After a lengthy dinner with Simona and our friends from Israel, Miri, Petra, HL and I took a costly taxi ride back to our tour group's Bucharest hotel. It was the tour's final night. We checked into a Radisson conference center with hundreds of rooms, office facilities, a large gym and an indoor pool. The anonymous corporate style of the facility seemed more appropriate for San Francisco or Minneapolis than the outskirts of the Romanian capital. We had scant time, however, to sample the Radisson's advertised amenities. Having arrived late, we needed our beds and little else. At breakfast the next morning, we bade some of our fellow travelers Adieu. Radi was occupied elsewhere, and I missed saying Goodbye to her. Otherwise, very few of the other tourists had paid much attention to us, so our leave-taking was perfunctory.
Another taxi ride brought us to a completely different sort of hotel. We had booked rooms on-line for Miri and Petra and for ourselves at the modest Hotel Otopeni. It was situated on a side street so small that the taxi driver had trouble finding it. We had chosen the hotel for its proximity to the airport, since our flight back to The States was scheduled to depart before dawn. HL's and my lodgings turned out to consist of two large rooms. Miri and Petra also had a two-room suite. In ours, there was a sitting room with a couch, a coffee table, chairs and a desk. The other room held a bed with tables on both sides, and a looming armoire. The furnishings were like those in a New York City apartment in The Fifties. The bathroom alone had been modernized. Whoever had been responsible for the remodeling had installed a garish, turquoise fiberglass sink that had me reaching for my camera. The sink was functional, but so incongruous as to be comic.