ADEVARUL:
Transilvania - unul din cele mai frumoase locuri de pe planeta
Seful biroului de la Berlin al cotidianului american "Washington Post", Peter Finn, a publicat in pagina de turism a ziarului impresiile sale dupa o excursie in Transilvania. Jurnalistul de la "Washington Post" nu se sfieste sa declare ca, daca turistii straini vor putea face abstractie de imaginile care amintesc de mostenirea comunismului si daca vor accepta Transilvania asa cum este ea, atunci se vor bucura de o calatorie intr-unul din cele mai frumoase locuri de pe intreaga planeta.
Transilvania este tara in care s-a nascut mitul lui Dracula, locul unde vampirii apar amenintatori din citadele ascunse in ceata, cocotate pe munti sumbri, deasupra unor sate pastorale. Intr-adevar, exista putine locuri la fel de misterioase si fermecatoare in Europa. Mitul Dracula nu se putea naste in alta parte. Impreuna cu un prieten roman si o Dacie, parasim Bucurestiul. Pe drum, ne intampina carute cu cai apatici, femei imbracate in negru care par sa nu astepte pe nimeni si nimic sub bolta de vita de vie din fata caselor de tara, caini care tasnesc de nicaieri, fugind dupa noi ca dupa un vanat neasteptat. Pe marginea soselei, tarani si-au intins marfa la vedere: cosuri de rachita si, in pofida caldurii, pulovere groase, tricotate de mana. Deasupra noastra troneaza Carpatii, cu paduri dese, pesteri adanci, izvoare reci si limpezi, cu ursi, lupi, rasi, mistreti. Frumusetea peisajului este scoasa in evidenta si, in acelasi timp, stirbita de mostenirile comunismului. Blocuri anoste de locuinte si fabrici in paragina, in imediata apropiere a unor superbe orasele medievale. Daca insa reusiti sa faceti abstractie de toate acestea, va veti da seama ca va aflati intr-unul din cele mai frumoase locuri de pe intreaga planeta. In Transilvania, ca, de altfel, in intreaga Romanie, oamenii sunt deosebit de ospitalieri, insa, din pacate, industria turismului este subdezvoltata. Imediat dupa ce parasesti Bucurestiul, hotelurile, hanurile si restaurantele ofera doar un minim necesar, la preturi accesibile oricui. Pentru numai 20 de dolari pe zi, am locuit confortabil si m-am delectat cu paine de casa, branza proaspata, zmeura culeasa din padure si miere de la stupii din ograda - toate astea clatite cu o tuica grozava care iti arde gatlejul.
Acceptati Transilvania asa cum este si va va oferi o calatorie de neuitat prin mituri, istorie si trecerea dureroasa de la comunism la capitalism."
Washington Post
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/articles/A52330-2002Jun14.html
TRANSYLVANIA IS the land of the Dracula myth, where vampires are said to emerge from fog-enshrouded citadels set high in bleak mountains above pastoral villages.
And to a point, it's all true.
There are few places as raw or as charming as this anywhere in Europe. The brooding landscape is dotted with forbidding castles, monasteries and churches perched in a wild, mountainous terrain that swoops dramatically across northwestern Romania.
Dracula could have come from no other place.
In a Romanian-made Dacia car, a non-loaded version of a French Renault, a friend and I bounce along two-lane roads, kicking up summer dust as we leave the sprawling capital of Bucharest behind. We pass men inching along on horse-drawn wagons and black-frocked women standing in the shadows beneath vines cut to form arches running from gate to stoop of low-slung houses. Dogs emerge from nowhere to chase our wheels. Roadside merchants, beckoning us to stop as we cruise slowly by, sell hand-woven baskets and, despite the heat, handmade woolen sweaters.
Looming above us are the peaks of the southern Carpathian Mountains, a gorgeous vista featuring steep gorges, thick forest, deep caves, lush meadows and cold blue streams where bears, wolves, lynx and wild boar still find sanctuary.
The beauty is both heightened and scarred by the remnants of communism -- the cinder-block apartment buildings and broken factories that ring even the most exquisite medieval towns. But excise the careening traffic, litter and urban grit, and this becomes one of the most timeless places on the planet.
For centuries, Transylvania was a frontier territory where the Ottoman Turks and the West met and fought. And today, the legacy of its dueling, polyglot populations of Romanians, Hungarians, Saxons and Gypsies are evident in the area's festivals and customs, and in the castles and fortified churches that stud the landscape.
Transylvania, like all of Romania, is for the semi-adventurous. The people are extraordinarily welcoming, but the tourist industry is underdeveloped, and once you're out of Bucharest, hotels, guest houses and restaurants are basic -- sometimes bland, sometimes surprising, but always affordable. I've stayed in lovely $20 guest houses and feasted on homemade bread, cheese, raspberries and honey washed down with mouth-burning local brandies.
