Advertisement
Published: June 19th 2013
After the late night Sneezy birthday party, it was another fairly early start. We were fortified with eggs for breakfast. They weren’t just any old eggs, though. Huntsman branded them Lucky Eggs. Will they ever catch on at Morrisons?
The local transport theme would continue today. Yesterday, local bus – today horse and cart. Well, 2 horses and cart to be precise. The cart had the engineering hallmarks of building a boagy when we were kids, except that it didn’t use the base of a pram. The suspension was at best suspect or perhaps non- existent. The idea of sitting at the back seemed to make sense from a photography point of view, but being right on the back axle made it hard going to say the least. The horses looked in fairly good condition.
We proceeded down the mountain into the outskirts of Zarnesti. The locals were out relaxing in the sun. The lucky few get a bench, the others make do with sitting on the yellow gas pipes that seem to snake their way all over town. The remainder don’t really care, as they had been getting some refreshments down their neck since early morning.
The
aspiration for most locals is a car, but they’ll miss the flexibility of the horse and cart when it is gone forever. We turned off down a mud track, that most northern Europeans wouldn’t walk let alone take a vehicle. A whole new world of construction was going on down the track, as it seems with everywhere in Romania. In the days of Communism, the land was all taken by the State. The process of reclaiming what was mine is now well under way. Whilst most of the land was just an agricultural plot in the past, the object of the exercise is clearly to build a new residence. The houses under construction were a bit alpine in appearance and seemed quite desirable. The construction seems a bit haphazard, but is probably related to the supply of funding coming back from Germany or elsewhere.
The horse plodded on into the Birza Valley. A rather sinister black building appeared in the distance. It transpired to be a National Park headquarters, funded you guessed it with a EU grant. The building was complete in the exterior sense, but wasn’t open. The grant apparently stretched to the internal fit, so that remains
a work in progress. The mud track ended and we upgraded back to the unmade road. I say upgrade, although the lack of suspension made the cart more suited to the softer landings of the mud track. We alighted with the prospect of a long climb up the mountain side towards a Hermitage.
The sun was still shining at this point, but the 4 seasons in a day would soon be back with vengeance. The Huntsman advised that the monks are part funded by the State, but before you all rush to apply it appeared to be a strange and lonely existence. There were quite a few people at the Hermitage, although very few were monks. There were a few builders helping out with construction of the adjacent Church and one guy, who had apparently lapsed the religious lifestyle. He had committed the cardinal sin of going over the side with a woman and gone back out into the real world. It had obviously not been all roses and he was now seemingly trying to get his old habit back. The weather completely closed in again.
We ate our sandwiches whilst top man monk prepared the soup for
the evening meal. A weak tea was prepared for us, which prompted investigation of the only toilet on site – a long drop with a smell that would be another you have to be there moment. Sleepy looked less than impressed with the arrangements. The group ventured further up the mountain side, where another little Church was created inside a cave.
It was time to leave. The Huntsman took us a more direct route down the hill. Whilst Eastern Europe offers the opportunity of copious random dogs to snap and I had flirted with Serbian dog photography, Happy opened my eyes to the possibilities of the subject. In exchange, he should have random sepia people in his portfolio. The darker side of Romanian dogs surfaced further down the hill, as a few made a bee line towards us to protect their territory. A cautionary warning as to the unpredictability of the subject!
We had to wait for the return horse and cart. In view of the changeable weather, the Huntsman was confident that the cart would come with a cover this time. We bided our time and watched another of the developments of another construction project. The 3
Viscri
A home from home for the Charcoal peopleman crew spent some time bending metal brackets, before deciding on a fag and watching us for a bit. They had taken over 8 months to reach their current point. An imminent finish was unlikely.
The horse and cart lumbered into view. There was no cover for the cart. The Huntsman sighed .............. Romanians he gestured ........ forgetting his routes and adopting a very Germanic stance to the matter. The horseman was confident it would not rain.
We re-traced our steps back through Zarnesti. The same people were in evidence on their benches and gas pipes. It was doubtful they had gone thirsty for the day. In Magura, our barometers of local drinking a few houses along were still active. It was a bad day if they didn’t make a 9 o’clock start. Schnapps for breakfast, perhaps. The Hunstman said they had been warned they drink too much. They looked happy!
