(No.4 of the Romanian series) Vama Veche. I saw it on the map first. A tiny dot before the Romanian coastal border. The images lining google maps showed a shopping street, people dancing on the shore, a fire, pubs, a hostel and a stretch of sea. Reading more, the common strain in most opinions was … Continue reading Acolo & a slanted ferris wheel – Vama Veche
Category: Reviews
(No. 1 of the Bulgarian series) We passed Vama Veche – the last coastal village in Romania giving way to Bulgaria – and drove to border control. Being the only non-European in the car, my passport was checked further. I sat with a knot in my stomach. A type of pointless fluttering I’ve felt only … Continue reading Sea at Krapets (Крапец) – A Bulgarian Beginning
It was on my last time in Glasgow that I was sat on the Clyde under the Glasgow Bridge. I was staying at a friend’s who had to work in the mornings leaving me on my own. I didn’t know where to begin or what to do. It wasn’t my first time there. In fact, … Continue reading Glasgow Bridge – I was sat on the Clyde
(No. 3 of the Romanian series) Sighișoara, a small city in Mureş County (Region of Transylvania) in Romania is two-fold, two-planed, two-layered. One is the flat city outside the Citadel, spread out on the plateau formed by the river Târnava Mare. The second is the Citadel itself that rises on a hill in the centre. … Continue reading Sighișoara – Tepeș, Petőfi, two tales…
(No. 2 of the Romanian Series) After a dull June morning at the Immigration Office in Brasov, I head to Piata Sfatului. I go in and out of local banks asking them if I’d be allowed to open a bank account to support my visa extension. At BRD I’m a tourist, at Raiffeisen (where I … Continue reading The Black Church, Brasov – An Insignification
"Waiting is also a place: it is wherever you wait." The Handmaid's Tale, Margaret Atwood Noise is inevitable on trains. Quiet Zones are only an invitation to lesser noise. On an unusually warm summer night in Scotland, I was on what I’d like to call the noisiest train. The Scotrail from Glasgow was filled with … Continue reading Waiting at Ardrossan South Beach
We're at Vaclav Havel Airport. He’s older than me. 25, to be specific. His green full sleeved shirt has become a part of him. He’s worn it so often that every time I think of him, I think of him with it. He returns from the toilet, sits next to me. I have to go … Continue reading Vaclav Havel Airport, Prague
Ports are places of many comings and goings. But there is a stillness and silence in them. Porto Antico, the old port of Genova in Italy did not smell like the sea. It smelled like a culmination of journeys. “There are ships sailing to many ports, but not a single one goes where life is … Continue reading Porto Antico
Genova Voltri, 8th June. I have mixed feelings about the sea. I forget it sometimes – that somewhere beyond this city I live in is an end of land and an immense of water. When I remember it, there is an urge to go to it. As much as I like the word ‘eternal’, there … Continue reading Genova Voltri – An Italian beach
It is a purple night. The coniferous trees are tapering to the sky in dangerous sharpening of tools. The canopied ones look like fleshy scythes. Kenilworth Castle is a mound of black. We walk down to Abbey Fields Park. Two parapet walls on either side mark the entry to the parking lot. There are other … Continue reading Abbey Fields
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