I still laugh when I think about it now — though at the time, it felt more like living in a low-budget sitcom. It was Lisbon, midsummer, and I’d booked myself into one of those charming old hostels where the walls are thin, the floors creak, and the reception desk doubles as a bar.

It makes Romania somehow cozier than can be replicated or even captured on film, it is the hospitality that is not practiced and taught to tourists, but the one that is natural, as the one of a long-lost friend.

Let me tell you a story. Last year, I booked a last-minute trip to New York. Flights? Sky-high. Hotels? Even worse. But by sheer luck, I stumbled on a package deal that bundled everything – including Manchester Airport parking – and saved £200.