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After leaving Sighisoara, I headed to the rarely visited region of Maramures. This tiny area of countryside lies in northern Romania on the Ukrainian border. Rolling hills, rich farmland and traditional friendly people made this my second favorite place. However, certain incidences were less than welcoming...
I arrived in a round-about way. Passing through Cluj-Napoca at midnight made for a scary firsthand look at nighttime drivers. After seeing two accidents within one mile of each other, the road was suddenly scattered with chunks of metal and glass. Then there was a "detour" which cris-crossed the same road, strewn with bricks and car parts. It appeared as if something exploded in a factory until after two miles of the rubble, I saw hundreds of people gathered around the streets as several cars were smashed into each other and the surrounding brick buildings. I may never know what happened, but I was awe struck: you only see this in movies. Another accident 20 minutes later and it was time to get off those roads. Hotels one, two, and three were all full, and an hour later, finally a little motel in the middle of nowhere. Walking to the door at 1:30 a.m. and praying they had a room, I opened it to—“Hotel California” playing on the radio inside. I couldn't stop myself from laughing, despite the weariness, and the two lovely women working didn’t understand any of it as they spoke no English. Thankfully they had a room and all was well again.
Next stop: Oradea. This city was only a connection for the train I needed to get to Baia Mare, and, of course, there was a five hour wait for that train. A bit of wandering ensued, in which I found nothing too interesting. As I passed the bus station, some taxi drivers approached and I spoke with them for a while and told them I was on my way north. One of them (Marco) offered to be my guide for the two days I had left in that region. We could use his car, he pays for gas, I pay for the rest. It really was the only way in which I could get everywhere I wanted to go, so I talked him down on a price and agreed. Now, something about this guy left me unsettled. It wasn't the fact that he barely knew any English, rather something else which I couldn't grasp. Not wanting Marco the guide to think I was aimlessly traveling alone (which I was), I called one of my friends who spoke Romanian and explained the situation and handed the phone to him. I don't know what exactly was said, but among the defensive gestures and words like "respecta" and "durere" (pain) being repeated, I could guess. Ten minutes of this later...my guide hands me my phone with a stone white face and was silent for a long time. Then he suddenly pulled over to the side of the road and demanded to see that I had the American dollars we agreed on for payment. I showed him and even offered to give him some then and the rest the next day when he was done. He insisted he didn't want any of it until we were done but that he just needed to see that I had it.
Maramures was quite enchanting with the most hospitable people in the country. Everywhere I asked, I was allowed to take photos and invited into homes for fresh made cheese, bread, jam and--you can't escape it--tuica. There is a no drinking and driving law in Romania, any alcohol in your system would result in severe fines and jail. My driver informed me that he really likes tuica, but wouldn't drink any until he was done driving for the day. I made him search everywhere for a woodcarver who makes the traditional wooden doorways and gates which Maramures is famous for. As luck would have it, we found the carver who is responsible for all of the beautiful masterpieces (see feature below).
After meeting with him and showing us his workshop, he took us to his son's house who is also a master woodcarver. His daughter-in-law asked Marco where we were going to stay for the night as it was getting late. He told her there was a pensiune a half-hour away. She offered us to stay in her house and that she would make us dinner and breakfast for a good price. I asked to look around first. It certainly was a beautiful house, she spoke some English as well, and so I agreed...until Marco informed me that we were only getting one room. Ah-ha! So that's what this guy (married by the way) thinks. I told him there was no way he was going to stay in a room with me. He either sleeps downstairs on the couch, or else in his car. He wasn't having any of that, and apparently the owners thought we were a couple. So I went to speak with the lady of the house and informed her that I was not with him and he was in fact married and that he must sleep elsewhere. She just chuckled and said that didn’t bother her that he was married.
The bad vibes start coming.
