Romania, day 3 – Peles Castle

Featured photo: the picture-perfect Peles Castle.

Do you ever feel that heady drowsiness when you eat too much? That’s what happened to me right after dinner. Sugar crash is what some people aptly name this curious phenomenon. And I crashed so hard, but now it’s midnight and suddenly I’m not so tired anymore. On the other hand, I don’t feel I can get my dander up for my dissertation. So it’s hello blog again.

Our destination today was Peles (pronounced Pelesh – yes, I missed that toggle again) Castle. Peles is located in a beautiful village called Sinaia, tucked away deep within the Carpathians and about an hour’s train from Brasov (2.7 pounds). The scenery along the train route took my breath away. Unfortunately, I didn’t get any good pictures since the train was moving too fast, and the windows were dirty. Mountain after mountain, forests upon forests, was my impression. I come from a mountainous country, where the terrain is very similar to the Carpathians, so I’m used to them, but I can see why so many people fall in love with Romania for its geography. For my part, I was imagining Jonathan Harker’s terrible first journey to Transylvania, and his coach rolling through the Borgo Pass. It all seems so easy by daylight when you’re safely stowed away in a train hurtling through hill and dale, but it must have been terrifying for the people back then to navigate these vast, seemingly neverending stretches of mountains, especially during the treacherous winter months, without technology on their side.

Anyhow, here’s a picture of Sinaia’s train station – just to give you a vague idea of the mountain ranges.

We took a cab from the station up to Peles Castle, which was a rather steep drive. The driver was a decent, elderly man named Gigi Dumitrescu, and the fare was 5 lei per person. A big thank you to Gigi for alleviating our fears regarding the awful taxis in Romania. I don’t know if anyone will visit Sinaia any time soon, but if you do plan to go there and are stuck for transport, his number is 0722 259 622. He speaks Italiano, Francais and Deutsch.

Peles Castle is ridiculously photogenic, but it’s one of those places you end up taking a million pictures of, and when you come home, you sort through about 50 pictures which all look the same. I would have loved to live here if I were, oh, some sort of voivode or a rich boyar in the sixteenth century. You get a spectacular view of all the surrounding mountains, and that feeling of being nestled amongst all this splendidly majestic greenery is awe-inspiring.

View of Peles while ascending

 

Standing in the main courtyard of the castle. The people there were very friendly and obliging.

An actual view of the main courtyard.

Fantastic view of the mountain ranges - too bad about the clouds

We didn’t go into the castle, but had lunch at a swanky restaurant nearby. As always, the food was superb.

I know this picture looks weird and I did a really bad job with it, but I was ravenous at the time, so give me a break.

The people here know that Dracula is their claim to fame, and they don’t make any bones about it.

So now Dracula's a national dish

The Bulgarian salad I’ve been raving about. To be honest, I’ve been eating a lot healthier ever since I got here. Mountains of the most delicious salads I’ve ever tasted in my entire life. Who would have known that the vampires were such good cooks?

One word: YUM.

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The waiter here was very cute, and when Joanne was in the ladies room, he hurried up to me and whispered furtively in my ear, “You are beautiful.” I recently read on another blog that the Romanians are Latins who got stranded on the wrong side of the continent. I’m feeling this sentiment more and more. The way their men vampires act and talk, I sometimes think I’m in Italy.

Speaking of Italy, I recently heard this great song on the Romanian radio. It’s called “Mamma Mia, he’s Italiano” by Elena, and the lyrics are something like this:

He’s name is Tony
He’s from Milano
He whispers softly in my ears in Italiano
He never leaves me
Coz I’m his Cinderella
He say that I’m his only one molto bella

He says I love you
So let me touch you
But mama told me
That Italian is a macho
He says come love me
Don’t listen to your mama
And I just hope that
It’s not gonna end in drama

I know you’re dying. I know I am. But it’s really catchy.

Anyway, we asked the restaurant to phone up our cabbie to pick us up, and as we got into the cab, the waiter waved a shy goodbye to me. La revedere! I’ll never see you again, since I don’t expect I’ll be coming back anytime soon. The next time I visit Romania, it’ll be off to all the places I didn’t see this time – Curtea de Arges, Sighisoara, the Iron Gates, Cluj and Targu Mures.

The driver took us to see the Painted Monasteries, which is a UNESCO World Heritage site. My first taste of Eastern Orthodox churches so far, and they’re very different to the soaring Gothics of West Europe, with an enchanting appeal to them. I didn’t dare take too many pictures here, since to do so somehow felt like desecration.

Exterior of the main monastery

We then went back to Sinaia’s city centre, which was a mess of rubble. I think they were rebuilding the roads. Either way, it was extremely dusty and uninspiring, and we ended up going back to the train station, where we tried to see if we could catch an earlier train back to Brasov. The ticket lady said no, and we ended up sitting in the shadow of the Carpathians and talking about life while waiting for our train. The passengers on the trens would wave at us as they chugged into the station.

A Romanian post box

One of the trains that called in was bound for the land of the Magyars, the sworn enemies of Romania. To this day, most of Transylvania is populated by Hungarians, and the people there speak Hungarian as their first language – according to wikipedia (I know I’m losing my credibility here), the people there identify more with Magyar than they do Romania. I wish I was going to Budapest, but I couldn’t fit it into this trip.

Wish I was going there with you..

When we returned to Brasov, we went to a restaurant on the old city square for dinner. Travelling always makes me so hungry. Food was splendid, as always – I’ve come to expect nothing but the very best from yon vamps. I wonder why Romanian food is so underrated? Every time I tell their people that they serve the best food ever, I get incredulous looks much like the ones we get when we tell them we’re here for the tourism. Children dancing and twirling, the sound of music and laughter, the smell of wine and love wafting on the light summer breeze. Every night, they have a public screening of some recent film. I forgot which one was scheduled for this particular day, but I do remember that the day after was The Grand Budapest Hotel, since Joanne wouldn’t shut up about it (I hope she doesn’t read this).

I know this post isn’t as witty as the previous ones. The bird and bush of my mind have been sucked dry by my dissertation, which I’ve been working on for the whole day.

To be continued..

 

The gorgeous city square