Trading One American Dream for Another: How Anthony & Sam Found Home (and Themselves) in Romania
Episode #0045
Ever wonder what makes someone pack up their whole life, cross an ocean, and build a new home in a land many only know from vague travel documentaries? It's a journey, you know? Not just geographically, but emotionally and culturally. We recently sat down with Anthony and Sam, an incredible couple who made exactly that leap, moving from the US to Romania. Their story isn't just about changing zip codes; it's a testament to rediscovering family, finding purpose, and the surprising comfort of the unexpected.
When I first chatted with Anthony and Sam, I had to share my own story: I left Romania ten years ago, and I’m always fascinated by folks who choose to come here, especially from a place like the United States. Anthony and Sam were actually the very first people brave enough to share their experiences with me. I'm so glad they did!
So, how's life treating them now? "Content," Sam says, "Very content." But there’s a catch, isn’t there? They're quick to add, "For us." Because what’s good for one person or one couple, well, that’s not always universal. And that distinction, that little nuance, it sets the stage for everything else they shared.
The Fading Echoes of American Community (and a Dash of 90s Nostalgia)
If you had to boil down the difference between Romania and the US into just one "vibe" or word, what would it be? For Sam, it's all about "community." She feels a "stronger sense of community here," describing relationships that feel "sincere, authentic, genuine." That's a powerful statement, especially for someone coming from the States.
Honestly, it piqued my interest immediately. I’ll admit, I'm a bit of a US fanboy, always have been. Growing up, I saw those movies, read books like Michelle Obama's, where neighborhoods were practically extensions of families, raising children collectively. You know, Miss Thompson down the street would definitely call your mom if you misbehaved.
"Not anymore," Anthony says, shaking his head. "Not anymore, no, in most places." He and Sam grew up in the 90s, when block parties were popular, and everyone knew their neighbors. People would bring food, hang out, really connect. But things shifted, dramatically. He pinpoints 9/11 as a major turning point. Suddenly, schools had perimeters, fences, and kids had to be signed out. That easy-going, relaxed vibe? Gone.
Then there's the extreme prevalence of gun violence, starting with Columbine when Anthony was just eight. Metal detectors and heightened security became part of the school experience. Of course, the US is huge, almost "50 little countries," as Anthony puts it. So, a lot depends on where you grew up. Sam, for example, didn't have block parties in her New Jersey neighborhood, but her mom's best friend in Staten Island did. It's wild how different experiences can be, even within the same state. And let's be real, with technology's rise, kids aren't out on their bikes until the streetlights come on anymore; they're often playing video games online, building different kinds of communities.
Seriously, Red 40? What You Miss When You Move Abroad
So, what do they miss most about the US? Prepare yourself for this: "It's going to sound incredibly shallow," Anthony laughs, "but I just miss certain brands of foods. Junk food. I miss Red 40." He’s half-joking, but there’s a kernel of truth in it, isn't there? We grow up with these chemicals, and our bodies just crave them! When Sam's mom visits, she’s affectionately called "the mule," bringing a list of cravings.
Beyond the junk food, they appreciate still being able to watch US shows on YouTube and keep up with beloved sports teams. But the core reason they moved was a profound "desire for change, a desire for new landscapes, a desire for new experiences." The US, for all its vastness, can feel like a "bubble," and you don't really grasp its extent until you step outside it. Romania, they say, is "far enough away where you can sort of forget about those things." Anthony even forgets US holidays now – Labor Day, Fourth of July, not a thing.
Sam, however, lights up when talking about missing cultural institutions like Broadway, the opera, and the Philharmonic. Having lived in New York for five years, she experienced the "quality of talent" firsthand. "It's exquisite," she says. "It's New York." I totally get it. I’ve always dreamed of living in New York for at least six months myself. That city is just... different. Anthony, originally from Brooklyn before moving to New Jersey, had the city at his fingertips too, regularly attending parades and shows. He even mentions the impressive NYC subway system, which, fun fact, was significantly expanded by a Romanian engineer in the 70s/80s!
Anthony’s upbringing took him across the country: Houston, Boston, Chicago, and then back to the East Coast. He and Sam met in college, embarking on a relationship that has spanned almost 14 years. (Don’t worry, I won't do the math on how old that makes us all feel!) They both studied music at the conservatory, a passion that, as we'll discover, has found new life in Romania.
A Call from the Past: Unraveling Anthony's Adoption Story
Their journey to Romania is deeply personal for Anthony. He was adopted from Romania when he was just 12 days old. His American parents were wonderfully open about his adoption, and he grew up with a photo album filled with pictures of his biological family. Yet, these figures remained like "characters in a book" until Sam, with her "Miss Curiosity" hat on, gently nudged him. "I bet she thinks about you every day," Sam recalled telling him, suggesting they try to find his biological mother.
