Thursday, January 30, 2014

on travel.

tonight, when discussing future living plans with friends,
i told them that i hope to study abroad next spring.

where am i thinking?

some time in germany...maybe some time in iceland... :)

yes, iceland.



following that, one of the girls asked me: madi, what on earth would make you want to do
something like that?



ummm...adventure? i thought.


so that all led into one big tangent and a run through google maps and romanian facebook pages to show just a smidgen of what my month in romania and moldova was like.

i had forgotten what talk of travel does for me -- it's absolutely invigorating.


i couldn't stop describing the smells and the tastes and the feelings and emotions of foreign foods, hostels, people, etcetera.





i try to sum up romania and moldova, and it's absolutely impossible.
i try to describe the faces that are embedded in my memory, and there are no words.


i can't make anyone feel the hot sun that burned and peeled my skin as i explored cities and laid on the sand that borders the black sea.

i can't recite the languages that carried through the busses, horse carriages, churches, hostels, planes, and train.

i wish i could replay the documentary on nicolae ceausescu, or walk someone through the people's palace -- standing on history's floor once again.

i can't find anything close to the taste of shawarma from a bucharest food stand, or fresh nectarines accompanied by a loaf of bread and slice of cheese.

each time i have taken public transportation since, i close my eyes and remember the subway of bucharest -- as young people whispered americans and starred at our clothing and pointed at our foreignness.

there is no feeling like the feel of landing in a new place, where no one knows you and any trace of home has vanished.

and i would trade almost anything in the world to feel so humbled again. to be welcomed into a home of someone who counters nearly everything about me.


i remember counting the cobblestones as i made my way back at dusk.
i can recall the hands that held mine, even though not a single word could be exchanged.
i will always remember the god that stood on those streets, guiding the children home and acting as their hands and feet.




my next trip will not touch my last,
and it more than likely will not be so people centered,
but i am once more gaining the urge to jump on a plane and
go somewhere new.



and the feeling is so beautiful
and so god-given, that i have to think that
this world is just so full and i must see it all.

xoxo

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