Ferdi and the Bear

Despite a less than auspicious start with Romanian dogs, the Malteaser and I made the rash decision to adopt one. But then, wouldn't you be tempted?

His name is Ferdinand, or Ferdi for short. Romanian history buffs will recognise the name as being that of one of the kings of their short lived dynesty. His being from Sinaia, it seemed appropriate.

The Malteaser and I found Ferdi and many other small dogs in a layby on the mountain road behind the historic castle. I'm not really sure who chose who, but he didn't put up much resistence. Funnily enough, neither did anyone else, as we whisked away a 4 week old pup, barely able to walk without falling over.

We're just hoping he gets a bit better with the potty training.

Within minutes of the kidnapping we met an interesting mother and baby combo. We were very excited about seeing them so close, evn if we were slightly afraid. We like to think of our little canine adoption as having saved him from the clutches of a big scary bear!

For months now, I have been wondering....

....what on Earth these little plastic things are. I found one in the garden the other day and they're everywhere arounf the streets of Buzău. Anyone able to shed some light on the subject?

A visit from Geo

We had our first visitor in Romania a few weeks ago. I could tell you all about it but I think I the best thing to do is to read about it in her own words; http://joabroadeurope.blogspot.com/2009/06/romanian-hospitals.html

I think it'll remain a memorable trip for if not necessarily for all the right reasons. For one thing, it has earned her the nickname "Geo". Before finally being remedied at the hands of the Francophone doctor with the leather-clad door, we tried some more alternative therapy. Whilst passing through a mountain spa-retreat (yes, Romania does have some of those) we stopped at a cafe which "Geo" limped up to. As we were accompanied by a four week old puppy (more about that later) we soon made friends with the cafe's patrons and one of them, let's call him "Matchmaker", introduced us to his young friend, a masseur. Quite what a massage was supposed to do to for an insect bite I don't know but we ended up in this masseur's bedroom, as the only convenient place for her to receive treatment. His hotel room (for this is where he worked) was shared, as indeed was his bed, with a fellow worker who merely moved over to allow enough room for "Geo" to lie down. It quickly became apparent that I was playing the role of chaperone - they both seemed beside themselves to have two girls in their room and we suspect the one in the bed may have taken a surreptitious photo from under the bedclothes. About twenty minutes later, we managed to free ourselves (Geo still limping) and return to the cafe where the Malteaser was anxiously waiting dog-sitting.

We bought our new friends a beer for their services (not that they didn't enjoy every minute of it) before getting back in the car, not before exchanging numbers and promises to return next weekend (fat chance with Geo living in Swirzerland, mate!). Sure enough, later on that afternoon I received a text. "Y like Geo verry much. Love. Kiss."

Rather her than me! I still haven't replied!

The Malteaser’s tale

My apologies for the lack of posts of late! I have a whole stack of subjects that I'm hopefully going to trot out in the near future. For now I have a little story that the Malteaser recently shared with me about a business trip.

Whilst travelling with one of his heads of department, who is Romanian, in her car, but with him driving, the Malteaser was pulled over by the police. Not aware that he had committed any kind of offence, he calmly pulled over and produced his driving licence. His colleague did the talking and it turned out that his heinous crime was that of driving, in daylight, without his headlights on. Obviously this awful law-breaking could not go unpunished so the police officer wrote down his name (luckily for the Malteaser just his two Christian names) and informed him (via his interpreter) that he was going to be prosecuted.

Despite repeated pleas and arguments the officer seemed hellbent on making an example of the Malteaser. There was a brief round of Gallic shrugging before his Romanian counterpart decided on a different tack. As fortune would have it, the police officer in question, along with his colleague, had been whiling away his time in their stationary vehicle by drinking. So the Malteaser's plucky right-hand woman offered the law-enforcers a little bribe;

• "Perhaps you'd be interested to know that I have a case of wine in the boot," she proffered.
  
• "Hmm, you'd have to speak to my boss about that," replied the polițist, hesitantly.
  
• "It's French wine".
  
• "Oh no. We don't want that!
  
• "Well, what I meant was it was made by French producers in Romania.
  
• "Oh, well if it's Romanian wine...."
  

So, it seems that silence can be bought – but only if the goods are top quality. Don't even think about offering something as shoddy as French wine.

And that's how a Frenchman gets evades the law in this country.