Eastern Europe retroblog: Bucharest

(A grave marker in the courtyard of the folk museum.)

Everywhere we went in Romania, people seemed incredulous that we would want to spend a night in Bucharest. Truth be told, we were only there to have lunch (which turned into just drinks—alas, there was a misunderstanding with the dates) with my Romanian publisher, but we ended up really enjoying our visit to the folk museum, and the weather was great (which always improves your opinion of a place, no? can't help it.)

And of course, the architecture and vaguely Byzantine holy art were highlights.

We watched a restoration artist high up on the scaffolding, touching up these frescoes (are they actually frescoes?) And the courtyard of another church building nearby:


(Ornamental caryatids outside the arcade where we had dinner for Elliot's birthday.)

Next up: a whirlwind visit to Belgrade, complete with a flash flood.

Eastern Europe retroblog: Sinaia

(This photo was taken in Braşov, where we had dinner at a pizzeria after the Piatra Craiului trip—hooray, no more polenta and sour cream! The little Germany Belgium flags came with dessert.)

There is one thing that sticks in my head about Sinaia—the architecture. Holy cow, what amazing architecture, and not only at Peleş Castle. There were lots of houses like this in Sinaia:

If I were going to live in this house I would have to become a mad artist and adopt at least three dozen cats.

Peleş Castle is really spectacular, inside and out. It was built in the late 19th century to serve as the summer residence of King Carol I. It's one of Romania's biggest tourist attractions, and you can see why.


In the next installment, we are pleasantly surprised to find that Bucharest isn't the craphole everyone's been telling us it is!

Eastern Europe retroblog: Piatra Craiului

From Sighişoara we took the train to Braşov, a medium-sized town we used as a jumping-off point for a hiking trip in the Piatra Craiului mountains. (Pee-AH-trah Cry-OO-lee.) We also made a day trip to Rasnov, and spent a very wet afternoon at the fortress there:

While we were in Braşov I also got my first (and last) taste of polinka. If the bartender had served me battery acid I wouldn't have known the difference.

So, the hiking trip. We left our extra stuff at the hostel in Braşov and took a train to Zărneşti, a rather frightening little place—ramshackle cement huts, muddy unpaved roads and way too many stray dogs—and hiked to a cabana we'd found in Lonely Planet. We weren't sure what to expect, because the guidebook description was pretty vague (which is a sure sign the author hadn't actually been there; don't ask me how I know); but we were pleasantly surprised to find the place was basically a hotel—rustic but clean and comfortable. In the restaurant Kate and I ordered more polenta with sour cream and defrosted veggies (and we were lucky to find that much!), while Elliot got, ahem, adventurous. To this day I bet he still isn't precisely sure what he ate for dinner.

This dog followed us out of Zărneşti all the way to the cabana. It became such a nuisance that Kate and Elliot named it Sophia, after Kate's crazy freshman-year roommate, and we only got rid of it the following afternoon (yes, it hung around outside the cabana overnight) when some farmers' dogs went after it.

Anyway, we spent most of the following day on a walk deeper into the mountains. When we passed farmsteads with people outside we felt quite awkward, but fortunately nobody laughed at the dumb tourists, or yelled at us to get off their land. We didn't encounter any other hikers, as far as I can recall.

It was getting pretty nippy as we climbed; towards the end we were walking in snow.

Me: “I can’t feel my butt!”
Elliot: “Don’t worry. It’s still there.”

We were going to climb this. Then we decided we'd rather just go back to the cabana and watch Elliot eat some more cat intestines under a giant moose trophy (why didn't I get a picture?)

On the walk back we played GHOST. I insisted that "xylophonic" is a word, but Elliot was having none of it.

Next installment: Sinaia.

Eastern Europe retroblog: Sighişoara, part 2

The torture and weapons museums were a barrel of laughs and all, but my favorite sight in Sighişoara is the Church on the Hill. It is the most picturesque graveyard I have ever had the pleasure of wandering through. To get there, you climb a covered staircase dating to the 17th century:

And at the top there's a church (locked, when we went), and a rectory:

(Lucky priests!)

And then there's the graveyard, with all the old headstones tucked into the hillside.


Elliot: "Give me some of that coconut chocolate."
Kate: [farts]

Next: Piatra Craiului.

Eastern Europe retroblog: Sighişoara

Sighişoara, a medieval citadel town in Transylvania, was easily my favorite stop in Romania—by turns tranquil and spooky. Plus, Sigguhshwahruh rolls so satisfyingly off the tongue! (We have been informed that this pronunciation is not quite correct, which fortunately does not make our way any less fun to say.)

On the train from Budapest. I'm reading The Pesthouse by Jim Crace, my own personal Santa Claus. (Got oodles of compliments on that t-shirt, including a marriage proposal from another American tourist in Dubrovnik.)

A view of the 14th-century clock tower from the center of town; the view from the top (doesn't it make you want to live here forever and ever?); allegorical clock figures; a shot of the handrail.




It's a long way from Jersey.

Next is Sighişoara part 2: the covered staircase and the Church on the Hill.