The hedonistic bell-curve

As some of you may have guessed from the blogs and our general economic climate that we have adopted a somewhat hedonistic lifestyle in some regards. We go out alot, we buy lots of booze, Dave smokes etc. It was not always like this, however. When we first got here we lived like paupers for a few days until we found our feet. Since then we've been gradually getting more extravagant with our purchases; buying wine from a wine shop in the trendy parts of town instead of the minimart around the corner etc. Today we went into said trendy wine shop to get some bottles to accompany our trip to Resita (a mountain town in south-west Romania) over the weekend. What is a trip without wine? Nothing; that's what.
So we went into the shop and perused the selection of fine wines from all around the world. Most of them cost somewhere between 14RON and 40RON, or £2 and £10. We picked two and random (and a third because it was called Lowengang) and went to the counter where a stereotypically attractive woman took our purchases and started to ring them up on the till.
After some faffing around on a calculator (they assume we don't speak Romanian because of our accents, but I'll have you know we nailed the numbers 1-10 at our last lesson) she showed us the price- 345.
Usually when we see a number like this they mean 34 lei and 50 bani, dropping the zero for convenience, one assumes. So Dave looked into his wallet and started to count out some notes. In the mean tume the woman asked "Is too much?" to which we replied "no of course not, that's just fine thanks. 34 lei, right?".
"Nu" she replied, "3 million."
This made us pause for thought.
"Are you sure you mean three million? Is it maybe three hundred and we picked up some expensive bottles?"
"Nu" she replied, "3 million."
"No...we're pretty sure you mean three hundred, but it's ok we'll just leave it thanks."
The girl then decided to emphasise her point by pulling out a 100 lei note and saying "See; one million!"
"No...that's one hundred, but it's ok we'll just leave it. We don't need wine that badly."
And so the transaction ended. One has to wonder how many Western customers she has lost due to her confusion between one hundred and one million? Perhaps a rich westerner proposed to make her a millionaire and promised that 100RON equated to 1000000 in anything else. Who knows. All I know is that we don't have any wine. Off to the minimart.

Today we also visited the largest shopping mall in Romania; the Iulius mall. As soon as we stepped inside we could have been anywhere in the world. There were KFCs, Pizza Huts, Polo, Ralph Lauren, United Colours of Benetton etc. It was all quite depressing. It was a necessary trip though, we needed more towels and jumpers and trying to find items like that in Timisoara is alot more hassle than it's worth in the winter. I think if we go back it will only be out of desperation. Or if they open a Starbucks. I miss my grandé triple shot iced caramel lattés.

French girls with knives and other such obscurities

A few nights ago we made a chili that my mother would be proud of. We encountered one major issue along the way, however. We did not have a tin opener for the kidney beans, chopped tomatoes etc. Panic ensued.
Luckily for us, we live with a girl who is rather remarkable. She's called Camille, she's from France and she can open any man made container with a kitchen knife and sheer determination. She simply stabbed the tin and sawed until our kidney beans had been liberated. This was a pretty cool sight at the best of times, but it was made better by the fact that the last time I saw her she was opening a bottle of wine with a knife while holding a conversation about the French author Michel Houellebeq. Sometimes I feel British culture removes the need for such basic life skills. Maybe we should encourage a revival of self-sufficiency and cast off the shackles of our machine-dependent world.
Or maybe we should just buy a can opener.

Just a word concerning Shaorma (and dogs).

Anyway. Let me take you on a little improvisational adventure around the bowels of the human psyche.

Shaorma. If there is one that Scotland needs it is Shaorma.

I take it that you have all seen the pictures of the Romanian Kebab. Romania is significantly closer to Greece and Turkey, the home of Kebab, than Glasgow. So comparatively I think it is safe to say that weedjie kebabs are something to be proud of.

That is until you try the Shaorma. Please. I beg you. Go to your local koh hi noor, your Amran or Flames Tandoori. Ask them to prepare you a mare Shaorma. It contains a precarious mixture of donner style bone dry chicken, bean sprouts, lettuce, cherry tomatoes and... chips. All smothered in a provocative sauce. And something resembling pita bread. There is no turning back.

N.B. I do not and cannot condone Gordon's filming of stray dogs. Notice my absence from the film. That was the largest public gathering we have witnessed to date. I behaved like any adult should and if you ever find yourself in Eastern Europe I recommend strongly (and I cannot emphasise this enough) that you do as I did; run away and cry.

HatsandHatsandHats

Fckd Up

The distant and mechanised glow of Eastern European Dance Parties

I would very much like to write that Gordon's previous post contained nothing but lies. Unfortunately I can't. If anything he did not go far enough.

Words cannot describe the filth. This land knows no morals. That is just how Romania rolls.

Guess what we're doing tonight. And tomorrow night.

Why not?