It only gets better!

At 7:30, I went downstairs, and the receptionist had arranged for a taxi to get me and she came out to give him directions to an apartment building, the address of which my university contact didn’t know exactly, but was able to describe in location. So, like a sheep being driven to slaughter, I dumbly sat in the taxi, and when the driver pulled over in front of some HORRIFIC commie era apartment blocs, I got out and paid.
And there I waited. And waited. After 10 minutes, I thought, well, this is Romania, she might just be late. After 20 minutes, I got irritated. After 30 minutes, I got a bit worried and wondered what to do now. I looked at my surroundings. I was standing in front of a shop which was in the ground floor of a hideous Ceasescu era building project. I’m no new-comer to this sort of construction, as some of the older apartment buildings in Linz are really not that much different in style, though the Austrian penchant for ORDNUNG has at least kept those buildings looking a bit neater. However, the terrible architecture sprawled here on a much larger scale. All of the apartment buildings were about 10 floors tall, grey, drab, with peeling plaster exteriors. However, it didn’t seem like an unsafe place, as many people were walking in the street to do groceries or come home from work. Finally, at 8:10, I decided to stroll up and down the street a bit, because it had occurred to me that the driver didn’t really know where to go. I also ventured across the street, which was rather terrifying. Romanian drivers are completely insane, as aggressive and fast as Western European drivers, but with that same lack of ORDNUNG.
I really had to chide myself for being such an idiot. I never thought to ask her her phone number, didn’t even know the address of my hotel, didn’t think to ask her to explain to me what exactly I should look for, what she’d be wearing, or tell her what I’d be wearing. I was such a placid sheep. I felt the same sense of helplessness and frustration as I had when I’d stood in the terminal in Cluj.
I had no luck in trying to meet with Carmen, my contact, that night. I took a cab home, relieved when he knew where the University Hotel was. I went to my room, frankly, quite upset, a little overwhelmed and exhausted. My intention in coming to Cluj early had been to meet with Carmen on Monday, spend Tuesday looking for an apartment, and then leave my luggage in the hotel in Cluj so I could travel to Bucharest more easily. So far, nothing had really panned out as intended. In hindsight, I can see it’s really not that bad, as I had a nice hotel to stay in and could chat on Messenger, but that night, eating a dinner of chips and beer, I was decidedly pouty and lonely.