Dracula Lives 9: Long Live Life

Romania is spicy.

What a blessing: I was among people again, just normal, everyday people! We are told that the food is still taking time. To make the most of the time, Angelo, Uwe and I stroll through the streets of the old town. We even discover a shisha bar. They charge the equivalent of €25 for it. Who can afford that? With the salaries here!

It is still pleasantly warm this evening. Life pulsates in the countless restaurants, bars and cafés. The alleys are spookily decorated with a mix of Halloween and Dracula cult. Adolescents and young adults go around in groups dressed up, exuberantly enjoying the ignorance of their youth. A little later we sit with the others again. The restaurant, which can accommodate up to 2,000 guests, is packed. Presumably all tour groups meet here today, as they did before, in this former caravanserai.

Romanian music plays, gets the crowds in the mood. Loud, and fast. In the past, she encouraged the village youth to stand up. But for most of the guests here, in this age group, nothing has been standing for a long time. A group appears. They dance their dance of possibilities.

Uwe says he would have liked to see a bear. Maybe he should book the hiking tour after all. That would appeal to him. “Not you?” he raises his wine glass and toasts me. The rosé is excellent. "I think I've definitely seen too much!" I reply mysteriously and, just to be on the safe side, I prefer to drink an Ursus, supposedly the best-selling Romanian beer.

Blood wine? Perhaps.

Now I'm sitting here, back at home, typing the lines from my travel notebook into the computer and, for the life of me, I can't remember anything. As strange as it is, I'm amazed by the pictures, and even more amazed by what's written in my notebook. Pure fantasy. A little disturbing at times. I hear on the radio that Minister Heil and his entire party are sticking to increasing citizens' money, the railway wants to strike the country against the wall again for less work and more money. At the same time, everyone is surprised at the shortage of skilled workers. For a brief moment I think I understand the connections. But I discard the thoughts again.

I can - no, I have to! - I would like to apologize to all Romanians at this point. The country is enchanting, so rich in culture, so hospitable people. And I'm writing about a scary figure penned by Bram Stoker who, apart from historians, no longer really interests or scares anyone. The everyday news about the state of the world and the state of people are much scarier. What are vampires on the other hand? But my mind works. I can say exactly when my date of birth is, what my name is, where I live. So what? In conclusion, perhaps it is simply this: an angel is waiting for us at the gates of science.

Erich Kästner once wrote: "A story is true if it really could have happened exactly as it is reported." There is nothing more to add to that.

There is an angel waiting at the gates of science.