The Dracula Tour--Part III

The tour well and truly beings

After breakfast, the journey began with a brief stop to photograph the Palace of Parliament. Originally named the People’s Palace, it is the second largest administrative building in the world and exemplifies the decadent excess during Nicolae Ceauşescu’s regime. The building boasts lavish interiors, crafted from Romania’s best natural resources, including 480 chandeliers, 900,000 cubic meters of parquet flooring, and brocade curtains, embroidered with silver and gold.

Soon we were off to visit Snagov and the final resting place of Vlad Tepes Dracula. We accessed the island in small groups via row boat. The trip over took less time than it did to get some of our fellow travelers in the boat. The island itself was beautiful and had everything you could ever wanted in a summer place. As we ambled down a path towards the chapel, we passed several fruit trees, a few goats, a ramshackled cottage, a rooster and several very plump chickens, and a big German Shepherd. Apparently work was being done on a few of the buildings but while we were there, the quiet was only punctuated by a few crows of the chickens, followed by the dog, contributing a few barks for good measure.


Inside the chapel round chapel, ancient frescos of religious icons and the Dracul family, look down upon crypt, as an orthodox monk held vigil. Posing before the tomb was the ultimate photo op and we all took turns kneeling before the crypt in the floor and the picture of Vlad that sat atop.

The next stop was Bran Castle near Braşov. The castle, currently on the market, was created to defend against Turkish invaders before serving as a customs post and most notably as home to Queen Marie, a British royal who became a Romanian patriot and collector of items illustrating the skill and craftsmanship of the Romanian people. Although there were some questions regarding where Vlad actually lived (it’s kind of a George Washington Slept here thing) we do know he was at one point held captive there in a tiny cell which we all piled into. I really liked the castle, but more impressive to me was the furniture that Queen Marie had collected. If I thought I could have slid the handcarved bed under my coat I would have tried it, but security was evident when someone kept hitting the magic velvet ropes cordoning off the antiquities which triggered a heavily accented English voice reminding visitors not to touch the collection.

The following day, we entered Sighişoara, where Vlad was born. After viewing the clock tower and visiting the torture room located just outside the city gates, replete with a rack and iron maiden, we walked around a bit, picking up a few souvenirs and finally deciding on stopping for pizza in the piazza. The thin crust pizza was a poem, and I only wish more of the places we ate offered pizza instead of the deep fried schnitzel that seemed to be overly represented on the Romanian menu. That evening we arrived in Bistriţa at the Corona d’Aur hotel.

We were all exhausted, but dinner had been specially arranged for us at Jonathn Harker’s restaurant around 10:30 that evening so we all retired to our rooms for about 40 minutes, cleaned up a bit and then entered dinner as a group, where a caped Dracula wannabe, served us a local liquor which I barely got up to my lips before someone else jumped out of the dark, startling me and sending the aforementioned aperitif down the front of my skirt. When we were seated, we were presented with a cheese ball, decorated with pimentos and olives for form a face. The presentation was cute in a kitschy sort of way, but the cheese reminded me of eating paste as a child, only paste has a bit more moisture. At dinner, we all began talking about all we had seen so far on our whirlwind tour and began celebrating the fact that this was truly a once in a lifetime event, especially as we had finally arrived in the Transylvania region and it was, Friday the 13th. We were abuzz with excitement know the next day we would be driving up the Burgo pass to the Hotel Castle Dracula, and attending the Dracula Ball on the night of a full moon.

After a good night’s sleep, and finally having a few free hours to ourselves, Jordan and I walked through Bistriţa, towards the area where we observed a local carnival, when we entered town the previous night. Although it was early, by 10 am we found rides whirring, as vendors set out their crafts to the sounds of a local band punctuating nonsensical but rhyming English lyrics with rock guitar riffs. For most of our lives we’ve always headed warnings about Gypsies and Carni folk, and suddenly we were surrounded by nothing else. Although we didn’t see any real souvenirs labeled Transylvania, we did pick up a few religious icons from the Orthodox priests and nuns. Most of the Orthodox clergy were dressed in long black tunics with huge crosses swinging from their necks, but the nuns, instead of wearing veils, had what looked like black pill box hats. If I’d ever been a nun, I definitely would have chosen that option. It was like, I can be a Bride of Christ and still rock the fashion angle. At other time we would have haggled for the best prices, having been schooled in the fine art from days spent in markets in East London, but it just didn’t seem kosher to bargain with nuns who had taken a vow of poverty for a few religious icons that, with the exchange rate, we were already getting for a song. I’m sure there are world travelers who will tell me it’s that kind of thinking that forces the next group of visitors to pay full price. Like I care? I’m not spending an eternity explaining to St. Peter why I had to be cheap when it came to dealing with his bretheren.

