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24. the Transfagarasan Highway

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one of the two cable cars traveling up and down to the top of the Transfagarasan Highway

A spectacular road across the Faragas Mountains, with plenty opportunity to get out of the car, too

Romania’s highest mountains – the highest part of the Carpathians – are the Fagaras Mountains, with peaks of over 2500 meters. This is the barrier that separated Transylvania from Wallachia. In due course there have been several roads built across these mountains, but for Ceausescu, Romania’s megalomaniac communist ruler, this was not enough, and he ordered the construction of a road right across the mountains, which became the Trans-Fagarasan Highway.

at least they tell you whether the pass is open, at the start of the Transfagarasan Highway

The story goes that Ceausescu, having seen Czechoslovakia been invaded by the Soviet Union, wanted a route to mobilise troops north should Romania await a similar fate. Never mind that there were already other routes, far more accessible for an army, and never mind that the Soviets would have worked out to attack in the winter, when the Transfagarasan Highway, which reaches 2000 meters altitude, is closed because of snow. Or maybe he just wanted to demonstrate what Romania could achieve. Which it did, in 1974, after four years of hard work and quite a few fatalities.

We drove up from the north, hairpin after hairpin, to about 1500 meters, from where a cable car starts its ascent to the top – well, to the top of the road, the highest point of which is 2042 meters, from where a 900 meter tunnels leads to the other side of the mountain. From the cable car, one has the most stunning views of the mountains around, and the peace of mind to quietly look at it, something a lot more difficult when you drive up, and need all your wits to negotiate the bends. At the end, just before the tunnel, is a small glacial lake, and the usual tourist stalls.

the view north, from the top

I suppose this is to hold the snow, in winter

hairpins galore, the northern side

the small lake at the top

The next 2.5 hours were an attack on the knees, walking back to the car. First scrambling down a rather steep slope, along something that was occasionally marked, but didn’t look much of a path, and then, the final 2/3^rd of the way, along a well-signposted path, gradually getting back into forest, past what is called the Balea Cascade, and to the parking lot. Great walk, great views. The closer we got to the car, the clearer the path became, now also marked with the rubbish people leave behind.

And then we drove on, back up again – hairpin after hairpin -, to the lake, once more taking in the views, then through the tunnel, and down the other side, which is equally impressive – hairpin after hairpin, and the occasional tunnel. Incidentally, these tunnels are also being used by the sheep herds that roam the flanks of the mountains: sheep have a funny way of blocking the entire road when they cannot go left or right! Luckily, most drivers take this lightly.

Perhaps crossing the Transfagarasan Highway is in itself reason enough to visit Romania?

Next: to oil town Ploiesti, back in Wallachia

sheep also use the tunnel

and have a habit of blocking the road

23. The Transylvania question

Blog entries

street lamp in Sighisoara, one of the German settlement cities in Transylvania from the 12th Century

A bit more history, featuring the Romanian Royal family and Transylvania, to put things in context (but no claim to be correct, after all, I am no scholar and there other versions…)

Many former colonies of 18^th and 19^th Century European nations have complained about the random delimitation of their borders, many of which were established at the Conference of Berlin of 1885, and after the collapse of the Ottoman Empire at the end of WW I. And many claim that border adjustments are called for to reunite same-language peoples, re-establish tribal integrity, or some other reason. However, Europe has had its share of shifting borders, too, throughout its history. Germany and Italy, some of Europe’s biggest countries, only came into existence in their current form rather late in history. And I have said it before, if all the national lobbyists in Albania, Macedonia and Bulgaria would be successful in their drive to recreate the Greater Albania, the Greater Macedonia or the Greater Bulgaria, along the maximum borders these lands have had – or are believed to have had – at various moments in the past, the world would be too small.

huge church, dominating one of the Saxon villages, rural settlements from the Middle Ages

quintesential Transylvanian village view

Romania is another example of shifting borders, of which Transylvania is perhaps the thorniest. For most of the world, the Transylvania question revolves around Dracula, the Bram Stoker character who was supposed to come from this haunted, not too far away, but still far enough away, place. For Romanians and Hungarians, it revolves around who – which nation – is the rightful ruler over this ancient principality, with such a mix of people populating it. I mentioned Saxons, Hungarians, Calderaris – a gypsy, or Roma-related group -, lots of people live there, yet, Romanian-speaking peasants have been the majority for most, if not all the time. And that is exactly the issue: were they most of the time the majority, or all the time? When the Hungarian king Geza II decided to mobilise Saxons and Szekely people to populate this area in the 12^th Century (and that is quite some time ago…), there may, or may not, have been some, or many, Romanian-speaking subsistence-farming inhabitants already.

more recent addition, one of the collective farm buildings from the communist era

a house in one of the Hungarian Szekely villages in Transylvania

one of the buildings in Sibiu’s old centre, once the Hungarian administrative seat of Transylvania

Fact is that, except for a very short period of unification with Wallachia and Moldavia at the end of the 16^th Century – we are talking months, not even years, here – Transylvania has been for as long as there is written record under some form of Hungarian, later Austro-Hungarian rule – except for the time it was an Ottoman vassal state. When Romania was first established as a modern country, in 1859 or so, it was a union of the provinces of Wallachia and Moldavia, and did not include Transylvania.

