I started off my year in Rio de Janeiro, on the sandy beaches of Copacabana and dancing with 2.5 million other people (post photo). New Years was a hell of a party and one that I’ll never forget. Just think about it – 2.5 million, all there, jumping, shouting and drinking and celebrating in one of the world’s most famous beaches. I loved it.

But I didn’t go just for the party –I finally spent around one and a half month in Brazil, living and traveling around different cities. Not a long trip, but still a spectacular experience. It was a great way to kick off the year and to give me energy for all the projects I have in the loop.

And, as always, the times there left me lasting lessons – Just like my times in Romania and Greece did.

One Thing First

Mind: Brazil is very similar to Argentina (where I’m native from.) They speak Portuguese, a language that close to Spanish that could well be a dialect. Brazilian cuisine doesn’t differ much from what I’m used to and the national passion is the same as here: football. Cariocas (the locals from Rio) are, though more open minded, still as unorganized as people in Buenos Aires (or even worse).

As much as I love Europe, I’m not so sure if it’s a place I could settle for the long term. With Rio is different. I could well stay in Rio for the rest of my life if I had to – It’s like the same kind of dance.

Lesson #1: People Will Fuck You Up

It pisses me off to spend my time arranging trips, calling people, renting cars, buses, airplanes and all that stuff. If there’s one thing I hate about travel, that’s it. When I’m on the road I’m more of the adventure-type than the plan-it-all dude. So I always pray for things to stay simple and uncomplicated. Tricky thing.

And in a society of global hysteria -Buenos Aires- or of global “whatever” -Rio de Janeiro-, those like me are doomed. Here’s why:

To my great despair, I started looking for apartments in Rio before leaving. I just had to – I needed a place to crash. So before getting to the city I had already contacted this lady and settled a rent deal. Place seemed good, prize was fine and location was superb. I was dancing in joy.

But I was careful. When she said “Ok, Mario, I wait for you X-day to arrange the final terms” my inner soul said “she’s lying, don’t trust her.” So, to make sure I wouldn’t have any problems I went around the usual just-in-case questions:

“Are you sure I can count on you?”
“Yes,” she answers.

And, to make sure that it’s certain I ask again:

“Are you REALLY sure? I could send you an advance now if you prefer.”
“No, it’s ok. You trust me.”

When I was speaking with her I had the feeling that something was not right. Don’t know why; it was just an intuition. So I reserved another apartment – Just in case, so I could have a back-up plan if other lady fooled with me. This other owner was equally confident that the room would be mine.

So guess what? The first woman rented the apartment to someone else and didn’t even say “sorry.” The second one didn’t even pick up the phone. She then answered an email saying she had also rented it and that I should look for something else.

Boom. It was not a tragedy as there were many more apartments to choose, but it still pissed the hell out of me. I had to then spend days searching for new deals, visiting rooms and dealing with more of those people. That killed me; I was really mad. Needless to say, it kept happening and not only with individual owners. The real estate agencies I contacted later were equally mean. “It’s the Brazilian way” my friends said.

I can’t say, though, that the lesson is then to speak with five owners and get the apartment I can. This is wrong. I can’t be as bitch as they were and, even if I contact five, they might still all rent the apartment to someone else.

Next time I will still contact these kinds of people, but I won’t make them my only option. I’ll leave the first days of the trip strictly to look for the apartment – just in case. I won’t go with the relaxed and chilled state of mind until I can get my place to live. It’s not my ideal world solution but certainly the only one that appears to work in places like Rio.

Lesson #2: Always Carry Cash With You

I’ll keep insisting: you must always carry cash with you. If I hadn’t while I was in Brazil I would have been doomed.

The reason for this is that banks are evil. You probably know that by now. Even if they couldn’t make the world completely collapse, they still have the power to ruin your vacations. I didn’t know about their fierce commitment for the latter, but let me tell you one thing: we won’t let them.

After thirty or so days in Brazil my bank noticed “Wow, this guy is taking way too much money out.” Not that good for the bank, they must have thought, so they just blocked all of my cards. No ATMs, no credit cards and I couldn’t even spend a penny out of my debit card. All frozen.