After the Libearty sanctuary, tonight was wild bears in the woods. We set off for a bear hide at a location about an hour away. Ceaușescu was a former visitor. He liked to nip up from Bucharest in the chopper and watch bears. Unfortunately for some
bears, he also brought his rifle with him! I wasn’t exactly sure what I was expecting as we drove up an unmade track deeper into the forest. However, a logging camp wasn’t expected. The idea of chopping down trees, didn’t seem to fit in with preserving bear habitat. Friends in the Town Hall gets you a licence1
We were advised to walk in silence towards the hide and settled in to wait. The ranger put some food in various tree trunks. Bears don’t like red focussing lights on the front of camera apparently.... you have been warned. We waited. We waited some more. Nothing! A buzzard appeared and helped himself, but sat at the very edge of the clearing out of decent range of camera lenses. This was not a zoo.
A young bear eventually appeared. He was clearly not seeking publicity and had left it so close to dusk, most attempts to get a decent photograph were in vain. The skills required for a free feed had been well practised, as the bears showed great aplomb in turning logs and opening components where the treasure lay. In the course of the next hour or so, a total
of 6 bears came into view. The show was stolen by 1 of the younger bears who patrolled round the circuit of food caches a couple of times ......... just to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. In the absence of photos, it was another you had to be there moment.
The next day, we headed to Viscri ........ home of royalty. Charles and Camilla, no less. The last few kilometres of road is left unsealed to preserve the integrity of the village, which is now a UNESCO heritage site. Charlie bought a house here in 2006 with a view of renovating it to preserve the village and it’s way of life. Whilst not in the same league as Bran for the tourist invasion, there was clearly plenty of arrivals. The Huntsman was in his element with Viscri being an old Saxon settlement. The population was now largely Roma, as the former inhabitants had left prior to World War 2 and those that remained were seemingly encouraged to depart by the Communist authorities once they gained power.
The focal point of the village is the 13
th century fortified church, which is one of the best preserved examples. An
old lady of the original Saxon population was on hand to greet all comers to the church, which offers fabulous views over the village and surrounding areas from it’s tower and walls. A small museum in the wall showcases all things Saxon.
The houses in the village are largely restored with pastel coloured walls and high entrance gates to protect the courtyards within. There are no gas pipes here for the locals to sit on. The attempt to cash in on the tourist trade is much in evidence with knitted hats and woollen socks adorning many walls. An entrepreneur had seen the gap in market created by the long drop toilet and was making a relative small fortune with the 1 Lei honesty fee. A few horse and carts plied their trade. The dogs slept peacefully in the midday sun.
After the tour of the Church, we lunched in a typical Transylvanian restaurant. The captive market could have been an excuse for a poor standard, but one thing it seems that is not on the menu in Transylvania is a poor soup. Lamb goulash followed. There were also refreshments on the table. Water. Wine. Schnapps. The wine resembled
Vulcan
Spock was not at home red diesel. Undeterred and trained on family homebrew, Bashful got stuck in. Happy headed for the schnapps.
There would be time to walk it off in the afternoon. We wandered past the Church and out into the meadows above the village. A stray dog joined us. Snoop Dog. He proved his worth by flushing out a deer from the adjacent scrub. We chanced upon a group of Kiwis, who had been in the “typical” restaurant. They were indulging in the horse and cart activity. We were heading towards a mine. Puzzled looks all round. There were even more when we arrived at a home grown enterprise producing charcoal. An old couple greeted us from the table outside their old caravan. Retro, in other worlds. Their dog played with Snoop Dog. After a brief guide to the process, we were none the wiser as to why anyone would travel 2 hours from their home to live in an old Roma caravan for 6 months of the year to carve out a living in a clearing. The guy seemed proud that he was only 64. He proudly showed some snaps of yesteryear and his brush with British royalty. The couple seemed
Viscri
Imre the Charcoal Man ........ only 64 years old! happy. Perhaps the daily intake of schnapps was responsible.
We walked back to the village. Snoop Dog was rewarded with an unwanted sandwich.
We’d seen a rather attractive old Castle en route at Rupea. The Hunstman was disinterested in the fairytale looking structure, on the pretext that it was not open. It looked like a good photograph in the making. The Hunstman’s focus was buffalo. He’s stopped at the dairy to get some freebie mozzarella in the morning and the opportunity to see the herd was driving him the rest of the day. We therefore took a detour on the return to break all the rules to enter the milking parlour with our range of muddy boots. The calves were cute though.
We were late back to Villa Hermani for another birthday bash. A lot of candles were in evidence for Dopey. Party time. We even had 90’s music playing on the system in the corner, before the German dad came in and turned it off!
Advertisement
Tot: 0.075s; Tpl: 0.014s; cc: 11; qc: 28; dbt: 0.0322s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.1mb