Enter the Romanian Monarchy. I mentioned earlier how Carol I became King of Romania. I think most critics agree that, by and large, he can be credited with doing a good job building a nation. One of his most important decisions, critical to the current extent of Romania as a country, was that he refused to join the First World War on the side of his cousin, the German Emperor, which brought Romania ultimately in the allied camp – for which it was handsomely rewarded after the war: it got Transylvania, on account of a majority Romanian-speaking people.

water well in a Transylvanian village

Carol I didn’t experience that anymore, because he died in 1914. Not having children of his own, he had selected his nephew, Prince Ferdinand, as his successor. The best thing Ferdinand did was marrying a granddaughter of Queen Victoria, Princess Marie, a strong and beautiful woman who became the driving force of the Romanian monarchy at the time. Unfortunately, Ferdinand and Marie produced a heir, Carol II, who proved a most useless character, and incurable womanizer, who managed to abdicate no less than three times, and rob the state of its gold and art treasures in the process. You may remember that the reason the Romanians had gone for a foreign king was the hope that a foreigner would rule better, exploit less, than one of their own. Thus was stipulated that the Romanian monarch was not allowed to marry a Romanian. Carol II, of course, had other ideas, and when he as crown prince eloped with a local beauty, he was forced to abdicate; only to return two years later, marry a Greek princess to secure his Royal future, and abandon her again, for another local beauty, Elena Lupescu, requiring a second abdication. In 1930, when his father died, he returned once more to Romania, promised to leave Elana behind, became king, and then broke his promise.

Carol II was exactly what the Romanians who, 55 years earlier, had chosen a monarch, had hoped to avoid. He used the state as his personal fief, sucked as much money out of the country as he could, and in 1938 abolished political parties when they became a hindrance to his enrichment scheme. Instead, he counted on the support of the Legion of the Archangel Michael, an openly fascist organization and hooligan gang, but when this Legion turned against him, he had the leaders killed. In the meantime he tried, but failed to manipulate the international scene: Stalin wanted, and took, Bessarabia, the eastern part of Moldavia, and Hitler forced him to give up Transylvania. Having had to secede all this territory, he lost all national support from a people who had no problems with the anti-semitic credentials of the Legion, but were infuriated by the loss of land. Which is when Carol II had to abdicate for the third time. It didn’t help, of course, that his Elena was Jewish.

sun flowers adorning a church compound

After Carol’s departure, the Legionnaires went on an uncontrolled killing spray, a pogrom which in terms of cruelty could have taught the Nazi’s a lesson, but in the end they had to give way to a military junta backed by Hitler, which, this time around, brought Romania firmly into the German camp at the eve of the Second World War – not least to attempt to regain Bessarabia from the Soviets. But then Romania switched sides in the course of the war – cynics would say, as soon as they realized that Germany was going to lose – and was thus ultimately one of the victors of the war: and Transylvania was once more returned to Romanian control in 1945, and is now integral part of the Romanian state (although not without its tensions, of course). With a clear majority Romanian speakers.

Carol I would have turned not once, but a few times, in his grave.

Next: crossing the Carpathians via the Transfagarasan Highway

sometimes the roads are temporarily blocked

railway tracks and sunset

22. Sighisoara & Sibiu

Blog entries

one of the flags that enliven the streets of Sighisoara, one of the Siebenburgen in Transylvania

Two of the original Siebenburgen of Transylvania, Sighisoara and Sibiu are both very attractive, though quite different, towns, each with their distinct historical centre.

the entrance to the citadel of Sighisoara

Two of the nicest Saxon towns in Transylvania are Sighisoara (originally called Schassburg) and Sibiu (Hermannstad). In both cases, and like Brasov, only the old town is of touristic interest, and once again like Brasov, the tourists have found them, and with them the tourist facilities. Justifiably so, I would say, because both towns are really nice, each in a different way.

Clock tower in the citadel of Sighisoara

the moving mechanism of the clock, showing different characters

flower-filled window, Sighisoara

the gate under the Clock Tower

entrance to the Sibiu citadel

Evangelical Basilica in Sibiu

the door of the Basilica

Travel guides are no doubt a better source of information, but briefly, the old part of Sighisoara is a beautiful, walled citadel, with towers that were maintained by various guilds. There is the usual collection of churches – one reached by covered stairs -, and an attractive clock tower. Cobbled streets with old, but well-maintained house lead to (or from) a small central square with views over the lower part of town.

Sibiu is bigger, it used to be the Transylvanian capital, and the seat of the Austro-Hungarian governor, at subsequent times. Here the old town, once again located on a hill, is a collection of larger and smaller squares, connected by more cobbled streets, and by narrow, covered passages.

What both towns also have in common is a much higher number of beggars than what we have seen so far, and others scouring the rubbish bins; many young children, too, begging, and perhaps also opportunistically waiting for a wallet that falls from a pocket. I would hate to think that this is also be the effect of tourism?

To be fair, one of the advantages of a well-developed tourist trade is that there are attractive hotels and guesthouses in town, both in Sighisoara and especially in Sibiu.

Next: a little expansion about the position of Transylvania in Romanian history

and these are the windows of one of the Municipal buildings at the Piata Mara

three windows, also flower-filled, in Sibiu

Piata Mara, one of the large squares in Sibiu’s citadel

21. the Saxon villages

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the impressive church tower in Valea Viilor, one the Saxon villages in Transylvania

The Transylvanian countryside is dotted with Saxon villages, characterised by huge, and very impressive, fortified church complexes.

Now here is something quite unique, at least I have never seen anything like it before.

the fortified church compound in Viscri

The 12^th century Saxon settlers in Transylvania not only founded the seven – or nine – towns that gives the region its German name, Siebenburgen, but they also established over 200 villages. Far more vulnerable than the towns, to raiding groups, but even more so to Byzantine and later Ottoman armies, the villagers fortified their churches, by surrounding them with enormous walls, sometimes 14-15 meters high and perhaps a couple of meters thick. These churches were, of course, of the imposing Roman Catholic sort, not the humble Orthodox types, and with their impressive, part-wooden towers they are visible from afar – perhaps a better defense mechanism would have been to build smaller churches, less ostentatious, but never mind, the best advice always comes too late. In the event, many of the fortified churches contained enough space to protect the whole village population, some even come with individual rooms for families, to live in, during siege. All together, these are striking appearances, right in the countryside.