Around Christmas 2017, Sam found a Facebook group called "Never Forgotten Romanian Children," a nonprofit dedicated to reuniting Romanian adoptees with their biological families. Because Anthony had so much documentation (thanks to his incredibly diligent adoptive mother, who was "like Ken Burns" with his records), the process moved astonishingly fast. Within three days, a local contact from the network knocked on his biological family's door.
The first call with his biological mother in January 2018 was, as Anthony describes it, an "incredible moment," "a surreal moment," "an out-of-body experience." He was standing in his Chicago kitchen at 7:30 AM, hearing his mother's voice for the first time. "Her voice was like familiar, but unknown," he muses. He asked about his brothers and sisters; everyone was doing well. It was a short call, maybe 15-20 minutes, but its impact was seismic. Soon after, Facebook friend requests poured in, leading to an online relationship that lasted about two years before they decided to meet in person in May 2019.
And let me just pause here to say, Anthony and Sam's Romanian is getting remarkably good! It’s not easy to learn a new language, especially when you’ve grown up in a culture where English often feels like enough. Huge respect for their progress.
First Impressions of Romania: From Chaotic Bucharest to the Charming Slow Train
Their first time landing in Bucharest in 2019, Anthony felt a "weird nostalgia." Looking out the plane window at Otopeni, he knew, "I'm back. I'm home." He embraced the experience with wide-open eyes. Bucharest's architecture, a mishmash of beautiful early 20th-century buildings next to imposing communist blocks, struck him as "so confused about what it is design wise," yet beautiful in its chaos.
Their initial Bucharest experience even came with a dose of local flavor: the Pope was in town! On the day they were leaving, they briefly stepped out for coffee. In those ten minutes, the street transformed. Police officers with guns were everywhere, asking for papers. With their documents safely tucked away in their Airbnb, it was a sudden, slightly jarring welcome to Romania, a moment of "let's get out of here!"
They then embarked on a journey by CFR train from Bucharest to Sighișoara. "That was a journey," Anthony repeats, a bit of an understatement. Having grown up with "terrible trains" in the US, he's used to it. I couldn't help but chime in, comparing it to my German colleagues complaining about the Deutsche Bahn, while I'm thinking, "You have no idea what 19 hours to the seaside feels like!" The "cheffereh" (CFR, Romania's national railway) is an endearing, if painfully slow, experience. "We could walk faster," Anthony admits. But the lack of transparency, not knowing how long a journey will take, always gets me.
Sighișoara, however, was "an absolute dream." They fell in love with its charm, making it their home base before the big family reunion.
The Emotional Reunion: A Parade, Tears, and a Dying Wish
The morning of meeting his biological parents, Anthony was disassociating hard. There's a famous TikTok video of Sam asking how he feels, and he's just talking about the weather. "You're about to meet your parents for the first time, and you're over here talking about the weather," Sam recalls, laughing.
As they pulled down the road where his family lives, the van stopped, and his mom was standing there. But it wasn't just her. "Everyone on the street came out," Anthony remembers, "The street was lined with people." It was a "parade," a joyous, emotional scene. "There's no mistaking she's your mother," he told Sam. "You look exactly like her." He gave her a big hug, and it felt "natural and normal."
But amid the joy, there was a poignant contrast: his oldest brother, Balu, stood behind their mother, crying. Balu was nine when Anthony was adopted and remembered it vividly. He thought Anthony had died. For a while, their relationship was distant, stoic. Now, they've broken down that wall, but it highlights the often-unseen trauma of those left behind. I myself remember terrifying childhood stories about getting lost in Cluj's crowded markets, with fears of being "sold." Hearing Anthony's brother's story, I can only imagine the impact.
Anthony also got to meet his grandmother, a "tiny little bunica." Having never had grandparents in the US, this was a special moment. After a hug, she whispered something unforgettable: "Now that I met you, I can die in peace." A year later, to the day, she passed away. He met her once, and it was "amazing."
The "Trolley Problem" of Survival: Understanding the Sacrifice
What was the most surprising thing about his biological family? "There wasn't a place before meeting them where I felt I could be more of myself than anywhere else," Anthony says, his voice thick with emotion. "We picked up where we left off 12 days." This, he believes, is because of the immense love there. "They're rich in love and they're rich in family." They might not have everything, but that's a "never-ending list of materialism," isn't it?
Only recently did he learn more about his biological mother's perspective. Coming out of communism, and being Roma, they were in a truly desperate situation. Anthony frames his adoption with a "trolley problem" analogy: sacrificing one thing for the greater good. It's a stark reality, one that often lacks empathy from the general public. "Nobody in their right mind would ever want to be in a position where that's an option," he stresses.
