A letter about my journey back to Romania
“I’m sit-in’ in the railway station; got a ticket for my destination…homeward bound; I wish I was; homeward bound.” Well, not quite. Not a railway station but Dulles International Airport in Washington, DC. And the ticket was for Timișoara, Romania, my temporary home since September and until mid-January. And technically I was sitting in a doctor’s office in the basement of the Dulles terminal, just under baggage claim. And the chair was hard enough and I sat long enough that it ought to have been Otis Redding’s Sittin’ on the Dock of the Bay that was playing in my head instead of Simon and Garfunkle’s Homeward Bound.
Rebecca and I had spent an enjoyable week in Washington DC with Rebecca’s daughter Libby, spouse Jason, and kids Lauren, Will, and Harper. Our seven days included excellent food and conversation, two trips to DC, including a visit to the National Museum of African American History and Culture, and a two day trip to the Gettysburg National Military Park. All good things must end and now it was time for me to return to Romania to complete my Fulbright work. Because Rebecca’s 90 day Romanian visa had expired, she would be flying back to Iowa.
Libby, Rebecca, and Lauren dropped me off at Dulles for a noon appointment at Xpress Check for a RT – PCR. You know, a rapid polymerase chair reaction test. Without a negative PCR result, I was going nowhere. Or more precisely, according to the memo I was reading as I sat on that chair waiting for the nurse to stick a cotton swab up both nostrils, I would be going to a hotel for 14 days. It was that moment that cued Simon and Garfunkel. About an hour later I got the good news, a negative test. Isn’t it interesting? A negative that is positive. I once got an algebra test back with a negative number and the letter F. Take that Sister Laurent!
Sadly, I did not enjoy our DC trip as much as I might have because part of my energy all week was focused on three worries, with a positive COVID test the biggest. The other two were: Would my flight be cancelled? and Would airline officials in DC or Munich or Timișoara stop me because I still did not have in-hand my Romanian resident’s permit? If you recall, thousands of flights during the holidays were being cancelled because Omicron COVID was decimating airline crews. And I only had an immigration official’s assurance that because I had applied for a resident’s permit my name was in the system and that would be enough to get me through.
A negative Covid test, flights that delivered me on time to Munich and Timișoara, and no one, not even at passport control in Timișoara, asked me a damn thing about 90+ days in Romania. Three worries and it turns out all for naught. I am thinking about all of this as I retrieved my suitcase – a 4th worry evaporated – in Timișoara’s International Airport’s brand new arrivals terminal. I call Uber and…
Uber tells me no driver is currently available. I check my wallet and I don’t have enough Romanian currency for a cab. Is there an automated teller machine in the terminal? By the time I located the ATM in the old arrival’s terminal, Uber sends me a message telling me a driver will pick me up in 5 minutes. Problem solved. That problem solved.
Life is a one problem after another
And then it dawns on me. Life is not really one worry after another. Life is made up of one problem after another, to be solved as best we can, by you and me, with a little help from our friends. Worry is resistance to this fact. And a waste of energy. Not because bad things never happen. The young woman in front of me in the Xpress Covid results-line did get a positive test, 1000s of people around the world were stranded by cancelled flights, and I could have encountered the same Munich airline official who in September told me she would let me get on the plane to Timișoara even with a return ticket beyond the 90 day limit.
One of my favorite books is Viktor Frankl’s Man’s Search for Meaning. I taught it several times but always need to be reminded of the wisdom of my favorite Frankl quote: “that the meaning of life is to be discovered in the world rather than within man.”
And what else is in the world but problems.
My Uber driver drops me off at Doja Gheorghe No. 40. Bound no longer, I am now home. I walk across the tram tracks to the large outside door to our apartment building. Strange, I think, this door is normally open this time of day. I find the long, outside door key among the three keys on my keychain, stick it into the key hole, turn it clockwise, and…
Reader Comments
Good one, Paul! I am a worrier, too. We’ve just got to roll with the punches sometimes. Very glad all your “what ifs” turned out well. At least I hope you got in the door! : )
Yes, I did finally get through the door. See the reply to Terri. Thank you for reading Laurie.
I love this, Paul! Not only did you capture my own perpetual anxieties, but you offered me a new way of looking at the experience. I only hope I’m so lucky with the residence card “free pass.” If not, I guess there may be meaning to be found in the navigation of that problem!
Thank you Tanya.
And what??? You’ve got me hooked! What happens when you turn the key? C’mon, Paul! Out with it!
Hello Terri,
The outer door is never locked during the day. And it had rained. It is an old a heavy door. I turned the key once and tried to the door. It still felt locked. I turned it twice as it can be double-locked, the same. I did this several times and finally I jerked it hard and it opened. And since you asked. My landlord’s brother from America is staying with him in the apartment next to ours. His girlfriend was having a hard time opening the Ice-door, remember my last blog? So whenever she left the building she locked the outer and not the inner door. Never an end to problems. Thank you for reading and for reading to the end.