Somewhere in a photobox, there is a stack of pictures featuring young Mihai at the Black Sea. They've aged in that specific way that only Communist Era photos do: the red lipstick, bathing suits, and t-shirts have deepened into a sort of dusky naphthol while everything else,
Drumul Național means The National Road. It's a highway, but if, when you think of a highway, you imagine something like the 101 or even Interstate 5, you're mistaken. Imagine something more like Soquel Drive, except that it spans the country and everyone uses it, from
In the last post I mentioned we'd been exhausting ourselves with endless shopping and I'm happy to report that that phase is over. The pantry is fully stocked, we have all of the toilet paper and coat hangers a house needs to run efficiently, and at
It's been a week, both literally and figuratively. We've been in Viștea de Jos for a week now (although it feels much longer), and we've managed to exhaust ourselves. The exhaustion is due to a number of factors, jet lag being one of them.
In the Carpathians, there now lives an immigrant. You know this, because for the past five years, I’ve told everyone I’ve ever met. “We’re moving to Romania again,” I’ve said, “but this time we’ll be in Viștea de Jos.” And here we are. You’ll
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