Brasov

I spent a few days in Brasov and found it to be a charming little midevil (darn! I can never spell that word) town. It didn't take much of a stretch of the imagination to imagine dragons attacking peasants or vampires harassing the populace on the town square.

Speaking of town squares, the central plaza of the historic old city (Piata Sfatului) had a level of coolness I have felt in very few other places. I could have sat there and watched the people and the fluffy clouds and the colorful old-school buildings all day. Actually, I did spend most of one day doing that. I ended up staying the better part of three days in Brasov, and one of those days it was actualy warm enough to stay outside! Maybe its just the Californian in me, but I found those wind chills to be bone-chilling, even wrapped up, as I was, in my fleece sweatshirt and "Compton" beanie.

Oh, by the way, my luggage was lighter than I'd intended on this trip because (as I discovered upon leaving the airport in Bucharest) I managed to not bring a few of the sweaters I'd meant to pack. So you'll see me in most every picture from this trip (supposing I ever post any) in the same black hooded sweatshirt. It's served me well, although a scarf and gloves would have done me well...oh well...I'll do better next time.

Anyways, the Piata Sfatului was a large cobblestone area with fountains in the center, buildings surrounded it with placards on them saying that they'd surived the great fire of 1689, and a church called "Biserica Neagra," or "The Black Church" in English, which was built by the Germans between 1383 and 1385. The previously-alluded-to-fire darkened the structure to a degree that it has been known as The Black Church ever since. You want gothic? Well, this church has it: spires, concrete figures on the outside beams that seem to follow you as you walk past, cloaked Lutherans walking about, heavy wooden doors, and a spiky gate surrounding the whole thing. It was rather grand, and the wind did chill me to the bone as I stood in the shadow of the mighty structure.

On another day, I took a bus out to Bran, a city about an hour or so away, past bucolic fields rife with farmers toiling, townspeople milling about, and everything looking genrally like a commerical for some sort of healthy, wheat-intensive cereal. Or possibly a beer commercial. They have lots of beer here.

Let's take a minute to make a few more comparisons between Romania and Russia, based on my extreme level of expertise based on less than a week here. They seem similar, but not tooooooo similar. Observe:

.........................................ROMANIA......RUSSIA
beer sold everywhere in big bottles.......yes.........heck yes
lots of pastoral, rural scenery...........yes...........yes
gypsies...................................yes...........yes
gaudy showcasing of newfound wealth........no...........yes
scandalously dressed women (even moms).....no...........yes
people know how to stand in lines.........yes............no
train tickets = bureaucratic nightmare.....no.....mommy make it stop
hotels = long drawn out hassle.............no...........yes
cheap taxis...............................yes...........yes
pretty girls..............................yes.........sho 'nuff
everything in stores locked up.............no...........yes
feeling that dangers lurks everywhere.....yes...........yes

Okay, with that out of the way, let's get back to the story. I took the bus out to Bran, where it was like negative fifty degrees but sunny, and saw Castle Dracula from where the bus dropped me off. It was on a hill overlooking an area of quaint little houses, with mountains in the background and the afternoon sun casting strange shadows down from its grandeur. Inside, it wasn't nearly as groovy as I'd hoped, as there was nobody impaled on anything, nor were there any goblets of blood, or half-opened coffins. It appeared that the garlic dressing I'd ordered on my salad at lunch before leaving Brasov had been eaten in vain.

The castle was decorated in a manner befitting a queen, only appropriate as it was the offical residence of Romania's Queen Marie from 1920 until those darn Communists grabbed it in 1948. It was decorated with period furniture from the last century, not the bloody, spooky stuff I'd been hoping for.

Bussed it back to Brasov, walked around the old town after dark, which was a little spooky and a lot cold. Fortunately, the Spooky Factor is decreased by the Hollywood-style "BRASOV" sign up on the hill behind the town. It's next to a wire-lift tramway that takes visitors to the top for panoramic views and cafeteria food (per "Lonely Planet"), but which didn't seem to be operating any of the days I was in Brasov, as I never saw anything going up or down the mountain.