Monday, January 02, 2006

On Travelling Without Moving

There are three places to which I would like to travel before I leave this artery in Europe. The Czech Republic is like the reddest part of your steak, exactly in the middle, flowing with foreign juices. Less than an hour going up on Our Map brings us to Dresden, Germany: this being the best place to get your passport stamped so as to reinvigorate that all-too-temporary-feeling tourist visa. Some ink, less than a penny's worth, keeps you from forced labor and verbal torture from the Foreign Police. This same agency, consequently, denied a residency visa, after 4 months in The Application Process, to the former Mayor of Prague for his foreign-born future son-in-law (the guy was from Senegal, actually).

So, I haven't been there.

The first place to visit is Romania. The name Romania stirs some dark thing in your mind, like a very silent and brutally thick forest, aching with timelessness. Things might have well stopped running 300 years ago in some of these place. Romania. Vampires. Blood and age. The jagged Carpathian Mountains run straight through the middle of the country. Across the Black Sea is aromatic and bright Turkey, former conquerors of Transylvania and Wallachia, two mysterious lands settled by nomads with a nightscape sort of beauty, blue-black and bronze. Yes, I would like to go to Romania very much.

Next on the agenda: We'll find out tomorrow.

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