Mucus-Coated Report

My advice: don’t touch the screen as you read this…the cold germs that are attacking me have probably followed this link and are, right now, pulsing and plotting to find a way into your home and up your nose.

Even so, I have news to report so I shall risk it…you’ll recover, and besides Knowledge is Power, and all that.

Their visit to the Black Sea was beautiful and too short. In case you’re wondering, the Black Sea is “kind of” salty. This came as a surprise to me and I report, of course, not from experience… since I am writing this in the comfort of my bed and not from a lovely deck chair on the beach. No, this information has been collected using my keen mind, gifted fingers, and high speed internet. And now I feel the need to pass said information on and you are The! Lucky! Winner!

Actually, it was Shane who prompted me…Kevin said he dipped his finger into the sea and tasted it to see if it was salty. “That’s crazy!” I shot back. “There’s no way! It’s inland! It’s freshwater! The connection to the Mediterranean is too small!” SideNote: I’ve learned that when I respond with such confidence about something so obvious, I’m usually wrong. And so I was…The Black Sea is salty…apparently the various straights and stuff that connect it to the Mediterranean are deep…allowing sea water to flow into the Sea near the bottom while freshwater from the incoming rivers flow on top. Eventually they either are shaken or stirred. There is also scientific opinion that the Black Sea originally was only fresh water (I’m Vindicated!) but became salty from a massive flood that forced seawater into the basin. Gee…If we only knew of a globally catastrophic event that covered the world with water…

They visited yet another maximum security prison…this time full of juveniles of the male gender. These boys were not as discrete or polite as the adult prisoners from previous facilities. I know this because Megh said that she “felt like a piece of meat at the super-market.” She felt stared at and then something was shouted as the group left…Megh said she was sure it wasn’t “Have a Blessed Day” in Romanian. I’ll be happy to give you details…as soon as I finish signing her up for a Lethal Karate and Sniper course, or something similar.

Their next tour was around the Danube Canal. This little project was started in 1949 after the communist took charge…tens of thousands of people were forced to dig, with old picks, wheelbarrows, shovels and almost no food, a 40 mile trench large enough for barges and ships to travel. It was abandoned after 4 years. The Death Canal, as it was called locally, claimed between 10,000 and 200,000 lives, of course they weren't counting...they wanted to get rid of the filthy bourgeois. It was finally finished by Ceausescu in 1987, after digging for 11 more years with large earth moving equipment. In the 30 years it’s been open, the 3rd largest canal has generated almost no income and is more of a curiosity than a productive transportation highway.

In Bucharest, traffic is so bad they tromped around as much as possible and tried not to whine (poor, pitiful, car-dependent Americans!). They had lunch at a mall. Kev said, “Walk in and you're instantly transported to the U.S.” Starbucks, Burger King, Quiznos, KFC are all represented. I forgot to ask what they ate…too much mucus on the brain.

The night before they ate at a traditional Romanian restaurant. Chicken veggie soup was one of the items chosen…but the big news was dessert: Bourbon Ice Cream that tasted like Lemon cake batter…I’m not commenting on the accuracy of taste buds…but I am wondering what father would let his 14-year-old daughter order BOURBON ice cream! (I would have at least ordered it for myself and then gave it her!) Cassie and Craig had a dessert (or maybe an entre) that included tiny, and extremely hot, peppers. Everyone but Kevin tried them…with eye-watering, mouth singeing results. According to Megh: “This is the most pain I’ve given myself voluntarily!” Megh called Dad a sissy for not to try it. Kev said he was the smartest one there. I’m just reporting. You decide.

I’ll take what they’re having at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com