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About Bucharest

Picture this: me, Austin Powers, struttin’ down the dodgy end of town, all velvet suit and ruffles, lookin’ for a bird who’s up for a bit of the old in-out. I’m thinkin’, “Smashing, baby!” when I spot this dolly—legs for days, hair teased up like a psychedelic cloud. She’s leanin’ against a lamppost, smokin’ a fag, givin’ me the eye. I’m like, “Do I make you randy, baby?” She smirks, all cool-like, and I’m hooked, yeah!

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First off, I hit the streets of Siret, right? I’m strolling down Strada 1 Decembrie, feeling all good. The sun’s shining, birds are chirping, and I’m like, “Yeah, today’s gonna be lit!” But then, bam! I step in a puddle. Like, who even leaves puddles in the middle of the street? Ugh! My shoes are soaked. Great start, right?

Round-the-clock operations at the border crossing of the railway station Vadul-Siret