When I call, all angry and pissed, Mrs. Machine answers: “We won’t be attending until Monday at 9.00am. Thank you.” And this was a Friday night. I didn’t have any urgent thing to pay, but what if?

The next Monday, I call equally angry and irritated. The best I get, after an eternity complaining, is that they would unblock my cards – for everything but taking money out of the ATM. Still sucks, and they justify all the problems by saying that “they thought my card was stolen” and “an automatic system” blocked it. I then had to either wait for a new card to be sent or do some personal paperwork back in Argentina. Fuck you.

Back home I took all the money out and closed my account on that bank, forever. Not without shouting and bashing everyone on my way. Not the right thing to do, perhaps, but good for my spirit. And, as a traveler that I am, I just can’t let that happen once again. I was in Rio – cool. What if it happens in Mongolia? I’ll then have to sell my kidneys to live on.

Thankfully, I didn’t have anything urgent to pay. Didn’t have to buy myself a ticket out of Brazil, pay the rent, or get a doctor to check on me. But what would have happened if I really needed that? Yeah, maybe I could have asked friends for it. But you shouldn’t go depending on someone else to save your day. Save it before it’s even in danger – carry cash with you.

Lesson #3: Don’t Worry, Be Happy

I love many things about Brazil, but one above all: the people (except those in the real-state area.) Brazil is the land of carnival, of sun, of joy, of happiness, of football and of Brazilian women. It’s blessed with the best climate, thousands of kilometers of spectacular beaches and good food. And people are happy. They transmit you this happiness – It’s never all gloom and sorrow, it’s always a big smile and the will to have a nice time.

I met people on the buses, on the street, on the beach as well as in bars and clubs. I even went out with a girl I met swimming in the ocean. People are this friendly and open. We should all learn from the Brazilians. To relieve from stress and live the day with a smile it’s something I recommend to all of you.

I treasure this above all. Every morning I woke up gloomy, tired and sleepy I was suddenly awakened by shouting friends, good music and lots of smiles. It made me walk through the day in another mood – much more like them.

Give this life of happiness a try. You don’t have to go to Brazil to do it. If we all thanked for the beautiful world we have, for the opportunities waiting in front of us and for all the special people we meet in our lives, we could make the world a better place. Or, at least, we could make it a bit closer to what Brazil is. It shouldn’t be that hard if we all work together.

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Total Read Time: 9 Minutes.

I have traveled a lot and want to tell you about each of the places I have been to. But instead of recalling all the adventures the old-fashioned way, I want to experiment and write them as lessons.

You really learn a lot when you are traveling. More than you would ever imagine, especially if you are alone and stuck in crazy places. It’s inevitable to think deep, have ideas, learn, etc. It’s part of the odyssey.

This time I’ll speak about the lessons I learned while I was traveling around Greece, the last leg of my gigantic trip around Eastern Europe.

Lesson #1: LOVE Mediterranean Culture.

Thessaloniki, Macedonia.

The journey from Sibiu to Thessaloniki was a bit better than the rollercoaster ride from L’viv into the Transylvanian city. Nevertheless, it was still a big pain: 30+ hours, albeit with just one stop, this time in Bucharest, the capital of Romania.  The train got delayed a few couple of hours, but in the end I got to final destination from the trip: Greece.

I was really looking forward to Greece: sun, beaches, blue sea, hot girls, good food and lots of archaeological ruins. Paradise, no less. After thousands of miles in the road I was ready for some fun. My body needed it. Greece was there to offer it!

So I arrived to Thessaloniki, Greece’s second city and the capital of the real Macedonia. People shouting all around, passionately discussing and the evident disorganization made clear that I was at last in the Mediterranean. Loved it.

Just like in Romania and Russia, I stayed with a friend again. And Greek hospitality proved to be the best. My friend and her sister made my day-and-half in Thessaloniki a time I’ll never forget. They were attentive, dedicated and made all their efforts possible to make me have a great time. And I did!

I can’t take credit off my friends in Russia and Romania, for they tried everything to make me enjoy their cities too. But in Greece it was different: we were in the same sync. I’m used to and love Mediterranean culture. The way of living, talking and doing things around the middle sea is the way I like it most. For much cool Russia is, it doesn’t have Greeks, nor it has Italians or Spanish people.

