Why Don't You Come to Romania?

In an attempt to capture the last month, I will endeavor to summarize its three segments: Romania, Christmas, and Cambridge. This post covers my early experience in Romania from December 6 to December 10.

With intention of meeting my friend, Gruia, in Bucharest on December 9, I left for Romania on the 6th of December with the intention of landing in Timisoara, a major city in western Romania, and working my way by train to Bucharest. Once in Bucharest, we were to take cars back through the Carpathian Mountains and into rural Transylvania. The journey was filled with several surprises beginning with Gruia being on the same flight as I. This coincidence was quite fortunate as Gruia provided valuable background on Romania and the sites to see. As I learned, Romania is defined by three characteristics: The U-Shaped Carpathians, the Black Sea, and the Danube River.

With this background and some historical notes, I was on my way, but not before, Gruia and I enjoyed a hearty meal on the main square in Timisoara. From the beginning, I fell in love with the cuisine: Polenta, Sausages, and Bean Soup abound. After Gruia departed by train, I checked myself into the old communist party hotel, which was quite cheap and furnished with this dull blue paint. Of remark, it was quite similar to the old communist hotels in Vietnam. After finishing a project for school, I journeyed out into the bustle of holiday life. In the main square, I discovered my love of vin fiert, warm wine, which is sold quite cheaply. As I wandered the city, I realized for the first time that I was in Europe: the open squares, the market culture, and the cuisine. Known as "Little Vienna," Timisoara claims to be the cultural hub of Romania and assumes a certain elitist attitude, but I found it most welcoming. Piata Victoriei (Victory Square), the starting place of the 1989 Revolution, contained a Christmas bazaar. Nearby, the Habsburg-era, Union Square is complete with cobblestone and movable wrought-iron benches to suit your taste. Outside of the city center, I found a much different experience. In the Fabric neighborhood, I discovered the contrast of the city: the grand squares and cultured high-life paired with decay of neighborhoods. Fabric was the old German neighborhood, abandoned over time and repossessed by the large Roma population. Squatting is quite commonplace. As I wandered the streets, I saw many dilapidated houses and store fronts which had been broken into and subsequently occupied. Throughout Romania, property rights are a major issue, given the privatization of public property's some 20 years ago.

After a full day of exploration, I caught the evening train for Sibiu in Western Transylvania. Arriving around 11 pm, I had arranged online for a cheap hotel rather than the hostel recommended by my friend. I took a cab from the train to the hotel to find it dark, gates closed. I knocked and tried calling without luck. On a dark street without any sort of understanding of the cities layout, a man exited a nearby house. He walked across the street and put the light on a cab. I walked over and said "Casa?" He nodded and motioned for me to get into the car. Nervous, I worried as we passed by many-a western hotel and found myself on a back street. He stopped the cab and turned off the engine. He then smiled, which may sound unnerving, but there was a welcome-ness and kindness to it. He got out first and I followed suit. Pointing down the street to a hotel, he motioned for me to follow. We entered and I examined the rates: 60 lei. He spoke with the women and I assumed that they were romantically inclined. I booked into the hotel, charging me a special rate of 30 lei. I looked puzzled and she pointed to the cab driver and said "prieten" or friend. At this point, all pre-existing fears disappeared.

Without a map, I began wandering towards what I assumed to be the center of town. I walked by the old Roman bastions and into the central square. As it was early, no one was stirring and I thouroghly enjoyed the solitude. The town is divided by the old walls of the fortified city, which divide the high town from the more residential low town. After a morning of wandering and getting lost in the labyrinth of streets, passages, and alley ways, I made my way into the City Clock Tower where I climbed for what seemed like an eternity with my heavy pack. However, the view made the trip worthwhile: The Carpathians and the Transylvanian plane stretched for miles, blending into each other. For lunch, I followed Gruia's direction to Crama Sibiul Vechi, where I exited the street and entered into a less than inspiring building only to find an underground gem. The restaurant is in the old brick-lined cellar and serves traditional shepard's fare. While the meat grill and bean soup were excellent, it was the atmosphere, complete with waiters wearing traditional dress and locals who knew the staff as old friends, that defined the experience. Late in the afternoon, when the sky turned gray, the first snow came to Transylvania. I departed soon after.

