

We landed, and after taking way too long to find an uber and wandering around the sketchy streets of Bucharest at 1 AM (don't worry it was more like a 3-minute walk to the other side of the street), we finally got to our hostel where we quickly brushed our teeth and then passed out in our assigned beds.

Friday, March 1st

The hostel looked much more friendly in the daylight with little plants hanging from the ceiling and gold detailing on the walls and light fixtures. We had a little laugh thinking about how the poor girls sharing the room with us would probably wake up thinking they had been haunted by a ghost in the night since we had gotten in late last night when they were asleep and left early in the morning before they woke up.

With the plan to just spend the morning in Bucharest and then train over to Brasov around 1 PM, we headed out in search for a quaint little cafe or some such establishment to explore. On the way there, we spotted some cheap pretzels (only about $0.50!) at this place called Luca which Kinley immediately became addicted to and would later tell us of how she dreamed of going back to Luca and eating more of their divine meat pretzels.

We stumbled upon (I found it on google maps and lead us there, but "stumbled upon" sounds way more fun and adventurous) this beautiful place called the Van Gogh Cafe, which as the title suggests, is entirely inspired by Van Gogh. As we walked up to the door and saw the line of people out the front, we realized we had made a grave error in not making a reservation. We figured we might as well give it a shot since it was such a special place, so we went up to the guy who was organizing the whole seating shebang. He asked us if we had a reservation, to which we replied that we unfortunately did not, but to our surprise he said no problem and that he would find us a table pretty soon. We were so grateful, and as we waited there for a table to free up, he decided to start up some small talk, asking us where we were from and what our names were. It was then that we learned his name was Romulus and apparently had experimented with drugs. Before you get yourselves all up in a tizzy, let me explain. When we said we were from the US, he said something to the effect of "Ohhh! I spent a month in Delaware! I tried drugs there, but it wasn't worth it. Wouldn't recommend". Something about the way he said it was so hilarious and he seemed like such a nice man, so we all really got a kick out of that and feel like we have become good friends with Romulus. This moment will go down in the books of lore as a memory we will never forget.

Not very long after, Romulus said that there was a table open for us and led us into the cafe. As we followed him, I gazed in wonder at the walls adorned with Van Gogh paintings in gilded frames and glided up the magical spiral staircase into Van Gogh Wonderland.

For such a beautiful cafe, the prices were not very bad at all, probably because we were in Romania where everything is amazingly cheap. We decided to split some cheese omelets which were extremely delicious, as well as a french toast dish smothered in chocolate sauce, whipped cream, and strawberries. My mouth begins to water just thinking about it.

I also ordered a Romanian lemonade for funsies (It said it had special things in it, but it honestly just tasted like normal lemonade to me. Maybe I don't have a dignified enough palette, I don't know), while Ginger and Kinley ordered a traditional Transylvania drink which was some sort of elderflower tea. I had been reading a book that intertwined the theme of the flower language throughout, and I had been on a kick of looking up the symbolic meanings of every flower we encountered, so of course I had to look up the meaning of elderflowers. Just GUESS what I found. I bet you can't. It's absolutely INSANE. Drum roll please..... REBIRTH! Yes, you read that right. Rebirth as in VAMPIRES who are people who were birthed once and then died and are now alive again. Ok, yeah, it's a LITTLE bit of a stretch, but still, out of all the flower meanings like eternal love, dedication, purity, etc, rebirth is the most vampire-esque which I think is an insane coincidence.

We had looked at train tickets, but for some reason had waited till this moment to try and book them, but to our utter shock and horror we found that the train we had originally planned on taking was no longer available and the soonest wasn't till at 3 PM! Not the end of the world, but we were hoping to get to Brasov before nightfall so we could explore a little, so that was a little disappointing. But as always, we'd make it work.

Once our stomachs were full and happy, we went off to explore Bucharest with the loads of time we now had. We found a beautiful 3-story bookstore with balconies and spiral staircases, which reminded me of the kind of library you would find in a castle.

After hanging out there for a bit, we wandered around, taking pictures, stopping in souvenir shops for postcards and other Romanian paraphernalia, and picking up some snacks from the grocery store. I got some milk, of course, as well as an interesting looking cheerio-esque snack that Morgan and I picked up because we wanted to have the full Romanian experience (which obviously had to include an authentic Romanian snack that the locals eat). I had no evidence that this was a common Romanian snack, but it was in a Romanian grocery store and all the text was written in Romanian, so it HAD to be authentic. Right?

