“One’s destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things.” Henry Miller
After two difficult days, I finally woke up at 6:43 am, two minutes before my alarm, feeling refreshed and ready to hike.
Hallelujah.
It turns out my body simply needed a break after everything it had been through: canceled flights, jet lag, a six-hour train ride in a carriage with broken air conditioning, and, to top it all off, food poisoning. Two full days of rest and one really good night’s sleep did wonders. I finally feel like my best self again.
The hike itself was an absolute joy.
Throughout the day, we played leapfrog with four other hikers: Bobe and his wife, Corinda, along with two hikers from Moldova whose names I still haven’t managed to catch. That’s one of the things I love most about long-distance trails, you naturally drift in and out of one another’s company all day, crossing paths at viewpoints, water stops, and village cafés until, before you know it, strangers begin to feel like friends.
As beautiful as today’s hike was, with rolling hills, forests, and wonderful company, the moment that has stayed with me didn’t happen on the trail.
It happened over breakfast.
Corinda, Bobe, Massimo, and I had just sat down when Mariana began carrying in tray after tray of food. There was enough to feed an army.
I joked about how every meal in Romania seems to be a feast, and Bobe quietly smiled before saying, “It hasn’t always been like this.”
What followed wasn’t just a story.
It was a glimpse into a childhood shaped by life under Romania’s communist regime.
Bobe and I are the same age, yet we grew up in completely different worlds.
While I was waking up on Christmas morning to Nintendo games and more candy than I could possibly eat, Bobe was thrilled if he received a green banana (which had no taste)…and maybe an orange if he was especially lucky. He said when he sees a banana or orange, he always thinks of Christmas.
While my family could walk into a grocery store and buy whatever we needed, his family depended on government food rations. The shelves at the markets were empty except for boxes of shrimp flakes from China.
Each month they received ration cards. One was for milk. One was for bread.
If there were four people in your family, you received just two liters of milk.
Punch.
Punch.
That was it.
He told the story of being a young boy and trying to do his homework, and every night the government would switch off the electricity and he’d have to find a match to light an oil lamp to complete his lessons.
During the harsh Romanian winters, heat was often unavailable, so everyone bundled themselves in layers.
“We dressed like Eskimos,” he laughed.
He was only eleven years old when the communist regime fell in 1989 and Romania began reclaiming its freedom.
Listening to him, it struck me how quickly history can change a person’s life.
The little boy studying by an oil lamp grew up to attend university, becoming one of the top engineers in his field, and now works for an American cruise line based out of Miami, providing a wonderful life for his family.
His story reminded me how easy it is to take abundance for granted when you’ve never known scarcity.
Sometimes a full breakfast isn’t just breakfast.
Sometimes it’s a symbol of how far a country, and a person, has come.
Tonight we’re staying at another lovely guesthouse that Mariana recommended. Many of the guesthouses along the Via Transilvanica are located a little off the official trail, so the owners drive out to pick hikers up and return them to the trail the next morning. It’s one of the many little acts of kindness that make this trail so special.
Our good fortune continued.
Not only are Bobe and Corinda staying here, but so are Corina and Michael, a Romanian-German couple we’ve hiked and stayed with before. They’re celebrating their 30th wedding anniversary, and tomorrow is their final day on the trail.
Before leaving, they gifted us their bear spray.
Now I will sleep better. Whew.
We had a big celebration with homemade booze made from blueberries upon our arrival.
Noroc! (Romanian for Cheers!)
Dinner was another large Romanian meal consisting of soup, chicken, mashed potatoes, fresh veggies, and a homemade cake for dessert.
It’s always too much food and I can never eat it all.
Thankfully, no food goes to waste here in Romanian. Leftovers are fed to the animals.
One of the greatest gifts of this journey so far has been the people.
Every day I learn another person’s story. Every day I leave understanding a little more about a country, its history, and the resilience of the people who call it home.
Those stories have become just as memorable as the mountains.
Machiavelli Scorecard:
Massimo: 1 | Emily: 4
Much love & gratitude. Namaste 🙏
P.S. If you’re enjoying following this journey, I’d be grateful if you’d like and share this post. And if you’d like to see more photos and videos from the trail, you can find me on Facebook, Instagram, YouTube, TikTok, BlueSky, and Threads or find me on LinkedIn.
Massimo has a new hiking hobby – posing with the kilometer markers. These are two of his favorites.
He wants to know who stole the photo of his six-pack abs and used it as the model for the abs sculpture – he wants to get paid.
His official statement: “We are nearly the same.”
We had a couple of locals tag-along for a few minutes. This sweet boy, who spoke English, and his adorable dog joined us as we walked into the town of Fundu Moldovei.
Waiting for the bus.
I love the contrast in this photo. The young boy waits patiently, simply watching the world go by, while the older gentleman is absorbed in his phone.
A few photos of the beautiful architecture in rural Romania.
We picked and consumed a lot of wild berries.
