Last European Entry

More photos soon I hope

The flight from Milan to Rome is an easy one. We dropped into Fuimico airport and I was happy for the airconditioning for another hot day in Rome. I had tried to make a hotel reservation and the Internet listed a couple of them. The most reasonably priced was the Trani Rooms, Address: VIA BUONARROTI 39, Rome - Fiumicino, 00185, Italy I reserved a room and double checked the room location via Google maps. Surprise! The hotel is smack dab in the center of Rome. I canceled.

I thought about the possibility of at least getting a good meal at a nearby Hilton. Staying there was never a plan- $200 to $300 per night for a single. I asked about the possibility of walking to the Hilton and found that the path parelleled the path to the train station. I walked into the hotel with my three bags­ ­- suitcase, guitar, and "man purse". They politely checked in my bags and gave me a receipt so I could eat unemcumbered.

The buffet was the recommended fare for an all you can eat Italian meal- 38 Euro. I got my money's worth. I also ordered a glass of wine, which turned out to be one of the best Marche wines that I had ever tasted. My waiter was from Marche and I told him of the wonderful family that we knew in San Benedetto.

I could hear a crowd gathering in the nearby lounge. The semifinal Mondiale between Germany and Spain was about to begin. I saw a free seat next to a couple watching the game preliminaries on the large TV screen. "Posso?" (May I?). I said. "Si, certo!" the man responded. He was a handsome bald middle age man, who looked quite a bit like Andre Agassi. She was thin, young, stylish and beautiful. He motioned toward the sportcaster on the screen and said that he knew the man and that he had designed those glasses he was wearing. He made a gesture to sign that the glasses that I was wearing were "mezzo"- half, middle of the road. He apologized, but said that was his business- designing eyeglasses. His girlfriend had just flown in frm Belarus. He guessed that I was some kind of international real estate wheeler dealer. I confessed that I was only "un instructor" or "un professor".

I was particularly partial to Spain. Two German gentlemen sat in front of me. When Spain scored their goal, the Italians in the room cheered. The two Germans turned around with a look of part surprise and part fear. Oblivious of history I supposed they were thinking "What did we ever do to them?"

Once the game was over, I collected my gear and walked back to the airport. A young Frenchman joined me on the way back saying that he thought that 200 Euros at the Hilton was a little steep. I agreed. I said that many people spent the night in the airport, and that I would help him find a place. We found a nice quiet and flat spot for him to crash. I proceeded to walk around for a little while, then found a free rack of seats in a quiet corner.

I rose at about 4 AM for my 6 AM flight to Lisbon. Lisbon airport was as I remembered it, clean and bustling. I purchased a nice bottle of port and waited for the plane. Security was especially tight. Many people had to open their bags. There was serious questioning and body searches. Three young men carried only a few plastic bags as luggage. The guards found rocks. I assumed from some hiking trip. All the bags were confiscated. The flight to Newark was very pleasant; after that, another story.

One Night in Milan

Link to photos of Milan



I love Milan- big wide streets, giant flats, the gorgeous Duomo, but especially the Navigli neighborhood. I stumbled on this neighborhood about five years ago and have revisited it ever since. Apparently Milan used to be filled with canals but now there are only a couple and they are in Navigli. I quote the trip advisor. "There is only one neighborhood in Milan that is worth knowing by name and that is the Navigli."

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If you happen to go to Milan, just look on your city map a little south of the Duomo for a small Y shaped waterway. That is the place. I took the long way from my lovely little hostel for a dinner (unfortunately) alone. Restaurants line the canals and the best seats are taken or reserved. This was a Tuesday night and chairs were filled as if it were a weekend. Happy hour (really 6 PM till 11 PM) is a bargain. Restaurant put out mounds of free food, so all one has to do is buy a beer or glass of wine, then go back to the buffet as many times as the appetite demands.


Since I wasn't driving, I ordered a one liter glass of Lowenbrau, enough for a one man party. I helped myself 3 times to the buffet and took the shortcut back to my hostel. I returned early enough for a conversation with my Argentinian room mate. I set the clock for early rising. In the morning the hostel hostess was setting up breakfast. I told her that I could understand Italian if it was spoken slowly. She proceeded with a continuous stream of conversation of which I understood about half. I stumbled on the word "scorsa"which means last, as "last night" = "la notte scorsa". Perfectly common word but I had to admit: l'ho dimenticato. I forgot it.