And you see this in the smallest details. I just feel good there and I am comfortable around. The people shouting, the way conversations develop and the food all make the Mediterranean the place I want to be at.

It happened in Italy, in Spain and also in Greece. Which is your place? As basic as it sounds, you have to know where in the world you are most comfortable at. Maybe it’s not your home and, on the contrary, it’s thousands of kilometers away. Look for it, for knowing where to live and where to be will have a huge impact on whether you live a happy life or not.

Lesson #2: Drinking is Insane.

Corfu, Ionian Islands.

I didn’t know where to go after Thessaloniki. I was supposed to go to Athens sooner or later, but with both cities being quite distant from each other I was willing to give something in between a try. Somehow, then, I ended up in Corfu.

It was a good choice. Corfu, with outstanding beaches and fascinating history, was definitely a place I was going to like. But, after having big trouble trying to find a place to sleep in the capital of the island (and thus, ending up sleeping in the streets one more time) I, following the recommendation of the English-speaking (thank god!) locals and tourists, took a bus and ended up in a “hostel” called Pink Palace, just a few dozen miles off the big town.

The Pink Palace is spectacular. It has, among other things: its own buzz cruise, army of four-wheelers, its own club, beach, and endless supply of cheap food and drinks. If you want to go and party, the Pink Palace is the place to go.

I never met people who drank so much. It was unbelievable! It is part of the backpacker’s rules to drink and party, but the Pink Palace was something else. It was a circus of drunken people 24/7. No day off: everyday there was something going on. Toga parties, party at the beach, the drinking ship. It was even more than when I was an Erasmus Student.

It was not exactly what I was looking for, but whatever. Sometimes you just have to go with the flow. My liver aged a few years on those days I stayed in Corfu, but the experience was something awesome. I was tremendously fun, from the kayak-excursions to cliff jumping and more. It was super!

It was one more last-hurray to my long list of goodbye-Europe parties. And it was one of the craziest: I got a plate broken in my head in the traditional Greek fashion and drank for joy and love with a big number of new friends.

Maybe you wonder… Is this that different from other hostels in Europe? People drink loads at every stop, after all. But honestly, this was something else: far and beyond all other hostels I had been at. The beach, its own club and the cheap alcohol and crazy parties in-situ made the Pink Palace worth to remember.

Lesson #3: Don’t Let Yourself Be Bullied.

Athens, Attica.

Central Athens is not the best Greece has to offer. It’s loud, grey and dirty. That is where my hostel was. Again, the only thing I could find and it had decent reviews on most Internet cities. But it was fine: I just needed an ok place to crash while I went around the Acropolis and organized day trips to Delphi and Mycenae.

The first day was quiet. I made a few friends, wandered around the city and visited the most popular museum. Fun enough, the drama came the second day. That day the ugly and smelly daytime receptionist, after a question or remark I made, started yelling at me.

Especially when abroad, I watch my language. I try not to annoy people and I speak with the calm and respect that will avoid me most problems. It was not enough with this guy: he started raging and shouting at me without any reason. I had not agreed with something he had said and it was enough to start with all that theater.

After being told “idiot” and “ignorant” multiple times it was very tempting to throw a strong right and break his nose. But, after all, with little time left in Greece and with more to lose than to win, I stayed quiet and left the guy alone.

But avoiding the fists doesn’t spell the end of a fight. I will never allow an idiot as this to ruin my stay. Nor should you: strike where you are most likely to succeed. In my case, I settled up a winning strategy. I stayed quiet, heard all he had to say and left, with an “ok” as my last word. Nothing fancy, no insults, no warnings: nothing. Just left the guy alone, for now.

As soon as his shift ended I started my counter-attack. I asked the night’s receptionist if he could contact me with the hostel’s owner. He asked why: to let him know all the troubles, insults and bad times I had to go through because of the smelly morning guy. They told me that I was not the first who asked for that… Many people seemed to have been attacked and insulted by that asshole already.

