Juan Moreno's Spiegel article does an interesting job tracing the movements of Romanians across an increasingly united Europe.
In 1992, Romania still had 23 million inhabitants. Today there are 4 million fewer. Those who emigrated profit from the fact that Europe has an undeclared division of labor that goes something like this: Wherever uneducated, rather than educated, workers are needed, employers look for Romanians. Even the Germans.
If it weren't for Romanians, slaughterhouse owners would be chest-deep in pig halves. Without them, real estate developers could forget about Germany's glorious construction boom. The same goes for asparagus and potato harvests. In their view, anything is better than staying in Romania. As a result, leaving home is about the most Romanian thing a person can do -- and that's not difficult at all.
All it takes is climbing into a mini-bus and rattling westward. There are hundreds of these busses in every Romanian city. A one-way ticket to Germany costs €70 ($77); to the Netherlands, €80; Belgium, €80; France, Italy, Portugal, €120. A massive armada of small Romanian buses has been traversing Europe for years.
This is where our hero comes in, a hero for freedom, a hero for the market economy -- somehow, in his own way, a hero for Europe. He prefers to be called Viktor Talic. His real name, he claims, would be unwise to use -- it would put him in danger of being persecuted, as heroes so often are.
Talic is on his way to Portugal. He's more than just a bus driver, he's also a shipper, money courier, messenger and smuggler rolled into one. With eight of his compatriots in his Mercedes Sprinter, he moves people and goods from Point A (Romania) to Point B (Portugal), a route many Romanians have taken.