the fortified structure in Prejmer, several stories high

inside the waals of the compound in Valea Viilor

three stories high, accommodation for villagers in times of siege

stairs connecting the floors

The churches were originally Catholic, and were decorated with frescoes, but the Reformation put an end to that, and the walls and ceilings were whitewashed. With restoration of the fortified churches in the past years, some have unearthed several of the frescoes, and even patched them up a bit, like in the village of Malancrav, or Malmkrog. When we arrive, the church is closed, and a blond, blue-eyed boy on a brand-new, sophisticated mountain bike which somehow doesn‘t fit in such a small, rural setting, tells us where we can find the key, which turns out to be his mother’s house. In the end he himself comes with us to open the church, communicating in a mix of German and English. A rare remnant of the Saxons, perhaps, the boy goes to a German school, in Sighisoara – and he is proud of the fact that Germany – “we”, in his own words – won the Worldcup, last summer.

frescoes inside a chapel built in the defense wall of Harman

the church in Harman is still being used, of course

looking down from the tower in Viscri

a painted wood panel in the church in Viscri

part of the village population in a Saxon village

Some of the villages are well-oiled tourist machines, with souvenir stall, café, even paid parking – a joke, we are talking really small villages here, with very few cars. Yet, in Biertan we manage to visit in between the departure of one, and the arrival of no less than three more tourist buses. Viscri, another famous village and church, is more authentic, despite its fame as UNESCO World Heritage Site; it looks like this status provides a few pots of paints per year to each village house, too, as the place does look impeccable. Other complexes are closed, either because they are falling apart and haven’t been restored yet, or because the caretaker is at home. In Valea Viilor, for example, we manage to mobilise Frau Schneider, an old woman who after being encouraged by the civil servants in the town hall, turns up with a set of huge keys to open the compound. Frau Schneider speaks German. Only. She is expecting a few more tourists, so we don’t need to take her home again, after our visit.

a common form of rural transport, still

two windows in a Hungarian village in Transylvania

In the northeast, several villages seem not Saxon, but Hungarian – probably descendants from the Szekely, a Hungarian warmonger tribe also settled in Transylvania, to help provide a buffer between Hungary and the Ottomans. Many signs here are Hungarian first, or at least second, and there is no trace of German anymore. There is also very little signs of affluence, at least the villages we see seem pretty poor.

wooden roof tiles

bee hives in the side of a truck, the standard method to collect honey in Romania

Caldarari man assembling a distillation kettle, one of their most popular products, it seems

Caldarari copper work for sale along the road, near Medias

In another place, close to Medias – one of the sieben Burgen -, we run into a group of Caldarari, originally Hungarian (or Russian?) nomadic coppersmiths. They are quite a sight, the men – and even the young boys – wearing round, black hats, the women in colourful dresses, and their copperware for sale in several stalls along the road. Some of the Caldararis are businesslike, “are you interested?”, and when I try to explain that distillery kettles – their main selling point – aren’t particularly popular in Holland, because they are illegal, they instantly lose interest in me. Others are more chatty, claim to have settled in this village since the early 1980s, and are now with some remaining 140 families. Their Romanian sounds almost like Spanish, which makes communication a lot easier.

Caldarari family

Medias also sports some fabulous decrepit communist-era factories. In order to get a good view of these, I climb some stairs to a communist-era viaduct. The stairs are closed, because they are about to collapse. Yet, the viaduct itself is open, still takes plenty of traffic, including heavy trucks, yet seems in an even worse state then the stairs. The factories, and the viaduct, form a striking contrast with the historical center of the town, and with the equally ancient, yet still formidable, Saxon fortified churches.

Next: the Transylvanian towns of Sighisoara and Sibiu

same factory, different angle

decripit factory near Medias

20. the Bucegi Mountains

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view of the mountains, along the road up

a balcony in the courtyard of the Pelas Palace in Siniai, at the foor of the Bucegi Mountains

Lovely Sinaia, with its houses and palaces, contrasts sharply with the rugged Bucegi Mountains which tower above it

the Bucegi Mountains

A short way away from Brasov are the Bucegi Mountains, rising to about 2500 meters, and perhaps – or at least as far as we have observed – one of the most beautiful parts of Romania. From the road to Sinaia, the main town here, the steep, craggy mountain sides rise imposingly, almost vertically; which makes Sinaia’s position as prime ski resort in winter, and hiking base in summer, unchallenged, at the base of a cable car up. Obviously, the town has been at it for a while, not only demonstrated by the many exquisite turn-of-the-century houses, but also by Peles Palace at the high end of town, the summer residence built for King Carol I, which took some 40 years to complete.

one of the houses in Siniai

a roof; note the cute couple of man and wife

a decorated metal door of one of the Siniai houses

the tower of the Pelas Palace

outside wall decorations on the tower

the Pelas Palace

neo-classic garden sculpture

sculptures in the palace garden

the walls on the inner courtyard, decorated

The Palace is what one would expect a palace to look like. Huge, imposing, yet tastefully built, tastefully decorated with sculptures in terraced gardens. As with Bran Castle, Peles Palace is firmly on the tourist trail, to the extent that the queue waiting to get in – on the mandatory group tour – was too long for us to be bothered. In any case, the day was spectacular, and the mountains were beckoning.

The tourist information office gave us a walking map of the area, and emphasized that the shortest hike would take about nine hours, if we didn’t plan to stay overnight in any of the cabins – which we didn’t. Nine hours, that is about two full rounds of golf. The face of the tourist office staffer suggested that he thought this would be a little too much for us, apparently he didn’t think we would be that fit (neither did we). He stressed that quite a few people didn’t make it back in time, and got stuck in the mountains, to further discourage us. It already being halfway the morning, we abandoned our hiking plan, and started looking for roads up, instead.

OK, by now we have learned that one is not allowed to transport wood materials from Friday to Monday, but would’t you interpret this as “no entry, under no circumstances”?

