October 7, 2014

Constanța, Romania. September, 2014

Without a doubt, the grimmest place I’ve visited. Buildings disintegrating, people secretive, everything still showing the shockwaves from decades of Ceaușescu totalitarian rule that eviscerated this once thriving land. As Dr. B and I were walking along the city’s main thoroughfare (pictured), a man asked us what time it was. And as we answered, two plainclothes policemen suddenly came over, showed us their IDs, aggressively asked for our documents and pummeled us with questions. Why were we talking with this man? Were we buying drugs? Were we tourists? How many days were we staying? Which hotel were we in? How much local currency did we have? Were we buying cocaine? They checked our arms for drug tracks. They checked our passports, counted our few euros, and finally let us continue with a warning that it was dangerous to speak with people on the street. As we slowly recovered from this unpleasant interrogation and were saying how scary it was, we realized that we were missing fifty euros. Con men.

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