My first night in Brasov was an interesting one to say the least, and it’s one that I won’t soon forget.
I arrived in Brasov early in the evening on Thursday, and met my host who owned the apartment I was renting. She was a young, vibrant local named Anna who was; let’s say more ‘free’ than the average person. I don’t want to label her as a hippy, but she was ‘fringe’. Her boyfriend had an interesting name that I can’t spell, so I’ve decided to omit that.
Within half an hour of arriving, I started to gaze at the bed and imagine myself sleeping on it. After two-planes, two-trains and a bus, I was looking forward to some much-needed sleep. As I approached the uncomfortable looking bed, Anna yells to me “Drinks?!” For a second I thought about saying no, before my youthfulness kicked me into gear and I obliged.
We went to a local bar, and sat down to have a drink. I figured this would be a one-two drink ordeal, but I was very, very wrong. A few minutes into the drinking session, her friends showed up and excitedly introduced themselves to me. They weren’t hippy, and in fact were very ‘normal’, pretty girls. I didn’t even think about trying to pickup these girls, and in hindsight I’m not sure why – it was so easy and right in front of me.
It was a pretty relaxed night until around 1:00 am when the trance music started to play. The laid-back Romanians started to come alive, as if possessed. I think the explanation lay in MDMA, which Anna and her friends took. The bartenders took it. I swear the dog even took it (read on).
The style of dance here is sort of a serpent-like shimmy-shake. It’s a bit weird, yet I oddly like it. My host Anna and her friends vanished to the dance floor and did their thing, while I followed and attempted to dance to trance music, which is a lot harder than it sounds when you aren’t hopped up on drugs, and are lacking sleep.
I took a break from the drug and sweat infused room to head out to the cancer inducing smoking area. I don’t smoke, but it was pretty hot and I needed some fresh air.
I started talking English to these two guys who were set on the fact that I was Australian, until two girls overhead me speaking English and surrounded me, cutting me off from the two guys. This is where my initial theory of foreign-supremacy here was spawned. One of the girls was named Alexandra, and we’d meet later on in the night. Her friend and her wanted to dance, but I didn’t really want to so she said to find her later. She was a 5’4 dark beauty. Olive skin colour, dark brown hair, dark brown eyes and great physical features. She was sweet, and could hold a conversation.
As I looked down the smoker’s row (it was a 3-feet wide wood path with a rail outside of the club, raised a few feet of the ground) and I see two sharply dressed men having a discussion.
At this point, I’m a few beers in and for some reason I go introduce myself. Apparently they don’t get many Canadians, because they were pretty excited to talk to me. We talked about everything from business, to art, to the women in Romania. I learned more about Romania in this conversation than I did my entire life.
One of the guys turned out to be a previous competitor on Eurovision for Romania, and the other guy was a famous artist in Romania. Both were early 30s. Their friends would come join the conversation occasionally, and would shake my hand, introducing themselves to me as if we were best friends. It’s the polar opposite to North American social circle dynamics.
Needless to say, hanging out with these guys turned me, or anyone for that matter into a women magnet. The way they dealt with the girls was impressive. It’s the sort of nonchalant way you’d imagine a Hollywood celebrity dealing with the hordes of girls he has to fend off.
I learned a lot about Romania from these two. The artist said to me “People leave Romania for a better job, but they hate to leave. They hate where they live and want to come back home”. This is a sentiment that I’ve largely heard elsewhere in Romania too. This speaks volumes to how much the locals really love Romania.
The conversation ended, we exchanged our “See you laters” even though we knew we’d never see each other again, and we parted ways. I went back into the club to see a massive white bulldog running around licking up all of the alcohol (and presumably drugs) spilled on the floor. I’ve never seen a dog this jacked up in a club. Scratch that, I’ve never seen a dog in a club, period. This dog was great entertainment for the rest of the night.
I walked around the club a bit, mingled, and eventually saw Alexandra again. We danced a bit, drank a bit more, kissed a bit, and exchanged numbers. We each had a White Russian, and as a sidebar – this bar makes amazing White Russians.
It was 3:30 and I was ready to ditch. The swarm of drugged out Romanians dancing to trance music was starting to filter out onto Republicii, the main shopping street. Just as I’m ready to pull this girl home, my host Anna runs up to me “if you want to bring a girl back to the apartment go ahead” not that I needed her approval, but for some reason this gave me confidence – as if it’s normal for girls here to go home with foreigners.
I suggested we go back to my place for beers, and she was very receptive, saying yes instantly. You guessed it – I didn’t have any beer at my place.
I was a bit worried that taking her through to my place would be a no-go, as I was staying in a 17th century fortress. The pathway to my apartment was a dark set of stairs, with no lighting. She didn’t mention it, and we headed to the apartment where we wasted no time, and I proceeded to sleep with my first Romanian women.
When I woke up, she made coffee, and we exchanged goodbyes. It was clean, almost business-like. We both had fun, and appreciated it. I’ve texted her once or twice since then, but nothing more.
When I go back to Brasov, Alexandra will surely get a message from me.