It turns out it wasn't his mother pushing for the adoption; it was his grandmother and father. The family lived in a "dirt floor" shack with "leaves for a roof," struggling to feed five children. Then came a "gentleman from Bucharest with a briefcase full of cash," preying on desperate families in churches, offering "survival money," not "get rich money." That detail is crucial. It changes everything, painting a picture of impossible choices.
His biological mother, he learned, "always knew I was gonna come back to her in some way." She even insisted on feeding him one last time before handing him over. "That bridge was always there between us," Anthony says. "Somebody had to walk across it."
I think Anthony's acceptance of this situation, this "transaction" as he and Sam candidly call it, speaks volumes about him. He calls it "correcting a wrong," changing the narrative. He acknowledges that adoptees are often told they "should be grateful," and he is, but it's "separate from the reality in which they will know or ever know or understand." This journey is for his mother, for his siblings, to shift that story.
Sam adds a vital perspective on the ethics of adoption. It often preys on two desperate groups: those who desperately want a child, and those in a position where they cannot care for another. Anthony's mother was sterilized immediately after his birth; she didn't want more children but lacked options previously. Society often vilifies biological families, asking, "How could you abandon/sell your child?" But, as Sam points out, "if somebody sold you something, then somebody bought something." His American adoptive mother even acknowledged "bribing the judge" to move the process along. It's a "very sticky wicket," and it's essential to understand the full, often uncomfortable, picture.
The Breaking Point: From Living to Work to Life in Romania
After their first visit in 2019, Anthony and Sam returned to the US, moving to New York City. Then came the pandemic. Sam describes her job as "living to work." In late 2022, after a Christmas visit to Romania, she experienced a panic attack the moment she opened her computer back in Brooklyn. "This isn't right," she realized. "This is not what we're supposed to be doing." She told her bosses she was moving to Romania, giving them a year and a half's notice.
The seed was planted earlier. Anthony had already mused in 2019, "Maybe one day we'll move here... I just want to like be here for them." Sam's mom visited in the summer of 2022 and "loved it," sealing the deal. This wasn't a sudden whim; it was a slow burn, culminating in Sam's "enough is enough" moment.
Then came the bureaucratic marathon: the citizenship process. Anthony, thanks to his adoptive mother's meticulous record-keeping, learned he never actually lost his Romanian citizenship (a "Never Lose Your Citizenship" clause exists, with some grey areas). They hired an immigration attorney in Bucharest, who was an absolute godsend. The process involved navigating name changes (Anthony's original Romanian name was Vasile, and his name had changed six times over the years!), court orders, and proving he was "the same person" across various documents. The village where he was born had never dealt with such requests, so everyone was "terrified to do anything" for fear of getting "Ciorda" (in trouble). This journey took about a year and a half, but it meant they were set up to move.
Their friends, many sharing similar values, weren't surprised by the news. Colleagues, though, often asked, "Why Romania?" Sam's reply? "Why America, sir? Have you ever been there? You know it's not communist anymore!" They were tired of the sadness they felt returning from Romania; they just "got tired of feeling that way."
Living the "Full Version" in Sibiu: Admin, Cats, and No Land Titles
"Holiday is a demo version," I always say. "When you move somewhere, it's the full version, and it's the paid version as well." Sam wholeheartedly agrees. Everyone romanticizes places they visit, but daily life is vastly different.
Their first days in Sibiu were spent in a tiny Airbnb with their two cats. They initially hoped to buy a house, but, well, Romania had other plans. They nearly got "screwed" when they discovered the sellers didn't have their paperwork in order – "farateren," as the notary regretfully informed them (meaning, no land title).
Desperate, with only two days left in their Airbnb, they walked into a rental agency office at 8:59 AM, soaked from the rain. Their urgency and preparedness (they offered to pay a whole year's rent upfront) meant the "whole office working for us." Having cats limited their options, but their agency friend pulled through. They found a "great apartment," love their landlords, and finally feel settled. But the initial six months were a "never-ending list of stuff" – getting permits, health insurance, buying a car. "A lot of admin," Sam sighs.
Embracing Romanian Life: Unexpected Joys and Culinary Adventures
What's the weirdest thing they do in Romania that they never imagined doing in the States? Anthony points to the recycling system, where you get money back for bottles. But the biggest, most unexpected shift? Making music. Back in the US, they were "logical people," with plans. Here, the universe said, "No, you're not." With more time and space, they’ve written and recorded an album of original music, pressed it to vinyl, and are now playing shows and festivals! "That was never on the table," Anthony says.
