March 2025. Bucharest.
Not a bad sleep on the 13 hour overnighter from Chisinau, but Bucharest North brings you back to reality, reminiscent of Kings Cross 30 years ago.
Our flight is at 3.30, we’ve got 5 hours to get explore the city by metro, but no one will sell us the Tourist Card for a couple of quid that will whizz us around town and then up to the airport.
We drink strong coffee, and decide to explore the west bank instead.
It’s scruffy, but does contain the ruins of the Communist HQ (awaiting conversion to a Brunning & Price),
so that’s OK.
Bucharest isn’t notably less scruffy than on our 2018 visit, but the area around the Opera house is pleasant,
and we got what we wanted L’Opera Bistro.
A long, leisurely, brunch, and spotless toilets.
They were lovely in there, and enthused about the local imperial stout.
But, hey, it’s 10am, too early for imperial stout, and Richard Clayderman,
but never too early for political art.
And that’s a wrap on Europe. Back to Sheffield later.
retiredmartin 
Bucharest North sounds like a constituency in the Romanian parliament represented for forty years unopposed by Nicole Ceausescu.
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It’s never too early for a beer when you’re on holiday, even an Imperial Stout. It doesn’t count on holiday.
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…and when you’re retired, life is one long holiday.
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Not if Mrs B’s got anything to do about it.
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… and when you’re in a town with a Craft Union pub.
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