Romania Part Two: Twilight Ain't got Nothin on this Bad Boy

The thing taking the longest to adjust to since my European installment is trying to decipher this whole 'celcius' thing. I've gotten a pretty good grasp on meters from running track, and I learned kilograms pretty quick as a kid when my Japanese aunt would have me weigh myself to report how many more I should lose. But something about attempting to figure out the weather in celcius just makes me want to vomit. I admit, the fabulous Fahrenheit isn't very useful outside the home of the brave, but still, Ray Bradbury said it right when he wrote, “If you hide your ignorance, no one will hit you and you'll never learn.” But I digress.

Celcius or not, getting off the 90 minute train from Bucharest to Sinaia, Romania, the degrees dropped like it's NOT hawt. At all. In fact, freezin' ma buns off cold. Apparently this whole temperature dropping thing happens in every mountain range, but I'm from Chicago, so it blew my mind to need to change from tank to fleece when traveling for less than the time of a full-length movie.

Sinaia Castle

Luckily, a pretty, pretty castle awaited at the top to make me feel like a princess again under my three layers of cardigans and the other ill-suited articles of clothing I packed. I've seen many a castle and church and temple and monument and cheeses that would knock your socks off by the smell, but this hunk of glory was the most beautiful thing I've seen, the prettiest girl at the ball. With mountains and streams in the backdrop, the sounds of chirping birds and French tourists complaining about the weather, it was literally like falling into the storybook of Beauty and the Beast (Gaston oh he's so cute!) Apparently this shining property was just one of dozens owned by Charles I, the first king of Romania, but clearly he would have passed around invites to this crib for show and tell.

Hot tea in our hands, Georgia on our minds, Alla and I get back on the train up to Brasov, a cutsy little town in the region of Transylvania. Contrary to its ridiculous sounding name, Transylvania is an actual place, a region with a rich history involving Hungarian war lords and the Ottoman Empire. But the only reason we've actually heard of the darn place is not because of our European History professors (though you did a fine job, Mr. Phillips!) but rather some Irish bloke by the name of Bram Stoker.

Bran Castle

With no particular roots in Romania himself, the writer of Dracula still managed to turn some random structure in the woods into the country's most visited tourist attraction (actually we can thank the film directors for that).  Like the nerdy older sister who never got asked to prom, Bran Castle (about 30 minutes from Brasov) cannot compare in looks to her charming sibling we visited back in Sinaia. Yet perhaps it's the mystery behind this dark enchantress that gives it so much appeal. The stone structure with rustic circular roofs concealed by shady trees, cold pale walls marked by wont and decay, and stairwells leading every which way into hidden chambers, leading further to your slow and painful DEATH.  

Bahaha okay that's enough. But whether you're Team Edward or Team Jacob, you'll still get a kick out of these fun facts learned from the tall, dark and handsome tour guide for the group of British senior citizens I tagged along:

• The name Dracula derives from Dracul, which means the Devil. Dracula therefore connotes the Devil's Son.
• Stoker likely drew inspiration for Count Dracula from a man named Vlad the Impaler, a duke back in the day who, as one can gather from his name, prefered torture and excruciating deaths over blueberry scones.
• This Vlad dude also happened to be a member of the Order of the Dragon (take that, Phoenix!), its symbol a dragon practically choking itself with its own tail. Dragon. Dracul. Things are beginning to click.



Brasov, Romania

• Hey fellow feminist! Turns out a woman actually spured some creative energy for our blood thirsty vampire: 16th century countess Elizabeth Bathorym, best known for murdering dozens if not hundreds of young women and girls, would bathe in her victims' blood to soak in that rejuvenating virgin blood. Hmmmm.
• The tour guide was not happy to see me sneaking into his group.

Though one can never feel Vampired-Out, it did feel nice after the excellent tour to descend the castle's hill for a Kürtös Kalács, basically a tube of hot stove-cooked dough sprinkled in sugar and nuts. Off the chain amazing by itself, though imagine stuffing scoops of Ben & Jerry's into that little sucker. Oh boy.

The rest of Brasov presented to us a gorgeous church (blackened from a fire centuries ago) a history of political divide (mainly between the Ottomans, Saxons and later the Communists), and a cute little market where I found this gem:

 

If you've never seen Up, don't read my blog. Just Kidding! But go watch it NOW!

Handmade, Leather-bound, and likely exceeding the Ryan Air baggabe weight restrictions, I cannot wait to fill it with all the photos and stories I've gathered thus far!

Romania Part 1: hubba-hubba, Bucharest!

Let me tell you a few things about Romania.

