CaptivatingRomania

Text: Lavinia Gliga; Translated and adapted by: Ciprian Morar

Photographs: Eugen Radu Iancu Marculescu; Sigfrid; Daniel Tellman

The rain has just stopped. The pavements are still wet and the green grass full of carefully arranged water droplets, but they are frolicking full of young lads dressed in colourful clothes. Their laughter intimidates even the clouds, who make way for the warm sun of july. Between the walls of the old fortress, laid out amonst 9 towers and three bastions, tourists swarm like little ants. They seem delighted by the conglomeration of small little stalls, the glazed apples, the cinammon flavoured kurtos kalacs, the knitted bargains sold by old ladies. The Medieval Festival is in full swing and Sighisoara is suffocating.

Up in the Clock Tower , the linden wood figurines are already acquainted to the noise and the tourists who climb up to see them up close. They’re also used to their old neighbour, the old clock, whose wheels have always been unrest-fully working. They’ve been there for hundreds of years, with the sole mission they must always complete: indicate the day of the week (they rotate every midnight), in order to remind the locals of peace and justice.

The clock tower officially opens up the way towards a labyrinth of cobbled stone alleys, flanked by some old colourful houses. It is quite a feat trying to find a house that doesn’t have some kind of a memorial plaque or note attesting an old story of significance. Amonst all these there’s an old house, plastered in tangerine orange, an old house in which Vlad Tepes was born. You’ll recognise it quite quickly by the plywood cut out of Dracula, which thrones at the entrance.

Only a few steps away you have the Citadel Square, a place very suitable for a nice break.
The small benches spread around the 2 old imposing and watchful trees offer a place for relaxation and comtemplation. Should you be feeling peckish or just in a mood for something sweet, you must go to the House on the Rock. This establishment belongs to a small non profit organisation with american origins, an influence felt in the wonderful choice of yum-yums. The sandwiches are accompanied with chips, the cucumber salad is deliciously sprinkled with a honey mustard sauce, the apple and blackberry pies are the divine embodiment of the best a tree farm has got to offer, the brownies are drowned in chocolate, whilst the chocolate chip cookies simply melt in your mouth. The lemonade is hand made on location, the apple juice is organic and the coffee is big and smells gently of pistachios. This is not just food. This is a gorgeous food.

In small beverage shop around the corner (read palinca, a strong romanian brandy), the plum and pear steam is hallucinogenic. The fee for a taster consists in just a smile and asking a few questions about the age of the huge barrels. That surely will give you some courage to attack the 175 steps made of black wood which take the you to the Joseph Haltrich high school and the church “Biserica din deal” .

Up behind the church it’s quiet and a little nippy. The Cemetery - where transylvanian saxons, hungarians and romanians rest, is busting with green. You walk slowly on narrow alleys, between fir trees and all sorts of bush, trying to discover yet another tombstone decorated with strange statues. The hullabaloo is away.

On your way down it is very likely that it will only be you and yourself walking down on the cobbled stone. Such privilege, such quiet joy, knowing you can wander around without jostling with market stalls demand small detail… avoiding any festival times (be it medieval, interethnic or draculesque). At least for the first time, it is worth it, you need those precious moments to fall in love with Sighisoara…