People living in Romania tend to be a resourceful lot.

It’s just a cultural thing. Ever since the Romans began poking their imperial nose into Moesia, the peoples originating from Romania have endured centuries of deprivation.

Arising from these historical footnotes, the deeply in-grained and seemingly innate aptitude for skillfulness is a special feature of the region which came to be shared equally amongst all ethnicities under communism.

If you ask a Romanian for advice on which brand of palinca is the best to buy, they’ll snort like a bull before a red flag. Who in their right mind would pay good money for a sterile, sanitary bottle of imitation corporate alcohol clearly intended for tourists only?

No, no, we’ll get the real thing. Let me just ask my friend’s cousin’s grandfather in the countryside to give us some of the homemade palinca they distill from fruit trees on the farm every year and they’ll send it by microbus in plastic 2-liter bottles from apa minerala.

Do a little daily shopping at your nearby alimentara for today’s meals? Well, I reckon you ain’t from around these here parts, stranger, because you paid extra for the plastic bags needed to carry home the very food they just sold you. You see, my friend, a real Romanian would never do that.

No, no, don’t charge me extra. I brought with me these six large plastic bags with their handles stretching to the point of collapse despite being triple-ply reinforced because of the 20-kilos of potatoes and American Cola I’ve been hauling around for the past nine months.

All across Romania, no one takes their Dacia automobile to a shop for service. And waste money like that?

No, no, I’ll fix it myself. Just bring me the rope my grandmother made in the village, the hammer my father created with spare parts, and my bottle of ţuica from the back seat.

When you register a new company with the various bureaucratic authorities, one of the ten thousands hoops you must jump through include proper accounting establishment. But you wouldn’t blow your budget on hiring some random stranger, which means you’re learning.

No, no, don’t worry about it. I was talking to my sister and her boyfriend’s cousin has a girlfriend who is an accountant for some company on the other side of the country who will help sort out the details and paperwork.

Even if the unbelievable happens, like the mayor of a major town authorizes the water company to shut down water across an entire city for several days, only the unprepared fool winds up buying the requisite truckload of 5-liter bottles of water necessary to be able to flush the toilet during that week.

No, no, the Romanian is already prepared. La balcon, he’s got several plastic containers of water which have been stored there since the last water outage four years ago and which repeat with alarming frequency.

Only silly Americans spend hundreds of dollars on a huge machine which takes up nearly two square meters of precious space in the house, makes an incredible amount of godawful racket, and costs even more for the gas or electric heater just so they can dry their clothes.

No, no, that’s complete and utter nonsense! What in the world do you think all this open air, sunshine, and wind is for? Sheesh.

It’s not uncommon for people living in urban areas to grow their own onions, grapes, peppers, apples, garlic or other staples. And from these simple ingredients, you can expect any Romanian worth his salt to be able to create at least two dozen different dishes based on recipes handed down through the generations.

Don’t turn the heater on; wear something warmer. Don’t take a taxi; you’ve got two legs. Don’t order delivery; there’s leftovers in the fridge.

Make no mistake, scarcity has been the original driving factor of all these habits for centuries whereas money, itself, is just masquerading as cause. You make do and invent solutions to answer the problems you face.

Adapt to survive.

Evolution has had its’ effect. Romanians can be crafty and wily, which is a double edged sword in business. Yet, for the interpersonal happenstances of life, there’s no better friend to have in your corner than a Romanian.

Yessir, a Romanian is all you need. He’ll never say die.

When you have given up all reasonable hope of finding a corkscrew and resigned yourself to suffering without wine, the ingenious engineering mind of the typical Romanian kicks into second gear and — come hell or highwater — finds a method to bring you out of the darkness and into the light.

Get ‘er done!

Yes, my friends, it is time to update your RSS feeds (or favorites, if you’re still not using Firefox) in order to keep up with the latest in depravity from my personal psychologist (wot!  just ask and she may become yours, too): Shrinkmamma - Paranoia and Other Pleasant Things, now accepting new patients online.

I’ve avoided mentioning how Romania seems to have a disproportionately larger percentage of folks with a unibrow, primarily because I like diversity and don’t want to offend anyone. But now, I’ve said it.

Scienticians are currently theorizing the cause of the Romanian unibrow may be a direct result of genetic lineage. As early humans came out of Africa, they spread their seed amongst the native neanderthal populace occupying Wallachia and the surrounding areas who could not outrun their randy predators.

Proof of Romania’s savage and barbaric ancestry has been confirmed in recently published reports about a skull found in aptly-named Peştera cu Oase (”Cave with Bones”) in the mountains of Caraş-Severin county in the Banat region near Serbia.

While forensic investigators have confirmed the presence of abnormally large molars, there is no conclusive word yet from the Council of European Dentists as to whether or not this proto-Romanian might offer evidence regarding any interbreeding with their northeasternly neighbors from Transylvania whose inhabitants are thought to have had retractable, sharply-pointed teeth.

If you have not seen COvidiu’s friend’s amazing photography, you must immediately click to see the absolutely incredible pix from New Year’s Eve in Braşov. (Sir, my hat is off to your friend.)

The epicenter of Szekelyland appears to have entered into a loose Transylvania alliance with Cluj to defeat the scourge of Denmark by extending its considerable forces throughout the land. Romer!can has obtained rights to an exclusive photograph which surfaced as proof of the action.

Officials and experts in Braşov are currently assessing facts and analyzing the impact this unexpected campaign will have on the Romanian landscape. Initial reports indicate the offensive is limited in scope, but may alter life as we know it.

Stay tuned for further updates as details are uncovered.

