I never expected to venture to Romania. Then again, I generally seek random adventures on the road. I have always been staunchly ‘anti-contiki'. Personally, travelling on clichéd tours with a group of 20-somethings too scared to stray off the beaten track was nearly as horrifying as being a cubicle inmate in the office.

I subscribe more to the ‘contipi tour' - which involves minimal planning, random modes of transport (mainly hitchhiking) and possibly hunkering down in tipis if hotels and/or hostels were unaffordable.

Pursuing wacky escapades was my primary motivation. So, travelling to Romania's cricket headquarters in the outskirts of Bucharest on a bus with the Serbian cricket team fitted my travel criteria nicely.

The affable Serbian lads (sprinkled with the odd Aussie, Englishman and South African) were headed to the Continental Cup - a tournament featuring teams from Romania, Bulgaria, Slovenia and Macedonia.

And I went along for the ride. Partly to watch some mates play. Partly to watch international cricket in an unlikely destination. But mostly to learn about Romanian cricket.

The small bus chugged out of Bucharest and into the Romanian wilderness. My bleary head wasn't really focused on the aesthetics of the scenery. I was just relieved to have made the sharp 10am departure, with Serbia scheduled to play at midday against Bulgaria.

I had arrived in the Romanian capital the previous night - my flight frustratingly delayed by a few hours at Sofia Airport. Meaning, I was fashionably late for my first night out bar hopping in Bucharest.

Making up for lost time, I downed a few too many brews amid the joviality of the Serbian cricket team. Inevitably, Bucharest's surprisingly energetic nightlife conquered us.

I woke up in a sorry state in quite possibly the cheapest, thus grimy, hostel in town. Somehow I staggered out of my accommodation and hopped onto the Serbian cricket bus in the nick of time.

This was my only available ride into Romanian cricket.

Looking at the weary Serbian players made me grateful. Thankfully, I would not have to put on the whites and trudge onto the pitch under the scorching Southeastern European sun. Most of the Serbians used the 45-minute ride wisely with some valuable shuteye.

Was I dreaming? No, despite feeling zombie-like due to that lethal combination of tiredness and intoxication, I was awake.

We had arrived in Moara Vlasiei, about 20km out of Bucharest.

It was a surreal sight. In the midst of a cricket backwater, I felt in familiar terrain. This ground in the fringes of Bucharest looked eerily similar to a suburban cricket ground in Australia. A turf wicket stood out amid the plush green field. There was a small grandstand for spectators to seek respite from the sun. All that was missing was a pavilion complete with boozers anchored at the bar.

I was intrigued. Who was funding this? It appeared a significant investment in a most obscure venture for this part of the world.

There were whispers of a financial backer. A rich Romanian apparently was bankrolling the development of cricket. It made no sense.

Did Romania have its own Walter White/Heisenberg? Was someone using cricket as a front for shady activities?

My suspicions heightened when someone pointed out Romanian Cricket's Mr Money. He looked middle-aged, burly and was wearing a black leather jacket. I should have made a beeline to him but unfortunately lethargy consigned me to idleness.

Instead, I painstakingly watched ‘Mr Money' walk into the distance, dashing my chance for an exclusive interview.

After dropping a sitter, I was keen to make amends.

I hoped Cricket Romania chief executive Rangam Mitra would provide a lifeline. Fortunately, Mitra has the gift of the gab and ensured the next 45 minutes not only spared me from my stupor but more importantly provided an insight.

Originally from India, Mitra now lives in London. About five years ago, he was keen to help out in the development of cricket in Romania. Why? His enthusiastic friend Gabriel Marin, aka ‘Mr Money', needed guidance into the bat and ball world.

"Gabriel went to school in Switzerland and realised cricket was the best game in the world," Mitra explains.

"He watched the World Cup in 2007 in West Indies and realised that the game should be played in Romania."

So, it appeared there was not a Breaking Bad type plot brewing in Bucharest. It was merely a case of a wealthy cricket convert eager to spread the game to his homeland.

Yet, I was fascinated by this cricket development in Romania.

According to Mitra, a cricket game was staged in Bucharest in 1893 to commemorate the Romanian crown prince marrying the niece of Queen Victoria.

Unfortunately, cricket was consigned to the doldrums during the 20th century.

"For Romanians, cricket was something that was in Alice in Wonderland…and I have to keep reminding people that it was croquet not cricket," Mitra says sheepishly.

But the game started to revive in the new millennium with the influx of students from the sub-continent infiltrating into Romania.

Despite cricket's virtual invisibility in Romania, heck in most of continental Europe, Mitra and Marin believed they had a product more addictive than Walter White's finest cooking (sorry for the binge in Breaking Bad references but the show has consumed my attention in recent months).

In 2008, they mapped out an audacious plan. Forget about slowly introducing the British game, why can't Romania become the home of cricket in Eastern Europe? Mitra and Marin certainly dare to dream.

At the time, cricket in Romania did not formally exist but importantly a vision had been created.

Coveted land was found in the fringes of Bucharest, admittedly away from the heartbeat of the city but an ideal place for cricket to blossom during its infancy.

Armed with dosh, the newly established Cricket Romania built its headquarters, which includes a first-class draining system.

By the end of the decade, Romania is hoped to become cricket's frontier in the region.

"It will probably cost $5 million dollars to build our cricket facility that we envision," Mitra says.

"We want to make Romania the centre for cricket in this part of the world. This region has a history of good sportsmen and sportswomen, which had never been tapped because of the strong regimentation under communism."

The rise of Romanian cricket has fortuitously coincided with the boon of T20. Unlike Test and 50-over cricket, the fast and furious shortest format has the potential to capture the imagination of the uninitiated.

"Football has reached its point of saturation, he says.

"It is time for a new sport to emerge and we hope it is cricket."

Dividends haven't yet been reaped almost five years since the bold plan was hatched. However, ICC affiliate membership, rising junior participation and burgeoning talented young women excite Romanian cricket chiefs.

"We became an affiliate member in June and it means we can attract sponsorship, money from ICC and make us go from amateur to professional," Mitra says.

"We have 300 children playing kanga cricket. We think we will become in the top 10 in the world for women because we have lots of talented teenagers playing."

My sojourn in Romania was complete. I had received a brief initiation into Romanian cricket, a land of an unexpected cricket wealth on and off the pitch.

As I departed Bucharest, I realised it could be many years until I returned to this intoxicating country. Who knows what the state of cricket will be in Romania in the future.

One thing that is guaranteed - Romanian cricket heavies will not tread lightly.