Elenka and I were sitting in a cafe called the Orient Express with a Romanian guy named Radu when the storm hit. Patio chairs and tables out in front of the place blew every which way. Suddenly, Radu jumped to his feet, ran out the front door and latched onto a frightened young girl and her bunny who were about to be swept away by the gale-force winds. First it was thunder and lightening, then rain, then hail. The bunny pooped. We'd be in the cafe for a whil...

 The Slovak relatives aren't doing so well with their predictions of crime and danger in Romania. When we left Slovakia for the Land of Vlad the Impaler they almost prayed for us to head west instead. Although the Romanian countryside lies in ruin far west of us, the cities and towns we've visited in Transylvania appear to be prospering. Restaurants are always busy; expensive shoe and clothing stores are the same; and beer flows all day and night at the ...

Elenka and I had just spent ten days in Brusno, Slovakia with the relatives. After tears and kisses goodbye, cousin Mana dropped us off at the train station in Zvolen, about 20 kilometres south. From there we eventually made it to Budapest, where we climbed aboard an east-bound night-train bound for Romania. Elenka took one look at our four cabin-mates with their chock-a-block luggage and headed straight for the conductor, intent on working some good old Eastern-...