Cluj has a whole underground world of pubs and clubs that weave in and out of tunnels and caves beneath the city streets. And when I say cave, I mean straight up grotto. Phantom of the Opera-style. Musty...dark...Smeagol territory. It's awesome.
|Tanya, Rick and me. Nothing bonds like karaoke.|
And in these grotto-pubs a wealth of treasures can be found. Karaoke here is nothing like in the States. It's one big giant mob of Romania's liveliest bunch, singing along to whatever song is playing, as the actual person with the microphone struggles to see the lyrics on the screen because he/she is being thronged (or otherwise party-boy'd) by a hundred people at once. It's thrilling. And I always thought Romanian's were all tone-deaf, but I realize now that judgement was only based on the members at church, most of whom sing the hymns louder and prouder than anyone I know, and they all sound like William Hung. But the karaoke stars I've come across so far have got some serious pipes.
|Rick is somewhere in there, singing "Losing My Religion" by R.E.M.|
How they have such pipes is beyond me, because they all smoke like chimneys. And as you can imagine, there is poor ventilation in a cave. My throat hurt for days and my clothes are still saturated with the smell of cheap tobacco.
|Mr. I'm-Too-Sexy-For-My-White-Capris comin' in hot on Tanya, who really|
shouldn't be complaining because she's from the wilds of Africa and could
sorely use an easy escape to European residency:)
And what's a club without its stereotypical club-goer (greasy, macho, and wasted)? Lots of gems like the one above to be had here, should you be looking for easy access to a Blue Card (the Green Card of Europe). As greasy as they might be, I am deeply thankful for them because they provide endless inspiration for the annual Euro Trash Dance Party in Provo.