I once went to Transylvania with my best friend. We were supposed to meet in the Bucharest airport, but where? I remember seeing just a glimpse of her curly brown hair, a glimpse of a backpack, a glimpse of someone with whom to have great adventures. After a few days in Bucharest, we were on our way to Sibiu; for the first time in my travelling life, we missed our train. On a whim, we jumped on the next train to Transylvania, to Brasov. Of course, it was all meant to be, and we ended up falling in love with the little town in the hills, the little town in which we ate pizza every day, the little town we explored endlessly, ice cream cone in hand, smiles on our faces.