As we wandered about, we stumbled upon the Macca-Vilacrosse Passage, which at the time we didn't know was sort of famous, we had just looked around a corner and decided it was an intriguing place to explore. It wasn't all that crazy, just a pretty little corridor, but it was still quite cool and photo worthy.

We also stumbled upon (I know should have more variety in my word choices, but it just fit so perfectly) one of the famous historical places in Bucharest (I know because I saw it on a bunch of postcards earlier) and explored around there. We took some photos; us leaning against pillars, us looking up in wonder at the architecture, us spontaneously playing cards on the ancient table, stuff like that.

In order not to miss our train like we had so very many times before, we headed to the train station like an hour early. There was much time to explore, so we browsed around the little stands of Romanian trinkets and found some scarves. As Morgan and I were looking at them, she wanted to know if they were made of real silk, so she asked the lady running the stand, to which lady replied ".... they are 15 lei". 15 lei is about $3, so she was essentially saying "they are $3 of course they aren't made of real silk". Silly Morgan. It's ok, I probably would have done the same, and we got a good laugh out of your misery so thanks for your noble sacrifice.

We had a stressful purchasing experience as we attempted to buy some tea and pastries from the cafe nearby, then ran onto our train right before it left. Once we scoured the train for our seats, promptly giving up and just finding a few seats near each other, we began to munch. My chai latte was quite delicious and the grumpy man's muffin (just to be clear, I didn't steal a grumpy man's muffin, here I'm referring to the grumpy man who sold me the muffin) turned out to be cream filled and the most delicious and most tastiest (Yes I know that's incorrect grammar, I wrote it that way for effect. Soon you will learn my ways, young Padawan) muffin I've ever had.

While on the train, I was pondering how I had seen so many people walking around with flowers. Either Romanian people really loved giving each other flowers for no reason or there was a holiday happening. Thankful for this new age we are in where we can find information about anything at any time, I did a quick google search and found out that today was in fact a Romanian holiday. Martisor marks the beginning of Spring and is celebrated by people giving loved ones flowers and little objects involving a string with intertwining red and white threads. That is so adorable. I was a little sad to learn that Romanians don't just give each other flowers for no reason, but the holiday is pretty cool too.

My delight at my newfound self-taught Romanian culture / history lessons was soon trampled on by an elephant when the train conductor came by to check our tickets and informed us (through a bystander who translated for us) that we were on the wrong train. A feeling of dread filled my gut as my brain came up with several different possible ways that this could go. We were going to get kicked off the train. Or be charged an insane fee. Or both. I thought we had had enough travel horror stories so far to last a life time, but I was wrong. I tried to remind myself that everything would work out ok, and that even if we were kicked out, we had each other and could just catch another train to Brasov. We nervously watched as the train conductor and our bystander translator friend conversed back and forth about our situation, until the nice girl who had been acting as our translator finally clued us in to what was happening. I was filled with relief when she began explaining how this train still went to Brasov, but took 4 hours rather than 2, without ANY mention of having to pay a fee or getting kicked out!

"So it's ok if we stay here then? We are not going to be fined or anything?"

"Oh no! We were just discussing what your options are since you aren't on the train you had originally intended, and this train is a bit slower"

We all laughed in relief, releasing the tension we had been holding as we (or at least I) had all been thinking about the commotion we had witnessed a few weeks ago when a group of guys on our train got charged 60 euro because they didn't click the "check in" button before they boarded the train.

Seeing as the train we were on was still going to Brasov, our intended destination, we decided to just stay put and enjoy the 4-hour ride. We then created what we referred to as out "sunrise plan"; since we would now be arriving after the sunset (therefore not really able to see much of Brasov at that time), we would just check in to our Airbnb, get some Romanian dinner, and then immediately go to bed so that we could wake up with the sun the next morning (around 6:30) and explore Brasov a little before going to Bran castle and then hopping back on the train to Bucharest for a long ride home.

As we were sitting there peacefully, me reading my book and Morgan munching on the Romanian snack we both had purchased earlier, Ginger decided to inspect the snack bag, perhaps attempting to glean some cultural insight from it or some such reason. After a few minutes, she asked to try some, and then began laughing as she told us that in our attempt to find a truly Romanian snack, we had in fact bought Romanian baby food! I can see it now, as the packaging had images of cartoon children on it, and it very much resembled a cheerio, but at the time of purchase I thought that's just the kind of snacks they ate in Romania. Despite being slightly stale, it still tasted pretty good, so we kept snacking on it through the remainder of the trip, not caring about the strangers around us giving us odd looks.