I couldn’t get to the owner at first, but left him a message in his telephone. Of course, that was not enough. I ripped off a few blank pages from my notebook and wrote a very pissed, yet serious and respectful complaint letter addressed to the owner and with a focus on this morning guy. I signed it and asked everyone hostel to sign it too and leave their comments.

Most people agreed and after an hour or so I had multiple pages and signatures of people who were loving the place but were pissed with the same guy I was. I was not the only one insulted for no reason, it seemed. I made sure that these pages got to the owner.

Few days later I get an email straight from him:  the asshole was fired. It was good news. For much of a good guy that I am, I will never leave any idiot as this one start treating me as shit. Nor should you; stay calm and do what you have to do. Just make sure to act with wisdom. Punches would have only gotten me trouble, the letter and signatures achieved exactly what I was waiting for.

Lesson #4: Embrace Randomness.

Paros, Cyclades Islands.

After the Athens incident came the funniest part of the trip. As much exciting Corfu was, the Cyclades are where the real deal is. I had always dreamed about visiting that side of Greece and I was finally there. It’s paradise (at least in summer!)

So I left for Piraeus and took a ride in a super cruiser bound to Paros. Paros is perfect: spectacular beaches, lovely small towns, excellent wine and is not as commercial and touristy as Mykonos, for instance. Cool place.

Either way, I needed a place to stay in Paros and had no better idea than to start asking when in the port. There were dozens of Greeks enthusiastic to take me to their hostels and camping sites, so I looked for the best offer. At that moment in time the best offer didn’t mean a comfortable bed or the best seaside view, no. It meant a good kitchen where I could cook myself a good home-made pizza. Sometimes food is that important!

And I found more than I was looking for. After telling my pizza plans to one camping-site owner he started shouting “YOU HAVE TO BE THE NEW CHEF IN MY PLACE!” It appears that the last chef had left and the whole camping staff was starving until a new cook was found. And there’s where I came in. Funny. I obviously accepted the job, albeit told the staff I couldn’t stay long.

And so I ended working in Paros. It was lots of fun. Instead of a place in an uncomfortable tent I found one in the staff’s building and for free. A winner from anywhere you looked. All I had to do is cook just once a day a delicious meal for the 10-man staff, all while I also fed myself. Brilliant!

The days in Paros were a lot of fun. I gained the trust and confidence of the staff fast and they tried their best to make me have an excellent time there. They took me to the best places, parties and made me meet lots of great people. They made me have the best memories of my trip in Greece. I, obviously, made sure to cook things as delicious and varied as possible!

And all out of the blue. It was not planned: somehow I had run into that camping guy who was precisely looking for a cook and at that exact time. I took the chance and will never forget it!

Lesson #5: Live The Good Life

Santorini, Cyclades Islands.

To hell with minimalism and calls for an austere lifestyle: money matters. It won’t make you happy overnight, but it will give you a lot of freedom. Freedom to be in Santorini, a paradise on Earth, and to be at the best places in the island, something few can afford.

Santorini is as spectacular as the world can get. It’s an archipelago of the remains of what was one of the most destructive and biggest volcanic eruptions in recorded history. It’s now composed of a few islands surrounding an impressive caldera, one of the most amazing sights the world has to offer. Trust me: it was not easy to impress someone who had been to 170+ cities and Santorini did exactly that. I was overwhelmed by the awesomeness of the place.

I was stunned when the cruiser was sailing to the port and said: this is paradise. And I want to live it as a king. I’m not rich (yet) and don’t have too much money to spare, even less when I’m backpacking around the world. I pay attention even to the smallest of the details: saving money matters.

But sometimes it’s good to spend. If it can really upgrade your experience, go ahead. On this island to maximize the experience meant two things: staying in a top, caldera-view hotel and taking a ride in the exclusive sunset boat. I made sure to take both. And I will never be sorry for that, on the contrary. It was an excellent choice.

Few things in the world are as awesome as a good breakfast while you are sitting in your balcony watching this caldera. I can’t put in down to words: it’s crazy. The hotel was great, and not really that expensive. Often backpackers omit hotels on purpose, but sometimes the prizes don’t go beyond 3-4x of a cheap dorm. Sometimes is worth it, especially if it’s the last spot of your trip as Santorini was for me.

