And the Times They Are A Changing
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The Hurez Monastery is a haven of peace and quiet. Built in the 17th century in the Branceasuvanesc style it is now a convent of nuns having been a monastery for men at one time but never the twain will meet. The architecture is stunning with intricate friese work and the interior wall paintings are breath-taking
Time is getting on and it's late afternoon. I spot a sign to two pensions off the main road. Ideal. I pass through a hamlet, then onto an unmade road slippery with mud. I'm on road tyres. I carry on for about 5k deeper and deeper into the hills. Dracula country? I finally find them, not the forbidding castle but two bright modern pensions. Looks good. HOW MUCH! That's nearly three times the amount I paid last night. Both are empty but no negoatiating. Back on the trail and on to Fagaras and anothe basic for the night.
The waiter recommends the chicken with flakes. I'll go with that, wondering what sorth of batter the chicken will be fried in. Well you English frequently loses something when used by others. Lost in translation springs to mind. I do feel like an idiot when the chicken arrives fried in flakes - CORN FLAKES. Not one from Delia's books I bet.