About 30 minutes, later the train conductor came back and excitedly said something to our translator friend, who relayed the message to us that this train was apparently stopping at the same station that our original train was going to stop at! The conductor motioned for us to follow him, and we all quickly gathered our things and raced after him, as we didn't know how much time we had. He led us down the platform, then stopped to converse with this other lady, who was apparently getting on that same train. She smiled and beckoned for us to follow her to the train, as we waved goodbye to the nice conductor man. We shared looks of shock as we could hardly believe how kind these people were! 

We waited at the platform for about 20 minutes, and seeing as our original train was supposed to be FASTER than the one we had been on, we became increasingly anxious that our train would not show and that we would be stuck in a random nowhere town in Romania. But the sweet lady who had guided us here gave us a reassuring smile whenever we glanced to her with worried looks, so we decided just to sit down and trust that our train would eventually come. I joined Morgan as she watched Leap Year, and soon enough our train was here!

We were delighted to find that our train was one of those super neat ones that you see in the movies, with the little cabins with sliding doors and a long corridor on the side. A giddy feeling bubbled up within me as I imagined running through the corridor and out the window with Tom Cruise at my side in an attempt to escape the evil murderous men chasing us. We each found our seats, which were in separate cabins, so we all messaged back and forth about our excitement at being on this cool train. For the first 10 minutes or so, Morgan interjected every so often with Harry Potter references ("I think I'm in the mood for some Bertie Bott's jelly beans, what about you guys?"), as we began to observe the surprisingly slow speed of our supposedly "high-speed" train. Slowly losing hope that we would arrive any sooner than four hours later, we began cracking jokes to lighten the mood. Ginger said we were "going the speed of a mall choo choo" and we all burst out laughing (which I could hear through the walls from the cabins on either side of mine).

The train finally picked up speed a little, and the time flew by as I alternated between reading my book, listening to music, and gazing out the window at the little Romanian homes and the beautiful mountains in the distance. By the time we arrived in Brasov, Kinley had made friends with this sweet Turkish girl who was studying abroad in Brasov. Apparently, Kinley also made friends with this older lady in her cabin who was giving her snacks. It amazes me how that girl manages to become friends with practically every stranger in her vicinity while also avoiding being murdered by the sketchy ones. Please teach me your ways, Kinley.

After helping the Turkish girl with her luggage and finding her an uber, we headed to our Airbnb. We came to a large and slightly sketchy-looking gate-door-thing, and after spending about 15 minutes trying to figure out the host's long explanation of how to get in (involving using a passcode to open this box, which gave us a key to open another box, which gave us a little card which we had to scan, which opened the door), we found ourselves in a pitch-black tunnel that lead into this alley-looking square which led us to our door. A flash of movement in the corner of my eye led me to whip my head around in the darkness... Was that a pair of glowing yellow eyes in the corner?

Once we finally got inside, the Airbnb was quite nice (despite the shower that flooded the bathroom and the lack of a minifridge to store my milk), but it was for sure a sketchy area, which was confirmed later when Ginger saw a sign spray painted on the inside of the tunnel which she looked up and found to be one of those "thieves guild" signs that robbers put up to signal that this was a good place to rob. Yikes. We just sprinted through the alley each time we went to and from our place, and managed not to get mugged or murdered, so I'm counting that as a win. 

Time to scope out an Authentic Romanian Restaurant and briefly explore night Brasov! As we wandered about, we saw glimpses of Brasov that was surely even more beautiful in the daylight, and mourned the turn of events that led us to the sad fact that we had almost no time in Brasov, which was quickly becoming our favorite place in Romania.

We found this cute little quaint place for dinner, and when we sat down and looked at the menu, we were promptly assured that we successfully found a restaurant with Authentic Romanian Food! I mean, I didn't actually go back there in the kitchens and see if they were using the proper cultural techniques and whatnot, but the dishes they served were definitely Romanian, which was more than you could say for the Italian restaurant down the street. Ginger and Kinley ordered the Romanian Cauldron dish (yes, the menu actually said "cauldron" - this made me very happy) called Le Ceaun, which was served in a bread bowl, and consisted of some sort of vegetable-meat soup which was mostly beans. Kinley even let me try a bean! Thanks, Kinley. Morgan and I got pies (her, a shepherd's pie, and me a cheese and tomato pie), which were quite delicious as well.

