More pictures of Romania, part II

It was...both funny and painful, watching Brazil being hammered to bits by the Dutch last night. I don’t think anyone was really surprised by what happened, but nevertheless, that must have hurt. Am quite looking forward to the final showdown today. Again, I don’t think there’s going to be too many surprises there, unless Germany decides to pull another 4 goals during a toilet break.

Hm. When I was going through my pictures today, I’d forgotten what bad weather I’d gotten during my last two days in Romania. Cloudy skies just aren’t good for photographs. They make everything look about 5 times worse. Nevertheless, it does lend character to the towns, it being Romania and all. If you replace these pseudo-modernist buildings with their medieval counterparts, it’s the perfect setting for Van Helsing.

Back in Brasov.

And this is what it’s supposed to look like, when the sky’s clearer.

Walking around Brasov’s old town.

Some more artistic graffiti to chew on.

And hey presto, we’re in the highly rated Sibiu again. The buildings with their peeping eyes.

One of their restaurants with their FIFA Brasil menus - which is extremely ironic, given what happened during the last week.

The parade as they go marching down.

Some more graffiti, this time right outside the hostel.

Aboard the train to Deva - there was practically no one else on board.

Corvinus Castle, named after the famous king Matthias Corvinus, whose name I really like. It looks and sounds so plushy.

And that concludes it, I think. Will follow up with some more if I’m still stuck on my dissertation. Oh, dear. No more memes for me - “Referinho couldn't help them” this morning cracked me up.

Romania, day 4 – Rasnov Fortress

I feel compelled to justify my obsession with the bus 780 incident, which I think of every time I blog. I just finished reading a fascinating study today on a psychological trait prevalent in homo sapiens, called ‘the negativity bias.’ Basically it says that we’re engineered to remember negative encounters much longer than positive experiences, because that’s what 600 million years of evolution has done for us – you can mistake a shrub for a bear and walk away unscathed, but mistake the bear for a shrub and you’re dinner. The bear’s, that is. This article is well worth a read, and I feel equally justified in spending my dissertation time on…understanding human behaviour.

We went to Rasnov Fortress today, 4.5 lei by bus. Like all outgoing buses here, they had their destinations marked VERY clearly on the windshield.

 

The bus.

Rasnov Fortress was built by Vlad’s grandfather, Mircea the Old (or his soldiers and the civilians, more likely), and it was a REALLY steep climb up. I hadn’t anticipated doing so much exercise – by the time we’d reached the top, both of us were huffing like a bad Victorian steam locomotive. Or maybe we’re just too out of shape.

The village of Rasnov was another of those dry, dusty places where they’re redoing the roads. The weather was hot and stuffy and did nothing to improve my mood. It was a gloomy, blustery day, and the aerial cables made it impossible to take a good picture of Rasnov Fortress on its hill. It’s another of those Hollywood signs.

Photoshop has failed me on this occasion

Aha, here we are finally. I think the man on the horse is meant to be Mircea.

This is the outer fortress of the, um, fortress. Again, we didn’t go in, since it didn’t look that impressive. It reminded me of Montjuic Castle in Barcelona, which in turn reminds me of all the blog posts I haven’t written.

And this is the other side.

Finally, a decent picture.

When we were done, we visited some of the outlying souvenir shops and bought some stuff helped boost their economy. I got a beer mug with a bird’s eye view of Rasnov Fortress, which was handmade, quite exquisite and cost 15 lei. I also got a thimble – embellished with the words “Romania, Rasnov”, for my supervisor. Joanne got a mug too, I think. The girl at the shop was very nice and presented us each with a purdy postcard of Rasnov, a gesture which we both appreciated very much. I really should work on our hard-wired mentality of negativity bias.

When we went back to Brasov, we did a walking tour that ended in shambles – I got hopelessly lost following the itinerary on the usually reliable wikitravel entry, and Joanne’s GPS crashed. Nevertheless, we did manage to locate St. Nicolas’ church.

The church from the outside

There was also some very interesting graffiti on the wall.

We then caught a VERY late bus to Sibiu (around 30 lei I think – you can book tickets/look up the timetables here). The highways here are horrendous – we were practically rattling around the minibus like beans in a can. Thank goodness we’re not the carsick types. We arrived at our hostel without incident. The hostel owner is a guy with a fantastic sense of humour – when we were talking about our travels with some of the other people at the hostel and happened to mention Edward Cullen, he indignantly wrote and held up a plaque bearing the legend, “Vampires are not sparkly.”

I think I’ve still got two or three entries worth to write about. In case anyone is interested, my dissertation is on The Picture of Dorian Gray, and my mind is bursting at the seams with aphorisms and Wildean witticisms. And England lost to Italy today, 1:2, much to no one’s surprise.

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

Romania, Day 2 – Dracula’s Castle

A little cottage lying in the shadow of Bran Castle, but this batch is a good one if I do say so myself.

Me, my peers and our first world problems. Every angsty, twatty teenager/tweenager moaning about not being able to get a boyfriend/girlfriend/good job/degree/working visas/studentships/Coldplay concert tickets etc., should go on a trip to Romania. It really puts things in perspective. When you have hordes of gypsies and prostitutes hounding you everywhere you go, begging for money, destituteness written in every sun-burned wrinkle of their faces, and when people keep attempting to scam you – you stop sulking about why people didn’t like your insightful, wittily worded Facebook status.

