5. Dolly

5

DOLLY

I leaned back in my seat and stared out the window. I rubbed my head, a slight headache building behind my eyes.

I was on the third day of my trip south through the European countryside, and the hours and days were blurring together. But I enjoyed my time and didn't take it for granted.

Although Paris had been wonderful, it was already becoming a faded memory just one week later. I could still imagine the lights and the noise of locals and tourists, but the farther I got from the city, the more it all dulled into the background of my mind.

My plan had originally been to stop in each of the many countries along the way and stay a day or two at each destination before ending my journey in Romania. But I'd woken up a few mornings ago in Amsterdam and made the snap decision to just travel to Romania instead. So after finagling my itinerary by moving up train tickets and adding a short bus ride, I was on my way to where it felt like it might be my new home.

I smiled at that thought.

The past week, especially the last couple of days, were a blur. I vaguely recalled each stop, as if I'd been cramming for a test, my first one being somewhere in Luxembourg after leaving Paris. After that, I headed north—through Brussels to Amsterdam. After my change in plans, I worked the train schedule to where I could hop off in each country, so I could still take in a miniscule number of sights while I continued my journey. I could've taken a special train that traveled through the night and got to Romania even faster, but I felt like I'd be doing myself a disservice if I missed at least seeing the beauty of it all in the daylight.

But now I was finally entering the country that seemed to be calling to my soul, and I felt a strange sense of anticipation building in my chest the closer I got to my final destination.

It wasn't long before I spotted the mountains. They loomed in the distance, their peaks shrouded in mist like I was staring at some ominous setting in a suspense or horror movie. The scene seemed so… ancient.

The little village I'd call home for an undetermined amount of time was nestled at the foot of those massive rocks rising to the skyline. I became antsy until the train finally pulled to a stop, and then my excitement and anticipation grew even more when everyone started unloading.

I stepped off the train and took in my surroundings. The station was small but not unlike any other train station I'd visited thus far. It was when I took my first step outside that I just inhaled and stared out at the city. After getting on the bus, it was less than a twenty minute ride to the village nearest my rental.

The village was small, but as I hopped off the bus—the only person wanting this stop, apparently—I saw little touches of the modern world that had the miniature town catching up, so it wasn't too far behind. I loved the cobblestone streets and old, time-tested buildings. The air was crisp, tinged with the scent of pine and earth from the forest close by. I was glad the bus stop was near the beginning of the town limits, a nice, long distance by foot to my rental because I wanted to walk and just explore. Especially after spending so much time on trains over the past few days.

I breathed in the fresh air and was already smiling before I knew I was doing it. I felt a calmness settle over me, as if this place had been waiting for me all along.

The streets were filled with the daily traffic of people out and about, their expressions curious as they glanced my way. It was clear they knew an outsider when they saw one.

I pulled my cardigan closer around me. Although the weather was pretty perfect right about now, there was a chill that came down from the mountaintops. Thinking about them, I glanced up at the mountains that towered over the village.

They were intimidating yet oddly comforting, a strange sensation that made my heart beat a little faster.

As I walked through the narrow streets toward where I'd be staying, I could feel the weight of the journey behind me as if it was truly the last journey of my life. I thought about the cities I'd seen and the trains I'd been on, and the constant movement of it all landed deep within me.

All of that—plus all of what I'd experienced in my life—led me to being here, in this place that felt like… home. This was a quiet, hidden place where I could be in my own little world, and I was going to embrace it fully.

The little stalls and stores—with their fresh fruits and veggies, trinkets and handmade crafts—distracted me, but it was welcome. I picked up a few food items along the way to tide me over tonight and tomorrow morning. My plan was to really take in the area after that and memorize the streets and buildings. I'd stock up on groceries then.

There was undeniable beauty in the town's simplicity and how it clearly tried to stay true and authentic to its tradition.

I'd contacted the rental owner about my new estimated arrival time before I left, to make sure there would be vacancy. She'd laughed at the worry in my question when she finally understood what I was asking, which made me grin, because she then did her best to explain in broken English that I was the first person to rent the place in four whole months. When I got there, she was already waiting for me with a smile. While Ana-Marie spoke little English and I only knew a few Romanian words, we didn't need to be fluent in each other's language to communicate as she showed me the home.

It was a small cottage on the outskirts of the village with one bedroom, a bathroom, and a little kitchen that looked out at the base of the mountains. It had a gorgeous little flower garden in the back and a weathered wooden bench right outside the back door.

There were a few panels of lattice decorating the edges of the garden, creeping ivy rising along the wooden slates.

Right before Ana-Marie left, it was clear she remembered something as she bustled toward the tiny fridge in the kitchen. She opened the door and pointed to a covered dish, spoke swiftly in Romanian, and I realized she'd prepared me a welcome meal.

I felt this swell of disbelief and a weight on my chest that someone had done something nice for me. This wasn't simply a bottle of cheap wine kept stockpiled for each guest's arrival. This was a home-cooked meal, seeing as there were no fast-food joints to be seen for miles and miles.

Before I knew what I was doing, I took her hand in mine and smiled.

"Mul?umesc." Thank you. I hoped my pronunciation was on point, and when she smiled back, I exhaled in relief.

"Cu pl?cere." You're welcome. She replied in a warm voice and gave my hand a squeeze then let herself out.

I couldn't shake the feeling that something was waiting for me here, something that would drive me to plant my roots and grow. Tomorrow wasn't just about stocking up the kitchen and sightseeing. I'd also look for a job because I knew—now that I was here—without a doubt I wasn't leaving.

This was where I was meant to be.