An honorable mention from our conversation:

Kinley to me (in reference to milk): “Do you think you are addicted?”

Me: “No”

Kinley: “I think you are”

Once we were fully satisfied and stuffed with Romanian food, Morgan, who we then dubbed as our Professional Summoner, summoned the check for us and we waddled back to our place.

Saturday, March 2nd

I got up at the crack of dawn (I see a theme brewing here, but I don't think I'm ready to become a morning person yet) to take some photos of Brasov's old town before we had to leave. The others joined later, and after marveling at the Black Church (the famous cathedral in town), and the adorable colorful buildings lining the streets, we grabbed some pastries (apparently Romanians didn't eat real breakfast either) and hopped in an uber to Bran.

The uber man was awesome, and in the 30-minute ride through the mountains we learned that he was born in Brasov, had left to work near Sicily, Italy for about 10 years, and had just come back a year or so ago. He told us tales of many things, and we learned some new Romanian words too. We had asked our other uber how to say thanks (and promptly butchering it as it was quite difficult to say), but our new uber told us that another way to say thanks is "merci"! How fun is that? You get some French and Romanian culture at the same time!

When we arrived in Bran, we were all in awe at how adorable this little vampire town was. We said goodbye to our new uber driver friend before wandering a bit and then realizing we should head straight to the castle to maximize the roughly 4 hours we had there. Spying the ominous castle in the distance, we began the long trek up the mountain. Just kidding, it was more like a short hike up a slightly inclined, curving path, but I like to remember it as a trek. Whilst walking, we noticed several spooky-themed signs adorning the path that said things along the lines of "beware, your blood may be sucked from your body in the not-so-distant future". I think it really added to the effect.

The castle was everything I ever hoped and dreamed it would be and more. It wasn't quite as gothic as I had imagined as there weren't any giant rooms where I could picture vampires holding balls to scope out their next victims, but nonetheless it was quite neat. It was mostly made up of convoluted secret paths to medium-sized rooms with plaques describing what the rooms had been used for along with quick little history lessons about the castle.

We learned about the castle's origins which began in the 14th century with its purpose being to protect Transylvania against the expansion of the Ottoman Empire, and then about Queen Marie who received the castle as a gift in 1920. She was an interior designer and absolutely loved the castle, so she renovated it, adding collections of beautiful furniture, art, and other things to it. The castle was later inherited by her daughter Princess Illeana who ran a hospital there in World War II. According to the plaques on the walls, the queen and princess both seemed like people I'd get along with quite well.

Random interesting factoid #1: There's a medieval German poem inscription above the entrance to the castle which translates to:

"if a bird builds a nest

to lay its eggs in it

then, it never flies away again

but stays in it

on the eggs in its nest

even while strangled"

ok.... the end took a pretty creepy turn there

The rooms not dedicated to recounting the history of the castle or of Queen Marie and Princess Illeana were filled with interesting facts about Romanian lore. We learned about many creatures such as Strigoi (which are like the 17th century Romanian version of vampires), Moroi (vampires but lamer, they aren't immortal but still have special powers and the tendency to suck your blood), Lelele (nymph-like women who dance around but get mad at you if you look at them), Pricolici (Romanian werewolf), and Capcaun (an ogre-like creature that kidnaps children and young women).  And of course, I was delighted to read that the Strigoi were in fact repelled by garlic, so the word on the street is actually quite accurate to the original Romanian mythology. I found that I was quite fascinated by all of the folklore and mythology and wished that I could linger and take my time soaking up every detail rather than being pushed along by the impatient swarm of tourists surrounding us. The tourists actually weren't that bad when we first entered the castle in the morning, but by the time afternoon rolled around, we found ourselves squeezing past hordes of them at every turn down the narrow passages.

There were also a few rooms dedicated to Bram Stoker's Dracula, which described how the book character was based on Vlad the Impaler, and how it started the whole vampire craze that still continues to this day. They showed clips from the bajillions of vampire movies that have been made since the writing of Dracula, which got me excited and made me want to watch ALL the Dracula and ALL the vampires ever. So cool.

While Bran castle is really not at all related to Vlad Tepes (Vlad the Impaler) or Dracula, it has been deemed the "Dracula Castle" because I guess it most resembles the one described in the book. Vlad the Impaler was born in Sighisoara (a super cool place I really wanted to visit but couldn't because it would've taken like 2 extra days just to get there) and actually resided in Poenari Castle, which was a bit less accessible to us on such a short trip, and honestly not quite as cool looking. It would've been nice to go to the REAL Vlad the Impaler castle, but Bran castle is pretty neat if you imagine that Vlad the Impaler was there. It is said that he was held prisoner there for 2 months, so that's good enough for me.

