Bucharest

Romania is not the crumbling, grey city of Bucharest. We got here in the early afternoon only to realize that we had left our passports in the safe box at Sinaia. A traveller's worst nightmare - okay, not the only one. We seem to be going down some kind of list beginning with the infamous incident post-Vatican visit in 2000. We've always been able to say, "Well, we didn't lose our passport." Today we're saying, "At least my back didn't go out, I wasn't hospitalized, the car didn't stop running while on the freeway, the driver didn't fall asleep at the wheel, there was nothing which required the use of anti-biotics, the taxi drivers actualy dropped us off at our requested destinations & didn't win the argument for 25 more Lei." So the trip was only an hour and a half back and the once more again (all together now). The weather was fine and the military convoys light - or actually, maybe that was the same one we passed three times.

In the mountains it was in the 70s, in Bucharest it passed 80'. We finally made it into the old town near 7pm. The place is Art Nouveau and crumbling into metal hair nets swagging the windows and pediments. It is a lovely bit, but only in the beginnings of revival. The old town isn't as large as even Vicenza. Our waiter was happy to know we had a chance to see the real "Romania" - Sinaia, Brasov, Sighiosoara.

Frankly, we plan to come back. There's too much to see: the dense forests, the shy people, the exuberance of their pickled beets and cucumbers. It's a country wearing black dresses and a red headscarf.