I’ve always loved to wander, whether by train, by plane or on foot. Having lived in six countries and traveled through many more (how does the list of destination goals only seem to get longer?!), I am forever dreaming about my next adventure. But over the years there’s one country that I continue to visit as frequently as my pennies allow and that’s Romania.
No matter how amazed I was by northern lights in Iceland – note to readers: standing on ice for over four hours in the middle of the night is not advised – or how Instagram-worthy Santorini really is, there’s nothing quite like our little country home where I laze in a hammock outside or my grandparents’ back garden. I don’t know whether it’s the fact that the neighbor passes me fresh eggs through the fence when she hears I’m back, or that I have never tasted a watermelon more wonderful than that one purchased from a man who claimed the secret to his perfect watermelons was to serenade them. I’m inclined to believe him. I’m serious when I say it was THAT good. But I digress…
Some of my best memories, and my favorite photos were created in a beautiful place that most of the world knows little about. The truth is that the country still has a lot of improving to do, but walking through restored Roman citadels or spending hours at the market trying to understand how the tomatoes can really be so delicious… these are simple things that get me.
I did most of my growing up in North America and generally credit other countries for my personal development but that rich Romanian soil, the incredible hospitality of strangers who inevitably want to feed you at any hour of the day and no, you may NOT refuse … they leave me wanting more every time I have to go back to real life. It could be that it’s simply too much a part of me and a comparison is unfair but I have visited amazing places that I would love to see again and have yet to revisit. So I ask you this: Where would you go if you had to stop travelling? Not where work is. Not where you had the best night out. Maybe not even where your friends and family are. But where you’ve felt most like the place itself understands you.