There is nothing I detest more than flat earth. Absolutely nothing. A place with no rolling hills or roaring mountains has no piece of my heart. Yet, I find the land of Southern Romania lacking that oppressive sort of feeling I get when I can see for miles on end.
Romania is a diverse land, mountains to the north bordered by hills slowly reducing into the flatlands of the south. I found myself surrounded by these mountains during the end of my stay in Romania and was confused when I began longing for the beautiful fields of nothing that lie near my current southern home. My scenery passions had changed, so abruptly, due to a connection with the South I couldn’t explain.
In the past I had grown fond of those large mountains in British Columbia because I had no connection to them. They were new and interesting and signaled a life free from my past and I embraced them like my new name. I felt myself do the same with the slow, easy way of viewing life in the Romanian version of the Mid-West. This place was the end of something for me. The end of my religion, my spirituality, my previous life of indoctrination into a church I didn’t ask for. The scenery comforted me as I mourned a loss so great that I fell adrift.
How do you live a life of your own when the very sayings that come out of your mouth are reminders of your past? Ironic, “praise the Lord’s” now sound dull and tinny coming from your lips. How do you find yourself in the wreck of losing yourself?
For me, I found solace in the unoppressive and disinterested flatness of Romania. It asks nothing from you, cares nothing of your religion or life desires. It just sits, in all its beauty, and says “I’m here. Come rest in my flowers. Revel in my rivers. And find peace in my fields. You are safe now.” The land never lies. It never oppresses. It just is. And that is the most beautiful part about it.