theatre of the absurd: Romania, part VII - Sighisoara (v) - more pictures of the citadel, the clock tower and the other towers

More walking around. Fragmented sensations. The feeling of all or nothing, and of living in the present, just the present, nothing more, nothing less. I'm the sort of person who always has a backup plan, but just this once, I'm winging it. Yesterday a friend asked me why I liked travelling so much, and I said, I like living life on the edge a little, being on the move, being in an unfamiliar land, figuring out things on my own, and being kept on my toes. There's something exhilarating about having to do things on the go - finding your way to places and through places. I dislike predictability, more of that for middle age, but I'm in my twenties now, and everything is beautiful and nothing hurts. I like running away. I revel in the feeling of being focused but losing control, but not too much control, just as much as I deem appropriate. When do I feel most alive? When I wake up at the crack of dawn for the 6am train, and traipse my way through the city to the central train station and buy myself an espresso. I can even tell you how much it costs in Italy, 1.10 euros. Sipping my early morning coffee, slightly bleary eyed, scrolling lazily through my phone, and taking advantage of the free wifi. Can't help being a millennial.

I used to think that I liked bus journeys a lot more than trains, and that's certainly been the case in the past, especially in the Baltics (hello lux express and simple express), but train journeys during this trip were infinitely more comfortable and reliable than buses. In fact I've come away from this trip with a mild phobia of bus trips now. Most of the buses in the Balkans didn't have toilets (a Dutch guy I met in Zagreb said this violated EU law and if it isn't, it should be) and we had to stop for toilet breaks instead. In some cases the toilets at the stations we stopped at were those stupid ones where we had to pay. The buses in Italy were chronically late. 10 mins late I can accept. 15 mins is pushing it, and anything over half an hour is intolerable. The buses I had in Italy were always at least an hour late. In fact, the only working mode of transportation in la bella Italia were the high speed rail trains, which at least were more than satisfactory. As for Romania, trains are a far better experience than buses as well. The buses there are badly organised, and the buses themselves seem like hand me downs from western European countries in the early 90s. Doesn't bear thinking about.