Eastbound

It is a long time since Berlin Wall felt down but, to be honest, I’m feeling awkward flying to Eastern Europe in this late autumn evening and for the very first time. I find myself in a midweek flight going somewhere to the other side of the Old Continent. A stopover at Fiumicino Airport confirms, even today, the proverb that says that all roads lead to Rome. However, this second aircraft is almost empty, unlike the first flight at the noon, and inevitably I’m wondering why nobody wants to go there. Sun is setting so through the window I can enjoy an impressive sight fading to darkness. Snow is covering mountains, maybe the Carpathian or the Balkans, I guess. Clouds are turning from an intense orange to deep pink giving me, instead of a simple beauty flash, the sharp feeling that the time has come to test myself. Indeed, from a long time ago I’ve always wanted to learn to live otherwise, without schedules, with no routine at all, to meet people from other places in order to improve a foreign language of course but also growing once and for all, getting out of my comfort zone. So this trip is about a short period, nothing earth shattering but a challenge after all. A challenge that I know before it starts, is going to leave its mark, we’ll see afterwards in what way. After a while being deep with all these thoughts, I look outside the window again; it’s difficult yet to see clearly whatever single detail on the ground but I catch a first certainty: this country is some kind different to mine. There aren’t public lights in the villages and towns are also poorly lit. This fact troubles me. Soon after I can see my destination down below, the capital city. To this respect, we can consider it’s not Paris at night either. First time travelling alone so far, I feel both stronger and weaker than ever, how odd it is! A good friend of a friend of mine is waiting for me at destination and the previous e-mail exchanges have been really useful to convince me for coming so I’m happy and relieved to be kindly guided during my stay. Once landed, time for control with the policeman looking straight to my face and my passport for more than thirty seconds. I have never experienced before anything like this, our Schengen bubble is not the whole world, certainly. At a glance around me everything is written in Cyrillic, which first impression seems to me a kind of Mandarin, something illegible. In fact, it’s been funny to realize and understanding the name of the city everywhere, some hours later! My part-time host and their friends seem lovely people, lucky me. They recommend to change some money before leaving the airport so five minutes later I have a handful of bills in my wallet for equal value, ready to discover this region of the Slavic world. My platonic and fostered idea to get into a Lada car comes true but of course not only are Ladas on the roads. Clichés start to get broken in a certain way from the beginning, but driving some inner city avenues I really notice a gap between old soviet cars and brand-new ones, just the same contrast in relation to the stores. Once we get the city centre we find some luxurious avenues in a similar way to Regent Street, Champs Elysées or Passeig de Gràcia but in a sudden -turning right or left- we return to an old era. The streets are darker and silent, and grey is the colour. I feel strange in both scénarii, like a stupid rookie lonely planet tourist, in fact, astounded at every single corner. It will take me some time to take the pulse to this city as well as reading its alphabet, but everybody is easy-going. There’s not too much tourism here and  maybe for this reason people in the streets are always ready to help you. My youth hostel is full of people who the more I talk with them the more I realise I'm not exactly on the same page. To be honest, I’ve travelled to flee from something I don't know exactly what it is, but it's being hard to confirm already from your first day abroad, that you’re completely right about coming here, realising so fast too that your life is a fucking hole of shit cause your mind is full of misery, as simple as that. The following two days I spend my daily time discovering some places of this nice city on my own, since my hosts are working or studying till the evening, at which time they join me to laugh together drinking some beers telling our stories to each other. It’s right then on, during these conversations I realise I’ve lost too much time in the wrong direction. In that introspective mood, I accept my friends’ invitation to leave the capital for a day to see the countryside all together. Early winter days take place in these rolling farmlands, the fields and pastures in pale green with the snow on the top of the distant mountains. Life here is in line with its climate, harsh and windy for nine months and the other three praying -crossing themselves from right to left- in order to try to extend that window of clemency. This day-trip is being a good way to catch the rural life in some remote areas, in this Slavic wilderness who makes me shudder every time I hear the Kaval, the Nai, the Bayan and other instruments with their musical scales so inspiring. We visit some historical sites in a row, however not too far from each other. The history of the country seems to be very important for my friends and I can see it’s something they are proud of, not only a boring school subject. Till today, I did not care about history at all, and I feel ashamed. However, their passion and sense of humour makes me feel good and involved with them in a bloody cool way. Alone again in the youth hostel at night, my trip is coming to the end and I cannot get out of my head the real effort of young people here studying, working hard, struggling to try obtaining some visa -available or not- to go abroad, to the West, maybe to my home country, for a better life. Some of them dream about it and you can see the gleam in their eyes. I can understand what Slavic roots mean just looking this degree of determination and maturity, sharing this unforgettable time with all these people who speak several languages, English, Russian and their own mother tongues, sometimes more than one. I am astounded at how sensitive about politics they are, for instance. Their human qualities are far above average of all I’ve ever experienced. My self-esteem begins to turn from shaking to collapse as every single person I have had the opportunity to be introduced. As a result I struggle to hold on trying to enjoy every second of this beautiful trip but at the same time thinking to myself how easy has been for me thus far, and not feeling very well accordingly. On my way back to the airport to leave the country melancholia invades me. The fact to realize, despite this new learning experience in this wonderful place with this lovely people, I am my own prisoner, my own slave. To recognise it’s easier to keep on pushing in the mediocrity instead of reacting. In fact, we should not to be surprised, that’s how mankind works, hence me also. Still don’t know if someday we’ll take the meaning of this unforgettable journey to do the right thing. As stated, “Jesus said neither cast your pearls before swine” [Matthew 7:6] and I think that’s it, the real learning. Anyway from then on, the music from Eastern Europe has become one of the ways from time to time to save me from nastiness when river runs low. The gap I’ve noticed between societies from Western and Eastern Europe remains huge exactly in the same way as the gap between the potential and the reality of every one of us. There’s nothing to do with the societies and nevertheless, a lot to be done with you, as individual person, if you want to, of course.