God, I miss Romania!

My trip to Reykjavik has started a few days ago with a stopover in the UK to visit family in a terrible, traditional English town.

Every time I come here, I think that living in this place would be impossible for me. Why? First, because in this lifetime I must fulfill my dream of living surrounded by magnificent concrete walls while breathing the crisp, life prolonging, factory infused air. I’m also worried of not being able to get enough of the occasional dog bite as a form of appreciation for being an exemplary neighbour, and of course- the best of it all- getting the daily dose of satisfaction while savouring the famous Bucharest traffic. Once you try it- you’re hooked for life. You start craving to see people crossing streets at unmarked places, you miss hearing the unequaled Romanian swearing! It embraces equally all the members of society! One can never feel discriminated here- no matter of the skin colour, age, sex orientation or gods they believe in.

In the UK, life is too plain. There’s a depressing lake surrounded by a natural reservation where I can never find the familiar litter lying inconspicuously behind bushes. There’s no charm in cycling here either. My natural talent of looking at the wrong side of the road whenever I try to ensure passage through a crossroad always fails to bring the much-desired result- they never swear at me! They just smile. Every time. It’s an abomination! Instead of the healthy dose of adrenaline rush I’m used to get, I have priority in passage for my whole lifetime and I don’t get to use neither my health nor life insurance. What a waste!

A castle where no one ever got impaled; two pubs where I never get the chance to complain about food quality… How do they entertain here? Neighbours with dogs that never bite; supermarkets with food supplied by local farmers… Don’t they know about importing from other continents? The only thing about the UK which makes me feel like at home is the trains. Delays, cancellations- finally something which is the way it’s supposed to be!

Thanks God I had to endure it only for 2 days! I leave the UK completely unsatisfied, and I worry things might continue in same fashion in Iceland too. Their air carrier didn’t charge me for choosing my seat and they even offered me to buy a 3 euro coffee! Do they think I don’t know that a good coffee can never cost less than 6 euros? And what is it with all this leg space?

God, I miss Romania!

P.S. To be taken with a grain of salt.