This is probably the most belated account of New Year festivities in the entire blog world. I guess I can pull my usual excuse: I'm Transylvanian, don't rush me!

Not that it was terribly exciting. We went to a cabin in Bistra (no Wikipedia page, sorry), in the beautiful Mures valley. Loaded with festive food, appropriate clothing, skiing gear, a considerable amount of alcohol and anything else a self-respecting Transylvanian may need for such an important occasion as the end of 2009, we expected to have a great time. We were planning to spend 4 days there.

The weather was terrible: rain, flood warnings, thick clingy mud, obviously no conditions for either skiing or hiking. But, as the climbing of some height or other was compulsory for such dedicated mountain people, on the first day we rushed to the nearest cliff in the few hours of daylight we had left.

It was already dark by the time we got to the top. Walking on muddy ground in the dark is quite a delight! But the hike was worth it, even just for seeing the breathtaking moon. I wish one of the people who can actually take pictures had their camera with them. But they didn't, so these murky images are my only proof of a beautiful evening:
After our return, it was time for eating, drinking and merrymaking. The other guests were most sociable,
...the host very welcoming (and very tipsy)
...and the midnight firecrackers were of the appropriate loudness.
Later, high class entertainment was provided to those who wanted to sleep...
...so they didn't sleep!

And in the morning, the skiing gear, festive food and alcohol were taken back to the city, as there was not much point staying longer in that weather.

And after that, i spent the first 2 weeks of the year (going on 3) being sick. I hope it's not a sign for the year to come.

But there, I've done my duty and told you about my latest exploits. Maybe I should drag my convalescent bottom to the craft table now and catch up with this month's projects.

Same valley, different perspective

It seems we can't get enough of this place. There are still so many nooks and crannies to explore, and each rock, village or valley renders itself to a different activity. This time it was rock climbing, which I tried for the first time:

The pics make me look way professional, don't they? It took a significant amount of huffing and puffing, a couple of bruises, two grazed knees, a bump on my head and a good serving of giggles from the people at the bottom until I (sort of) made it to the top. My arms and legs still hurt. But it was so much fun, I'm definitely going to do it again.

Well-worn, dusty and very shaky hands:
Another swing to add to the survey (NZ swings continue to be the best by far). Behind me, sneak preview for Jocke:
I know, I know, those bloody shoes again! But I can't help it; wherever there's height, there will be a shoe pic.
The batteries in my camera ran out rather early in our trip, so I don't get to show you the most beautiful part, namely Saturday night's full moon illuminating the ruins. I won't even attempt to describe what I thought only existed in romantic painting and victorian novels. Some things are better just felt and unshown.

Oh, and one more thing! It's summer! :D