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About Bucharest

Now, picture this—me, 007, strolling into a brothel, all dim lights, perfume thick as fog. “Gigolo Joe” vibes from *A.I.*, right? “What do you want, love?” some bird purrs, and I’m like, “Info, darling, not the goods.” Shaken, not stirred, see—I notice the little things. The creaky floorboard hiding cash, the coded knocks on doors. Brothels ain’t just sex dens, nah—they’re spy nests, gossip hubs. Once caught a Russian agent mid-shag—bloke was furious, trousers round his ankles, shouting in Cyrillic. Laughed me arse off, then clocked him one.

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But then, outta nowhere, one of the kids kicks the ball too hard, and it lands right in the river. I’m like, “No way!” The kid jumps in after it, and I’m just standing there, half-laughing, half-worried. He comes out soaked but grinning like he just won the lottery. Kids, man. They’re wild.

Local Action Groups from Cahul and Ungheni regions benefit from grants of total value of €200,000, thanks to European Union’s financial assistance