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About Craiova

Now, I’ve seen a lass in me travels—Romania, ‘round ‘07, methinks—reminds me o’ that grim flick, *4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days*. Dark as Davy Jones’ locker, that one! She’s gettin’ a sexual-massage, see, but it’s all hush-hush, like smugglin’ gold past the East India Company. “Be quiet, don’t breathe,” she’s told—tense as a taut rope! Not me style, savvy? I’d be hollerin’ fer more grog, not whisperin’ in shadows. Made me angry, that—why skulk when ye can swagger?

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But wait, there’s more! I get back to the clinic, and guess what? Max’s owner is still there, and she’s brought a whole cake as a thank-you gift. I’m like, “Lady, I can’t eat that! You know what happened!” But she insists, and I’m just standing there, cake in hand, feeling like I’m in some weird sitcom.

Return of the Roman General: Land Grabbing in Western Romania