Romania Chronicles--Episode 6: in which R realizes the truism “Romanians are a mediocre people.”

Let us begin with the ‘frenchurro.’ Mexican food has arrived in Bucharest, in the form of deep fried dough. Initially, we can not decide if the light brown cylindrical things that people are carrying in an upside down sombrero are French fries or churros. People dip them in ketchup as if they are French fries. They have the same ridged texture as churros at an amusement park. Upon further recognizance, also known as standing beside the food booth for a sure-to-confuse-the-people-working-there length of time, F decides that ‘frenchurros’ are indeed churros, albeit unsweetened ones augmented with ketchup.

The aforementioned frenchurros are being sold at a gathering that can only be described as the Romanian version of Folklife. One tenth of the acts, one tenth of the quality, one tenth of the vendors, and one tenth of the people. There is tsuica, so it is not a total loss, although F and R are forced to endure men chanting ‘in unison’ while banging hand drums. Luckily, there are many ugly shoes to distract us.