22/08/2007
In life they say there's a first time for everything. For the first time in my life I'm going to resist the temptation to whinge about the weather. Here it's been wet and windy, we've had a couple of thunderstorms -which plays merry hell with my internet connection- and the Spanish August has failed abysmally to live up to expectations.
But who cares about that when you may well have cheated a certain demise?
What am I blethering on about, you ask. Well if you've been following my blog, you'll know that my holiday destination this year is the land of a certain Mr Vlad the Impaler, a trip I shall be chronicling for your reading (dis?)pleasure. What you may not know, however, is that this was not Plan A nor even Plan B, but actually Plan C.
Thanks to the almost criminal incompetence of the internet company we booked with, Mari and I missed out on our tour of Italy in late August and then again on a sunkissed holiday for the same time in our Plan B destination: the Mayan Riviera.
At the time I turned the air bluer than the skies. But as Hurricane Dean rips through the Carribean, I now thank the company for their prizeworthy mismanagement of my booking and forcing me to pick again, even if there is the highly unlikely prospect of having to mix it up with Rumania's infamous wolves and "pikies".
I can't tell you how much more this particular Jonathan Harker is looking forward to getting away with his Mina for a while. I'm relishing the chance to sink my own fangs into real Rumanian cuisine, soak up the sights - especially to watch the modern Transylvania smash the foreboding literary one into oblivion- and even give the lingo a crack.
Might not get too far with this last one, though. C'est la vie, c'est la vie...
I'll keep you posted.
Yours in garlic,
Count Peter
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