To Americans, Romanians wear sparkly leotards and spread eagle on bars and balance beams. To other Europeans, however, Romanians often get a bad rep for living a gypsy lifestyle, traveling around begging and scamming to avoid any real work. While truth beholds that some of these people scam, that some beg, that a few do win Olympic medals, I've had the good fortune of seeing another side of this country and its people that instead involves arched eyebrows, enchanted castles and food deals that could send Subway out of business.

Romania is home to two important people: 1) Dracula, allowing me to shrill "I've come to suck your blood!" around every corner, and 2) my friend Alla, giving me someone to hiss it at. I met Alla last year in my French class, though from day one we've communicated in English because a) my French sucks and b) her English itself makes for conversation. Like many other Europeans I've met, she learned to perfect her Anglais via various languages sources such as rap videos on MTV, beauty tutorials on YouTube and streaming reruns of House and Prison Break. I am always so impressed when phrases like 'riding dirty' or 'it's not Lupus' flow naturally in her speech, as well as her unfathomable expertise on American pop culture (what exactly IS a hollaback girl, I dared to ask her during our trip).

Alla picks me up from the airport and we bus through Bucharest, during which I begin asking the millions of questions building up in my head such as 'what's with the high-heelin' hoochies with magna-arched eyebrows?' 'Where are the vampires?' 'When can we eat?' (She answers the first by explaining a particular fashion style that certain women portray called pitzipoanks, which translates to sluts. She rolls her eyes for the other two).

Romania introduces me to Eastern European territory, and en route to the city center I cannot help but notice the marks of communism (ha, get it?!) still affluent, or rather destitute, in the passing buildings. While the term 'Communist architecture' came up before during a tour of Berlin, here it still stands without telling. Tall, grey, rigid structures efficiently

The big bad Palace of the Romanian Parliament

built to hold a warehouse of people, minus any glamour or aesthetic appeal whatsoever. The lack of distinguishable variety or color set a dull, rather weary ambiance that would make a perfect shooting location for the Are you Afraid of the Dark? series. At this point I can't tell if vampire jokes are appropriate or not, but decide to bite Alla's shoulder anyways.
  
Downtown Bucharest itself strikes a stark contrast to the
outside boroughs, the influences of Roman culture highly prevalent in the large, elegant structures built with columns, domes and aristocratic statues. The majority of these fabulous edifices house the only institutions that can afford them, banks, though some host less fangy sites such as the excellent National Museum of Art and the Peasant Museum. And if you really want to see a hunk of a building, head over to the Palace of the Romanian Parliament. Stare deeply at the world's heaviest building (literally!), and I dare you NOT to make comparisons to the evil plottings a happenin' in the Ministry of Magic.  


As any European city, a visit through the major sites includes at least one church, though unlike the excessive glitz of the Catholic churches found elsewhere, the Orthodox sanctuaries here have a more modest appearance. "To be Romanian is to be Orthodox," explains Alla as she and every other passerby crosses themselves in front of the building whether or not they go inside. Every church has the same 3-part structure (a writer's

Romanian Monastery

dream!): a small, covered section up front for priests, a larger middle area where women stand behind the men and children, and finally a small boxed area in back for those women 'infected with the blood of sin,' aka those on 'that time of the month' (what better way to tell the fellers' they ain't gettin any tonight!). While this sexist division is unlikely still practiced anywhere except for maybe the Romanian boonies, the Rosa Parks in me proudly remains up front to enjoy the chants of the choir singers (The WHAT in me? Please ignore that last part). 


I forgot to mention the best part: Romania = CHEAP. Hold on to y'er hats n' glasses, cuz the prices here will blow yee away! At the patiseries above every subway station, hot flaky pastries and soft pretzels await your grumbling bellies for 1-2 lei a pop, equivalent to about 35cents (and believe me, you'll be stuffed after three!). The two nights

sărmăluţe

in a local boarding house cost us each 3€/night, though we had to pay an extra 5cents for toilet paper. We dined at the famous  Caru' cu Bere (Beer Carriage), gorging ourselves on the Romanian specialty sărmăluţe (minced meat rolled in wine leaves served with polenta and sour cream), and finishing off with a papanasi each (monster donuts of sweet cheese and cream) all for less than 20€. We danced the night away on $3 cocktails at bars where everyone resembled Victor Krum and his classmates at Durmstrang Academy (okay, enough with the Potter references!) and finished the night with an 11 lei taxi ride home, costing less than the fare to just get in a cab in Chicago. 

In my short time in Bucharest, I managed to learn about the country's gold mining politics and check off Protest for a Cause in Romania off my Things to Do Before I DIE list. Still, two days felt excruciatingly short. Yet I am ever the more antsy pantsy for the second half on my Romanian adventure to the dungeons and dragons of the man who, wait for it.. wait for it... will "come to suck your BLOOD!"