I have been forgetting everyone’s name. I am sorry. I wish we all wore nametags.

On the subject of names: I also forget how to pronounce names as well so if underneath your nametag you could add the phonetic spelling that would really help.

I keep dreaming about raspberries.

Because my underwear keeps vanishing, I spent a couple hours tracking down a new pair at a Romanian mall. The only ones I could find are covered with the brand name “Mr. Big”. I bought a pair even though the old woman who ran the place was zero help with underwear advice.

I met a self proclaimed Romanian pick up artist. It was like the gross bottom half of the Internet came alive in human form. “You are a terrible person,” I told him. “I know,” he said and shrugged.

Spacing out enjoying the Romanian countryside in my empty train car. There’s a tap on my elbow and when I turn there’s a blond haired unaccompanied three year old with no expression on his face demanding that I turn over one of my wristbands. He tried to pull it off, got frustrated, and left. I expected him to return with a knife to stab me in the heart and take the bracelets by force.

Didn’t fully understand what was happening at the Cluj bus station until my new friend Bianca stepped in and acted as my translator for the next eleven hours. She also showed me this video which makes me hungry for bedazzled bannanas.

A Romanian guy that I was walking behind on a quiet street let out a thundering fart. He looked around but didn’t see me and imagined that he made it with no witnesses. He didn’t.

Have you ever been on a bus and sneezed into your hand but didn’t close your mouth in time and now you’re sitting there in a sweltering hot seat just clutching a hand full of wetness? What did you do next?

The girl that works at my hostel opened up her purse and it was filled with meatballs and they were fucking delicious. Now instead of dreaming about raspberries, I’m dreaming about purse meatballs.

I went a press conference because I never go to press conferences and mostly because they had air conditioning. It was for Armin Van Burren who kept talking about how he’s never played the same set twice in his life. An Australian told me later: “That’s bullshit. I’ve heard him play the exact same thing before.” I don’t know who to believe.

I saw a backpack hanging on the fence and thought maybe I would take it to Lost and Found and then when I picked it up I wondered if there might be any booze in there and then I just got tired and decided to leave it. It turned out to belong to a security guard and his friends had more than a few questions about why it looked like I wanted to steal their bag.

There’s a cafe in Cluj with air conditioning and a friendly staff and they don’t care if I quietly sit in the corner all day drinking espresso.

Philosophical hostel musings: “As long as you’re not lying to yourself, then lying is fine.”

“The Germans are taking over everything. We must join forces to defeat them.” This quote from a French guy during an intense game of Settlers of Catan. Return quote from the German delivered in a humorless tone. “It is funny to me when I see you lose everything.”

All the Romanians I’ve met have been exceptionally good at foosball.

I was told that wearing flip flops with jeans is terrible and that it looks like garbage.

I started dreaming about raspberries again so I tracked down the local fruit market in Cluj and scratched that itch hard.

Did you know it’s contractually required for any EDM artist to tell the audience to “put their hands in the air” at least two dozen times during a performance?

My waiter was about to deliver my drink when a girl leaving the restaurant grabbed him and just started kissing him. This went on for a full two minutes, less than a foot from me, without him dropping a tray full of glasses. “I don’t know who she is. This happens all the time to me,” was his response when I asked if that was his girlfriend.

Found my first proper laundromat in nearly a month. Five dollars for all my clothes including drying and a free espresso at the coffee shop next door. I almost hugged the old lady running the place but have learned from previous experience that doesn’t go over very well.

Travel Tip: Whenever possible, avoid using the toilet on a boat.

Gear Report: The “what happened to all my underwear” mystery deepens. Of the original six, only three remain. I am assuming that the hostel staff are stealing them. It’s the only plausible explanation.

Injury Report: My left pinky is sore as hell and I’m not sure why. I suspect jumping off a sixty five foot World War II secret submarine bunker on the Croatian island of Vis has something to with it. I’m also dealing with some light sunburn because I’m terrible at applying sunscreen and my entire face has broken out in a salt fueled acne attack.