Which we found, together with a big sign that looked to suggest that entering the road, into the Bucegi Mountains National Park, was in fact strictly forbidden. Whilst we were contemplating whether to respect the law, or perhaps play the naïve, innocent and stupid foreigner – a role that suits us well if necessary – , we saw another car coming down. Probably a forestry official? Strange, on a Saturday, but showing commitment, so much was clear. And then more cars appeared, both coming down, and going up. Quite a few forest officials? Hmmm. Unlikely. So, if every local ignores the no-entry sign, would we, naïve and innocent foreigners, obey? To cut a long story short, at the end of the road, high up in the mountains, hundreds of Romanians were parked, using the road as a starting point for hiking – and, no doubt, significantly cutting down on the minimum of nine hours -, or just to set up a table and chairs, and have a picnic, or even a barbeque – despite the signs all around not to light a fire, and despite signs warning for bears.

woman selling fruit along the road into the Bucegi Mountains

another spectacular view; these are sheperds, not hikers, I think

sheep getting off the road

Somewhere along the road, away from the hundreds of parked cars, we climbed to the top of a hill, to have our own picnic, with an even more gorgeous 360o view than our last Bulgarian picnic experience. Given the many sheep, all around us on various mountain slopes, we reckoned that the bears would ignore us, and that in fact the sheppard’s dogs would be a much greater threat, but that they would in turn fall prey to the wolves. Or something like that.

the mountains near Moroieni where no tourists come

On the way back, not wanting to backtrack, we found another road, in much poorer condition, and clearly a lot less popular with the Romanian day trippers, which took us a lot longer to get down, with a lot more anxiety, not about breaking the law, but more to do with where in Heaven’s name this road would end up. It did, finally, in a village called Moroeni, a strikingly poor village, less than 30 minutes from affluent Sinaia. Obviously, we don’t understand the ins and outs of Romanian society, yet. But we do as the locals do!

Next: the Saxon villages, back in Transylvania

I just have to, whenever I see them: show you another abondoned factory, near Siniai

19. Brasov

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the entrance to the Brasov Citadel

Old Brasov is a nice, German-style town, with an attractive center showing of a relative affluence, perhaps characteristic for Transylvania

Crossing the Carpathians, from Poienari Fortress to Bran Castle, we also move from Wallachia into Transylvania, and it shows. Immediately upon entering the county of Brasov, the roads improve. The villages are still rural villages, but they look better maintained, more affluent, houses better looked after. There are still horse-drawn carts, and still women wearing black, and shapeless dresses, but somehow it all moved a little more upmarket, it seems. Or perhaps it is just slightly better organized.

In the Middle Ages Transylvania was relatively underpopulated, and the Hungarian rulers at the time encouraged German settlers to move there, and set up their business. Which they did, by establishing several towns – in the popular opinion seven, which is why Transylvania became known, in German, as Siebenburgen; although in reality, they founded nine towns. They also populated over 200 villages, but more about that later. The Saxons never made up even anything close to a majority, in relation to the many Romanian-speaking peasants, mostly working as serfs for the ruling Hungarian nobility, and by other settlers, a Hungarian tribe called Szekelies. I think most historians would agree that the Romanians made up the majority population, but it took until 1918 for Transylvania to formally become part of Romania – Romania won, Hungary lost, in WW I. The area changed sides a few more times, which triggered forced migrations backwards and forth of Romanians and Hungarians. Except that the German – Saxon – population suffered badly after WW II, and probably halved in size, thanks to Russian deportations. And then almost entirely disappeared after the fall of the Communist regime, in 1989 – with a one-way ticket to Germany proper.

one of the turn-of-the-century houses in old Brasov

Brasov main square

members of the Brasov Philarmonica

the trumpeters, at exactly 6 pm – German precision!

the Brasov Philharmonic, during afternoon practice

not everybody is that interested in the music

Brasov, in German called Kronstadt, is the second-biggest of the original Saxon cities, and contrary to common belief, not one of the seven cities, but the last one, the ninth to be established, now with a quarter of a million people or so. But once inside, you hardly notice it. The old town centre, mostly pedestrian promenades, is your usual cobbled streets, lined with terraces and cafes, and rows of attractive, well restored turn-of-the-century houses (turn from 19^th to 20^th Century), culminating in a large square. For the occasion, the square was enriched with a platform, on which the Brasov Philharmonic played a potpourri of waltzes, followed by the accompaniment to Brasov’s finest, a whole series of what looked like aspiring opera singers, a sort of classical music Karaoke. Which provided a great atmosphere, entertaining music, and many onlookers – or onlisteners. The funnier part was a few hours earlier, when they were rehearsing, whilst the fountain was still happily splashing water around, a truck was noisily pumping I don’t know what, and at exactly six o’clock, the City’s Trumpeters appeared on the Municipal Tower opposite, and Brasov Philharmonic or not, gave their daily trumpet salute, as they have done since the Middle Ages.

Oktober-fest or ice-cream party?

the so-called Black church

the Saint Nocolas church, with a clearly more orthodox origin

including remains of frescoes on the outer walls

The main church, the so-called Black Church, is huge. Of course, we have crossed the old schism, so to speak, between Roman and Orthodox Christianity, and have now arrived in former Roman Catholic, then Reformed country (leave that to the Saxons!), where churches are big, as opposed to the far humbler – in size – yet far more expressive – in interior decoration – churches of the Orthodox Church. After three weeks of Orthodox, the Reformed church looks rather pale in comparison.

the citadel, high above the town

The town citadel, on a hill away from the centre, is less impressive, mostly being used as restaurant and café, but does provide a nice view over town, also town beyond the old, apparently well-to-do part. There are traces of the old wall, and its defense towers, left, and further afield the true nature of modern Brasov shows, derelict industries and row after row of palatis, some of them patched up and painted in jolly colours, others as depressive as they come.

view from the citadel – old town

view from the citadel – new town

One gets the impression that life in Transylvania is a little more affluent than in Wallachia. Or perhaps it is just more organized. For starters, the old part of Brasov looks more Mittel-Europa than we have seen for quite a while, since we left, in fact. I wonder if this observation holds, in the next few weeks; after all, the outskirts of Brasov seem little different from what we have seen so far in Romania and also Bulgaria, remnant of a stagnant communist regime.