When I think of Romania, I think of Benjamin Sisko saying “It’s easy to be a saint in paradise.” (Star Trek: The Maquis, part I.) The poverty in this country is shocking. Either that, or I’ve had it far too easy. In any case, I am immensely fortunate, and grateful, that I was able to live as my life as I have so far. These poor people. In a way, you can’t really fault them for scamming/begging/extortion, due to the ridiculously low living standards here. Their locals told me that the average Romanian earns 98 pounds per month. Their prices, although cheap compared to the rest of the EU, are pretty much the same as Taiwan. I’m never going to gripe about 22K again – but I still want to earn more than that.

That being said, I’m still very angry about what happened on bus 780 in Bucharest and despite all the stuff I just said, I still think that nothing can justify what they did and the mental scarring they left me with. What terrible people.

I also think of Shakespeare’s Henry VIII: ‘Men’s evil manners live in brass; their virtues we write in water.’ Despite the fact that the majority of the local Romanians were amazing people, generous, hearty and welcoming, the bus incident will always loom ostentatiously in the backdrop of my memory room. It’s always going to be the first thing I think of when I remember this trip and Romania. As a matter of fact, whenever people ask me now about Romania, my initial response is, ‘Incredibly unsafe.’ I feel that this isn’t entirely fair, but as Shakespeare said, unpleasant memories tend to linger a lot longer. Tolkien similarly noted that ‘it is a strange thing, but things that are good to have and days that are good to spend are soon told about, and not much to listen to; while things that are uncomfortable, palpitating, and even gruesome, may make a good tale, and take a deal of telling anyway’ (The Hobbit). Anyway, I’m going to have to stop all these quotations before this blog post turns into my dissertation.

Well, we spent the night at the Kretan Hostel, which cost us 7.32 for a night. It was fairly nice, though it wasn’t really anything to write home about. We left for Brasov by train at 0830, and the first thing I said as we watched Bucharest roll away in the distance was ‘Good riddance.’

Bucharest. Why does my camera always make things look so much nicer than they really are? Rose coloured lens?

Again, the actual city looks a lot worse

The journey took about 3 hours and cost about 7 pounds, was moderately comfortable (I slept through most of it), and when I woke up, we were in the land beyond the forests, Transylvania, Wallachia of old and the legendary home of Bram Stoker’s Dracula. The countryside was very nice, although the mountains reminded me a lot of the ones back home in la belle Taiwan. And the Taiwanese don’t scam poor, innocent travellers.

We arrived in Brasov, our destination, without any problems, where we were based. It’s a very pretty town, and seemed a lot friendlier too. The weather was also scorchingly hot.

The Romanians have a way of signposting their town names, Hollywood-style:

This is probably irrelevant, but the one thing I don’t like about travelling in Europe is pronouncing things wrong and embarrassing myself. I think I’ve given up pronouncing things in France, but in Romania it’s fairly easy to get the hang of their names. Basically “ș” is pronounced “sh,” so Brașov is Brah-shov. And no, I didn’t forget the little toggle at the bottom when I typed Brasov – I just can’t be bothered to press ctrl+insert every time. The “oa” is pronounced “wa,” so Sighișoara is “Siggy-sh-warah.” I will never forget the look on the Luxembourg boy’s face when I asked him how to get to the Maison de Victor Hugo. Try saying that with an English accent, seriously.

Another probably obvious but oft-overlooked fact is that if you learn some really basic local phrases, you’ll get a much more positive reaction. One of my friends is Romanian and keeps trying to get me to learn his language, and I managed to pick up some elementary phrases from him. “Ce faci” (cheh fah-chee) is how are you, while “Multumesc” (mool-tsoo-mesk) or “mersi” is thank you. Frumosi (just the way you read it) means beautiful/handsome. I got lots of frumosis during this trip, much to my gratification. “Tren” is train, while “autobuz” is bus. And the Romanians keep telling me that Romanian is the hardest language under the sun. I think they forgot the fact that my native tongue is Mandarin Chinese.

We left our luggage in the hostel (6 pounds per night), and went to Autogara 2, the bus station connecting Brasov with all the other outer towns. The bus from Brasov to Bran costs 7 lei and takes about 50 minutes. The plan for today was Bran Castle, which was supposedly the fortress that Bram Stoker based Dracula’s castle on: ‘Suddenly, I became conscious of the fact that the driver was in the act of pulling up the horses in the courtyard of a vast ruined castle, from whose tall black windows came no ray of light, and whose broken battlements showed a jagged line against the moonlit sky [...] the castle is on the very edge of a terrible precipice. A stone falling from the window would fall a thousand feet without touching anything! As far as the eye can reach is a sea of green tree tops, with occasionally a deep rift where there is a chasm. Here and there are silver threads where the rivers wind in deep gorges through the forests.’ It was actually a rather accurate depiction, although I didn’t think that the cliff was that sheer. Or maybe it looks sheer by moonlight.

(A/N: None of these pictures are photoshopped or filtered in any way, because I’m lazy. Shoot me.)

The valley was very pretty.

The castle’s interior was quite interesting (5 lei admission fee I think), although if you see a certain amount of castles in a short period of time they start to all look the same.

  

We headed back to Brasov for a very satisfying dinner. The food here is amazingly cheap: full course meals don’t usually cost more than 7 pounds. Some of the things they specialise in are polenta (mămăligă – Jonathan Harker ate this when he was in Transylvania too, Bram Stoker really knew his stuff), Moldovian stew and Bulgarian salad. They also make a mean mojito. I don’t usually drink, but the booze here is super cheap. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I LOVE ROMANIAN FOOD. Or is it because I’ve lived in the UK for too long?

YUM!

To be continued – I need to wrap this up quickly, since my dissertation is laughing menacingly in my face.