There was an option to take a tour of the torture chambers, which I guess just showed some of the medieval torture instruments of that region, but for the sake of the faint of heart in our group, we voted to bypass that section. It was also an extra fee, which was honestly the bigger factor in our decision. However, we stumbled upon this portal to the dungeons, which Kinley REALLLLY wanted to go to (her words), so despite the extra fee, we bought our tickets and hopped in.

And what a portal it was. We traipsed through eerie woods framed by scraggly hanging limbs with Romanian mythological creatures popping out to startle us at every turn. I wish. In reality, it was just a fancy elevator with some screens and fancy sound effects. Still, it gave us hope that something cool would be lying ahead.

When the elevator doors opened, we cautiously tiptoed out into the dark hallway with much anticipation. We caught a whiff of something slightly salty and metallic... I wonder what that could be. Certainly not blood. These dungeons were going to be SO cool! We finally reached the end of the hall, expecting to find some cells, or maybe some more stairs and paths that would lead us to some cells, but when we turned the corner we found... the bookstore? That was it?? That's all the "Dungeons Experience" was?? A fancy elevator and a dark hallway? What a scam. I can't believe we wasted 7 euro on that tourist trap. 

After we had mostly recovered from our foolish little adventure to nowhere, we searched for some food and planned our next adventure. I unfortunately wasted a few RON (the Romanian currency which is INSANELY cheap. 1 RON is like 20 cents) on some mediocre pastries (my pretzel was FLAKY! FLAKY I tell you!), but I found a pretty decent Bratwurst / hotdog type thing.

I had found this cool-seeming lookout point on google maps where there was supposedly a great view of the castle, so, bratwurst-thingy in hand, I began to lead us there on the side of the winding gravel road. The rest of the crew were being slow pokes, so I ended up a bit ahead of them, but little did I know that at that very moment, Kinley was expressing her distrust in my navigation skills to the rest of the crew. "Hannah's leading us into the boondocks, the absolute GOONIES... Where on earth are we going??". There's a video to prove it too. (If you would like the pleasure of seeing said video, you can message me with your request, and depending on whether or not you are deemed worthy, I may share it with you). Ok, I'm gonna go cry myself to sleep now.

To Kinley's disappointment, the lookout point ended up being quite nice, and actually included a little extra bonus of the burial site of Queen Marie's heart.

I got some great photos, then after stopping for a bit to eat a flaky cream-filled pastry on the edge of the steps to Queen Marie's heart, I decided to hike up the mountain to this cross where it looked like there would be an amazing view of the castle.

The trail barely existed and was insanely steep with crumbling, sliding dirt all around, so I practically crawled my way up with my camera around my neck, purse hanging off my shoulder, and shopping bag filled with Bran Castle memorabilia in hand. Once I reached the top, I was pretty proud of myself for making it without tumbling down the rocky mountain and cracking my skull open and was rewarded with an absolutely gorgeous view of the castle and surrounding area.

Buzzzz buzz. I pulled my phone out to see that Kinley was calling me.

"We are leaving now! Where did you go?!? We are meeting the uber in 10 minutes and the meeting point is a 10 minute walk away!".

I told her I was up on the mountain and waved when I saw them staring up at me in mild anger from the middle of the clearing. I promised her I would just take a few quick pictures and then be right down but when I looked for them again, I found that they left without me! So much for sticking together, although I guess I kind of already butchered that up by deciding to crawl up the mountain without telling anyone. Whoops. So, that's the story of how I ended up hastily bumbling my way down the mountain, butt-scooting the last of the way due to the insanely steep incline, and in the process covering myself, my camera, and my poor nice coat in dirt and crunchy leaves. 

I made it to the uber with time to spare, and I managed to keep my giddy smile mostly hidden (they still seemed a bit grumpy) as I attempted to brush the dust off of me.

Our uber driver was the wife of the nice guy we had had before so we had a nice little chat with her on the way back to the airport. I was immersed in my book when I noticed Kinley stifling laughter beside me. Apparently our driver had run a red light, then glanced in the rearview mirror, catching Kinley's eye and putting a finger to her lips in a "shhh" motion. Don't worry, we shall take this secret to the grave. Well, I guess I am telling you guys, but that doesn't count. You won't tell anyone, right?