At 8:30 AM I left the hostel, took the subway one stop to the North Train Station and hopped on the train to Malpenza, about ten miles outside the city. My next evening was to be spent at Fiumicino Airport in Rome.

Last of Bucharest

Here are many more photos of Bucharest
The wonderful Peasant Village with some photos of the Peasant Museum
More photos of the Peasant Village
Ceauşescu's Folly; House of the People, Romanian Parliament

The highlights of my trip have always been the people that I meet, rather than the places I see. I visited Ioan (pronounced "ee- WAN") at his clothing shop on Str. Lipscani. Lipscani is the central street in the old town district, lined with restaurants, shops and drinking establishments. I met his two employees and proceed to buy a couple of scarves. The his mother, dad and another relative came in. B oth his mom and dad are both handsome and sharp minded. They were were warm and friendly. The woman's clothing shop had a steady stream of customers. When things died down a bit, Ioan suwent suggested we go out for a beer. We went to the Brothel, a formal brother with riskee menus and apparently really used to be a brothel.

The next day I took a full day trek to both the Peasant Museum and the Peasant Village. Both are outstanding sights and I hope to devote more time to them in another blog. As I was walking through the Peasant Museum, it struck me that I had not eaten in 24 hours. From then on all I could think about was food. The neighborhood, upper end and green, devoid of eating establishments. The houses were embassies and former embassies, some past their prime but most absolutely in mint condition with manicured gardens. I moved close to the fence of house I found interesting. "Whoof, whoof, whoof..." Fortunately the guide dog was on the other side- and I got a good shot (camera) at him.

A little farther north is Piata Aviatorilor, Charles de Gaulle Circle and the other Arc de Triumph. Just at the corner a little Italian restaurant sat, Quartro Stagioni. It appeared to be taken over by a large wedding party. Nevertheless the hostess urged me in and gave me a seat. First I needed an obligatory two cups of espresso. Also I needed just enough food to assuage my hunger antepasto: marinated mixed seafood salad with a glass of white wine. Also I ordered a lovely traditional desert- (the name escapes me) whipped sweet egg whites with a light carmel sauce. The screaming little boys running around and chasing each other kept the place quite lively.


I will move on to the next day, early evening. I stopped by the clothing shop and Ioan wasn't there but his employee said she would be glad to call him, for he was out having a drink with some friends. O'Hara's she thought. I found it and and had a very friendly reception from Ioan, his girlfriend, Alexandra and Polly, another friend. They were all nice enough to speak English. The young women had just come back from a hiking trip, were very tired but also celebrating the end of their school year. They were all a bit, geekish- like me. I forget what Alexandra studies but she has a great interest in languages. She knows many things about word origins in many languages and was a natural teacher when it came to teaching me to pronounce a little Romanian correctly.



Polly studied programing. And although Ioan is going to graduates school in Linz, Austria, majoring in art- he has decided to specialize in designing adaptive technology for the handicapped. We were talking about computer things and I said that in my little town was one of the chief publishers of technology instructional books, O'Reilly and Associates. "O'Reilly?" Ioan says. And he laughs. He opens the bag on his lap and pulls out an O'Reilly book- Interactivity. "I had so much trouble getting this book." He says. "That's what you should do, help distribute O'Reilly in Romania. I know so many people who use these books. They are the best." I showed him the name of my town, Sebastopol, on the inside and told him I would look into it.
It was my last night in Bucharest. It was a sweet ending with some very nice people whom I felt that we somehow clicked. I suggested dinner, but Ioan, Polly and Alexandra were all tired. So we strolled off to our respective domiciles- mine very temporary.

Calderucani Monastery

I am typing this while riding on a small bus just outside the Calderucani Monastery. I got up early to catch the 7:30 AM bus from the Press Building bus stop. When I got there a bus driver pointed to me a #451 bus instead of a #452 bus as the Lonely Planet instructed. Fortunately I had a friendly bus driver who spoke a little English. He took me about 8 miles outside of town. It doesn't take long to get into the countryside outside Bucharest.

