Tourism, Bucharest style

What a ridiculous city. The population all seem to have split personalities, one psychotic for driving, and one for everything else. This manifests itself as noise, and lots of it. Engines, horns and sirens are the soundtrack to Bucharest, with dirt and decrepitude as the backdrop. Apparently this is the Paris of the east, perhaps with a good scrub and some driving lessons it could be.

The bus into town was eventful, as we were fined for not having a ticket. This ticket is impossible to buy on the bus, and at bus stops. The nearest place where we could get a bus ticket was, of all places, the airport. So we had no tickets, and got fined by the jobsworth inspectors, who couldn't care less that we came from somewhere that had no tickets. Romanian authority sucks.

What made up for this in spades was the Museum of the Romanian Peasant. If you think that this name sounds eccentric, slightly random and of dubious quality, you would be right, but only on the first two counts. This is essential viewing in Bucharest, somehow encapsulating everything that is Romania in one slightly unhinged package. It contains a multitude of exhibits, arranged in a semblance of order, ranging from clothes to tools to a whole wooden church and windmill, all indoors. They charged 6 lei entry, and 50 lei to take photos, so we didn't pay for the photo privilege. This was a mistake, the museum is easily worth 56 lei, so much so I am considering returning tomorrow just to get some photos.

So in summary, Bucharest itself is a deranged beast of a city, with some refuges of sanity lurking within. Also some nice soup: Transilvanian sour soup.