Surprisingly without any complications, we reached Brasov once again and trained all the way back to Bucharest. We left plenty of safety time before our flight just in case all trains in Romania took twice as long as they said they were going to. This time, the train actually arrived when it said it was going to, so we had a few hours to kill in Bucharest once again. Determined to make the most of it, we decided to WALK from the train station back to old town (the walking part was not my idea by the way: keep this in mind for later). I found a nice-looking park on google maps, so I began to lead us there since no one really had any other ideas of what to do.

As we were walking, the streets got sketchier and sketchier until we reached this one particularly sketchy part of town with dirty broken windows and graffiti everywhere. "Hannah where are you taking us?? I feel like someone is going to pop out from some corner and try to stab us or something" was the general vibe of the conversation. I see a theme here... cough cough, Kinley. Hey, I'm not the one who said we should walk so don't get mad at me for the fact that the entire area around the train station is sketchy. 

But all of that chaos led us to this one memorable moment that made all of our turmoil worth it. We saw a group of young-adult guys walking towards us (with a little bit of fear in our eyes seeing as we were currently in the slums of a country we didn't know very well), and as we pass by, one of the Romanian guys grinned and blew kisses at all of us! Once he was behind us (and hopefully out of earshot) I immediately burst out laughing at the sheer unexpectedness of the action, to which the rest of the crew promptly replied by violently shushing my loud screeching laugh. I'm sorry I couldn't help it. That definitely broke the tension a bit though and distracted us from our somewhat dire situation (don't you worry, it actually wasn't all that dire seeing as it was daylight, we were together, and I had my pepper spray ready to whip out at a moment's notice).

Despite the brief fun moment from the Romanian guy blowing us kisses in the slums, we were all in a little bit of a sour mood for the rest of the time in Bucharest. I think we were all tired and hungry, and we couldn't decide on a place to eat because we wanted "authentic" Romanian food, but the park was a pretty touristy place so the only restaurants around weren't Romanian at all, but we also just wanted to sit down somewhere and eat because Ginger was feeling sick and we were all tired. I wandered through the park to try and blow of some steam, and it was beautiful despite the little lakes being filled with construction equipment rather than water.

Once we had cooled down a little, we kept trying to find food, and ended up settling with a few meat pretzels from Luca. I wasn't really in the mood to eat anymore, so while they were getting their meat pretzels I decided to go back to the little craft/art market thing we had passed by a little while ago and found these really beautiful handmade earrings that had gold wire with dark red petals dangling on the end. As if I don't have enough earrings already, but hey, it's a collection at this point so I can't give up now or else I'd be a wimp.

My plan has actually been working out quite well though, only buying earrings and postcards as my souvenirs (other than the very OCCASIONAL exception of course). When I've traveled in the past, my bags have been weighted down and wallet run dry with all of the little things I see that capture my heart along the way, and I end up with random things like stuffed sheep, little figurines, and trinkets that I have no idea what to do with later. Postcards are perfect because they are cheap and flat, you can find them pretty much everywhere, and you can make little collages on your walls with them. So everywhere I go I am determined to find at least one postcard from there for my wall, and then if I find some nice earrings too, that's an added bonus. Here's the best travel advice you are going to get on this blog; pick ONE thing that's small and cheap that you can collect from everywhere you go. Once and a while if you find something SUPER special you can get that too, but if you stick to that rule your back and your wallet will be very happy with you. I would recommend flat things like postcards or little paintings, but there are many other things you could collect like magnets or keychains.

Getting on the plane, I had a once in a lifetime experience. I was the first one on the plane!!! That never happens because, of course, I am not in the military, or a wheelchair, or first class, but because we all got on a bus and I happened to be right near the door, I ended up being the first on the plane! How cool is that? I feel special now and my life is forever changed.

While in Bucharest, we had planned our way back home. We flew into Rome, but we didn't realize that getting in at around 9:30 PM would mean that there would be practically no trains going back to Florence, so we booked a long-distance bus to get the rest of the way back. The thing was that the bus didn't leave from the airport, so we had to get on the Airlink to the train station in order to catch our bus. We only had a few minutes of wiggle room (which is not very ideal, but really the best option at this point unless we wanted to stay in Rome overnight), so we practically ran to the place where the Airlink bus was supposed to pick us up.

