On the Pursuit of My Dreams

The Danube Delta. First experience – so-so. Second experience – better. There’s a rule in Romanian fairy tales that the third son’s always the bravest, the third daughter’s always the prettiest, the third attempt is always successful.
It was surely going to be different, because this time around we had our kayaks with us: my long turquoise touring kayak nicknamed ‘BLU’ and my boyfriend’s shorter but steadier whitewater kayak. Indeed, pluses and minuses – ‘I’d catch a lot of speed, but he’d have the needed balance; well, I’d also have the space to store all those accessories…’ A survival kit list had to be drafted and I was in charge of it. As it was our first kayaking expedition stretching over several days, what should the items on that list be? Luckily, I had translated some kayak user guides, so I adapted the safety information there, added cooking utensils, dry clothing, a mobile shower and prepared to be surprised by the rest of the plan.
Departing from southeastern Transylvania, there was an overnight in Moldavia, as we continued to Dobruja the following morning. The moment we crossed the Danube by ferry, a familiar quietness started to linger in and around our car, to the very tip of my kayak. The first instances of green, the sun sparkles in-between the trees, the frequent bodies of water were abruptly replaced by the dry. The dry that inhabits the easternmost region of Romania where the canals allow it. Its allies? The fierce and piercing rays of the sun, a lizard spotted here and there, and the occasional wind blow lasting not nearly enough and feeling more like a caress in that daunting mid-August heat…
Isaccea, Somova, a left turn to Parches. We were inside the Reserve, yet far away from the commercial ‘adventures’ on offer. The sight of another kayak made us drive downhill. The sun was about to set. I jumped out of the car. A few fishermen were on an old dock gathering their nets, some wooden boats were still arriving to shore, I felt the sand through my fingers as I threw my clothes off and put my paddling gear on: I could no longer wait. I didn’t want to let the orange light that had invaded me to my core get away. I felt like hanging on to it and exploring its elements: the curious birds, the sounds of frogs, the dense layer of reed, the atemporality of the canal, and the mosquito bites. It was their golden hour. We were rushed back, pitched our tent up, and realized that paradise would have to last. At least for another day.