Accept the place as you find it, then, and Transylvania -- Latin for "land beyond the forest" -- offers an unforgettable trip through myth, history and the painful transition from communism to capitalism. There is much too much to see on one visit, so I recently concentrated on a triangle formed by the cities of Brasov and Sighisoara and the Fagaras Mountains, a circuit of about 250 miles on narrow, winding roads.
Historically, these were largely Saxon lands, so-called after German colonists who first moved here in the 12th century at the invitation of a Hungarian king. For centuries, they built architecturally stout communities that echoed the styles of their homeland. They continued to speak German and worshiped in Lutheran churches that were built to withstand invaders.
Now, however, there is a terrible sadness to the Saxon world. In the past 30 years, these communities have dwindled to almost nothing because of repatriation back to Germany. What remains is the imprint of centuries of colonization, architectural treasures devoid of their people.
In Brasov, Romania's second-largest city, the medieval ramparts that protected the old town of Teutonic homes are still standing. As we wander around the large downtown pedestrian area, crowded with shops and cafes, I feel as if I am in an old German city.
The heart of Brasov is the Piata Sfatului (Council Square), and it was here, according to legend, that the Pied Piper resurfaced with the children he had mesmerized in Hamelin, Germany. A 15th-century Council House in the middle of the square is now a museum that tells the story of the Saxon guilds that controlled the city and kept the Romanians in a neighborhood just to the southwest. To enter the central citadel, Romanians had to pay a toll.
The city's premier structure is the Black Church, just off the Piata Sfatului, and it is reputedly the largest gothic church between Istanbul and Vienna. Stained by fire, hence its name, the Lutheran church is unusually decorated with Islamic prayer rugs from Turkey. It also boasts an organ with 4,000 pipes that was built in Berlin in the 19th century.
We push on to Bran Castle, about 18 miles southwest of Brasov. Perched on a wooded bluff, the restored 14th-century castle has been re-branded as "Dracula's Castle," although it has only a very tentative connection with Vlad Tepes, the historical figure who inspired Bram Stoker's 1897 novel.
With its soaring turrets and secret passageways, Bran Castle is a visual feast, and if the local tourist industry needs the myth of Dracula to attract visitors, well, who cares? Dracula, in fact, has become a major selling tool for the Romanian tourist industry as it attempts to capitalize on its best-known, fictional citizen. Much of the Dracula industry in Romania is pure kitsch, but, for me at least, it is a minor distraction in a beautiful, neglected country that needs every dollar it can get.
After Bran, our next destination is the city of Sighisoara. The "jewel of Transylvania," it is an almost perfectly preserved 13th-century medieval citadel of narrow cobbled streets surrounded by thick defensive walls and towers. A covered wooden staircase, the Scholars' Stairs, rises to the fortress-like Church on the Hill with its rich frescoes.
From the top of the clock tower in the old town, one can look down on the red-tiled roofs above the sloping streets and imagine that nothing has changed in the 500 years since Saxon craftsmen and merchants wandered its lanes and witch trials and public executions were held on the Piata Cetati.
One of the real pleasures of traveling in Translyvania are the Saxon villages that lie along or just off the main roads. About 200 of these villages have old fortified churches originally designed to ward off invaders. And the most famous of these churches is in Biertan, just a short distance off the main road, west of Sighisoara.
Built in the late 13th century, the church sits on a hill surrounded by walls that are more than 35 feet high. Inside the church is an altar with 28 panels and a sacristy door with 19 locks. A local man tells us that one of the rooms in the church was for couples who wished to divorce and were locked up together for two weeks. (Whether that would encourage or discourage separation is left unclear.) Turn to anyone in Transylvania and they are happy to talk about their country's history, the telling leavened with an invitation to have a drink and spiced with some nationalist fervor.
Time is running out, and my friend and I must head back to Bucharest -- but this time we drive through the Fagaras Mountains, first by way of Sibiu, yet another impressive Saxon town. Fagaras is a typically crude piece of communist town planning dominated by a chemical factory. But the surrounding mountains with dozens of glacial lakes are spectacular and a favorite for toughened hikers.
On the Trans-Fagarasan Highway, we repeatedly stop to take in the view. My Romanian companion tells me that some of these slopes were once the exclusive preserve of former dictator Nicolae Ceausescu, who came to nearby Balea Lac to hunt black goat.
Times have changed. Ceausescu is dead, executed in the 1989 revolution. And now, if you come to Romania, you can stay in his old hunting lodge.