The bus arrived, we hopped on and relaxed for a bit, but our relief was very short lived. Kinley was checking our position on google maps, and about 7 minutes into the bus ride she started to get concerned, saying "guys.... I think we are on the wrong bus... it's going the opposite direction of where we need to go". I looked at the map, now getting a little nervous as well, but assured everyone that the last time we used the Airlink it had gone kind of a roundabout way so we should be fine. But, as we kept going further and further from our intended destination, we all became increasingly worried. Where was this bus going? We all agreed that we should ask someone on the bus, and after a few minutes I finally gathered up the courage to ask the nice man sitting near me, "Hey, where is this bus going?" with a little nervous laugh at the end. He kindly responded by telling us that it was going to the end of the Metro Line B. Yup, definitely not the right bus. But wait! All hope was not lost yet! With a few taps, a heal click, and a quick spin, I found on google maps that the Metro Line B would actually take us straight to our train station! And with even more time to spare than we had originally planned! This was absolutely perfect. The rest of the crew still seemed a bit wary, asking clarifying questions every couple of minutes to make sure that: yes, the metro ran at this hour, yes, it would take us to the right place, and yes, we should get there in time, and so on. I don't blame them; I didn't trust my navigating skills anymore either as I was the one who got us all on the wrong bus in the first place. But all we really had at this point was hope, so I decided it was best not to squash it.

Soon enough, we were on the nearly empty metro (woah, I've never seen it this desolate before!) with only a few other people from our bus there. I was reading my book pretty much the whole time as I was nearing the end and was being thrown all of the curveballs. Oh my goodness, he has two triplet brothers he never knew about! Oh my goodness, they are evil and one of them just killed the other! Oh my goodness, now he just killed their dad and is going after them! Oh my goodness, the grandmother is in on it and is chasing after them too! Oh phew, he is a little beat up but safe now and the evil brother is dead. Oh my goodness, the evil brother actually isn't dead, his finger twitched! So, as you can imagine, my emotions were all over the place between the rollercoaster happening in my book and in real life.

As we neared our stop, the nice man from the bus earlier who had told us where we were going happened to be on the metro too, and came over to us just to tell us that we were nearing the intersection of the metro lines in case we needed to get on the other line. How incredibly sweet! We were astounded once again by the kindness of strangers on this trip. We thanked him and told him that this was actually our stop. He asked us where we were going and when we said the Tiburtini train station, these two ladies standing nearby overheard us and said "hey, that's where we are going, we can walk you there!". We responded with immense gratitude and then our 15-minute journey to the train station commenced.

Along the way, we chatted with them and learned that they had met each other at school in Pennsylvania and were just now meeting up again for the first time! How awesome is that? One is from Lithuania and the other is from Brazil and she does... wait for it... Accounting! No way! What a neat coincidence.

The sweet ladies said farewell, and we were now left alone to figure out exactly where the bus left from. After a few minutes of running around like a dog looking for its hidden toy (just imagine that the dog needed its hidden toy in order to make it back home or something), we finally found it! Phew, we made it on the bus and now we just had a few hours till we would be home! Strangers rock.

As we sat, reclined in the cushy bus seats and chatting a little before winding down for the night bus ride, Morgan and I briefly discussed the events of the day and how do we manage to keep getting on the wrong trains and buses? Maybe it has something to do with our tendency to hop on the first train or bus we see, which often ends up not being ours... Nah, it's gotta be something else. We must be cursed, that's it

Enjoying our nice, relaxing bus ride, we each finished our books and had a hilarious time recounting the events of our respective books to one another. We drifted off to sleep, and then soon enough we were in Florence! Finally, home! Well... not quite. When we got off the bus, we turned on our maps to show us the supposedly short walk home, but to our surprise, the place we had been dropped off shared the name of, but certainly not the location of the place I had looked up earlier that was a 10-minute walk from home. This bus stop was way outside the city center, and a 2-HOUR walk from home. Yikes. So close, yet so far.

At this point it was 2 AM, so our options were quite limited. There's a tram that would take us home, but it didn't start running till 4:30. We could call a taxi? No one picked up or answered. We could find a hotel nearby and stay the night? There were none close enough to walk to safely, and none of them were big enough to have a reception desk open at 2 AM. We were all shivering and a little luny to distract ourselves from the dire situation we were in. This time it was dire for realsies. The bus station was dark, dirty, and desolate except for a few suspicious-looking characters hanging around the corners. So, staying around here wasn't really an option either.

