Sighisoara

Sighisoara (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sighisoara ) is generally considered the best-preserved fortified medieval city in Transylvania. It is also (in)famous for being the birthplace of Vlad Tepes (aka. The Impaler, aka. Dracula). With such a pedigree, in recent years it has become a must see on any Dracula-themed tour.

For over 15 years now, a medieval festival is organized every July. Initially, the festival was supposed to revive the medieval traditions (music, theatre, costumes, parades) and to promote the town heritage. But it had gradually evolved into a rather noisy and messy combination of rock music, beer and late night partying.

The town council is trying to regain control and this year it has banned any music other than classical, and has pushed the alcohol sellers outside the walled citadel. Yet the audience hasn’t changed much: still young people looking for a good party.

We were partying here 10 years ago. With us on this trip, Ruxandra, a highschool friend, keeps us in the present.

Braila

We’ve never seen so many beautiful houses in ruins as we did in Braila (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Braila ). It’s true, we’ve never visited a city after a war. Here, it’s not about bullets though, it’s about tens of years of neglect because of a sick political system. Not direct aggression but passively induced carelessness. Fragile balconies force the pedestrian traffic away towards the middle of the road and the perspective becomes even more striking. Cuba comes to mind. We got familiar with Cuban images through music (Buena Vista Social Club); ironically enough, music is Braila’s claim to fame these days – the yearly canto festival “Haricleea Darclee”.

Danube Delta

We thought for a long time of visiting the Delta, but planning a trip seemed too complicated: difficult access, hours of sitting in a little boat, exposed to the sun, fish for breakfast, lunch and dinner – like it or not, greedy mosquitoes everywhere.
And all this effort to chase beautiful images, already cliché, overly used in any guidebook or album about Romania. So feeling that we already know what to expect (if lucky enough to have a responsible guide), we get motivated eventually by the same fear – that irreversible change will happen soon. The skepticism is there - and it dissolves with the first pelican we see in real motion. Mesmerized, we fill up a 1GB card in no time.

We stay at a local family in a little village surrounded by channels. Him, a fisherman, lipovean (of Russian descendency, a community that moved here in the 17th century due to religious persecution, still practicing an old form of Orthodox Christianity) and her a Romanian teacher, working at the local school, an amazing host and cook.
No small talk – she gets right away to telling us in sweet and intimate details about her experience of parenting at distance a smart, energetic and stubborn adolescent daughter. He – of this “land” for generations - bitches about the effects of new policies imposed from far away by an assortment of politicians, ecologists and greedy businessmen.

The primitive yet still fashionable fishing is the engine of life here. Catch the fish and eat it. It’s enough to survive – anyone can do it. It’s easy to feel self-sufficient. A life without middlemen. But we were right, it’s changing and it’s getting complicated. The daughter has chosen to go to college halfway across the country, away from the fish and away from the water.

Jurilovca

First Greek, later Roman, now just ruins on top of a ledge of deserted land that ends in a lake (Razim). We’re in the heart of Dobrogea; it’s extremely hot outside, but Razim’s water is balmy. The ancient energy and the temperature work together against Gabi’s gravitation and for the first time in her life she manages to swim.

Dobrogea

A piece of hilly land stretched or maybe squeezed between the Danube and the Black Sea, careless about all the surrounding water, stubbornly dry and arid. The general chromatic of the landscape remains the same, but the view seems to change with any little angle of the road: the familiarity provides the comfort, the surprise keeps us in the moment. We keep stopping the car taking more pictures and delaying any form of final destination, none of us interested anymore to remember the initial schedule. The side of the road takes over. Two good hours of conversation about bee behavior with a family of beekeepers shed a new light on feminism and women empowerment (Gabi, we need your antropo/zoo/sexologic entry here). A ripe watermelon savored in the shade reveals why Romanians have no missionary vocation. A local festival in Istria, imaginatively named “Lactate Dobrogene pentru piete europene” (Dobrogea Dairy for the Euro Market) provides a paradoxical mix of Tatar and Turkish dances with “Noi suntem romani” and “Tu Ardeal!” (as aggressive Romanian nationalistic songs as you can get) in a true tolerant European spirit.

Hurry up; it’s going to change!

We have a fairly long discussion with our friends Gabi and Radu in our living room in Brasov planning a possible trip toghether somewhere in the southern part of Romania. We’ve never been to Danube Delta (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Danube_delta ) or Dobrogea (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dobrogea ) before. We all agree that the way Romania is changing will affect these two regions significantly in a couple of years so exactly where to go, becomes a charged, “ now or never “ kind of decision. Radu’s grandparents are from Dobrogea and he spent his childhood vacations there. “His Dobrogea” should be so rich and he is ready to share it - quite tempting. On the other hand, Gabi did anthropological work in the Danube Delta and she “knows” that we are “gonna love it” there. Hard to choose! Another bottle of wine and we must have it all: we are planning to spend a few days in Dobrogea with our friends and a few days in the Danube Delta by ourselves.

F.

F. is sad. For the last 10 years he has been the keeper of the church in M., a village in Buzau. He cleans and makes repairs to the church and the cemetery, beats the “toaca” and rings the bell every day. He is telling us how he got the job: an older relative, the former keeper, came for a visit one night, telling him that he’s about to die. He left the church keys on the drawer, and two weeks later passed away.
Now F. feels his end is near, but the young have left the village and most people are not coming to the church anymore. He has no one to leave the keys to.

The Mud Volcanoes

The Mud Volcanoes (Vulcanii Noroiosi; http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Berca_Mud_Volcanoes ) are a peculiar geological formation located in Buzau (just south of the Carpathian mountains in central - eastern Romania).

Methane gas bubbles up through layers of rock and water and creates volcano-like structures; the volcanoes themselves are not spectacular (at most a few meters high), but the lack of any vegetation (due to the salty water) creates a moon-like landscape, which contrasts with the surrounding green hills.

We had seen pictures of the place and had wanted to visit for a long time, but the place is quite a bit off the beaten track. As it turns out Gabi, our good friend, was also looking for a way to get to the same region.

Gabi is a psychiatrist but has also studied anthropology and does volunteer work for the Museum of The Romanian Peasant (Muzeul Taranului Roman; http://www.muzeultaranuluiroman.ro/ ).

So she followed us through mud, and we followed her through a couple of the villages in the area.

IntrodAction

It was all fun until the night before our departure, when we were almost done packing. Dismantling the bed, it hit us with full force: all of a sudden we saw ourselves not belonging anywhere. Uprooting ourselves from “here” yet disconnected from “there”. Where the hell do we belong exactly? All excitement turned into fear.
Fortunately, “Two Men and A Truck” customer policies do not allow full refunds for last minute cancellations.

Prologue

Having it both ways. “Having your cake and eating it too” as the Americans put it. Romanians seem to have other things on their minds “ sa fii si cu dansa intr-ansa si cu sufletul in rai” which would approximately translate: “to be both with it inside it and with your soul in heaven”.

Anyway, back to having it both ways: maybe this is what this trip is about. Testing the “what if we took the other route” hypothesis. In at least two respects: as emigrants and as reasonable, focused, goal-oriented, purpose-driven citizens. For at least six months, turn the switch and try to be the non-us, so we can have it both ways.