trippin’

Traffic jam in Transylvania, Romania.

Travelling with train is sometimes like being in a time capsule. I love to travel with trains, especially the slow local ones which stop in every village in the middle of nowhere.

In June 2008 we spend a few weeks in Romanian countryside taking local trains from place to place on our mission to track count Dracula. Didnt find him, but found a glimpse of my childhood back: the taste of fresh wild strawberries, sounds of cows and horses and, first and foremost the smell of the dry hay-bells. In my Grandpa’s farm, it was my duty to keep hay-stocks flat, so I had to jump and play on top of them as much as I could, said Grandpa. I still remember the dusty scent of dry hay, tickling feeling on my sweaty skin and how delightful it felt when I jumped to swim to the lake after “working” on the fields.

My Grandpa died ten years ago, but I still miss him almost every day.