When we got to his final stop, he said to wait here of for 20 minutes and my bus would come. I thought he said bus #460, and I am grateful he was there with me when I hailed the bus. This new bus driver would not give me the time of day. Fortunately a few of the riders told me when my stop came. A long, straight, one kilometer road led to the monastary. The road was deserted except for a little yapping dog. As I walked further the loud high buzz of caicadas drowned out the once silent road.

The first sign that I saw was an icon of "NO PHOTOGRAPHS". Two bearded monks stood in front of the white walled gate and spoke to a man in a blue Dacia. I decided that I would walk around the vast white outside first. To the left I passed a small Orthodox cemetery. Surrupticously I snapped a photo. I came to the other side of the building and a view of the lake came in sight, but obstructed by trees. Another younger bearded monk came out from a white building near the lake. I said, "Do you speak English." Simply, "no" was all he said. I follows him to the front of the Monastary. The other two monks were still there and I asked if I could enter through the gates. They gestered me to go in more friendly than the other younger monk.

Two story white stucco walls with a series of porch arches on both floors surrounded the monastary. On the right hand side there appeared to be common rooms, refectory and other common living spaces. The satelitte dishes on the outside in the same corner seemed to reinforce my conjecture. On the right hand side on both floors were the rooms of the monks. One even had his laundry hung out to dry. At the center was a large church, or basilica (which is what Romanians call Orthodox Churches of any size.

Some think that I have noticed here is that the Orthodox churches are small and compact, not like the vast cathedrals of Europe. I walked inside this basilica, just behind that first young monk that I had "met". I stood in the back trying to be out of the way. I heard a snort and I think that I must have woken the grey bearded monk sitting behind me. I hadn't noticed him. A priest was saying Mass and I could hear the antiphonal singing of the a few monks responding to the priest's chanting- beautiful sound. The decorations were characteristicly Orthodox, dark varnished woods, multiple gold and painted icons all around the space. A series of regular, repeated icons in the front.

The first thing that struck me about the basilica were the classic Orthodox large mural of saints on the walls, drawn in muted browns and reds. The priest was in a gated chamber in the front. At one point to show the monstrance, he opened the gate and raised it. He wore a light blue vestment with a decorated white cross on both sides. I notice that several of the monks were with me in the rear part of the basilica. The structure of the interior had three chambers, the back where I stayed, the center where the monks chanted and the front where the priest, behind the gate, said mass. There were two large support columns in this back part of the church, a wide entrance to the next part. The two gigantic pillers on each side divided this anteroom into thirds. A set of small pews, maybe four on each side, attached themselves to the back wall. Each of the three rooms had its own set of decorative work. In the first anteroom was a large mural on the small dome. The singing monks in the second chamber were out of sight on the sides with pews perpendicular to the pews in the back. As I mentioned before the priest was in front just to the left.
Just after I walked out I admired the tan basilca building. I also suripticiously snapped a photo, probably not a very good photo. Despite the prohibitions on photography I took about four. Ironically I lost my camera case on the grounds of the monestary. I walked out of the monastary down the straight one kilometer road, past the buzzing cicaedas and the baking little dog. Soon the bus had come.

Despite the beauty of this quiet place, I felt like an invader. I had not come for prayer or a person seeking advice. I had come as a tourist. Had I made prior arrangement to meet with monks, perhaps stay a night or have a meal with them, it might have felt as if I belonged there more than I did. There were no sweeping beautiful views over the lake, no other tourists and real notice taken of a American tourist like me.

Sibiu

Photos of Sibiu
Photos of the Transylvania countryside and mountains
I must say something about the beautiful countryside of Romania first. Just north of Burcharest the land is flat and green. These are two lane roads almost the whole distance. There are really only 2 highways, one coming from Pitesti to Bucharest (which I took partially on my way back home and the the one to the Black Sea coastal city of Constanta. What strikes me most is the numbers of people out on the road. Some are walking, some are pulling carts with wood, some are just standing around talking.

The most surprising thing is the number of horses and wagons on the road. Drivers just pull around them. The wagons are of all types: simple open wagons carring wood, decorated wagons, and covered wagons. I watched a team of two horses pull a wagon on a mountain road up hill, followed by a semi tractor trailer only a foot or so away. The horses were booking as fast as they could. I've spoken to a couple of Romanians about this, especially one bus driver, who said that it is a real hazard on the road. Horses sometimes freak out or wagon drivers sometimes drive drunk. Ordinary cars and trucks just pass them when they can, but on narrow windy roads they can really back up traffic.


