Well, with the trip nearly over and home on the horizon tomorrow, now seems as good a time as any to look back – for better or worse on this occasion.

Romania itself was lovely. Genuinely. It certainly helped that the weather was kind – apparently it had been pissing it down all week prior, but I only had a touch of rain at the start in Bucharest (which, in fairness, suited the place), then glorious sunshine from that point on.

I particularly loved the Transylvanian towns of Brasov, Sighișoara, Sibiu – all very much “my” type of places – what with pastel facades, cobbled streets, and a sense of old world civility and calm (I’m fairly certain I must have been Germanic or Austro-Hungarian in a former life). My favourite parts of the trip were really the simple things here – such as long early morning runs around town, while the streets were just coming to life (and Alex-RO was still on overnight charge), or sitting on sunny squares enjoying an Aperol spritz early evening, once blissfully alone again and liberated from the daily demands of The Schedule.

Beyond the towns, I also really enjoyed the various drives through the countryside – think pretty painted villages, horses and carts, and the occasional traditionally dressed Roma (though I wouldn’t recommend raising that particular topic with Alex or Diana anytime soon…). I didn’t see any bears (apparently Romania has them in multitudes), but I did spot a red squirrel, a hare and plenty of nesting storks along the way.

The food was a pleasant surprise too. I definitely developed something of an addiction to sarmale – which are pork-stuffed cabbage rolls – but also tried a decent range of soups (tripe, borscht, goulash), lots of fresh salads (tomatoes and cucumber here are seriously tasty), as well as a particular peasant meal called bulz ardelenesc: a gloriously stodgy pile of polenta, cheese, sausage, egg and sour cream. And with the Fitbit logging an average 25,000 steps and 100 active minutes a day, I figured I’d earned it.

As for the rest… Well, fair to say this was not quite the trip I’d signed up for. Being the only person on a supposedly group tour (still not sure I buy the “last-minute cancellations” line) unfortunately meant I ended up with the worst of both worlds here: namely the premium price tag and fixed itinerary of a group holiday, minus any of the camaraderie or social interaction that type of travel usually brings.

Now, several of you have asked – quite reasonably – how Alex can still be employed in a client-facing role (one he’s had for twenty years, apparently!), and how he possibly handles larger groups. Believe you me, I’ve been wondering the same.

My best guess is that, in a group setting, his more – let’s say – intense qualities are somewhat diluted. There’s more dynamic interplay, other people ask questions, and there’s safety in numbers when it comes to requesting a loo break. You can blend into the crowd a bit, and maybe even quietly skip a sight or two without a moral reckoning. But as a solo traveller? There’s no buffer. No distraction. Just relentless one-on-one scrutiny. Like being on a week-long school trip where you’re the only pupil – and the headmaster is at least part-cyborg. It was, at times, genuinely excruciating.

And that’s the thing – being a good guide is about more than punctuality and historical knowledge. It’s about rapport, intuition, knowing how to read a room (or in this case, a person), and pitching your delivery accordingly – not just droning on endlessly about historical detail with zero awareness as to how it’s landing. It’s understanding that travel isn’t just about facts – it’s about the experience as a whole – the joy of a good meal, a chance encounter, or simply sitting still and just breathing in a place. Case in point: when I asked Alex for a restaurant tip one evening, he replied – deadpan – “None of them are good. I just buy food at the supermarket.” Right. Thanks for that, Alex.

Some have floated the idea that neurodiversity might be a factor here. I really couldn’t say – and it’s certainly not my place to armchair diagnose here. If so, then I have genuine sympathy: I can only imagine navigating a people-facing role with such challenges must be very tough. All I can speak to is my own experience here, which involved being stuck all week with a monotonous bore who couldn’t shift tone, take a hint, or simply know when to STFU – not much fun, whatever the underlying reason for it.

The other alternative, of course, is that I’m the problem…? Though I really don’t think so. After all, I nodded politely. I smiled. I stifled several silent screams and – more than once – the very real urge to commit first-degree murder. And frankly, I don’t think the occasional request for a sandwich or a toilet break marks me out as some sort of diva. And if it does, I’d argue I’m a remarkably self-restrained one.

Would I have chosen this version of the trip? Absolutely, categorically, not. But I’m still glad I went. Romania’s a place I’d happily return to – though next time with a bit more freedom, a bit more flexibility, and ideally with someone by my side who knows when to shut up and just enjoy the moment.

And that’s a wrap on this gloriously weird little adventure. Genius-level bonus content incoming shortly… ☺️