Back to the greenest green. The green that never knew thirst. The green of fairy tales. The dwarfs’ little wooden house waiting for Snow White. The towers where the princess spins the endless fleece. The storks in their nest - have they already brought the babies to the waiting families?
I went to Romania, curious to see whether there are any strings left connecting my adult and child self. I expected to feel a sense of belonging; the food, the language. And I did. Eating mom’s food at a hotel’s breakfast, or at dinner, speaking the language I used to speak with grandma. But nothing prepared me for the sheer enchantment of the countryside, its pure and simple beauty. A place that ignores the modern show off and just lives its life. Where man lives within nature rather than fighting it. Where carts filled with hay or logs replace the horrible traffic jams we became so familiar with. The longing for a simpler life. Lacking in modern comforts but rich in space, fresh water and sweet smelling air. It stole my heart.