Bucharesti Arefu (area) Sighisoara Maramures
Brasov was founded by Dacian’s, and in the 13th century, it became a German mercantile colony named Kronstadt. Complete with medieval Saxon city walls, today, it is still quite German in appearance and the road to get there was a most interesting one, to say the least...
After leaving Arefu, I was offered a ride to Pitesti by the group of American tourists on their way to Bucharesti, and from there I could get a train to Brasov. It sounded good and the van was air conditioned so I went on board. After seeing the signs for Pitesti go by, I was told that staying on to Targoviste would be best. So on we drove and stopped for some lunch when we arrived there. Again, we left the city and I asked where the train station was. The guide tells me to stay on until Ploiesti and he will take me to the bus stop where I can get a faster bus that goes straight to Brasov. Despite my apprehension, I went along since he should know best. Some time around 3:00 the van pulls over at the side of the road, and they tell me this is my stop. I step out…and this is it? A busy three-way intersection with a police car in the middle. “That is the way to Brasov,” he said as he vaguely waves behind him, “Just wait for a van like ours but make sure it has CNI (or something like that) on the side. Wave your hand and they will pick you up. There is one every hour.” Needless to say, I was not happy. This wasn’t a bus stop and I should have been to Brasov by now. For over an hour, I straggled at the intersection with all my possessions on my back, not even sure if I was on the right side of the triangle. Feeling unsure, I asked the policeman as best as I could which road led to Brasov. Of course he speaks no English but points along the road I was waiting along. I waited for another half an hour, still no van. Nicely sunburned by now and cursing the tour guide, I wandered back to the policeman who, as best as I could figure out, was checking papers on all red covered dump trucks which passed through the intersection. I questioned about a bus to Brasov, and he shook his head and went to his car, took out a pad of paper and started writing. Thinking that he was drawing a map to the real bus station and that this was not my day, I mentally prepared to take another long walk to the proper location. He came back and handed me the paper with “BV” written on it in large font. I couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculously unpredictable the whole situation was. When I held onto the sign, cars immediately started honking and pulling over at a nearby gas station, but the officer said not to go with them. After some time of spacing out, I was suddenly pulled back into reality when a speeding van nearly ran me over as it came to a stop inches beside me. The officer spoke with the driver and I could tell that it was full. The overcrowded van left and the policeman said thirteen minutes and reiterated with ten then three fingers. Ok, I can wait some more…45 minutes later, another van finally pulls up and lets me on. In all it was almost two and a half scorching hours of waiting, then another two hours of being pinned up against the wall of the van by what I can only politely describe as the largest man in Romania. He spoke English and within a few minutes began telling me about all varieties of strange phenomenon and conspiracies which occur throughout the country. When he asked what my plans were, he told me all about how he knows a guy who could help me do this and another who could help me go there; everyone seems to "know a guy" so I just brushed it off as usual. As we zipped through the Transylvania Alps, with this man pretty much sitting on me, nausea and claustrophobia took hold so I opened the window and spent the next hour hanging out down to my shoulders. Lucky for me, I was able to get some beautiful shots like the first two photos.
We finally reached Brasov as the hazy sun sank behind the mountains and I needed to find internet access. The man sitting next to me said he was getting picked up by a friend who could help. I had quite enough "help" from people that day and said no thanks. Well, he called his friend and ran up to me and gave me the phone and told me to talk to him. I was getting rather annoyed at this point but spoke very short and politely to the guy on the phone who had a funky German/Romanian accent, and told him no thanks. I then handed the phone back and said goodby and thank you. I went to the ticket booth and looked at the bus schedule, which did me no good since I didn't know where in the city I was, so I decided to just get on the first bus that came. As I turned to wait, someone tapped me on the shoulder, wrong move buddy, "Excuse me, do you need some help?" I swung around on my heels giving this man a look that could burn through walls. He threw his hands up in defense and suprise while explaining that he was the man I just spoke with on the phone and that his car is right over there if I want a ride. I told him no thank you, I don't just get in a car with anyone. He explained that he had very little time and understands that I shouldn't trust anyone but that he also travels a lot and Brasov at night isn't a good place to be wandering. He seemed sincere and harmless in a T-shirt and Keens, not the usual attire of locals, so I followed to his car and just stood there as the large man smiled. "Well, are you going to get in?" the driver asked, "I don't have a lot of time and it makes no difference to me." Again, I just stood there, waiting for my intuition to kick in as horrid memories of that first night in Bucharest ran though my mind. A doorway: you never know what will happen if you go through. Finally, like a torch in the night, that intuition made me jump inside. That driver turned out to be a great "anti-tourist guide" who was able to show me a good pensiune, a lot of wilderness places and even agreed to take me to a Hungarian gypsy village near Sfantu Gheorghe.
