After our excursion into chaotic Bucharest and the wonderous Wallachian countryside, my buddy and I followed Vlad the Impaler to his famous Transylvanian haunts (pardon the pun). We took a very slow hot train from Bucharest to Brasov, which we decided to make the base for our remaining exploration. We were introduced to traditional Romanian superstition on this ride. Every time we opened a train window someone would soon shut it. Drafts we later learned were the doorway for the Devil. They should have been more weary of this literally hot-headed human than Hades! After the endless game of going from car to car opening windows, getting air, only to have them shut we arrived at our destination. Transylvania’s city of Brasov was the antithesis to disorderly Bucharest. It was very clean, manageable, airy, and the old town was stunning: Beautiful brightly colored Saxon architecture around a delightful square, with mountains as the backdrop. There was even a wonderfully cheesy BRASOV sign overlooking the city that lit up at night Hollywood style. There was no missing it! Basically not what one conjures up terrifying Transylvania to be like. There were many non-Dracula related sights to see in Brasov, so we spent quite a bit of time exploring this city’s churches and historical sights and hiking its mountains.
Now back to Vlad’s footsteps. We decided that we had to go see “Dracula’s Castle” in the nearby village of Bran. Having already been to his real castle in Poienari, we knew that this one was a big tourist magnet. Although Vlad only spent a couple of days here (still making it worthwhile for a real Dracula tour), the castle sure does look the part of a creepy medieval vampire castle. Even without the connections to Vlad (which are totally blown out of proportion in Bran, but not by the Habsburgs, who owned the castle itself), this would be a nice place to visit. It was crowded but it was manageable and had exhibits about Vlad and the times that he lived in. Outside the castle is a medieval type fair with all the Dracula kitsch you could possibly want. It’s amazing how much tourist crap makes it to this out of the way place. Neither one of us were charmed by this tacky town so we went back on the bus to Brasov. If you have ever seen “The Muppet Movie” you’ll have a good idea about how the bus was. I probably hummed “Moving Right Along” at some point. The relic was old and faded with torn rich upholstery. We sat in the empty back of the bus so we could crack open a window and keep Satan to ourselves.
Our next venture out of Brasov was to the lovely citadel town of Sighisoara, which was not too far, but on the hot SLOW trains, a 3 hour ride. It’s an enchanting town and apparently the citadel is the only inhabited one in Eastern Europe. It contained wonderful gothic architecture… kind of like a mini-Prague. There was much restoration going on in the town (newly flush with EU money). Every street was dug up and the cobblestones being replaced, and I mean EVERY street. It looked like one big construction zone. Still the place had its charms including a nice spooky cemetery. The town’s connection to Vlad was that this was his birthplace. The house in which he was born is now a rather mediocre restaurant. Inside was kind of what you could imagine wealthy Count Dracula’s dining room to be like: gothic chandelier & furniture, rich textured wallpaper (red of course) and portraits of Vlad. Still we had to eat there, and then I had to be the ultimate tourist and drink red wine with dinner. (Yes I was a little ashamed of myself afterward). The town itself plays up its connection to Dracula, but more with the historic figure rather than the vampire (although still plenty of vampire stuff around). Vlad Tepes Dracul is very much revered as a hero in Romania and that is more of the figure the town wishes to portray.
As we prepared to return to Brasov by train I decided to have some fun at my friend’s expense and scare him. This was Transylvania after all and I had to pay him back for that Wallachian highway horror he made me endure (Read my blog entry “Prince of Wallachia). I had fortunately acquired some knowledge of the Romanian train system while we were there. I learned that there were two trains returning to Brasov: a fairly modern express train and a barely faster than walking local train. I had read warnings about the latter suggesting that there were absolutely no modern comforts, it was beyond slow, and that they were mainly used by the Roma. We already had several annoying and uneasy confrontations with some Roma solicitors who really were persistent. I prayed that one of these local trains would stop while we were at the station. As we sat at the station once again approached for money, an announcement could be heard on the loudspeakers for Brasov. It was made only in Romanian so the only word we understood was “Brasov”. I noticed that the announced train was about 10 minutes too early. Could this be the infamous local? My friend who always trusts me to navigate us to our destinations asked me if this was our train. I may have suggested that it was. People who were shockingly waiting for that train by sitting on the tracks started to move to the platform only as the train approached. I could not believe my eyes when I saw the industrial fossil sluggishly creeping our way. The train had to be from the turn of the last century, its windows and doors long history. Crammed riders in torn clothing and not looking particularly fresh were literally hanging out of the openings where the doors and windows used to be. It was almost cartoonish if it wasn’t so sad. Once again “Brasov” was announced. Knowing full well this was not our train, I got up from my bench and headed towards it. My friend was dumbstruck. This could not be our train he argued! I reminded him of the Brasov announcement and grabbed his arm and headed to the train. His look was priceless, a mix of fear, hate, and gloom. When he eventually outright refused to get on that God-forsaken vehicle, our modern train pulled into the station and I started laughing uncontrollably. The poor guy was so confused so I confessed to my ruse. He was definitely not as amused as I was, but payback is a bitch!
After our still-long trip back to Brasov we admired the beautiful countryside and the people still working the land in the traditional methods. We imagined that maybe not much has changed since Vlad’s time. We thought about the places we had seen and figured we covered much of Vlad’s life: his birthplace, his court in the capital he founded, his real castle, another castle he visited, and where he is buried. Time and distance did not allow us to go to Tirgoviste, where many of the infamous impalings occurred, but other than that we accomplished our goals and got a great feel for the history of the country and its warm and beautiful people. There was one thing left though. Since costs were so cheap in Romania, my friend decided to buy a black wooden coffin in Transylvania to have it shipped back home to use as a coffin-table… until the time to use it for the reason for which it was made. Unlike the United States, honoring the dead is a much more intimate affair here. There are no funeral homes. Families purchase what they need from vendors and host mourners in their homes. We went to a funeral store in Brasov where a charming couple sold him the casket he wanted.. a lovely black lacquered wooden casket in that traditional trapeziform shape. They didn’t understand why black, but we did. Despite the language barrier, we chatted with them over coffee for hours about many topics, including our “strange” funeral customs, while actually sitting on the merchandise. What a peculiar experience and why I love travel. Then we left for Bucharest the next day before flying out of Romania. (For more about that see the blog entry of the Mis-Adventure of TomKat & Bald Eagle)