Next: the Bucegi Mountains

18. the Carpathian castles

Blog entries

a bit of a Dracula Castle comes with a secret passage; this is in Bran Castle

The Carpathian Mountains contain several castles, in various states of (dis-)repair, and many of them tenuously linked to Vlad the Impaler, better known as Dracula

Sooner or later, I will have to bring up the imaginary Dracula, creation of Bram Stoker, and the character he was supposedly modeled on, the Romanian voivode (a kind of prince) Vlad III, better known by his nickname Vlad Tepes – which is Romanian for Vlad the Impaler. Vlad III was the son of Vlad Dracul, which may have meant Vlad the Devil, or perhaps Vlad the Dragon – in any case, the son of Dracul is called Dracula.

The Romanian attitude to this 15^th Century warlord – this is what the Wallachian and Moldavian voivodes or princes were, just warlords who tried to expand their influence, power and wealth all the time; the notion that they were collectively fighting the Ottoman enemy with any other goal than defending their own territory and interest is nonsense. Anyhow, the Romanian attitude to Vlad the Impaler, who achieved Europe-wide fame from his excessive cruelty, culminating in impaling 20,000 Turkish prisoners of war – long before the Geneva Convention, admittedly (let me know if I need to explain the process of impaling). Anyhow, the Romanian attitude to Vlad the Impaler is an ambiguous one. On the one hand Romanian historians are at pains to point out that other European rulers were cruel, too, at the time – never mind that none of them ever got a reputation anywhere close to that of Vlad -, on the other hand they shamelessly exploit his fame. In Sighisoara, where the man was born, and lived until he was four, there is a Dracula House (and several restaurants of the same name). In Danes, a Saxon village in Transylvania, a wine has been called after him, Danes Dracula. Brasov, Targovista – where he lived for a while -, and many more places have in one way or another a link with Vlad, which is being emphasized.

the remnants of Poienari Fortress

the final steps to reach Poienari Fortress

the view towards the Fagaras Mountains, from Pienari Fortress

In the Carpathian Mountains, which cut right through – present-day – Romania, there are many castles, and most of them with some or another link to Vlad, to boost their tourist potential. Too many for us to all visit. But we went to see Poienari Fortress, allegedly the real Vlad Castle, the one he occupied for a long time as his residence, although from time to time he was forced to flee, from Ottoman Turks or from other war lords – after all, going trough life impaling, beheading and hanging others for the smallest infringement, or imagined infringement, or just for fun, doesn’t make you popular. There is not much left of the Fortress, which is mostly of note for its views from the top of the steep mountain on which it is located, and from the 1480 steps it takes along the concrete stairs, to reach it.

view of Bran Castle

Bran Castle, just on the other side of the Carpathians, is a whole different story, firstly because we are talking real castle here, with crenulated walls, towers, secret stairways, elegant rooms, your prototype castle as you would imagine it. Secondly, because the link to Vlad is a rather tenuous one, at the most: apparently he stayed here for a few days, as the guest of the then inhabitant – who is way less famous, of course. Yet, these few days were enough to install a real torture room in the castle, but also for Bram Stoker to – perhaps – use this castle as his model for Dracula’s dwellings, in his novel.

Bran Castle, the real thing: towers and turrets

on the inside, equally impressive

Sofia dressed in red skirt, and I am the one on top of the wooden box

Because the steps to Bran Castle are far fewer than those to Poienari Fortress, and there is much more to see, too, Bran Castle has been universally adopted as THE castle. Which attracts the tourists, not just the Romanian tourists, not just the loud-speaking Spanish groups, but everybody, from everywhere. Which, in turn, attracts the souvenir sellers, the menus in four languages with photos, the rude waiters on the many terraces, the whole touristy thing. Which we weren’t used to, anymore!

Next: to Transylvania, first Brasov

17. Curtea de Arges

Blog entries

fresco of King Carol I (I think) in the Curte de Arges Cathedral

fresco of King Carol I (I think) in the Curtea de Arges Cathedral

Curtea de Arges, in Wallachia, is steeped in Romanian history, and not only because it is the burial place of King Carol I

Maybe we need a bit of history first. I know, boring, but Romania is in a way unusual – unusual, because of its undeniably Latin-like population with a Latin-like language in the middle of heavily Slav-dominated Eastern European entities. It all starts with the Roman invasion of what was then Dacia, around 100 years AD, which – or so claim many of the Romanians – left behind Roman blood, or genes rather; meaning sophistication, which almost 2000 years later is still evident. Quite unlikely, of course, as has been pointed out by several non-Romanian historians, because, firstly, Roman legions in those days were manned by Barbarians from all over the Roman Empire, with only a small contingent of officers being of Roman origin, and secondly, the Romans withdrew again barely 150 years later, which leaves a rather short period of domination to establish such an impact on a local population. After all, the Romans have been in England for much longer than just 150 years, yet, everybody will readily agree that there is very little Latin left in English culture.

In any event, the Romans left because of the threat of the Barbarians, very real indeed, as the area of present-day Romania has subsequently been invaded by many others, about every possible civilization – if it may have had this name – imaginable. Of course, as Robert Kaplan, a journalist, remarks, its geographical location is less than enviable. Its main provinces, Moldavia and Wallachia, are east and south-east of the Carpathians, leaving the door open for Russian and Turkish invaders, and Transylvania, on the other side of those same mountains, is an easy grab for Hungary. The Huns, the Slavs, the Visigoths, even the Mongols, they have all been to Romania. Perhaps culturally most influential was the 9^th Century Bulgarian occupation, which introduced Orthodox Christianity in the place of the Roman Catholic church – perhaps removing its last tangible link to its Roman roots. Yet, there are undeniably Latin characteristics left in Romanian society.

