In-betweens

By Amber N. Johnson

(Caught in between knowledge & a mystery, 2025)

I'm feeling a bit caught up in the in-between these days. Is it because my PhD program won't get back to me? Is it because I only have nine weeks left in Romania? Is it because it's April and it feels like June? The lilacs have found me but the roses have not yet returned and bloomed.

(Sweet, sweet lilacs remind me of home, 2025)

Actually that's what I feel like right now. A flower not quite in bloom. Perhaps, for a few weeks I was, but then that's surprise snowstorm set me back. I'm just hovering on the edge of it all—change, self-knowing, blooming. I'm back to treating possibility as a friend, although in turn, it is often a foe. Why can't I just have this page written out ahead of time? Why isn't there an inkling of knowledge on what's next.

(Tick tock, 2025)

Unfortunately, or perhaps it is good for us, I don't yet know what I'm doing next. I have put in some time and investment of energy and thought into next steps. In a way, my heart was settled on the idea of pursuing a PhD as the next step. But without clear communication or information, it's not looking as likely as it was before. To be fair, it could surprise me. But as of now, I have settled back into the realization that I need to be proactive.

(Blooming in different cultures, 2025)

So much about certain cultures dictates how we are productive and planning or focused and flowing. American culture is very intensive when it comes to planning and productivity. It's something that most people don't even think about—it just is. That's how life is. That's what we do. That's how we go to our next step. But when you have lived in multiple cultures, it's almost as if the curtain has been drawn back a bit. The wizard behind the curtain is telling us that this is just one culture’s interpretation of how to be. When I lived in Spain, I found myself in a very different mentality.

(Lj leisure lifestyle, 2021)

I lived incredibly presently. It was the moment, now, here. What's tomorrow? We exist in today. In a way, that was quite freeing for me. It gave me a full experience of something I had only tasted in the past—in Slovenia, Taiwan, China. Many cultures have a mix of these ways if operating. In Ljubljana, part of my freedom was my student status and the relaxed higher education system in comparison to the US. Still, all things considered, countries like Slovenia benefit from social systems that support individuals with health care, sick days, parental leave, holidays, and more. The cafe culture of Lj was enjoyed by all—any age or profession.

(Sevilla dayssss, 2022)

You don't really see many Americans enjoying cafe culture the way you see Europeans do it. To me, the relationship to leisure and food or beverage is really beautiful. It's communal as well. In Spain, you have a three course meal that's still ends with dessert and espresso. It stretches across 3 to 4 hours—what if we have things to do? You don't. This is your thing to do. I really appreciated that.

(Sarmale is my love, 2025)

In Romania, there is a similar sense of leisure. People do work very hard but when it comes to food, family, and celebrations, it's clear that we take our time. Each step is given proper attention. The way Romanians prepare food traditionally is very inspiring to me. It's fresh, often home garden grown, different elements of meat or produce are well utilized, and it's typically healthy and hearty. When you go to a coffee shop or a restaurant, again people take their time. No one will rush you out. If anything, you will struggle to ever get your bill. This is something that can conflict for an American cultural mindset. But it can also be very liberating. We have time to just be, to exist.

I've become very aware of time and my perceived desires for slowness. Something about summer that has delighted me since I was a child is its capabilities for feeling endless. “Endless Summer.” It's a romantic concept for me. And one that I still experience in adulthood. There is something very grounding in watching the natural light go through its phases throughout the day.

(Beautiful paths, 2025)

I love the hot sun. The early morning light and cool breezes. The afternoon fading into twilight in each of its magnificent iterations—civil twilight, nautical twilight, and astronomical twilight. I've been fixated with this for some time. Before I had the names I still loved it, this passage of day into night.

