Fall Adventure to Romania (Day Two)

Woke up refreshed and ready to head into the heart of Transylvania. This turned into something of a day of acceptance and forbearance for Keary and me as we were perpetually denied food despite waking up ready to eat and maintaining that feeling throughout the day. First, Keary's go-to local covrigi place was closed so although we had coffee (sweet, blessed coffee) we did not have breakfast. No problem, we'll just grab some breakfast once we arrive in Brasov!

Except, whoops. The train ride was a little over two hours. By the time we got there we were both feeling it, and although we were almost immediately flanked by a slightly odd but gregarious fellow named Gabriel who offered his services for roughly the same price we'd pay to get a taxi into and out of Brasov (plus his conversation was scintillating) we headed immediately to a junk food stand for some paprika chips and soda first. Then we hopped in his 97 year old Soviet clunker. On the way he bragged about such topics as, actually having another car (a VW van, sweet), the many tourists he'd taken around various places, his place in the Lonely Planet Guide book, and the hostel he owns. His accent was thick but his English was alright, although I'm fairly sure he doubted my abilities in my own mother tongue. He kept checking to make sure whatever he'd just told us really landed by turning FULLY AROUND WHILE DRIVING to make eye contact with us. WE GET IT GABRIEL EYES ON THE ROAD OH GOD DON'T LET ME DIE IN A SOVIET CAR IN TRANSYLVANIA.

We arrived in one piece and Gabriel literally walked us to the entrance gate to Bran castle, my major motivation for coming out all this way. Yes, it's hokey and touristy but it's also awesome so shut up. This is the house at the bottom of the hill leading to the castle, perhaps a groundskeeper's home? There was an audio tour but you know I wasn't paying for that. I've got eyes and Google, thanks, I'm not paying you 45 EUR for anything.

 Dramatic angles. I don't want to talk about how silly I looked trying to take this photo. And now, some of my favorite architectural flourishes from inside the castle:

 Entrance to the (not so) "secret" stairwell.

Exit.

Courtyard views.

 Ancient Transylvanian border.

 Just a really excellent knife collection.

 ARTSY PHOTO™

 This was neither the first nor the last "Certificate of Authenticity" I saw laying around the castle. We get it you're authentic now pipe the fuck down with these certificates everywhere.

 Cool ceiling beams, no sarcasm. Just cool.

 Medieval stuff.

 Pomp.

 Circumstance.

(No but seriously GIVE ME THAT CROWN I WANT IT)

 Medieval torture device I secretly took a photo of! (Again, the exhibit was charging and I didn't feel like paying but the guard lady must have gotten bored or maybe was trying to entice people to come into the exhibit because she left this curtain open so passers-by could see inside. Pretty terrifying. I mean not Guantanamo terrifying but still.)

 Scales of judgment, on which people were sometimes weighed against Bibles. Ouch.

 Okay Romania, you win. Those masks left me unsettled.

 The black church, back in Brasov, which was beautiful. However it was while trying to take this photo, in which I backed up as far as I could from the church while practically laying on the cobblestone street but still couldn't get the whole church in the shot that Keary suggested it may, in fact, be time for me to purchase a new camera. Considering my current one runs on AA batteries, no longer zooms out (you have to turn it off and back on again) and is the same one I've been using since my sophomore year of high school... she may have a point.

That Brasov, so hot right now. (Brasov Hollywood sign)

 This is really just a no-brainer. There is a big hill with a scenic view and I can ride a tram up for several dollars? Done. So done.

 Inside the B.

 From further up and further in. (Narnia joke what what!)

 Back on the ground, appreciating the sunset and a para-glider in the distance.

 Some more witching hour shots- the Black Church again and the half-moon shaped fortress whose name I do not remember but which I could see while consuming...

 Some damn well-earned bread and beer. Although we did finally get some covrigi before heading up to the Brasov sign, besides sharing a bag of chips, that's all Keary and I had eaten after being perpetually denied the kind of out-and-out feast we were seeking throughout the day. So by the time Gabriel drove us back into Brasov and dropped us off in the center (thanks Gabriel, you  were the best I miss you already!) we were both fairly hangry. Conversation resumed after the covrigi but we weren't truly restored until we'd gotten some Silva Braun into us. I really like the dark Silva, by the way. As evidenced by the fact I think I drank it with almost every dinner I ate in Romania.

For dinner I had chicken with muj dei which tastes like a garlic bomb exploding in your soul (in the best possible way) but I didn't photograph that because it looked like a piece of chicken. Have you ever seen a piece of chicken? Great you know what my dinner looked like. But for dessert... oh God, for dessert... Keary decided we needed to try what the family next to us was eating, the gogoși. Cheesy, berry-topped fresh donuts soaked in a cheese-cream sauce. Words fail to describe.

During dinner and on the way back to the train station, we witnessed a small but passionate protest. The sign reads, "Romanian Monstrous Government Corruption".

If it makes you feel any better, guys, you're not the only ones feeling that way about your respective government.

And then we arrived to the train station at a perfectly reasonable hour, excited to get back to Bucharest and relax, possibly watch a movie, eat some cake, you know. Instead we were delayed an hour by a ticket-seller who forced us to buy the next train tickets (an hour after the next one shown on the board, which was leaving in about 5 minutes). And then the train was about an hour later than it was supposed to be. So we wandered around the mall, drank some Irish coffee, then returned to the train station where we played a lot (probably too much) of Gin and marveled, along with our fellow stranded Romanians, at the resident crazy woman screaming about prostitutes into a cellphone that may or may not have had someone on the other end of the connection until our train arrived. After getting scammed by a sketchy taxi driver, we were both more or less done.