Saint Nicholas church in Curtea de Arges

inside the Saint Nicholas church

frescoes inside the church

particularly bright fresco

another fresco

Except for short-lived unifications of variable extend of the principalities of Moldavia and Wallachia under strong individuals in the Middle Ages, like Stefan the Great, Vlad the Impaler, and Michael the Brave – unifications that often collapsed again after the death of such individual -, the country Romania only came into existence in 1861, or 1859 – different sources quote different dates. (And Transylvania was only added in 1918, after some 1000 years of Hungarian domination.) But the first administration, run by a colonel, wasn’t much of an improvement over previous rulers, whether Turkish or Hungarian, and in 1866 the Romanians decided they needed a Monarchy, the idea being that a foreigner would, presumably, exploit the country less than any local powerbroker would. So they asked a Prussian Prince whether he wanted to become their king. I wonder how you do that: first select, then approach someone from Royal descent, and pop the question: do you want to become our King? Karl von Hohenzollern must have been equally surprised, but he said yes, and from then on went through life as King Carol I of Romania. Apparently, he approached his new dominion low key, and traveled by second class railway coach to Bucharest. Having arrived, and being shown his new home, he asked, in disbelief: ‘but the palace, where is the palace?’ (or something like that). Yet, he took his role seriously, and can be credited with creating a viable state. And some viable alternatives to his initially humble housing.

the Curtea de Arges Cathedral

marble doorway of the cathedral

the tombs of Carol I and his with Elizabeth

All this introduction, because Curtea de Arges, two hours to the NW of Bucharest, is steeped in Romanian history. It has a beautiful, small church, once more dedicated to Saint Nicholas, which is said to date from the beginning of the 14^th century, and was established by Besarab the First. Besarab was an early voivode, a prince, who founded Wallachia – named after the inhabitants of the area, the Vlachs. And Wallachia today is one the three main principalities that make up Romania, the other two being Moldavia and Transylvania. Anyhow, the church is definitely another highlight, once again frescoes all over, walls and ceiling, well kept, well maintained. The complex in which the church is located, the so-called Princely Court, shows that the Romanians may have kept the language from the Romans, but certainly not their building skills: like the Princely Court in Bucharest, there is very little left here, just a pile of rubble.

The second church, in fact the Curtea de Arges Cathedral, shows that Ceaucescu was not the first Romanian to construct totally misplaced buildings. Although there was an earlier edifice, apparently also heavy on marble, built by another voivode, also called Besarab (16^th Century Neagoe Basarab, distant relation, I think), the present-day building is not a church, this is a mausoleum, a hugely pompous, all-marble structure dating from 1875. It was built on the orders of King Carol I – and Carol I and his wife are duly buried here. And so is his successor, nephew Ferdinand I and his British-born wife Queen Marie. And guess what the frescoes are all about, in the church. As I said: a mausoleum.

a more recent fresco, it seems

horse-drawn cart

water well

hay stacks, a common sight this time of the year

Far more interesting is Curtea de Arges, a pleasant small town along the river Arges, and the surrounding countryside. This is – I suppose – vintage Wallachia. Small villages, with a wide variety of peasant houses, but not necessarily all small and poor: there are quite a few new houses, or newly painted, well maintained houses. And yet, the area has this air of poverty, somehow, or perhaps it is just the air of 50 years ago. Roads off the main highway, a two-lane affair through the village, quickly turn into unsurfaced tracks. People are simply dressed, women in rather shapeless clothes, the older ones often in black, often with head scarves. In fact, most people are older: the young have almost all left for the cities. A lot of transport is by horse-drawn cart, and if there is a tractor in use, it looks old. It reminds me of Albania, 20 years ago – like the Bulgarian countryside also reminded me of Albania. Except that every 500 meters, or so, somebody had opened a bright-new Pensiune, varying from a simple bed & breakfast place to elaborate multi-story guesthouses complete with restaurants, ice cream parlours and coffee shops. Obviously, a new development, and judging from the excellent Italian some of the owners speak, developed with money earned abroad, and brought back to invest. It remains to be seen whether there is sufficient market for all that investment.

Next: finally a taste of Dracula, in the Carpathian castles

porch of a house in Curte de Arges

house in the Wallachia countryside

pumpkins for sale along the road

16. Bucharest

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the CEC Bank Palace mirrored in the windows of the Bucharest Financial Plaze

Superficially soulless Bucharest is a place with lots of big and basic concrete, yet also has its isolated gems, and like it or not, a character of its own

the bridge across the Danube, from Ruse to Giurgiu

Re-entering Romania is somewhat less exciting as our first entry, two weeks ago. Driving through the outskirts of Ruse, we never have the impression that we are heading for a border – but we do, somehow, and we cross the border control. Subsequently, we cross the Danube, by bridge, a rather old, metal-cage, two-lane affair, into Romania. All the way to Bucharest is an uninspiring drive, through flat countryside, nothing to see – even less than there was in Bulgaria.

factory windows, from our hotel room

Even when we get to Bucharest, things don’t improve, we are driving through industrial suburbs, positively unattractive; our hotel is somewhere in the outskirts of town. In order to get to the centre we need the metro, which is not particularly well signposted, and not very user-friendly once you have managed to get inside. There is very little information posted – modern trains have Romanian and English electronic information boards inside, but most trains are not modern. Never mind, we are experienced travelers, and we manage to get to where we want to start our exploration of Bucharest, at the Palace of Parliament.

