“My Friend. — Welcome to the Carpathians. I am anxiously expecting you. Sleep well ton-night. At three tomorrow the diligence will start for Bukovina; a place on it is kept for you. At the Borgo Pass my carriage will await you and will bring you to me. I trust that your journey from London has been a happy one, and that you will enjoy your stay in my beautiful land.
Your friend,
Dracula.”
I’m not sure what to expect when I pass through ‘Borgo Pass.’ I’m a little wary of the trip, seeing as how I can’t find this so-called ‘Borgo Pass’ on Google Maps (unless I made a wrong turn and have ended up in North Carolina, USA). I like to print out a few maps: satellite hybrids that give as much information while remaining as aesthetically pleasing as possible. Oh, and then there’s the fact that everyone freaks out whenever they hear of my destination.
I’m not a particularly religious person, but their superstitions have begun to wipe off on me. God knows why I’m still wearing that rosary about my neck. Perhaps it’s the desperation of the woman who secured it there that stays my hand.
That … and read the letter above. The Golden Krone Hotel landlord gave it to me upon my arrival.
Who talks like that?!
But this is business. I can ignore the fainting women and unease in the heavy air. Do I have much of a choice?
Oh … the photo above is me. I took it with the aid of a mirror in the Golden Krone elevator. Forgive me, Mina.
Photo courtesy of Flickr’s ‘tnarik.’ Thanks!
