I love being Romanian. I was born in the heart of Transylvania, I grew up there, and I carry it in my heart wherever I go.
I love being Romanian, because I know the smell and taste of fresh bread, baked in a log oven, and I know the beautiful aroma and color of plum jam made by an old, kind lady, who is my grandmother. I also know how nice it is to pick these plums from your own trees, amongst which you play every day, and which you see evolve from the fist blossom untill fall. I also know that these plums can be fierce if you let them ferment and you distill them, to make the burning traditional tuica.
I love being Romanian because growing up there has taught me how hard life can be but how easy it is to live and enjoy existing. My parents taught me what responsibility means, but also not to over-worry, as God will always provide me with the strength and means to follow my way.
I love being Romanian because when I am there I look at every flower, and leaf, and listen to every bird, I look at the sky and the clouds, and I know that they are all there for us to enjoy.
I love being Romanian because of the folk music that only us Romanians can understand and feel, because of our traditions that belong to us only, because of the food that touches all our senses and our wines that embody our sun, our desire, our happiness, our moments of pure enjoyment, our music, and our national tragedies.
I love being Romanian because I know what „dor” means and because although I can translate it into other languages , no other language will be able to personify the word like Romanian does.
I love being Romanian because I used to have so little. I now have more and know how to appreciate and respect every bit of it. I also know that if I lose it, it’s not all lost. I’ll still have the plums, and the orchards, and the wine, and my walks with my parents in the woods, the flowers, the birds, God, the poems, the songs, Christmas, Easter,and everything that has made me be who I am.