The boat was just as cool. The sunset in Santorini is one of the most beautiful I have seen, and that boat took me to the prime spot and best location in the whole world to see it. Everyone was watching it and I was one of the few who were straight in the middle of the caldera. Awesome as life can get.

Couple that with some thermal waters before and a huge buffet after the sun’s ceremony and you got one of the prime experiences life has to offer. Cost? Just 60 Euros. Cheap!

Backpackers and people alike, think beyond the low-budget. 60 Euros for a few hours excursion may sound too much, but it was worth it. The buffet itself was already worth half of that. And the whole experience is a one memory that will never be erased: it’s priceless, making 60 Euros sound very cheap.

Go and enjoy life, for is exactly that what we are meant to do here in this world.

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You should have heard about the Three Tenors at least once. The names of Carreras, Domingo and Pavarotti have already been written in music history. Few artists into opera and classical music have been as renowned as these three. They performed dozens of highly-publicized concerts in the 1990s and early 200s.

How They Were Born

What you may not know, however, is the cause the united these three superstars – the reason for which the Three Tenors were born. Back in the late 1980s, Jose Carreras, the youngest and most promising of the three was diagnosed with leukemia, a disease that put his life at the biggest risk.

However, despite the overwhelming odds against, Carreras lived on. He survived and rapidly went back to the stage. As a way of commemorating Carreras return to music, his good friends and fellow tenors Pavarotti and Domingo organized a concert together – the first time tenors would be singing along outside an opera-house atmosphere.

And so the Three Tenors were born. On the epic setting of the Roman Baths of Caracalla, conducted by the legendary Zubin Mehta and in the midst of the World Cup 1990 Finals, held in Italy.

What Makes Them Special

This romantic setting made the concert special. Just imagine – three of the world’s most beautiful voices singing along in these gigantic 2000-year old Roman ruins. It’s something unique and out of this world – I have been to the Caracalla Baths and just to imagine hearing these guys playing there makes me shiver, nothing less.

The orchestra was flawless, Mehta gigantic and the tenors epic. And best –parts of the concert were completely improvised. It was pure charm. You could see the three giving instructions to each other while they were in the middle of an O’Sole Mio performance.

What You Can Learn

1) Appealing To The Masses.

The Three Tenors settled a few world records, all of which have something to teach us. They composed the first classical music best-seller – a feat many had tried but no one could achieve. This is big – just think about it. Big names tried and couldn’t and these three found the recipe: they combined old opera classics as La Dona E Mobile with popular current hits as Sinatra’s signature My Way – a winner mix.

If you have something that is not totally appealing to the masses – transform it into something that could. Keep the essence, keep the charm and just add a bit of the other. It won’t hurt and the results will be cool.

2) Timing Matters.

They also chose the best times for their most important concerts: always just before the World Cup was drawing to an end. No other event gathers so much attention and audience as the football tournament – Not the Super Bowl and not even the Olympics. The World Cup owns the world.  Bundling the concerts with the World Cup made it inevitable for people to at least hear once or twice about Carreras, Domingo and Pavarotti.

I wonder what could have happened if their concerts were not hand-in-hand with the World Cups. They rocked Europe in 1990 and America in 1994 – There was no way to escape from them. They had value, they were cool, and they spread. Whenever you are starting something or planning something big, think about the right time to act. Don’t wait too long, but find the best window to stand out.

3) Charisma Makes The Difference.

Pavarotti is one of the most charismatic singers I’ve ever seen. Not really physically attractive as Domingo or Carreras, he still managed to charm and make huge audiences fall in love with him. The great Luciano did it the classy way: not by shouting to the crowds nor saying stupid things on stage. Instead he kept a great smile and made those little gestures that matter.

Watching Pavarotti is watching a man in love with life – and that’s what makes him irradiate so much charm. Just to give you an idea, in 2006, shortly before he passed away and in a very deteriorated state, he still went on and sang for the opening of the Winter Olympic Games in Torino. Not as lively as before, just by throwing, with a smile, a big kiss into the air he sent the whole crowd roaring. That’s the little gestures I tell you about.