The final leg of the tour was the scenic Burgo Pass. The mountainous route through the Eastern Carpathian Mountains connects Transylvania with Bukovina, the gateway to the realm of the literary Dracula. Our collective jaws dropped, as we caught the first glimpse of Hotel Castle Dracula perched atop a mountain, beckoning us to that evening’s Dracula Ball. Because this was the summer tour, not the one offered around Halloween, we didn’t know whether people would really dress up or not. Fortunately the missing luggage for our group members arrived so everyone had their outfits. After a bit of a walk outside, and a few adult bevvys, we took a nap and then prepared to put on what we though would be low key sartorial elegance, Jordan in a black suit that shimmers with an electric blue mylar thread, when lit at certain angles, and me in a black voile skirt, 4 ½ inch coffin heeled shoes and a full black leather vest with collar and keyhole openings in front and back. Sure that sounds like gear for a bondage club, but faced with women in Spiked bras, Victorian gowns with fangs, a Nosferatu and a guy with an animatronic alien sticking out of his chest, we were sedate.

Dinner began with shots of what must have been the Romanian version of white lightening, and a large bonfire over which we roasted chicken on skewers as traditional folk musicians played for us. After the sun went down the temperatures in that area were rapidly dropping so many people were drinking the shots. I used mine as marinade for the chicken, making sure not to get too close to the fire as I could feel the grommets around the corset lacing and the leather encasing my boobs, getting hotter by the second. Once we returned to the hotel, a long table was set for our group of 20 and we enjoyed dinner and local wine before spending the rest of the evening dancing, watching the bat fly around the hotel and visiting the vault for a picture opportunity in a coffin.

When you’ve experience an evening like that, everything else has fall a bit lower on the roster, so we returned South to Sibui on our way back towards Bucharest and our final destination the airport.

After driving all day, and the temperatures in the south rising dramatically, we stopped back to Sighişoara to watch a re-enactment of a witch trial, followed by a tour of a gothic graveyard before arriving at our hotel.

As world travelers, we’re well aware that what equates as four star in America can be, less stellar in foreign climes, but once we checked into this hotel, we discovered there was no air-conditioning and it was close to 107 degrees, the windows barely opened, the refrigerator in our room, was not only, warm, but held none of the honor bar niceties that were listed on the menu. There were however, a number of beetles who were happy to escort us from the bed to the bathroom.
I tried to catch our breath for a minute as we watched The Discovery Channel (the only channel in English) before visiting the hotel bar, being too worn to go anywhere far. Alas, the hotel bar was closed. The manager said we could have a drink in the restaurant, so we went upstairs to see if we could meet Pat and Dave there, but instead, we found a large family enjoying Sunday dinner in a room that smelled musty, as they were regaled by the groovy sounds of a three man combo with the leader playing a circa 1983 Casio, complete with bad 80s drum track.

We made a hasty exit and once outside the hotel, tried to pull a few thoughts together. I knew Dave and Pat were equally as tired. Since our guide given us the general direction of the town square, we began walking when I had an epiphany. I saw a light, and it said RAMADA. “They must have a bar!” And the doorman confirmed, they had three. We walked upstairs as strains of jazz filled the halls and we began noticing things like diffused lighting, and neon, and air-conditioning. The first bar was open and modern but we figured, before we plopped ourselves down, we’d look at the second bar. And there they were. Looking refreshed from the cool and with a bottle of wine in front of them, our mates, Pat and Dave. This was great. This was cause for a celebration. After the day we had, this was virtual ecstasy. We joined them and after the quaffing of many refreshing beverages, the addition of a bridal party, and a bartender that may have spoken five languages but was really not of this earth, we were nearly moved to tears at the prospect of returning to the roach motel. And then it dawned on us. Why not stay. We could meet the group in the morning but at least we’d be refreshed and happy. So we said bugger all to group bonding that roughing it as a collective is supposed to imbue and we sent the men folk to pick up luggage, and our favorite New Yorker Steve, and we expatriated to across the street. Do you know how to say heaven in Romanian?
Ramada!!