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-...

 Elenka and I had to take three trains in Slovakia before we could climb aboard the final one that would take us direct to Budapest. But it was in the town, Sturovo, less than 2 kilometres from the Hungarian border where our worries began. The amount of time we would have to spare for our train change in Budapest for our final destination, Sighisoara Romania, was 45 minutes. But the train from Sturovo to Budapest was going to be 50 minutes late. We'd miss ou...

 The shots we took of the balcony restaurant should perhaps include an interesting little tale. Elenka and I both ordered roast duck. When it arrived it was cold and somewhat tough. When the meal was over Elenka complained to the waitress. I threw my best Slovak into the fray saying the duck was probably old. The waitress replied, in Slovak of course, which I had absolutely no understanding of, saying that the chef would never cook an old duck. After I'd dig...

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