I need a trim. But no matter where I wander along the beaches of Mamaia these days, it seems there’s no place to get a haircut.

Then again, all the seaside restaurants advertise fresh fish on their sidewalk chalkboard menus but don’t actually serve it. I suppose it’s a happily quirky tweenager of a burgeoning resort area just entering the squeaky voice period of its puberty. Give it ten years and this place will be smokin’ hot.

It feels as though I were almost acasa again. Dar, home is where the inima is.

(Mulţumesc lui Inşelatora pentru foto.)

… rabidly pseudo-communist authorities operating within the people’s national transportation and highway bureaus unrelentingly seek — at every turn — to thwart your natural right to expose private auto parts in the public space.

Shocking, I know, but unequivocal nonetheless. To ensure clarity in messaging, Romanians receive directives in easily understood, beginner-level English that they are unable to enjoy the same freedoms of their westernly counterparts within the European Union.

Take heart, dear friends. While there is no car penis, it would appear the next 2 kilometers are naught but sani.

(Photo by Romer!can)

(Photo by Bunissima)

(Photo by Bunissima)

(Photo by Bunissima)

(Photo by Bunissima)

(Photo by Bunissima)

(Photo by Bunissima)

(Photo by Bunissima)

(Photo by Romer!can)

(Photo by Romer!can)

(Photo by Romer!can)

If you’ve never heard them play before, I recommend you give the Taraf de Haidouks sample video a try.