6:48 am. Monday morning. I open my eyes. I have to pee badly. Full of sand, quite groggy, in a tent on the beach, I wake up in the middle of a conversation that is not supposed to take place this early in the morning. It catches my attention. “Those that leave the country are cowards.” Whatever. I’m too sleepy to listen carefully. The sun is heating up the tent. I need to get out. It’s getting hot. TOO hot. I can’t breathe anymore. I stick my head out and try to get up. A bit foggy. Mmm. It’s still silent. People are still sleeping. Tonight I slept longer. Last night and the night before, this would have been the time to go to bed, after an endless crazy party on the beach amongst friends, good friends…
I go to the bathroom, I’m happy I don’t have to pay this time around, and I’m ecstatic to have the luxury of a sink with running water and mirror. Or not. I look like…shit?! Hmm…not necessarily. My makeup is all messed up, my hair is worse than a broom, my nose is like a clown’s, but it’s kinda nice. It’s how it’s supposed to be. I’m here. I’m in Vama Veche (“the old border” would be the word by word translation).
I’m thirsty. I’m really thirsty. I buy water and make my way back to the tent. God, please don’t let anyone see me at this time in the morning. I’m not up for conversation. Impossible! Even now, early in the morning, I see people I know, eager for tell-all stories about the previous night. The competition is fierce. Can you keep up? Who had the most fun and who has the wildest stories? Vama, I noticed, is a place you see anyone and everyone. There’s no way of hiding. And somehow, everyone is friends with everyone. It doesn’t matter who you are or why you’re there. Everyone has the same yearning, to breathe in the spirit of the place, to let go, to day-dream, to meditate. It’s there – simple, beautiful, pure – with its arms open. It’s friendly, welcoming and not pretentious. You can be yourself.
My skin is burning, I’m sticky, craving a long bath to clean off my salty skin, but I don’t care. I’m liberated. It’s not the most idyllic place – far from it – but it’s perfect. It’s heavenly. It’s blissful. It was my first time in Vama Veche and I’m still very much drunk…
Pictures here.