Carreras and Domingo don’t stay behind either. They helped transforming a genre that would otherwise be dull and too correct by giving guests the opportunity not to fall in love with the characters only but with the men behind. Learn from them, because for whatever you do in your life you’ll achieve better results and bigger success if you make people like you.

Didn’t Get The Record Yet?

I’m a fanatic of the Three Tenors (to the point I even cried when Pavarotti passed away). I got all their biggest concerts on DVD and CDs. If you want to buy them yourself, try out the following links. I don’t think I’ll be recommending any other piece of music in the future – this is the best music can get =)

DVDs:

The Three Tenors Original Concert (Rome, 1990)
The Three Tenors in Los Angeles (Los Angeles, 1994)
The Three Tenors in France (Paris, 1998)
The Three Tenors For Christmas

Music:

The Three Tenors Original Concert (Rome, 1990)
The Best of The Three Tenors

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Total read time: 10 Minutes

I have traveled a lot and want to tell you about each of the places I have been to. But instead of recalling all the adventures the old-fashioned way, I want to experiment and write about them as lessons.

You really learn a lot when you are traveling. More than you would ever imagine, especially if you are alone and stuck in crazy places. It’s inevitable to think deep, have ideas, learn, etc. It’s part of the odyssey.

These five lessons are from my last trip around Europe. I was stuck in L’viv , in Western Ukraine and had about a day and a half to get into Sibiu in Romania. It was a friend’s birthday party and I really didn’t want to miss that. Could I make it? Tricky, just keep reading!

Lesson #1: God Exists (and so Does Tremendous Luck)

L’viv is a lovely city. Perhaps a bit stuck back in time, but there’s a lot of nice architecture, places and things to see. It has Habsburg charm (it was one of the remotest cities on the Empire,) mixed with some Ukrainian and Soviet-era uniqueness. It was good to stay there for a few days.

But enough was enough. It was time to finally get out of Ukraine. No airplanes or buses made rail the only option to get to Sibiu. Not really cool as, despite both cities lying on the same line, the rail takes a detour deep into Hungary.

On the hostel I had met Marcel, this hippie and Spanish-speaking French who would join me for the half of the train ride. It’s always cool to have someone with you for these super-long trains, especially in countries a bit hostile as Ukraine. So we went to the central train station to buy ourselves a ride out of L’viv.

There’s nothing in the world that’s harder than to buy a train ticket in Ukraine and Russia. In Russia and in Kiev friends had done it for me… But in L’viv I was doomed. After more than two hours in the station, visiting all the possible counters and asking everyone you could ever imagine I was pissed as I can get.

They didn’t seem to notice the desperation in my face. I tried EVERYTHING… How DIFFICULT could it be to buy a ticket to Sibiu? After giving up completely I decided to at least try to get a ride in a train with destination Budapest. I wrote in a piece of paper, large and in Cyrillic “Budapest” and pointed at me saying “Mne (me), BUDAPEST” (almost like praying, money in hand.) No use.

I just wanted to get the hell out of Ukraine for once! So did Marcel, who, despite his hippie and laid-back kind of lifestyle, was also starting to get nervous… Then, the savior came. Bizarre things keep happening when abroad.

“Hola,” said this random, dirty and baldy dressed Ukrainian old man. He did not have front teeth and seemed more like a mugger than an envoy from God. “I heard you two speaking in Spanish. I’m from Argentina,” he insisted, with a funny accent. Whatever his plans were, he was dead wrong. There was nothing Argentinean on him and I could see all the way he was Ukrainian. I didn’t want to get mugged and told him to go away.

Feeling there was no patience in us two he did his trick. He took out a little blue booklet and said “look, look.” To my astonishment it had written in big letters “Pasaporte Argentino” plus the coat of arms of my country: the real thing. It was no joke! He then told me he was Ukrainian but was naturalized Argentine, after living in Buenos Aires for more ten years. For all those into gossip, he worked there as a bus driver (the infamous ‘colectiveros’).

