A long way home

Who ever saw a low cost airport, a train or bus station before the holidays season knows very well that these are far from the glamour and the peace that every one wishes in their greetings cards. These become very crowded places, dirty due to the mud and the snow that comes in with the passengers. People do not have patience anymore, they talk on the phone or look with despair on the board with the delays and some are still running for last minute presents.

All to be able to get "home, sweet home" where the family is waiting, to exchange presents, to sit around a table full of traditional food and to celebrate in a joyful and shiny atmosphere.

Out of all the travels home, those trips around the winter holidays are the one that seams the longest. I never get to sleep well before the departure. The one from 2010 is a memorable one.

Last year in December in Luxembourg it snowed unexpectedly much and froze. One night even the highways were blocked as well as all the access to the closest airports. Not far from my work place they had just put in place a new bus station for the airport shuttle. I remember the faces of those poor people waiting with their luggage, blocked, not being able to get home and I was afraid because in two days I would possibly be in the same situation. I do not want to remember how those people were feeling.

Two days latter, the streets were cleaned, however, the night of my departure it snowed again. I left in the middle of the night with my luggage to the shuttle station. The distance is short, usually it takes me 15 minutes by foot, but there is a hill to climb. That night I did more than 30 minutes. I could barely move the luggage on the snow and, damn', it was heavy.

When I finally got to the top of the hill I run to catch the bus that was just leaving. I was soaked from transpiration and I could hardly breathe. At the bus, I managed to say the name from the reservation. I almost didn't hear when the driver asked me in Romanian: "Do you have a ticket?" and I couldn't even answer him. 

I was on time at the airport and I met someone I know. We talked during the entire flight. At 10 a.m. I was in Bucharest and at 2 p.m. I fell asleep and slept until next day when I left for my town (Bacau) for another trip of 5 hours. The first part of the journey I had as a neighbour a communist nostalgic who understood that I was coming from abroad from the book I was reading and started insulting me, accusing me of betraying my country, saying again and again how much Romania lost after the death of Ceausescu, how unhappy the occident is. He was ignoring the fact that I was ignoring him and he continued to talk for himself.

My only thoughts were: "Home, let me get home, to the ones that I love, to give them presents, to lay down in bed, to decorate the Christmas tree and to talk to them..."