I walked around the town for some photos as dinner was being made and Marco stayed behind and chatted with the woman. When I got back, I could tell the tuica had been flowing and all through dinner, Marco wasn't holding back. The woman laughed and informed me that they were discussing how he was going to get me drunk so he could stay with me that night. I told them there was no way I was going to get drunk, and no way he was staying with me, and reminded Marco that he was married. The woman just laughed even more and said that is no problem because his wife is far away and it happens all the time, and the wife is likely with other men as well. I replied that if they didn't stop thinking and talking like that, I was going to leave. Marco laughed and asked where I would go all alone. I reminded him that I have been traveling for some time alone and that I would just hitch a ride to wherever. Then I went to see that there was a lock on my room, and thankfully there was...everything will be fine...right?
More bad vibes…
Later, as conversation with my now loose lipped guide continues, he asked me if I was afraid to be traveling alone, and it went something like this:
"No, I do it often. Besides, I have a knife and I know how to use it."
"You have no knife."
"Right here..." I take it out of hiding, snap the blade out and slam it on the table next to him.
He jumps a bit then grins, "I not scared of you or knife. I fight for French army for one year. Are you scared of me now?"
“What?!”
“Are you scared of me?”
"The French army! Well then I'm definitely not scared of you." I laughed as I wonder if I am really having this conversation. Quickly thinking of a way to end this and keep him on his toes, I add with a grin, "Besides, I keep a pistol in my pack."
He is quite for a while as the woman enters with her husband who just got home. They tend to their small children as we finish eating. I could tell he was clearly agitated. Some time passed and he somberly asked me, "Serious? You have pistol?"
Haha, it worked! I leaned in, looked him straight in the eye and said, "You never know."
A short while later we are all enjoying appropriate conversation, my traveling was a favorite topic. Then my wise sage of a guide decides to tell them I was in Mexico recently. It was actually months prior, but immediately I sense an uneasiness in the woman as she grabs her children and takes them to another room and calls her husband in. A few minutes later she returns and informs Marco that she is afraid I have the swine flu and wants us to leave. I was shocked. I tried to explain that it was a long time ago, before the outbreak, and I would have already gotten sick if I had it. She just apologized and said she doesn't know anything about it, but is scared. There was nothing I could do, and my driver was blitzed. She called the other pensiune and they drove over, picked us up and drove Marco's car to the pensiune.
I'd had enough of dealing with people, so when we arrived at our new pensiune, I went for a walk down the peaceful vacant country road surrounded by majestic trees. I stopped at a bridge over a stream and leaned against the rail, watched the moons reflection in the water and enjoyed the company of myself. Until I heard a car coming in the distance...and it flew by. A sigh relief quickly turned to alert as I heard it stop and turn around, and I thought to myself, "You’ve got to be kidding me." Seconds later the car returned and pulled next to me. Two young men were inside. The passenger opened his door and excitedly spoke Romanian at me as he attempted to exit the car. Wrong move. I took a deep breath and lost it.
Without even thinking, my fist swung around, making contact with his nose, as I screamed cursed at him. He yelped and grabbing his face and falling back into his seat. The driver started laughing and hitting the gas as I kicked the door shut onto the passenger’s leg. Luckily they took off and that was the end of it. In retrospect, it could have gone much differently.
Soon after, another car. This time it is the owner of the pensiune and he couldn’t speak English, but tried to get me to come back. I wouldn’t. So he left only to return shortly after with Marco who insisted I return immediately as it is dangerous for a woman to be walking alone in Romania. I got in the car because they wouldn’t leave me alone. Marco insisted that my friend was holding him responsible for my welfare. And I just shot back that I didn’t need a babysitter and wanted some time alone. It was off to dreamland when we arrived at the pensiune. Until I was awakened at 9 am by…Marco of course…
“I want my money.”
“I’m sleeping.”
“I want money now.”
“No. I am trying to sleep. You will get your money when you are done.”
“I want now. I don’t trust you.”
“What the heck are you talking about? I’m sleeping. Go away!”
“You left last night walking. You might leave me here alone, not pay.”
“I’m sleeping. You will get your money when you are finished as agreed. I offered you some earlier and you said no. So now you can wait…and let me sleep.”
“I not trust you.”
“Too bad. You could leave me stranded here too. Trust me or don’t trust me, I don’t care, but if you don’t let me sleep, you won’t get any money…”
Ah…the memories.