(That beloved window has transfixed me, 2025)

Here in Baia Mare, I've become fixated with another thing in my environment. And that is the window in my kitchen. Because the view outside of it is so beautiful I can hardly fathom. It reminds me of a storybook. The hills and the distance that I would call mountains, the lush green garden that continues to get further out of hand, more like a British garden than a French style. The flowers that bloom in a series, each variety taking their turn. The lilacs releasing a fragrance on the soft summer air that floats in my cracked window. The neighbor slowly finding a seat in the garden and harmonizing with nature. The birds chirping and the cat meowing. It is peaceful. It's almost more beautiful to me than going out into that great green world.

(Surprised by different spots, 2025)

But sometimes, when I venture out, I'm surprised by that as well. I'm back on my daily walk regimen. I find that it gives me more solace and a stronger sense of well-being to commune with nature on a daily basis. No longer am I taking brutal walks in a bleak winter. Those days were long indeed. But I'm glad that I persevered. And I am grateful that nature has bestowed her gentler beauty again. I missed this.

This is the kind of summer that I enjoy at home in Nebraska. I've never been more overjoyed than when I look out a window on a plane and see the lush green across my home state. Of course, heat waves don't always treat it as nicely these days. But there is something about that lush humid green wonderland I feel very connected to. I am fortunate that I will have a chance to return home this summer. And I dearly look forward to seeing family and friends. And the pups!

(Summer Solace, 2025)

I'm actually taking a bit of a pit stop. I'm stopping over in Canada on the way home. I'm really thrilled as it's been many years since I visited. I accidentally turned eight in British Columbia and I'm grateful for the opportunity to return for another birthday—the big 3-0. I'm excited. And I look forward to visiting a friend along the way. It's kind of funny, I almost feel like going back is returning to childhood but I'm also entering a new decade. Big change.

It's a bit trickier since I don't know yet what my next destination will be in terms of work and life. I may be home in Nebraska for some time, or I'll return to New York City, perhaps I'll be in Asia or Europe. I don't really know, I'm still putting out feelers. For down I'm trying to exist in the present moment.

(Spring & Easter moments, 2025)

I am enjoying slower days in Baia Mare before the sudden rush. Easter break has been well-needed. Romanians really appreciate their holidays—2+ weeks off almost depending on the student or professor. I am grateful for my time celebrating the holiday, watching old classics, preparing soft foods (post-root canal), visiting the local cathedral, enjoying a local pasca from my neighborhood bakery, and savoring the end of our swift spring.

In fact, lately I'm appreciating the little things like being able to afford nuts which I love—almonds of the honey and salted varieties, Brazil nuts, walnuts, corn nuts, you name it. The fresh produce, don't get me talking about the strawberries I buy constantly. My ginger beer. My weekly neighborhood coffee shop visits. Even my routines for grocery shopping and cleaning my house. Everything is feeling very romantic these days. I know part of it is summer, part of it is my fleeting sense of time. I've had both difficulties and gifts while here this year and I know that whatever comes next will be good. But it is feeling a bit bittersweet to know it's coming to an end sooner than later.

(An artist's trees of choice to paint, 2025)

The weather these weeks has been blissful. The other day I went on a walk that turned into a visit to the Old Town, then to the Queen Marie Park. I saw things I don't remember seeing before. Or perhaps in darkness and winter shadows it was a different place. Lately, it feels as if light has painted with generous strokes of a brush—sweeping everything into glory. In my words shared with a groupchat this week about this glorious encounter of city and nature reborn, “I discovered things in the light that never were this beautiful in the darker days.” And I cherish it, indeed.

(Soaking it all up, 2025)

I know it's about to get fast, yet again. My Ro Fish tour will carry on—Craiova, Iasi, and Sibiu are last on the list. I hope to see a little bit more of Maramures too. Classes will fly by as I have my final exams the first two weeks of June. I'm taking my students on a field trip this week and preparing for hosting a workshop here next month. And I'm working on my tourism project report. With some socializing sprinkled in. There is a lot to keep me busy. So I'll try to appreciate the quiet moments and embrace the slow days.

Sending many blessings for whatever you find yourself facing! As always, we can only take it one step at a time. 🌹

~Amber

#ambrosiaelsewhere #sustainabletourism