I had been living in Humenné, Slovakia for a year, and now it was time to say goodbye. I had long been thinking about the best way to conclude. A few weeks before my departure, I asked my friend and colleague if he would host a final gathering at his wife’s cottage in the nearby village, Jasenov. Throughout the year, my friend, his wife, and children had become my Slovak family. They were the first to welcome me to Eastern Slovakia, and I wanted them to be the last to say goodbye. I did not envision a grandiose final night; instead, I desired a final night characterized by my favorite things from the past year.

Slovakia had won me over with its understated authenticity. From the High Tatras to the Myjava folk festival to the Demänovská Cave of Liberty, Slovakia, without doubt, has an abundance of striking views and exciting events, yet it remains a country of often-overlooked beauties, especially in the East where I was living. As a Midwesterner from Southeastern Minnesota, I grew up appreciating simple beauties: Mississippi River bluffs, rolling fields of corn, green pastures, and cold, clear creeks. As an American in Eastern Slovakia, I further grew to appreciate simple, natural beauties around me: the Laborec River, Sninský kameň, and Poloniny National Park. The lifestyle in Eastern Slovakia followed the same simple patterns: hard work, local hikes, group sports, bike rides, barbecues, bar visits. The places and habits inspired my plans in Jasenov.

When my final night arrived, I relished the simplicity. My Slovak family and a few of my closest friends gathered in an old cottage that had been passed down for generations. Given that this party marked the meeting of past and future, it was only fitting that it took place in a house that simultaneously recalled generations past and held our hopes for the future. The gathering served as the perfect culmination of my time in Humenné. We had classic Slovak foods, drinks, and chats. And when it began to rain, rather than dampen the mood, it seemed to enhance the coziness of the cottage. There was nothing extravagant about the party. We wore jeans, T-shirts, and tennis shoes. The drinks and food came from the local grocery store. The décor consisted of outdated couches, cabinets, and lamps. When I look back at the photos from that evening, the contents are plain and the focus blurry. Yet, in my mind’s eye, the image of the night is clear and vibrant. I can still see the smiles, feel the warmth, hear the laughter. While nostalgia has surely enhanced my affection for this moment, there’s something more to my memory of this evening than mere sentimentality. When I removed the trappings, I saw the shape of my desire. In doing so, I ran headlong into a paradox: I felt more fulfilled by simpler means than grander ones, by a final night in a cottage in Jasenov than a castle in Bratislava. Desire harms like a wildfire with too much fuel but warms like a hearth flame with proper means. The simple beauties of Slovakia showed me that simple desires require simple means and that the shape of my desires is far simpler than I often expect.