Hearts and Other Polygons

I was just beginning to think that Romania, as beautiful as it is, doesn't really vary a whole lot visually and, in all honestly, was starting to get a bit boring. Not the people, not my time here, not the culture, just the landscape and the scenery. Even so, it was a very beautiful boring that I could stare at through the train window all day - like watching the clouds changing shapes and sizes. Clouds are all pretty similar, fairly fluffy and some shade of white, but watching them slide across the sky, spotting an occasional heart or dinosaur, is never a disappointing way to spend an hour or two. But after you've seen a couple of clouds, you've seen them. Just like after you've seen a few tree speckled rolling hills dotted with quaint, pastel painted cottages and their little wisps of chimney smoke curling into the sky, like a postcard you wish you could step into, you've seen them. And after you've seen a few centuries-old, boldly painted and Jesus adorned churches, you've seen them. I don't want to say "you've seen them all" because each location and each church is unique and who am I to lump them all together? They've just gotten redundant enough now that I know what to expect and as much as I love staring out the train window, little surprises me. Then, like finding an impossibly detailed replica of starry starry night in the clouds above, I take a trip to the Danube Delta. Instead of a train, my friends and I board a tiny seven person boat, and where the tree and cottage dotted hills once filled the view, our gaze is captured by the open waters lined with lush beaches, reed-roofed houses and subdued boat docks. The grazing cows are replaced by rare species of birds and the incessant roar of the train engine is completely absent, as is nearly all sound. How silent a group of people can be, especially as they carefully approach a floating sea of pelicans. Hundreds of them bobbing gently, quietly with the waves. All sound is gone, except for the quiet lap of water against the boat, the occasional stifled sound of awe and the light swish of wings taking to the air. Romania still has more than just hearts and other polygons to show me and I'm glad I still feel like looking.