Still in Romania..
So far I'd been visiting capitals and just glimpsing the countryside from train or bus windows. So many trees had balls of parasitic mistletoe in their crowns. I began to see men tending sheep. The Romanian I met in Split had urged me to visit monasteries. Lonely Planet talked of Transylvania and Aline of Moldova had said Brasov, where she went to University, was a beautiful town. So once again I sat in Kentucky Fried Chicken with a coffee frappe and brought out my Kindle as I waited for the next train to Brasov. No one had responded to my couch request, but Hugo had stayed at Rolling Stone hostel there, so I looked up the directions.
With a heavy heart I boarded the train, joining three matrons and a silent youth in my compartment. One was very curious about me and finally broke out in German. People peddling magazines were working the train. One fellow wanted $10 for a plastic-wrapped National Geographic. You can get it for a quarter in any thrift shop in America! I offered him 5 Romanian lei, and he laughed; that was enough to use the toilet. But he hauled my suitcase up to the overhead rack and I watched it nervously the whole trip. Would it fall on the woman sitting opposite me? The German speaker gave me a Geschenk, a city bus ticket to the hostel, 8 stops away at Piata Uniti (Unity Place) and other helpful strangers made sure I got off at the right stop and directed me to Rolling Stone Hostel.
The place was full of Spanish Erasmus students studying in Italy. Three French kids stayed in my room; they had been doing construction work on an organic farm (WWOOF). Judy was the resident cat. An American tenting in the mountains had been frightened by a bear and returned to civilization. I got on the computer looking for news of the camera from Babs; nothing. The gas in the kitchen was faulty so I boiled water in the electric kettle, sliced carrots and cooked pasta in the microwave. The French fellow in the bunk above mine was an enthusiastic snorer. I called him 'le grand ronfleur' in the morning. He happened to have a box of earplugs and gave me a couple.
The next morning there was a minivan going to see Bran Castle 45 minutes away. I first walked ten minutes to the old square. Brasov is very picturesque in daylight. There is a funicular up the mountain, and one of the narrowest streets in the world. I paid my fare and joined the eight Spaniards in the minivan. They were negotiating a price to leave at 1 am for Bucharest airport to return to Italy. A mongrel tried to befriend me as I waited to buy a ticket. Then I hurried up the steps to the castle leaving the young Spaniards far behind.
Bran castle sits on a hill past a warren of souvenir stands. It was once a customs house, a very homey castle with many sweet little rooms on different levels. I watched the other tourists obsess with their cameras, click away without seeing anything, feeling superior to all those shutterbugs. There were displays going into detail about Bram Stoker's Dracula, which is entirely fiction. Stoker was an Irishman who never went to Romania. He was inspired by Vlad the Impaler who was not so evil by the standards of his day. On gaining power he opened the prisons but warned the criminals all crime was punishable by impalement. A sharp stick in the lowest body cavity; gravity did the rest. Bran Castle is so charming, there are photographs of the last royal family who lived there and left it to the nation. I bought a glass of hot wine and a bar of homemade chocolate from street stalls on the way back to the van. We discussed the economic crisis and the dim outlook for the Spanish students ever finding jobs or leaving their parents' homes.
That afternoon I took a walk around the hostel and found an old church on a hill with a vast old cemetery where the plots look like bathtubs. The next morning I took a bus to the center, saw modern mosaics of women displayed on the sidewalk. I was the only customer in a cavernous restaurant that offered free shots of schnapps to hostelers. I packed to leave and then got very nervous when the bus to the train was late, but I made it. On the train I sat opposite a man with a smashed face and an artificial eye. Dumb candy bar peddlers worked the train and knew this man. They were effusive as he bought a bunch of candy bars from them. He was kind but spoke no English, and got off before we got to Sibiu.
A dentist in Sibiu had offered to host me and give me a free dental exam, but then found it impossible, so with the help of the police, I got an honest taxi to the hostel. I'd prefer to find the right bus than use taxis, but I'd just seen an article in the Times how some travelers go too far to save money. The hostel was right in the square of the old town; the only other guest was an Australian named Alice, a cute blond with red glasses and a love of Romania, who recognized me from the tour of Ceaucescus' palace. I cooked my pasta and carrots, washed my socks and shorts and chatted with her. She never heard of Noel Coward's wicked, witty song, "Alice is At It Again." She starts her teaching career soon back home.
The next day we both went to the open air museum out of town by bus but at different times. All the houses were locked. I walked around the lake and took the next bus back, fascinating another German-speaking Romanian woman with my travels. There were homeless dogs around with plastic tags in their ears. I learned from Information they were 'vagabonds', and neutered. Not so the cats. Back in Sibiu I walked through the fortress to the old town and found a Christmas market of stalls selling candy, hot wine, gifts and food and an ice skating rink. I went to an old palace, Brukenthal Museum, that was turned into an art museum with impressive paintings from all over Europe and even a small Romanian art gallery. The hostel staff looked up train and bus schedules to get to my next stop, Belgrade. I kept calling George, the dentist, and finally we had an appointment to meet at 8:30 at night in front of the Orthodox Cathedral. He said he could clean my teeth for $20.
I'd tried to change a $20 bill and neither the change place nor the bank would take it because of a small hole in the center fold. I thought of giving this bill to George. He led me to his new office next to the cathedral. There was no furniture yet, and the light of the dentist's chair didn't work. He had to sterilize his instruments which took a half hour. He recommended SAGE TEA for dental health, not the expensive preparations. He cleaned my teeth with ultrasound cooled by water, claiming he had enough light to see. In the end he returned half my money because my teeth were in such good shape. We walked back to the hostel (he knows the owner) and he met friends in the bar below as I prepared for another day of travel.
Alice and I woke up at 4:30 am to walk downhill to the station in the dark for the 5:30 bus to Timisoara. She was going to stay, I continued on another bus toward the border but there was really no bus into Serbia there. First a brief taxi ride to the border at the insistence of a drunk. I met a van-driver headed to Belgrade but had to walk myself through the border and didn't see him again. It was starting to sprinkle and I put my thumb out, thinking I had a walk of a few kilometers to the first town but it turned out to be about 15. Luckily a Timosauran gave me a ride to the town. The fields by the road were covered with plastic litter. In the town eventually I found a bus stop that would carry me to Belgrade!
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