We tried everything, Morgan called her family for help, I tried to see if there were any other buses coming through that would take us home or any sort of other transportation. Becoming more and more desperate, the others began talking about walking home because we all just wanted to be home so badly, but I had to smack some sense into them. We were thinking about walking in the dead of night through the sketchiest part of town of a large city in a foreign country for 2 HOURS? ALONE? Yeah no, if we were going to do that, we might as well have just gone and found a gang full of giant men with drugs and guns and hung out with them for a while.

Deciding to at least look around a bit to try and scope out anything at the bus station that could possibly help us on our quest, we found an area closed off by a horridly screeching door which had a bathroom! Sweet! At least we could lock ourselves in and hide out there for a while if we needed to. So, that's exactly what we decided to do. It was about 3 AM at this point, so we decided just to wait in our little ramshackle shelter until the tram opened at 4:30.

Kinley brushed her teeth and tried on her new skirt, while Ginger began working on her paper and Morgan talked to her family on the phone. I sat down and read for a while but then I caught a glimpse out of the corner of my eye of a bus arriving! This could be our salvation! I quickly ran out and up to the bus guy to ask him where the bus was headed, but he was busy checking people in. I spotted a friendly-looking dude waiting by the bus and when he spotted me, looking quite frumpled and puzzled I'm sure, I asked him if he knew where the bus was going. In his Australian accent, he responded that he certainly hoped it was going to Rome because that's where his ticket said it was going. At seeing my disappointed reaction, he asked where I was trying to go, and I gave him a brief explanation of our unfortunate situation. Trying to be helpful, he offered that the tram would take us to the city center, but when I asked excitedly if they were running now, he said with sympathetic eyes that they weren't. Oh well, at least I tried. I said goodbye to my new Australian friend and went back to hide in the bathroom with the rest of the crew.

There were some creepy men lingering in the hallway outside the bathroom, which kinda freaked us out a little, but not long after, a police officer came and kicked them out! He said we had to keep the door of the bathroom open, but at least we weren't so afraid anymore. After he had left, Kinley was calling her mom and mentioned that a police officer had come, to which she responded with "why didn't you tell the officer your situation and ask for help?". Yeah, good point... that would've been a good idea if we had thought of that 15 minutes ago before he left. He was likely now long gone.

After 30 more minutes of waiting for our impending doom, we couldn't take it anymore and decided to follow a group of people who had just gotten off a bus. Maybe they knew something that we didn't. We saw them all hop into the cars of friends, family, and taxis and skid off to some cozy home, probably with a nice warm fireplace, some tea, and a little dog to cuddle up with... Wait, TAXI! How did they get a taxi?? We found a sign with another number for a taxi and tried again, but to no avail. But just as we were about to give up all hope and retreat back to our hiding hole to wait for the tram again, a taxi pulled up to drop off a few people. What luck! We ran over to him and asked if he could take us to the city center and he agreed! We were saveddddd!

It was all eerie on the way back, and the driver was definitely vroom vrooming way too much considering the immense amount of thick fog surrounding us in all directions. I thought I was going to die several times, but we were just thankful to be going home. In the midst of us intensely looking out the window, trying to will ourselves not to die on this crazy taxi ride, all of the sudden, insanely over-the-top party music starts to play, and a man in a low, spice voice says "Chihuahua". We all began to chuckle (including the taxi driver) which soon turned into another one of my hyena laughs, at the bizarreness of it all. Today has certainly been a wild ride to say the least.

I found out later that the song is called Chihuahua by DJ Bobo. I am blessing you with this information so that you can go look it up, listen to it right now, and get full immersion into the story. Do it. 

And with that, we finally arrived home. You already know I didn't waste one second before I dropped my bags, kicked off my shoes, and collapsed into bed. 

Roll the credits.

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And now, I present to you... Romania Extravaganza! Please enjoy the absurd amount of photos I took on this trip. I really tried to pair them down this time, so the miscellaneous bunch wouldn't be too much too handle, but I can only do so much.

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And that's that, thanks for tuning in to Hannah's Crazy Adventures in Europe, we hope to see you again next week for some more bizarre, entertaining, and slightly dire times.

Just kidding about the "next week" part, I'm not going to even try setting a deadline, as you all know how well that's worked out for me the past few weeks. It's been Midterms, ok? Gimme a break. I'll catch up eventually... perhaps.

In the meantime, you can go re-read my previous adventures if you are desperate and need something to keep yourselves busy.

As always, creative liberties have been taken at times, so don't get your panties all in a bunch if you read this expecting word for word accuracy. To keep the fun in, I'll let you decide for yourselves what parts were "creatively enhanced" (winks).

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