That village was a most memorable experience. First of all, the gypsy culture was far more dynamic and diverse than I expected. There are many kinds of gypsy depending on ethnicity, location, religion and language. I was not able to spend nearly enough time to ever imagine understanding the surface of one of their cultures; it would take a lifetime to fully absorb such a misunderstood (from my impression) people. The gypsy in Romania is not at all the romanticized “wandering hippy” image so often portrayed in the US, rather they were referred to me by many as dogs and not at all human. The racism was pretty extreme. From what little information I gathered through the locals (therefore this is all hearsay and susceptible to prejudices), they marry at the age of 12-15 through prearranged marriages by parents. The boy’s family pays the girl’s father for the daughter, and the newly married couples are given an elaborate huge house in which they will have an average of 8-10 children. They attend their own schools and are relatively similar in behavior to the American Amish. This is mostly the gypsies with ancestry in India and Pakistan. They are noted for the traditional neon colored clothing they wear. These gypsies are also most likely to travel to other countries, notably France and Italy, to confiscate things and thus have vast wealth. There is also an Orthodox version of this gypsy which is more likely to be the blacksmiths, jewelers, and wood carvers among other trades. This type is considered to be “safe” and productive members of society.
As far as religion goes, some are indeed Orthodox like most of Romania, but the ones who steal and don’t believe in ownership have a legend that after Jesus was crucified, a gypsy stole the nails which held Him on the cross, thus releasing the gypsy people from the Eighth Commandment, “Thou shalt not steal.”
The Hungarian gypsies I visited were more laid back, and most likely to ask for money. Their children attended public schools and some even spoke a few words in English. Their clothing is more modern as well; though their homes are small traditional dwellings usually in dire need of repair. We approached the village in a car and (in Hungarian) my guide asked if it was ok for me to take some photographs. They told him yes, and I emptied and zipped my pockets and got out to take some pictures. They were very friendly and amazed by my tattoo of all things. They wanted their photo taken and would point to children and babies for me to photograph. We drove deeper into the village to get more shots. By this time, word had spread that we were there and the car was quickly surrounded. I got out and people were shouting and pulling at me to take their picture. More and more people came and were fighting to be in every shot. It got to a point where I couldn’t even get a photo because anywhere I pointed my camera, people would dash in front resulting in a blob of motion for a picture. Then more and more came, and slowly they closed in on me. My guide tried to tell them only one at a time, but he was quickly drowned out in the noise of the commotion. I suddenly found myself surrounded by an excited shouting crowd which was rapidly turning into a mob. I was being grabbed, pinched, pulled and poked in all places from all directions. I tried to record this but my small camera was immediately accidentally turned off by all the grabbing hands. Unable to lift my arms anymore to even try to take a photo, my guide suddenly broke through and grabbed me by the arm just as I was being stepped on and my cameras pulled at. He took me to the car and suddenly bolted towards a house. Someone had gotten in the car and taken my sunglasses. He caught up with them and, thank God, rescued the $13 shades purchased from O’Hare. We quickly slipped into the car and he started it as hands beat on the outside. A few revs of the engine showed that he was going to drive through whether people were in the way or not. So they scattered from the front and tried to jump on from the rear. I now understand what it must be like to be a celebrity. As we drove off, I noticed all my pocket zippers were opened and the car and I were covered in handprints of dirt.
I definitely want to give this another try next time.
