Romania - A Heavy Case of Francophilia

Romania. Why Romania? Early on in the noplanes piece, I offered Phillipa a choice. Pick a country to go to. In fact, just give me your dream list, lets go. Romania was on the list, Iran, home of the Supreme Leader of Iran, made it to the list as well. Due to India being totally against Australian's just showing up without a Visa, Iran didn't happen. Yet. Long story. So, at this point in the journey, it came down to Romania (her choice), or four weeks in Compton, South Central Los Angeles (my choice). Yes, opposites do attract. Romania. The recent history of a frog loving megalomaniac so mad as to build a soviet version of the Champs-Élysées, had piqued my interest. Of  course, Nicolae Ceauşescu made sure his boulevard was slightly wider and longer than the original in Paris. It's just around the corner from the Arc De Triomph, which is also in Bucharest. WTF? Does Paris know about this? In any case, like Ceauşescu, I have a heavy case of francophilia (not to mention my yellow fever). I know about Dracula and the Castle Bran, and had heard about some crazy Bucharestian Gypsy ghetto's. So we hopped on a bus bound for Cluj Napoca, and drove across the Carpathian mountain range to Bucharest. If it wasn't for me walking around snapping pics for three days without the film actually winding on, I would have a few more photos. Oh well, shit happens...

Peles Castle, Romania.