This is not to be my week obviously. Two days ago, it was the young lady at the Airport Limousine Desk at the Suvarnabhumi Airport, who suggested I take a train, yes, a train, to my hotel in Bangkok because of road blocks by the ‘Red Shirts’ protestors.
The traditional Caru' cu Bere beerhouse in Bucharest - Staff attitude is abominable!
Now, here in Bucharest, I’m kept waiting at the front desk of the 19th century Caru’ cu Bere traditional beer house by a hostess in the shortest red skirt with the tiniest waist while she finishes a mobile phone conversation. Then unceremoniously she informs me that I can be seated only in the cellar! Imagine!
My uncharacteristically imperious self makes e a second appearance in as many days and protesteth that most of the tables here on the atmospheric main floor with old painted murals, stained glass windows and carved cross-beams are unoccupied. But the pursed-lipped girl was not to be moved.
And I was marched like a tourist down dark concrete steps to the nether world with tables of group tours and a television playing football.
What on earth possessed me to stay, and suffer such indignity, not to mention the luke-warm cabbage leaves stuffed with ordinary mince meat and a pile of tastless, mushy polenta?
The beer was good!
Subsequent Postscript
In fairness to Bucharest and Romania, this was one of those ‘first day in a new town’ incidents. Three days later, I think Romania offers good value, good food, and so much to see. My subsequent blogs will attempt to illustrate that.