report from Virginia #1

Time really does change its nature depending on where it is happening; easy to believe even if it isn’t that way. Should someone come out of the blue and ask how long we’ve been here or how long ago we departed Romania, I’d in calmest confidence answer that at least one month has trickled into history’s drainage; but it’s been less than two weeks.

I won’t say I dislike this place. I can’t say I dislike this place. I wasn’t born here but did spend the clear majority of formative years here; always loved the place; I know debates occur whether Virginia is genuinely Southern or the degree it is Southern; some say more Mid-Atlantic than Southern. I ain’t wading too deep into that debate. I do know if we’re talking speech or accents this region would certainly have to be regarded southern; or it did or was; how true it is today I’m not saying because we’ve only been here for about 12 days and the last time I spent any significant time here, say, over two weeks, was way over 30 years ago; I know 30-40 years ago this area would easily fit into the southern category, though no doubt a bordering position but inclusive nonetheless. I say this because I always loved – or my memories of this land were always favorable, I mean about the place and the people as a whole in themselves.

I was somewhat worried that I’d hear no more Virginia accent; worried because though I do not speak with it I always loved being around those who do speak with it; so far I see those worries were unfounded because I’m hearing plenty people speak in that speech – although I’ve not heard it from either of our new neighbors, at least from what the brief contacts have revealed. What I also recall is that there seemed to be an omnipresent element bent on doing anything possible to intrude on the fullest enjoyment of this place and its people; getting into it; having a good time in it and with it; assimilating into what appears a pretty laid-back attitude; noticed this and it is a significance because the most recent previous places did not evoke the laid-back attitude as I’ve noticed around here; not too many people seem to be in too much of a hurry to do much of anything; and that’s an attitude I’m pretty sure I could assimilate into; must attempt to assimilate into; otherwise misery awaits in future days, weeks, months….

And memories of Bucharest, Romania already bob to the surface. Could easily feel the unrelenting pain of missing so many things and people. Except there is a railroad track from which trains come through and sing for those who might need to hear; and crickets and cicadas handle the sounds the rest of the time and now and then a church bell in the moist distance chimes an hour. And a store not too far away carries rolling papers and that’s something I don’t remember seeing much of in Romania, rolling papers; so I’m thinking acquisition of something to roll in a rolling paper might be a wonderful aid in easing the route to assimilating into what I feel is not a deceptive but very real laid-back attitude.


About Timmy the Scribbler

Love to write all kinds of stuff I love writing so many different kinds of stuff it is a constant struggle to narrow the focus to a manageable handful and let the others go. But a few years ago I dipped my fingers into a poetry pie and of all my uncertainties, one thing that is no uncertainty is that it is one passion that must remain, so maybe that's the one. I do dearly delight in chopping up fictional works into stanzas and syllables.
This entry was posted in adventure, geography, romania, thoughts, travails, travel, Uncategorized and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to report from Virginia #1

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s