Just past Ploiesti, about 50 miles north of Bucharest, the hills become rolling and roads with more curves. Every few miles there is a village where drivers must slow down. I have been warned about the police speed traps here, just like in the U.S.. By the time I came to Slanic the hills are must taller. Soon in the distance one can see tall snow covered mountains. These are the "Alps" of Romania or the Bucegi Mountains, the highest in Romania. Still snow covered until June, there is slow road through the mountains that is only open for about four months of the year. For Romanians this is a big recreational area: skiing, hiking and biking especially.


The road to Brasov and into Transylvania follows this mountain range though smaller mountains and thick forests. I got out of the car at the top of one of these mountains to take a little stroll into the forest when multiple dive bombing flies started attacking me. My trek was cut short. Brasov sits in a beautiful valley between starkly rising mountains. It is a dramatic site from a distance. Although a large city Brasov is clean and industrious. Of the entry into this city as into most former Socialist eastern block countries is lined with massive rows of identical apartment houses.


The rolling hills to the west of Brasov follow the same Bucegi Mountains but on the other side. Again we see rolling hills, dotted by little towns along the way. Sibiu comes into view suddenly, a small sweet medieval town with a preserved wall, cobble stone streets and many cafes. Saxon Sibiu is west enough to be part of the old Austria Hungary empire and so feature foods such a goulash. According to Lonely Planet: "Founded on the site of the former Roman village of Cibinium, Sibiu (Herbenstadt to the Saxons, Nagyszeben to the Hungarians) has always been one of the leading cities of Transylvania.) During the peak of Saxon influence Sibiu has some 19 guilds, each representing a craft, within the sturdy city walls protected by 39 towers and four bastions. Under the Hapsburgs from 1703 to 1791 and again from 1849 to 1867, Sibiu served as the seat for the Austrian Governors of Transylvania.(169)



The Museum of Art certainly show contributions of several German and Austrian artists from the 17th and 18th century. Again it had many pieces of wonderful Romanian art especially from the 19th and early twentieth century.


My biggest adventure in Sibiu was to climb the Gothic Evangelical Church tower. I feel compelled whenever I see a tower to climb it, for it affords the best views of the city. Most old towers are spiral staircases which anyone can climb without fear. But the in this tower the spiral staircase ended about one third up, followed by open wooden stairs inside the large open square tower. I found myself a little frightened climbing up. But the views given the stout of heart were well worth the climb. Four tower rooms give a 360 degree view of the city.


By the time I climbed down the tower, it was time to head back to Bucharest, a four or five hour ride, I had been told. The road from Sibiu to Pitesti follows a river and a narrow mountain gorge- very beautiful the entire way. But also this is a road with many trucks and few passing lanes. The traffic builds behind the slow trucks, until finally relieved by the occasional double lane up hill.

By nine fifteen I was in Pitesti to catch the highway moving at 130 to 140 km./ hour. I magically found my way to the flat in Bucharest an hour early. I called the rent-a- car man and he was pleased not only with the condition of the car, but that I have given him more gasoline than he had in the beginning.

Transylvania

Ploiesti
Transylvania
Slanic
Brasov

I mentioned to Radu that I wanted to take a two day trip into Transylvania. He wrote up a very specific time table. Leave Bucharest at 7:30; 120 minutes to Simaia; 45 minutes from Simairi to Bran (9:30 to 11:30- home of the "Dracula's Castle" perhaps visited by Vlad the Impaler but once); In Bran eat lunch at Wolf Supermarket. One hour and fifteen minutes in Bran. Twenty five minutes from Bran to Brasov. Arrive at 3:30 before the closing of the Black Church. I actually arrived in Brasov at 5:30 PM after all the attractions had closed. (There is a little "c" hook under the s which gives the "c" an "sh" sound and the last letter sounds a little more like an "f" to me- so like Bra- shoff.) I am getting a little ahead of myself.

Because the rental car arrived late, 9:30 AM, I got a late start but the car deliverer (another Radu) dropped off the car and actually drove the card though the worst traffic in Bucharest. My first stop would be Ploiesti, wealthy city of oil refineries. I parked near the center and like most Romanians- half on the sidewalk. I was with just a few yards of the at museum. I have written little about Romanian art up to now and saving it for another blog. But I am simply crazy about Romanian painters, very loose, painterly style. They paint with thick liberal impasto. They paint with confidence. My friend Euwen, said, "Yes, they are different, because they never made any money when they paint."

