It's my birthday but it doesn't exactly feel special as I haul my knackered body to breakfast. Kate and Stef have made me a card out of the hotel key holder, which is a lovely thought that improves the 5:00 wake-up call no end! We walk to the airport and hike through security, spurred on by strange half hologram people, and join the queue for the aeroplane. After a nap, the start of Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, a good chat and a banana or three we dismount our steely steed and meet our guide Laszlo in the Cluj-Napoca airport. He is a thirty something, bearded and bespectacled Hungarian with a friendly and sincere smile.

We get into his car and begin our journey, having a quick look around Cluj-Napoca first. We see a large cathedral, some exquisite feline graffiti a square with a statue of a Hungarian king in it and stop for a sandwich and freshly squeezed orange juice which Kate throws all over the shop. Getting back on our way we get to know Laszlo and each other a little better whilst gazing at the Romanian towns and countryside. Even the horse and carts are driven recklessly and we quickly overtake realms of other cars around sharp bends. My head is nodding by the time we're 90km from our destination, Odorheiu Secuiesc, so we stop for an espresso at a service station where I stretch vigorously and feel a lot better. The remaining miles consist of hills and ramshackle houses with their occupants sitting outside; grandfathers with little children on their knees.

We reach Odorheiu and explore our house for the next 10 days, which is two bedrooms in a long wooden building with a big garden and a battered old Toyota in the grass which still has the keys in the ignition. We head out to a place called Select for dinner, which for me consists of battered cheese fritter, chips sprinkled with cheese, pickled cabbage and chillies and vegetable soup. Pretty fantastic, and Laszlo gets three beers and a berry schnapps down us before asking if we want to go for a few more and some jazz. Despite being past the point of tired, we head to a lovely dim lit bar with locals, a jazz band with an amazing double-bassist and a beer called Harghita after the local hills. Me and Simon bond over knowledge of a band called Lightyear (he's from Derby) and Laszlo chats with his friends. We head back to the house and hang out in the garden with a bottle of birthday champagne for me! It also turns out we have some international salesmen Hungarian neighbours and give us their card. They talk some nonsense about girls and try to entice us to a place called The Jungle Club on account of the attractive ladies, but we've been up for 22 hours and can't help but refuse, wisely choosing bed instead.