He, then, in a matter of a few minutes did what we had been trying to do for hours: buy our tickets. I couldn’t believe and I still can’t believe it now. It was just amazing that this guy was in that place at that time and willing to help us out. The odds for that to happen are overwhelmingly low. And really, hadn’t him been there I perhaps would still be in L’viv!

I always think that luck’s impact in your life can be minimized (or played in your favor) if you are prepared and actively search luck. I sympathize with the words of the legendary golfer Roberto De Vicenzo “The more I practice, the more luck I have.” But these kinds of situations are beyond practice, preparation and anything else… This mysterious guy just popped there. Thank God!

Lesson #2: Create Adventures of the Worst Moments.

Once with our tickets Marcel and I boarded the train destination Budapest. I checked and to go to Sibiu the best idea was to get down in this city called Szolnok. I had never heard about Szolnok before… I thought it would be funny to fool around the city for a little bit if I had an hour or so in between trains. After all, more than twelve hours inside a train makes you want to get your legs in the move.

The thing is that I finally had to stay six hours in Szolnok. For much as I would have loved to check out the city, staying six hours in the middle of nowhere is never that fun. Marcel was gone and I was pissed: the next train headed to Sibiu was leaving in just ten minutes and the clerks didn’t want to sell me the tickets.

Why was that? This time they were much friendlier, spoke English and even laughed at my jokes, stories, etc. It’s just that they had to fill in the tickets by hand and that took “at least 15 minutes.” The clerks she said sorry at least twenty times, but told me there was no way in the universe for me to get a valid ticket before the train left.

You can imagine how pissed I was. I got a ticket for the afternoon train, leaving me whole morning to experience the best of Szolnok. I cursed myself for not going all the way to Budapest after all. I had been four times there already and loved the city… A fifth one would be much better than being in the middle of the Alföld .

But it was then, already stuck in Szolnok for good, that I realized how magical the moment was. I was in Szolnok, for god’s sake, no less! No matter how stupid the situation was, I started to feel better about it.

I walked around, spoke with people, ate delicious Hungarian cuisine and had a good time. After all, I knew no one who had ever been to Szolnok, I had never heard about it before and I probably would never be back there soon. Then the city started to look nicer for me, the people friendlier, the buildings more pretty, etc. I had a great time investigating the town.

Presented with a situation like this you should do the same. I could have well stayed in the station or at some place taking a nap or something… But no, I went out to explore, live and have fun in the city. And it was well worth it! I have anecdotes, discoveries and experiences that if I had stayed inside the station I would have never lived.

Make an adventure of life, even of the bad moments. You can’t imagine how angry and pissed I was because I was missing the train just because these women didn’t write fast enough. I didn’t have an emergency to get to Sibiu but when the trip is more than a day long you certainly want to keep it as short as possible. A six hour detour in the middle of nowhere is never welcomed in the first place. But when you don’t have any other choice make the most if it!

Lesson #3: Double-checking Sometimes is Not Enough.

I had enough time in Szolnok to check one million times all the details of my (hopefully) last train of the day. I knew everything someone could know about the Szolnok-Sibiu train. I checked on the Internet, asked all the clerks, etc. Of course, it was not enough.

All the info was worthless. The train was going into Romania, that’s for sure, but the stewards quickly pointed me out that not into Sibiu. I had to get down in a place called Vintu de Jos (more in the middle of nowhere than Szolnok) and there I would, finally, get my connection to where I wanted to go.

I wanted to kill the stewards, the train drivers, the clerks, etc. But they all contained me and told me that the connection would come just two or three minutes after I got to Vintu de Jos. Damning the situation I agreed and patiently waited while the train cruised the South of the Alföld and went deep into the Carpathians. It’s a breathtaking piece of scenery, one of my favorites in Europe.

It was already night when the train stopped at Vintu de Jos. I made sure to ask twenty times if I really had to go down there, when was the next train coming, etc. The stewards showed me the timelines, wrote notes down for me and made me very clear that there was no problem: I would get to Sibiu in less than an hour after I got down.

Of course, there was no train there waiting for me. The officials in the station quickly pointed out that the next train to Sibiu would not come at nine as the stewards had told me but, instead, at four in the morning. I like to make adventures, as I have already pointed you out, but that was enough.