And then there's the food. Oh, the food! Slanina (cured pig fat) is the "antithesis of the American diet." I tried explaining it to my German colleagues; it's a tough sell! And Chorba de Burta (tripe soup)? You either love it or hate it. Anthony's not a fan of the texture, but Sam reminds us it's about resourcefulness. "American culture is so wasteful with animal products," she notes, while Romanians use "every part of that pig." This mindset, born partly from poverty and communism, means people collect jars, save everything. My own grandfather used to cover the barn windows with blankets at night just to avoid the Securitate knowing he was slaughtering a calf! It's a different world entirely.
When it comes to missed food, Mexican food is a big one for many Americans abroad. For Sam, it was general "ethnic food": Thai, Indian, Mexican, American breakfast, bagels. Anthony especially misses "real American Chinese food, New York style," and Texas barbecue. But even the food scene is changing in Sibiu, with Vietnamese and Indian restaurants popping up. "It's not just all chorba de fasole," Anthony says. This mixing of cultures, I agree, is what truly expands our worldview. Sam and Anthony also lived in New York and Chicago, two of America's greatest food cities, so their standards are high! (Sam even daringly claims Chicago's food is better than New York's!)
I've had my own culinary adventures in New York, from Katz's Deli to amazing coffee at Blank Street and a delicious salmon burger at Jack's Wife Freda. Sam recommends Oti, a Romanian tapas restaurant in the Lower East Side, for a unique take on Romanian food.
Leaving Preconceived Notions at the Door
What's one thing they wish every expat knew about Romania? "The hospitality," Sam says. Despite Romanians sometimes saying they're not nice to each other, she's been "welcomed so warmly into so many strangers' homes" and never leaves without a bag of pickles or homemade syrup.
Their best advice? "Leave your preconceived notions about Romania at the airport," Anthony urges. "See it for yourself and then form an opinion." Mark Twain famously said the cure to preconception is traveling, and it holds true here. Bucharest's architectural chaos, for example, has a "beautiful disorder" that you must accept. Romania isn't a monolith; its regions, from Bucovina to Maramureș to Constanța, are incredibly diverse.
I chime in that Romanians aren't typically "entitled" and possess a strong "street smarts" born from necessity. Anthony agrees. "Communism will do that to you," he says. He’s incredibly proud to be Romanian American and doesn’t shy away from challenging misconceptions. "The needle of progress only goes so fast," he points out, suggesting people view Romania as "35 years old" (since the fall of communism) rather than an ancient region. This perspective fosters "a little bit more understanding, a little bit more acceptance, more grace." He resents the "totem pole" mentality of some Western Europeans who view Romania as "at the bottom." Instead, he's found "some of the kindest, most hardworking, most sincere" people, with a directness that he finds "refreshing" and "exciting."
Rapid Fire & The Road Ahead
Before we wrapped up, a few rapid-fire questions:
Favorite Romanian snack? Gusto Pufuleti, of course! And Ardei Copți (roasted bell peppers) straight from the jar for Sam.
Something similar to Salată de Vinete (eggplant salad) in the US? Not really. Sam compares it to Baba Ghanoush, which is Turkish. Eggplant just isn't a huge part of American cuisine.
Favorite local phrase? "Stai liniștit" (calm down) for Sam, and for Anthony, he's "been a little on that 'du-te-n...' lately" (a colorful Romanian curse word that translates... wildly).
Favorite chill activity? Making gratar (BBQ) with family in the garden, having coffee, taking a walk through an old town, or visiting the ASTRA Museum in Sibiu.
Favorite place in Romania? We tried to pick one. Anthony settled on Poiana Brașov. But then Sam recalled a restaurant in Bucovina, "Poiana Bucovinei," with the "greatest papanaș I've ever had in my life!" (I, a self-proclaimed papanas expert, will definitely be verifying this claim!)
Last TV show binged? Love is Blind (Sam) and Peaky Blinders(Anthony).
Guys, honestly, I was deeply impressed by Anthony and Sam's story. They came from a place many Romanians only dream of, and yet they found something better here, in Romania. To hear them speak with such warmth and pride about their new home, and about rediscovering roots, it warms my heart. There's a small Romanian guy inside me, and he's really happy and proud right now!
What's next for them? They're heading back to the recording studio for their second album, due out in the spring. Sam's mom is visiting for Christmas, and they hope to play more gigs and festivals in 2026. Maybe even buy a house next year! They're also filming a secret project that they're "super pumped about." Teaching, making music, living life – they’re truly enjoying it.
Thank you, Anthony and Sam, for sharing your incredible journey. I genuinely hope we can meet in person one day soon and continue this amazing conversation.
🎙️ Listen to the full conversation on Whereabouts Tales — available on Spotify, YouTube, and all major podcast platforms.