the Palace of the People, with the 555 symbol in front (Bucharest’s 555th birthday, in 2014)

door decoration of the Princess Balasa church in South Bucharest

iconostasis in the Prince Mihai Monastery church

detail of the iconstasis

Perhaps this is the wrong start, the Palace is a massive – far too massive – building constructed in the 1980s, in the southern part of town. Apparently, this is the world’s second-large building, after the Pentagon. Totally misplaced, totally off-putting. Especially once you realize that this part of town has been comprehensively flattened, partly by an earthquake, but much more so by former Romanian strongman Ceausescu’s ideas for a model town, for which many traditional neighbourhoods had to disappear. To be replaced by huge apartment buildings, separated by huge avenues and boulevards. Interestingly, although communist, he didn’t have the courage to pull down some of the most-revered churches in town (although many others did disappear); some have been left in place, concrete housing estates built around them, others, in the way of development, were moved, a few hundred meters or so (!). Total lunacy. So today, the churches, most of them not very big, are actually hidden in between palatis – which are a bit more stylish than the average palati, but palatis, nevertheless.

interior of the Caru'cu Bere restaurant, an icon of the Bucharest food and drinks scene

interior of the Caru’cu Bere restaurant, an icon of the Bucharest scene

beautifully restored covered passage, turned into restaurants

nightclubs all over the place, in the Old Town

the Rebirth Memorial, monument for those fallen in the 1989 revolution

bullet holes in the buildings, also dating back to 1989 (perhaps)

the quintesential old and new? – I don’t get this building

And this dualist nature (old church in between modernist development) is a bit the impression we get all over Bucharest, in different ways. The Old Town, which is perhaps a bit over-concentrated on night clubs and brothels, in between the many restaurants, bars and pubs, and a little light on shops, has a number of beautifully restored buildings and covered passages, but also many run-down, graffiti-spoiled, complexes that are close to collapsing, and are really taking the shine off. Piata Revolutiei, one of the big squares in town, is surrounded by some of the most spectacular buildings of Bucharest, the Royal Palace now used as a museum and the Romanian Athenaeum, the concert hall, as well as the most-horrible Communist Party building from where Ceausescu held his last speech, immediately before his spectacular downfall in 1989, and the once elegant, now awful Athenee Palace hotel, Bucharest’s Hilton-operated Grand Hotel. The Herastrau Park is a lovely park, with rose gardens and a lake, as well as well-thought through playing areas for kids, for skate boarders and for grown-ups, but many of the benches are rotten, or incomplete, and the fountains are not working, their ponds empty (and there is, inside the park, a completely misplaced square with the heads of obscure early European Union officials – all men, all totally unknown). Soseaua Kiseleff, in the north of the city, is a beautiful tree-lined, six-lane, traffic-choked boulevard with fabulous early 20^th Century villas on one side, and horrible, late 20^th Century villas on the other side.

heads of European heads, most unknown to me

The same duality we found back in the people. The preconceived idea of ever-friendly Romanians was severely put to the test in several shops – unhelpful, arrogant shop assistants – and on the roads – aggressive, near-maniac drivers not giving an inch -, yet we meet the most helpful, open, eager-to-talk people, too. An older man in one of the churches, who feels obliged to tell us the history of the church, because according to him there is not sufficient information around. Vlad, in the bookstore, who comes up with a range of books we have to read, and tells us about the lost character of Bucharest, and where we can still find original bits, with patience and imagination. And best of all, the staff of the geological museum – where we hopped in in the hope of understanding some of the Romanian geology, ahead of taking off into the Carpathians – who went out of their way to show us their collection, even opening normally closed room with yet more fossils, minerals and rock samples than they had already on display in the regular section of the museum. Unfortunately, a geological map was missing, for which they apologized, but the reception was fabulous.

the Stavropoleos Church in the middle of old Bucharest

court yard of the Stavropoleos Church

faint fresco above one of the outside doors

fresco inside the Stavropoleos Chucrh

What else to say about Bucharest? Whether you like it or not, it is definitely a city with its own impact, the enormous squares, the wide boulevards, the concrete monstrosities, the amputated elegance. But too much reconstruction may have ripped the city of its soul, and the sleaziness of its Old Town, together with the decrepit nature of many of the buildings there, doesn’t come close to balancing that. Highlights were some of the churches – the Saint Apostle’s Church, the Stravopoleos Church -, their frescoes inside, but they are individual highlights, that don’t carry the city.

No need to linger, I would say. Not sure whether I would come back for more.

Next: Curtea de Arges

red parasol

modern office building

15. the Bulgaria experience

Blog entries

the Bulgarian flag in Veliko Tarnovo

Despite appearances to the contrary, Bulgaria is actually a very friendly country, with lots of attractions

I said ‘time to move on’, at the end of my previous entry, but perhaps that is a little unfair on Bulgaria. From rather low levels of expectation, we have actually been pleasantly surprised by our Bulgaria experience – even though we spent only some ten days here, not nearly enough to claim an understanding of the culture, of the people and of anything else Bulgarian.

Bulgarian history is one of these things we average Western Europeans have no idea of. After Bulgur tribes invaded the area, they quickly moved to become the dominant power in the Southeast European region – the First Bulgarian Empire was established in the 7th Century. Struggles with an admittedly formidable enemy, the Byzantines, let to decline, but as soon as Byzantium itself started to weaken, the Bulgarians were at it again, establishing the Second Bulgarian Empire (12th Century), once again dominating the area between the Adriatic and the Black Sea. Only to be wiped out by the Ottoman forces, which seems to have ended any further Bulgarian world domination – mind you, not its aspirations: they duly organized a revolution against the Ottomans, but needed the Russians to be successful. Subsequent attempts to form a Third Bulgarian Empire came to nothing, Bulgaria ultimately losing out, and losing territory, in the Balkan Wars, and then choosing the wrong side in both World Wars. With communists winning the post-war election – after Russians had invaded -, Bulgaria turned Soviet-style communist, a regime that collapsed only in 1989, together with all other Eastern European communist regimes

lost of transport in the countryside is still by horse-drawn cart

changing of the guard, in Sofia; solemn looking Bulgarian

old and new: turn of the century building reflected in modern glass wall in Sofia

clock tower in Nesebit, on the Black Sea

Our Western European stereotype perception of Bulgarians, the ones who take our jobs and our wallets, we will have to adjust. The average Bulgarian male between 20 and 40 years old has tattoos, a crew cut and no neck; they are rather well-built, if you know what I mean – and of course you do, you have the same stereotype impression. And if you would meet a type like that in a big city dark ally, you would probably walk away. And yet, in Bulgaria we never felt threatened, despite the presence of many typical 20-40 year old rather well-built males with tattoos and crew cuts. In fact, they proved to be most polite, helpful people when we needed them, showing us the way, translating in shops. It’s just the way things are.

