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Living in Transylavnia is like an expedition.
I was born and grown up in the middle of the country. In this region live the Szekelys – minority group of people that has the Hungarian as their mother tongue. Szekelys are warm-hearted, god fearing, trustful, honest, smart and hard working people. There are no such minority on the whole earth.
There are million magical things to see and discover in Transylvania, even for me. I walk and travel with open eyes (and lenses) and do my best to experience every little seeds of my own culture: follow the folk traditions, learn and sing these amazing -but often sad- folk songs, breath the air on the top the mountains and note short funny stories of the Szekely-men every day life.

I just walk with my camera without having any idea what to take pictures of, but my eyes captures everything – even the hidden parts – and save them into a folder that I just simply name: Wonderland.


By moving to an other country, even to an other continent there are million things to do, to discover, get familiar with… and then name it `home`. This last act is the most complicated one. It is a long running process that can not happen from today to tomorrow…  I am just experiencing that, and can`t describe all those little moments and affects I`ve been touched by.

Landing unprepared on a continent that I expected my new life from, it may sound a little dreamy, but this is exactly what happened to me (again, as already a few times in my life).

A month just passed since that and I already have those tiny fibers of life around me, that makes me call this new place `home`; have the work to do; know the bus schedule; get to know people and build relationships… I also need to mention those that are important to me, like having my newspapers and magazines ordered, say hello to the post man, know the second hand stores and have my local library membership… Ohh, this is an other word: local, that I need to get used to.  I must say: Can I have a local cappuccino – instead of just asking for a cappuccino. Not only because of the 1$ difference but because of the smile it fallows.

The cashier recognizes me (and the dogs in the neighborhood, too), same faces smile back to me on my morning ways to work, clock rings at the same time, and my cell phone started to ring sometimes, too.

I am settled (again).

/In my fantasy-dictionary insula means the island where my boat docks for awhile…/


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