The trip was pretty uneventful. I wore a tee shirt since I knew how hot airports and planes could be. Actually I wore a tee shirt because as you know, I'm a bad flyer and if I threw up, at least I'd be able to change quickly.

I flew form Manchester to Munich, then Munich to Bucharest (Otopeni) and finally Bucharest (Baneasa) to Timisoara. The only memorable part of the journey was watching the de-icing machines take all the snow and ice off the aircraft at Munich. I was impressed with the German efficiency - four very large spraying machines blasted anything remotely resembling a snowflake from the wings. At Bucharest Baneasa Airport however, all I saw was a sorry looking little bloke with a hosepipe trying to dislodge the icicles on the propeller blades.  I closed my eyes.

Upon reaching Bucharest I telephoned Ana Maria. I told her that I would see her in a couple of hours. She asked how I was, and I told her that I was comfortable and that I was still wearing my tee shirt. It was about -10 degrees outside.

The International Airport in Bucharest, the capital of Romania is called Otopeni, and as an airport it's ok, not like Manchester or Frankfurt but comfortable enough. It was outside in the car park where all the problems would start.

Ana was explicit in her instructions in getting from Otopeni Airport to Baneasa Airport "Get the bus" she said. I said 'ok, no problem.'

This is 'Mad Milche', he's a taxi driver with half a brain. He's one of those pushy taxi driver types that you see outside Eastern Block international airports. Some of them can be dangerous but this one was just in a hurry. Despite Ana's instructions I was enthralled by Mad Milche's patter. 'Baneasa $20' he insisted every two seconds. The sight in the carpark as I exited the airport was a little intimidating, well, chaos actually. So I contemplated getting a taxi. My tee shirt was beginning to betray me and I started having second thoughts about the wisdom of Ana's advice. You know the way you persuade yourself when you just can't be bothered. I considered that I might catch the wrong bus and miss my plane, What would I do in such a situation. Hell I'm a millionaire in Romania with only a few dollars and this taxi driver is shorter than I am, I'll be ok.

Mad Milche is a friendly old sole with a vicious sense of barter. I offered him $5 dollars and he beat me up to $15. Unfortunately the part of his brain that he used for negotiation far outclassed the part he used for the negotiation of other roadusers on the highway. If I were to say that Mad Milche's driving was quick and a little erratic, I'd be lying. This man is absolutely bloody crazy. He drove me at about sixty miles an hour round cars and bumps in the road in a clapped out rust bucket he affectionately referred to as his taxi. When he saw a car in front of him he drove faster until the car in front chickened out and moved out of the way. I used more 'F' words in that ten minutes that I had all year previously.

When we got to the imposing Baneasa airport I was a nervous wreck. Mad Milche was so crazy he drove off without asking for the fare. He remembered a few seconds later and nearly ran me over. I was so please to still be alive that I paid the bloke. Unfortunately I didn't have change for a $20 note so he said he would owe me the $5 and that he'd come to collect me on my return journey. Little did he know that Ana would be accompanying me to Otopeni. Ha! She'd sort him out!

Baneasa was not like any airport I had seen. It was more like a bus station. At five o'clock, after travelling for twelve hours, I finally boarded the plane knowing that as soon as I landed, I'd see the friendly face of Ana.

When I finally arrived in Timisoara and saw Ana she burst out laughing. Now I like her smile a lot, but it's not the greeting you expect after a long journey is it? She apparently thought I was joking about the tee shirt. It was -10C and falling.

We hugged and kissed (when she finally stopped laughing) and introduced me to her flatmate, Danielle who had come along for the ride. I nearly froze to death in the short walk from the airport exit to the taxi.

When we arrived at their apartment I was surprised to see that although modest by western standards it was ok. This, after a long chat with Ana who was worried that I might think it, well, a little too modest.

She had planned a night out, I had just enough time to change before I, Ana, Danielle and another of her friends, Mickey went out to the local disco. Accompanied by three lovely women, I was a lucky man indeed. The only trouble is, erm... well I knew that Romania has a few economic problems and that the people of Timisoara do not have the same standard of living in the West, so I was a little worried about what I'd find. Having been spoiled by the nightlife of my hometown, one of the wackiest holiday resorts in Europe, I envisaged the top nightspot of Timisoara as a small pokey cafe with a little old bloke and a record deck.

I couldn't have been more wrong. The Park Place disco has got to be one of the most high-tech nightspots I've ever seen. This place was amazing! The sound was superb, the music was modern dance music and the light system was surreal. The beer was cheep and fellas, the girls were gorgeous.

I got very drunk and made a fool of myself dancing like a real plonker. Ana Maria on the other hand is a fantastic dancer. I was quite happy to sit and watch for most of the night. We finally got back at about 4am.

The next day we just took it easy. In fact we had a really relaxing time for all three days. We visited the city centre with Ana's friend Gabriella, and we even saw a movie, I forget the name. Ana's best friend Gabriella was nice. She had spent two years in England and apparently really enjoyed herself. Her English was very good, to be honest, most of the people I met could speak at least a little English.

On the Sunday Evening I met with my friends Diana and Radu. They both work at the University of Timisoara and were very friendly when I visited last year to deliver a conference paper. It was nice to see them again. I had dinner with them and we talked a little business.

Afterwards I met up with Ana and her friend Danielle again and we headed off to a great jazz club in the Town Centre. The music was cool and the people were terrific but the single malt was watered down. I also took Ana to an Italian restaurant where we had a rather greasy pizza.

The exchange rate in Timisoara is about 13,000 Lei to one pound. A packet of cigarettes is the equivalent of 40 pence yet the food is about the same price as in England. There are few luxury items on sale, indeed, Ana and Danielle did not have a fridge never mind a washing machine or microwave. They lived in a fourth floor flat, which is kept warm by a sort of community central heating system. Romanians live very modestly; it's surprising then, that they really know how to party.

The nightlife centred mainly on The Park Place and the other Disco in the Town, Discoland. I met many of Ana's friends and many other friendly people. The beer I drank was a black Romanian beer. I was determined to remember its name but you know what I'm like, I forgot. Most of the people drank lager beer, there weren't many people drinking shorts with the exception of some plastic women who were drinking champagne (or sparkling white wine).

On the final night Ana and myself met with Danielle and a friend in the Jazz club. We didn't get back until around two in the morning and we had to be up again to catch a plane at 8.30 am.

Ana would accompany me to Otopeni Airport in Bucharest. I was hoping she would protect me from Mad Milche but when we got to Baneasa there he was. We both looked at each other in horror. Fancy being intimidated by a short chubby round-faced taxi-driver. Ana launched into some Romanian and I stood helplessly as the two argued. In the end she grabbed my arm and we went back into the Airport lounge. 'Did a runner huh?' I enquired politely. She confessed that she had 'given in' and that she had said that we would go with him in a few minutes. Ana rushed off to change some money and Mad Milche hung around. He couldn't speak much English so all I could do was give him the odd reassuring smile. After a few minutes he walked off touching his finger to his cheek. He didn't look too happy but I smiled again anyway. Ana eventually returned looking somewhat flustered and I quietly asked what the touching ones cheek gesture meant. Ana said it means 'Shame on you'. He must have thought that we were not going to use his services after all. Ana and I both hmmmm'd and went off to find him.

He drove us 'carefully' to Baneasa Airport where I said my goodbyes to Ana. As I boarded the plane I sighed. The past few days had been a lot of fun and I was sad to leave. At the entrance to the plane I looked back across the airport. Ana may have been watching from one of the windows. I wondered if her eyes were as tearful as mine.