Similarly, I am sure all these newspaper reports on corruption in Bulgaria have more than a grain of truth. But no-one asked us for unaccounted-for direct taxation, no-one – except for one supermarket cashier, on the tourist-heavy Black Sea coast – tried to cheat us, everywhere the price we paid was as published, as agreed, and very reasonable. In most of the tourist attractions, there is no entry fee, or only a very small amount requested – always with ticket – for upkeep of the property. No policemen stopped us and asked us for exorbitant fines for non-existent traffic offenses (they didn’t deal with the very real traffic offenses of quite of few Bulgarian drivers, either, of course). In fact, life as a traveler in Bulgaria is perhaps the most relaxed I have ever experienced, anywhere, as a traveler.

I commented earlier on the rather stern attitude of Bulgarians, not very talkative, not much room for a smile, rather indifferent to the foreigner, and in fact to everybody else around them. Perhaps that is a remnant of life under a communist regime. We have, in our vocabulary, introduced the word ‘Bulgarian face’ to refer to a non-expressive, somber face. And yet, perhaps we are not entirely fair to the Bulgarians, perhaps we haven’t had enough time with them. The younger generation, for sure, is much more open, ready to make a joke, helped by their excellent command of English. And they are also Bulgarians, increasingly so, of course.

Food? Widely available, grilled kebaps, expansive salads, and if you get lost, there is always a pizza. Excellent local beer. Wine? I have no idea where to start, we didn’t realize, but Bulgaria has an enormous selection of wines, from merlot to Bulgarian-only mavrud, in every price range. And not bad, at all. Much too varied to even try to comment on in any more detail, after only ten days.

So after all, we have to conclude that we actually had a great time, here. The sites, from Sofia and the Rila Monastery to Veliko Tavorno and its tiny little hidden Saint Nicolas church, were great, the various towns and villages we visited enormously varied. Architectural remains from thousands of years of history, from Roman to National Revival. And cobbled streets, cobbled streets everywhere. Nature, the Balkan Mountains, perhaps not too impressive, and the Black Sea Coast over-developed, at least to our taste. But overall, no regrets including Bulgaria in our trip. To be recommended, actually, should you want something else than your usual holiday destination.

Next: back to Romania, to Bucharest

not everything is new, just yet: an old truck in Tryavna

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first-hand travel experiences and impressions of travel destinations

24. the Transfagarasan Highway

A spectacular road across the Faragas Mountains, with plenty opportunity to get out of the car, too

23. The Transylvania question

A bit more history, featuring the Romanian Royal family and Transylvania, to put things in context (but no claim to be correct, after all, I am no scholar and there other versions…)

22. Sighisoara & Sibiu

Two of the original Siebenburgen of Transylvania, Sighisoara and Sibiu are both very attractive, though quite different, towns, each with their distinct historical centre.

21. the Saxon villages

The Transylvanian countryside is dotted with Saxon villages, characterised by huge, and very impressive, fortified church complexes.

20. the Bucegi Mountains

Lovely Sinaia, with its houses and palaces, contrasts sharply with the rugged Bucegi Mountains which tower above it

19. Brasov

Old Brasov is a nice, German-style town, with an attractive center showing of a relative affluence, perhaps characteristic for Transylvania

18. the Carpathian castles

The Carpathian Mountains contain several castles, in various states of (dis-)repair, and many of them tenuously linked to Vlad the Impaler, better known as Dracula

17. Curtea de Arges

Curtea de Arges, in Wallachia, is steeped in Romanian history, and not only because it is the burial place of King Carol I

16. Bucharest

Superficially soulless Bucharest is a place with lots of big and basic concrete, yet also has its isolated gems, and like it or not, a character of its own

15. the Bulgaria experience

Despite appearances to the contrary, Bulgaria is actually a very friendly country, with lots of attractions

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A spectacular road across the Faragas Mountains, with plenty opportunity to get out of the car, too

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A bit more history, featuring the Romanian Royal family and Transylvania, to put things in context (but no claim to be correct, after all, I am no scholar and there other versions…)

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Two of the original Siebenburgen of Transylvania, Sighisoara and Sibiu are both very attractive, though quite different, towns, each with their distinct historical centre.

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The Transylvanian countryside is dotted with Saxon villages, characterised by huge, and very impressive, fortified church complexes.

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Lovely Sinaia, with its houses and palaces, contrasts sharply with the rugged Bucegi Mountains which tower above it

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Old Brasov is a nice, German-style town, with an attractive center showing of a relative affluence, perhaps characteristic for Transylvania

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The Carpathian Mountains contain several castles, in various states of (dis-)repair, and many of them tenuously linked to Vlad the Impaler, better known as Dracula

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Curtea de Arges, in Wallachia, is steeped in Romanian history, and not only because it is the burial place of King Carol I

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Superficially soulless Bucharest is a place with lots of big and basic concrete, yet also has its isolated gems, and like it or not, a character of its own

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Despite appearances to the contrary, Bulgaria is actually a very friendly country, with lots of attractions

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