Romania: prologue

When I got on a plane to Europe for Nina's wedding seven years ago, I was overworked, exhausted, and emotionally worn out. There were some mishaps along the way, rendered that much more stark by my emotional state, but making it work in the face of all that and emerging stronger became a symbol for me of perseverance and growth. I look back on that trip as proof of shrubberies, as wine and laughter.

I got on a plane to Europe for a trip with Nina a few weeks ago heartbroken in a different way--devastated by the passing of my Gracie, drained emotionally and otherwise by the last month of taking care of her and cleaning up after her illness, overwhelmed and frustrated at work, and otherwise a mess. So much of the trip--the long day at work on Monday, the rush to the bus to Dulles--invoked That Trip. And much of it didn't; (almost) everything went smoothly this time around.

The trip came about when we were brainstorming where we might meet up for a quick girls' trip. She mentioned in passing that she'd be going to a conference in Bucharest in May, to which I said I'd be happy to meet her there if she'd be up for going to Transylvania beforehand. She counter-offered with the Danube Delta and asked if I'd provide childcare the day of the conference. I said let's do both regions, and yes on childcare.

It was Nina's idea to drive everywhere, and she said she'd be entirely comfortable driving. Then, she asked me if I could do some of the driving. I wasn't thrilled, but I agreed. By that point in the planning, I'd heard both that one had to be very careful driving in Romania and that the trains were unreliable, so driving really was the best way to get around. But the rental agency gave us a manual, which I don't know how to drive--a crappy one, at that, with no suspension--so it all fell on Nina anyway. She was sick of driving after two hours, which is what it took us to get to Brasov.

We'd both had a rough month (she lost a cat as well, knew some humans who'd just left this world, sprained her ankle, and dealt with a horse injury) so we both wanted a chill trip. It's just that we had very different understandings of 'chill.' Traveling with us was a coworker who was definitely on the chill side. I appreciated aspects of Nina's influence: of course it would be impractical to pack up a child every night or every other night, so we'd stay in the same place four nights in a row (almost unheard of in my itineraries!) and the next place four nights in a row. But I got very, very antsy when she couldn't wrangle her kid out of the hotel before 11am on the first day, and when we couldn't do more than one thing that day because said kid got antsy after not very long. Eventually, it all worked itself out: I made the most of doing things on my own, including going to Sighisoara after Nina balked at the driving. I was livid at the inconsiderateness--it was a priority on the itinerary for me--and if I hadn't found a way, I'd have resented her. But I did find a way, and it worked out. 

I maintain that my frustrations at the itinerary shakeups were valid, but it's so liberating to also know that those frustrations were pointless--to remember that so much of the point of this trip was to spend time with Nina and her daughter, who is essentially my niece. We talked a lot, in the car and otherwise, about our childhoods, our parents, our baggage. Having grown up together, we understand each other's families profoundly. Even in the way of itineraries and slowdowns, the trip was better than if I'd planned/executed it myself. The Danube Delta wasn't on my radar at all, and I can't imagine having missed it. When you default to a mindframe of "other people slow me down," you risk closing yourself off to the paths they open up for you.