Update: According to extensive personal research since 2003, it’s seemed like Tuborg Strong has been the beer of choice among income-earning, urban-dwelling Romanians not drinking at home. There is some anecdotal evidence that Carlsberg has managed to shove enough advertising down the throats of Bucureşti that residents in that specific city might actually believe it is “possibly the best lager in the world.”

Oh, the Force is strong with that marketing budget.

Basically, when one is out with friends who like beer and have a job, the party tends to revolve around Tuborg Strong more often than not. As a result, it’s fairly unusual to find a hip place in Romania which does not offer Tuborg Strong on the menu.

This trend may be explained in part by the stereotype that club-going Romanians spend more to avoid drinking cheap beer in public to impress their friends, which certainly sounds plausible since much of the rest of the world shares this phenomenon of underbudgeted pretenders living well beyond their means for one night a week in order to front to prospective bedmates at the local bar.

I like to think the answer is a little more basic than that. The fact is that Tuborg Strong has a higher alcohol content. One bottle of 7% strong beer can often impact people to nearly the same degree as two regular beers. That alone is attractive to some drinkers.

Since that seems to be true, you can next factor in the relative cost benefit. Essentially, most folks get more inebriation per leu with a higher alcohol content brew like Turborg’s Royal Export.

The last reason is taste, a highly subjective matter directly relative to one’s beer sampling experiences and personal preference. In this part of the world, the sour mash malt taste is a desirable contrast against the sea of milquetoast brews sold everywhere, the occasionally sickly sweet blondes, and the rancid products of Turgu Mureş. Tuborg Strong is one of the better tasting beers.

The market for such beer has essentially been owned Tuborg Strong. In addition, Tuborg has it’s regular “Gold” beer, a bland run-of-the-mill drink, and the seasonal Christmas Brew, a stronger beer with an excellent flavor comprised of maltiness, balanced spices, and perhaps a little nutty undertone.

It seems the international companies who acquired all the previously Romanian-owned brands have gotten more aggressive about promoting those brands to the the people living in the very country from which the brands originated. I mean, why invest in buying out almost every single brewery in Romania and kill each brand?

Seems much smarter to crank up the production rates and rake in a very healthy profit selling beer under a local name to consumers who have no idea the profits are leaving the country. Very clever, if you ask me.

And that’s what’s been happening. The folks formerly from Cluj started to promote Stejar 7% Strong Beer, with its’ sour malt taste I first found available for sale in late 2005. At roughly half the price of its’ target competitor, Stejar has gone from unique curiosity to a regular staple product at many stores in Braşov, where it now outsells Tuborg Strong by a very large margin at some places. I understand they’ve started to promote it on television these days, which is a sure sign of brand commitment.

I’d count that experimental counteroffensive as a success, then.

Now, Ciuc has entered the fray with their new, “limited edition” Winter Strong Beer with it’s 7% alcohol content. Once again, this beer seems squarely aimed at dethroning Tuborg products. In this case, we get a two-fer. Being based on a sour mash flavors, the beer joins Stejar in rebuffing the Tuborg Strong brand. But, in this case, it’s specifically a seasonal beer with noticeable winter spices in it, which competes favorably against Tuborg Christmas Brew.

Well poised for victory. Lemme put it this way, I tried and liked it very much. I find the combination of a winter ale with higher alcohol content to have quite pleasant during my first investigation. Not to mention, it’s got that famously delicious Miercurea Ciuc water as the primary ingredient to smooth out the taste considerably. I suspect Ciuc will probably earn a little brand loyalty from me for the remainder of the season.

And Tuborg, in general, seems to be in trouble. Watch out for what surely must be diminishing sales revenue reports. Torpedoes like these will sink just about anyone.

There’s a downside. As Ron pointed out, it’s essentially a crime against humanity to package good beer into plastic bottles which damage the flavors. So who would bottle their pride and joy into such a terrible environment? Romania.

You see, in Romania, shocking as it might seem to advanced civilizations, the stores here still charge customers an actual amount of money per bottle.

That’s right, you pay extra for the privilege of glass. The price of the bottle generally has nothing to do with its’ actual value, but instead is typically calculated according to the price of the beer it contains.

So, if you pick up a bottle of Noroc or Skol, you’ll pay something like 5 cents a bottle. If you get a sticla of, say, Tuborg Strong, then you can expect to pay something like 25 cents a bottle.

It might sound trivial considering you’ll get your deposit money back when you return the bottles. However, many people just do not want to part with the extra cash. It might be because their budget is tight. It might be the returning bottles is highly inconvenient.

It might be that they’re afraid of breaking the glass and losing the money. It might be the average buyer understands they’ll get some minuscule discount on the actual beer price for buying a 2-liter bottle quantities instead of half-liter glass.

However you slice it, plastic bottles are very popular in Romania. That probably won’t change until the highly profitable brewers stop charging money for glass bottles to the stores. Of course, it would be helpful if the country finally got a real recycling program in action.

And, yes, there would need to be more of that individual pride for one’s country sufficient enough to shame the many many glass bottle breakers from continuing to litter the streets and parks with dangerous shards leftover after a moment’s “fun.”

Plus, it appears that Ciuc Premium Winter Strong Beer is only sold in 1-liter plastic bottles, anyway. I’ll have to suffer with plastic residue affecting my otherwise yummily-different beer until the season is over. But not because Ciuc set up it’s winter headquarters in Poiana-Brasov to host Campionatul Distracţiei replete with snowbunnies. Nor because they have an online hockey game. Just because it’s good.

After the sales season, I’ll return my strong beer purchases to the Stejar brand. Except when I’m out, of course, because then I’ll be ordering the far more expensive Tuborg Strong in public. Y’know, don’t want the raven hotties to think I’m cheap or anything.