It's been more than a month now, since I have been in the lovely country of Romania. It's been a long month, filled with emotions and unfortunate events and when you have a month like that it seems as though time stretches out and what came before seems much farther away than it maybe otherwise would have.

I had to leave early, due to family reasons, but here is what I remember from my last few (I didn't know they were my last few) days in Romania.

I remember the merry cemetery, which as its name suggests takes death lightly, and looking at the lives that people have lived in that small Romanian village. I remember visiting souvenir stands and scorning authentic Romanian cultural items as things made for tourists. And then realizing at another site that those handkerchiefs and hats were not at all made for tourists, and wincing. I remember the hills or mountains we drove over, and feeling violently ill in the back of the program van. And the longish shortcut we took through deep farm country. I remember the monasteries we visited, built of wood in the woods, and the tall bell tower that few people from home would ever see. I remember feeling amazingly lucky.

I remember coming into the city of Cluj, one of the largest and most cosmopolitan cities in Romania. Seeing statues of people we had learned about, knowing that the church behind it has been used since the middle ages, walking cobblestone streets before stopping in a pastry shop. I remember all this without the distraction of having taken pictures the whole time, because I forgot my camera that day. I remember the shop called Maria where I bought a very classically Romanian designed scarf.

And I remember leaving earlier than I was supposed to, suddenly and unexpectedly. I remember my last sight of Romania, for now. Because I know that a place that has touched me as deeply as Romania has, is a place that I will return to one day.