Snow. Heavy, wet flakes at the border in southern Ukraine, fluttering against the windows while you wait in line at the Romanian checkpoint.
You’re in the back seat of a van, driven by a Romanian plastic-wreath runner. Two women are on the middle bench seat in front of you: the driver’s family maybe, or friends. The relationship isn’t clear, and their English is as good as your Romanian. But… Continue reading: Romania, Hungary, Slovakia | 2 Comments