In the early evening, I arrived in Brasov, which lies farther to the east, yet still quite central in Transylvania. I stayed in the city center (Piata Sfatului), where the night came alive with a traditional Christmas bazaar. These bazaars, I found, are a staple within the squares of the many city's and towns. In the morning, I rose early and walked the footpaths along the old city wall, which was in great repair. I climbed into the hill side where I examined the town from the defensive heights around the town. As I climbed to the Black and White Towers, I was filled with the nostalgia of childhood. In Brasov, I found the towers, which my minature knights once defended/attacked.

After, I made arrangement with a cab driver to take me to Bran Castle, the inspiration for Bram Stokers Dracula. In exchange for the roundtrip, I paid him 50 lei or around 12 dollars. After about an hour drive, we arrived in the town of Bran where I walked the rest of the way to the castle. As I approached, I thought to myself: If Dracula lived here, he certainly had good taste. The snowy landscape and snow under my foot made the trip quite romantic. The castle sits in a mighty gorge dividing Transylvanaia from the outside. As a central passage through the Carpathians, it was a route for both trade and invasion. Given its position, it also served as a tax house, generating revenue for the likes of Vlad the Impaler, who never actually stayed at the castle. While imposing from the outside, the inside proved to be well-maintained, but rather poorly decorated. Periodic pieces from the 19th and early 20th Century do not belong in castles. As I walked down, I was over-joyed: my first castle.

On the way back to Brasnov, we passed through Rasnov,a town between Bran and my destination. Admiring the great citadel on the hill-side (decorated with a tacky metal-framed RASNOV Hollywood style sign), the cab driver offered to take me to the base of the mountainside where I could walk to the top. I asked the fee and he smiled: No extra chargd. While he spoke very limited English, I found our trip quite engaging as I pointed and motioned my way to understanding of the local context. As a sign of trust, I left my bag in the car (I learned my lesson at the City Council Tower in Sibiu). As I walked up the winding road to the entrance of the trails, the coniferous forest surrounded me. I watched as dogs scurried about the hillside, following my path. As I reached the zenith, I discovered a large fortress, used by the Saxons in times of invasion. While much has been restored, the ruins were the best portion of the independent tour. Each family was assigned a cubicle of space to store food in preparation of conflict and as a place to stay. The buidlings are mostly gone, yet the foundations remain. Per usual, some buildings are restored and commercialized. The well, a source of livelihood to the Saxon inhabitants, was alledgedly dug over a 20-year period by several Turkish prisoners, who were given their freedom. Taking liberty with the lack of supervision, I climbed along the less than reliable dirt footpath behind the Rasnov sign. Here, I had a commanding view of the Carpathians and the pancake below, as I walked back down, I was quite satisfied with my morning adventure.

Returning to Brasov, I had lunch outside at a local cafe, where I enjoyed the liveliness of the square by day. Afterwards, I visited the 13th Century Black Church, which gets its name from its destructive past. Both the Turks and Hapsburgs burnt the church, permanently darkening its walls. While the outside is Gothic, the interior is Baroque in style. After I walked to the old main gate, where I discovered a page torn from a fairy tale. I looked for Sleeping Beauty to no avail. With two-hours left, I decided to take the tram up the side of Mount Tampa, which overlooks the city. After a long delay, I finally reached the top where I found an overpriced restaurant and a series of antennas. In about 15 minutes of hiking along snow covered trails, I reached the summit, somehow isolated from the commercialism. Looking down upon Brasnov, I noted the distinction between the various sections of the town, the old division between Saxons and Romanians. With only 45 minutes to spare before my train to Bucharest, I trecked down the hillside to the valley below (Trecking is the technical term for running like mad). Arriving at the train station, I actually discovered that I had the wrong train time, so I sat in a smoky, train station cafe enjoying coffee. While seated, a young boy slighly entered the cafe, begging for food. While this behavior was suspect, the fear in his eyes when the policeman entered gave away his sincerity. While I was reluctant to give him money, I did anyway. With a smile, the boy said: "Americano." I hope that it was with fondness rather than cleverness. As I boarded the train, I realized that Bucharest and the Saxon villages to follow would have a difficult time living up to my 24-hour experience in Brasnov, Rasnov, and Bran.