home

On the long rode from Frankfurt to Berlin yesterday, I had my head leaned against the window trying not to be carsick, and all of a sudden I realized that I was understanding something I was reading (vrei o masina ca acesta?). It was some sort of van from Timisoara, and in all the order and straight lines of Germany, all of a sudden I felt at home again.

The van was driving pretty aggressively, there was a crack up the windshield and I don't know how to explain it but the driver just looked Romanian. That sprawling country with its hot-blooded Latin people, all the chaos and disorganization and even the warmth of the people--it's home. Whether this is because it's a little crazy in the dirty South or it's because even after four months, even though it can be hard living in Bucuresti, something about it feels like home now, even all the way in Germany.