Day 395: Dog Days

Post from Tim:

I checked into a marvelously depressing one-star hotel in Brasov, where an old man who smoked quietly by the light of a TV set handed me my key. My single room hid at the end of a long dark hallway, the dismal surroundings reminded me of Van Gogh's famous painting of his rented room in Arles. Any week-to-week pensioner or starving artist would feel at home here, with a creaky wooden bed, aged wardrobe, lone chair, small writing desk, and sink all crammed into a tiny area.

Lucky for me, Brasov's streets excited me far more than my old hotel room. I spent hours in the central square, surrounded by the muted red, green, and orange colors of the nearby shops and open-air restaurants. The piazza swelled with community in the evening and provided me with free entertainment, watching young lovers share ice cream, men drink beer in cafes, and old ladies chat.

A small terrier and a large curly haired mutt ran through the piazza together, biting and snapping each other in play. They barked from time to time, but kept quiet for the most part. Then all at once, the small dog started a five-minute wild chase after the big one, running in between bystanders and circling around benches to catch up. The accompanied high-pitched yelping gathered the attention of the whole square and every head turned to watch the show. What was once a collection of small individual groups was now one large audience.

The two dogs flew through a leftover rain puddle and sent a plume of water up into the air, like a water-skier pulling through a tight turn. People comically dove out of the way to avoid being hit by the spray. The crowd erupted all at once in applause and laughter. Then as abruptly as it started, the show was over and the individual groups resumed where they had left off.

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