Monthly Archives: April 2012

Nina’s Travel Rule #22: Don’t Go on a Field Trip Drunk, You Will Probably Pee in Poison Ivy

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It’s 5:30 am, I’ve been asleep for about two hours, and I am completely beyond fucked up.  This is unfortunate, ’cause I’m supposed to be driving about 30 unpleasant paleontology students to the field for some fossil prospecting in about 30 minutes.  I can’t get a ride to school ’cause my ride is in a worse state than I (it’s true, bless his heart), and I’m thinking I may be too incapacitated to figure out the bus.  I know, I’ll bike!  About 20 minutes and, say, three whole miles later (so I’m a little wobbly and confuddled, so what…), at least I’m there on time.  This is when it dawns on me that I totally can’t drive, the professor I’m slaving for is narcoleptic so there’s no way in fuck I’m riding with him, and it’s shaping up to be about 110 degrees out today.  Balls.

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Nina’s Travel Rule #21: When in Transylvania, Try Not to Get Pepper-Sprayed On a Bear-Hunt

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Best. Souvenir. Ever??

After about three days meandering around Transylvania, trying to avoid more tacky Dracula-themed tourist shit than any self-respecting tourist should be forced to avoid (although yes, I did indeed purchase the above…  but it’s adorable!), it occured to us that our hostel offered something much more amazing sounding.  You know how you roll into hostels all over the world, and there’s invariably a notice board with stupid signs for “amazing” deals, used / abused camping gear, and package excursions that surely would show you amazing sights un-dreamed-of by any previous traveler while never EVER ripping you off?  And it doesn’t matter if you’re in Abu Dhabi or Paris or Idaho, everything up there always sucks?  Well, the Rolling Stone Hostel in Brasov, Romania, is the glaring exception.  (This hostel is fabulous, btw, fairlyy adorable, fairly fun, and really fucking cheap.  Also it’s purple:  http://www.rollingstone.ro/). They offer the regular Dracula Tourism crap, yeah, but they also have an add for their famous Transylvanian Bear-Watching Night, which clearly could not be passed up.  And that’s basically how I found myself in a stranger’s car with a couple crazy Romanians and my perfect travelling buddy (I love you, Chris!), drunk on crappy Romanian beer, faced with the choice of getting: a) pepper-sprayed in the face or b) mauled by a Carpathian brown bear.  Read the rest of this entry