Romania

Bucharest surprised me in a way I wasn't ready for. I'd read about it being this grand, slightly crumbling city, but standing in the middle of it — under that wide summer sky, the heat pressing down on the boulevards — it felt more alive than the descriptions ever suggested. The Arcul de Triumf rose out of the morning light like it had all the time in the world, the Romanian tricolour catching a faint breeze.

What stayed with me was the contrast. From up high you could see how much green the city holds — Herastrau Park wrapping around the lake, the skyline beyond it all soft and low. Then you'd walk into Caru' cu Bere and find yourself inside something out of another century entirely, arched ceilings painted in deep greens and golds, carved wood columns going up and up. I sat in there for way too long, eating more than I planned.

The Palace of the Parliament is one of those things you have to stand in front of to really believe. Photos don't prepare you for the sheer scale of it — it just goes on and on, all that white stone baking in the sun. Bucharest is a city that keeps making you recalibrate your sense of scale, and I left it feeling like I'd only just started to understand it.