The Tar Pit

This September went by in the blink of an eye... and in an unexpected contrast to my story just a few blinks ago, I can't muster the energy, nor do I even believe it would be wise at all to try describing my September in words. So here's some photos instead:

Brașov hasn't changed all that much since last time: it remains a small rural outgrowth on top of a hard core of civilization, meanwhile bereft of the people who built said core. It ain't sophisticated, so to speak, nor do its inhabitants have access to the same means with the same effort as, say, the stupid Bucharestians, nor are they plagued by the same neuroses, which actually made the couple of days I spent there quite enjoyable. Oh, and the small historical centre packs a bunch of small eateries, some of which serve absolutely delicious stuff -- including the to-go ones; especially those.

All in all, Brașov seems to be surviving the Great Destructuring without any major issues, which I suppose is the advantage of the countryside: it isn't much to begin with, so one might as well make the best of it. Speaking of which, here's some of the writing on that wall:

Back to rural Bucharest, we notice that one of the town's largest parks has been turned into an ad-hoc pigeon-feeding pen of sorts:

Above: who eats the pigeons, though? Below: waterporn.

In closing, I shall recount to you the story of when my woman and I went to Cișmigiu a couple of days ago. So we went to Cișmigiu a couple of days ago, seeking an ad-hoc picnic on a bench of what remains of this former beauty of a park. We took a couple of burgers with us, which reminds me: if you ever pass by and you're into actual burgers made from actual cow meat, cooked using the proper grease and all, and the most important of all, not overcooked -- if you're into this kind of thing, make sure to check Burgeria Știrbei by Malacu', yes, owned by a tall guy nicknamed Malacu', which around the place is a sort of nickname/epithet for tall guys. Anyway, I'm mentioning him not just because he makes the best burger in town by far, but also 'cause he speaks and acts human, unlike those inept dudes who left me with a gastroenteritis back in December. Anyanyway, check out the burger place on Știrbei Vodă.

So just as we're finishing our food on a bench, under a tree by the lake, these guys appear:

Yes, it's a bunch of crows, on the first pass. On the second pass I'll add the observation that Cișmigiu is not just a park, it's part of a whole ecosystem; more precisely, the Cișmigiu garden is were crows go to lie around during summer, after a hard day's work at the local dumps near Glina. And although the summer is well gone by now, the damned birds haven't moved yet and instead they decided to provide the show above.

On a third pass (which was actually the first, because we're fucking Romanians), many jokes were had. You see, crows are a double-entendre, the fun stemming from the fact that both winged and mammal-bipedal crows venture to said garbage dumps, which... hell, you get the idea and I've just ruined the joke.

On the fourth and fifth pass the keener eye will see the underlying historical, social, political and other consequences of Romanians being what they are and not something else. On this note, lettuce end with a night shot:

Filed under: in the flesh.
RSS 2.0 feed. Comment. Send trackback.