Lesson #4: Don’t Panic, Football Can Save You.

While Szolnok was an okay city, Vintu de Jos was definitely not. It was for sure the most frightening place I had ever been at. All ran down, full of gypsies, stray dogs and very, very dark. The train station was very small and nothing beyond it looked friendly. No shops, no hotels, nothing… For once in the trip I was starting to get really worried.

Then it’s when the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy comes in hand. It may be a humor book, but it has and promotes the best quote any traveler should always remember: “DON’T PANIC.” Of course it’s hard not to, especially in a situation like this, but no matter how bad things are, stay calm. Panicking will only make matters worse.

I had made sure to keep all my valuables hidden, my watch off, everything on the front pockets, etc. But with no one to see and with some probably interesting stuff on me (backpacker after all) I was an easy and desired pray.

The first thing I did was to immediately call my friend. I still remember that loud, cute and mother-like “WHAT IS VINTU DE JOS MARIO?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN THERE?!”No matter how weird the situation was, it was good to hear the friendly voice on the other side of the phone anyway. We spoke for a minute and tried to make up a plan. Best idea: get a taxi (or whatever ride) out of Vintu de Jos and get to Sibiu fast.

But when I was about to hang up, some little guys started surrounding me. One of these started to play with a knife and looked quite seriously at me. I was really fucked, really, really. And I remember this moment: I extended my arms, palms open and in my struggling little Romanian told them “I’m from Ar-gen-ti-na,” “Good football, Maradona, friends.”

Saying that would probably get me killed in most of South America, but these guys were stupefact. I was probably the first Argentine they had ever seen and our football is well known for being one of the world’s top. And, best, Romanians are big fans. “I like Hagi, Popescu, Mutu…” and I continued. Lesson: always learn a country’s best football players and how to say they are good in the local language. Wins you friends, gets you drinks and saves your life. No joke.

After the small chit-chat I went on: “I… Sibiu… Help. Taxi” and took the Argentinean flag I always have hanging on my pack and gave it to them. I’m sure I had won the hearts of at least a few of these guys, but they kept discussing. In a moment like that, better to keep the mouth shut. Then, once they discussion was finished they pointed somewhere and told me: “Taxi.” Miracle, I was out of trouble.

Taxi place didn’t look as Taxi place, but I was definitely relieved to see two more backpackers and two old women waiting on the same spot. Whatever was going on that was the place to be.

Lesson #5: Sometimes You’ll Have to Eat Shit or Be Royally Fucked.

The backpackers at least spoke English, but were less friendly than the gypsy boys. And the two old women… Well, I felt they hated me from moment zero. I just don’t know why, but I never felt so disliked in my whole life. The Taxi place was not a Taxi place, but there was this guy with a big car who was willing to take us to Sibiu for a few Euros.

Jackpot, finally… One hour, that’s all what was left. Thing is that then they started discussing that they didn’t want to take me. This old woman from Germany, who actually spoke Romanian and had become the de-facto leader of the small group, told me there was no place in the car for me. I was better dressed, better looking and more friendly and active than the two others, but she just didn’t seem to have a crush on me.

I don’t know why, but it was mysterious. Either way, after fighting a little bit for the prize and negotiations, they agreed to take me on the trunk of car, all cramped, as the only option. Of course, I would have to pay the same as the other two, bigger and more-space consuming backpackers who had a much comfortable ride.

But then, it was my only option. There was no car in Vintu de Jos and the gypsies wouldn’t be that friendly for the rest of the night. The trunk was better than any other option available and I had to take it. It was an uncomfortable ride, that’s for sure.

Either way, in less than an hour we finally got to Sibiu. Unbelievable, after more than thirty hours inside trains, crazy cities and all this… But the driver wasn’t so nice as to leave us at the center. Instead he left us in the very edge of the city, far away from everything.

And that’s when my favorite part came in. I called my friend fast and in less than five minutes I had a friend of hers picking me up. I left while the other four had a “What can I do now?” face. Said goodbye as a good gentleman, wished them well and went my way. We then went for party, drank a bit and had a great time.

Photo: me in the L’viv-Szolnok train.

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