There have been many places I've been to that have resonated with me. On some level, my body, my very cells, recognized the land. It was like that in both France and Ireland. I'd breathe in and think, Yes, I know this. This feels right, and I'd instantly be comfortable.

Bucharest was not one of those places.

I looked around the tired alleys and up at the strings of lank laundry hanging from the lines above me and all I could think was, I want to go home. Maybe it was just the ...