One of the things that I love about going to place like Russia and Romania, is that I see works of art that I have never seen before. My favorite thing is to take photographs of the paintings and then study them later on. Unfortunately there is either a charge to photography or photography is banned. I paid 100 Lei (about $30) to photography in the Romanian National Gallery of Art and it was well worth it. But it also cost 100 Lei to photograph in this little museum. I was tempted. There were some really beautiful pieces by Ion Tuculesu (1910- 1962), Francisc Sirato (1877- 1953), Conelu Baba (1906- 1998 Jean Alsteriadi, Nicolae Darascu (1883- 1995), Iosif Iser (1881- 1958), Stefan Dimitrescu (1886- 1933), Nicolae Tonitza (1886- 1940), Nicolae Grigorescu, Stefan Popescu, Ipolit Strambu and Gheorghe Petrascu (1872- 1948).

I specifically asked in my best Romanian "Unde este..." OK, my Romanian is not so hot. And I did not realize that I had such a good map of Ploiesti in my Lonely Planet guide. But two people pointed in the exact opposite direction. I wanted to see the Muzeul de Istorie si Arheologie (get it?). The Clock Museum was really not on my list. And I would have loved the open market but directions gave a place somewhere off the main drive and I was on a mission, to get to Brasov before 5 PM.


I knew that the next place I was headed for was a city beginning with the letter "S". I saw a sign for Slanic and it sounded familiar, so I follow those signs. The city that I was really looking for was Sinaia. What I missed was Peles (hear "Palesh")Castle, a palace, with great turrets and grand halls- recently begun in 1875 and completed in 1914, in time for World War I. Quite pituresque I have heard.

Where I ended up, and I am glad that I did was in the town of Slanic. I had mentioned this place to Radu. He was afraid that I would probably get lost, but it wasn't really very difficult finding it- the largest underground salt mine in the world. The elevator down is the original 1945 elevator that brought the miners down- small, rickety, noisey and shaking the whole 10 stories down. I thought the cavern was manificent- despite it being man-made. It reminded me of large cathedrals with vast arched ceilings. The 23 Celcius temperature mixed with the salt air was to have salutary effects. Dotting he underground-scape playgrounds, benches, swings, venders, and various kinds of salt sculptures. I went on a photo-taking mania trying to capture something that caught the massiveness of the mine. (One other thing- This public tourist attraction had possibly the nastiest toilets I had ever seen in my life. I will spare you the description.)

(More later)

First Days in Bucharest

Photos from the first day in Bucharest
I must write these things down before I forget. Radu, my landlord, picked me up at the Bucharest Airport and gave me a tour of the city as we drove in from the north. The north of the city is full of large parks and lakes and an ideal place for bicycling. In the largest park on the right traveling south there is a series of peasant houses taken from all parts of Romania. Radu says, "So, if you don't get to Sibu, you can always come here and see the peasant houses" Just a little farther on the right is the peasant museum. Apparently on some weekends you can go in the back of the museum and taste different kinds of Romanian food, or look at certain kinds of traditional crafts. Nearby are the streets with wealthy government bureacrats and embassies. Also we see the American Embassy, easy to notice with the giant American flag As we come down Calle Victorie we come to the Plata Victoriei, a network of streets feeding into the plaza and the dividing line between the north side and downtown.



Numerous building, statues and plaques now commemorate the 1989 Romanian Revolution. One of the largest building in Europe is now the parlaiment building, build by Nicolae Ceausescu, but only 80% finished when he was executed. It took ten years to get that far under communism. It took another ten years to finish the last 20% (under capitolism). Radu told me that he wanted to keep an eye on all of his employees.
The city is abuzz with construction, torn up streets and half built office buildings. It appears that half of the infrastructure is torn up, and it is an enormous city, with an enormous job. When Romanians ask me what I think of their city, I tell them that I love it. I say, "It reminds me of the city where I was born, Philadelphia. I also add that they used to call it "Filthy-delphia". There are more wild dogs here than there ever were in Philadelphia, but they are docile and quite a few only have three legs.

Close to where I am staying is the University District and Old Town. This section is a weave of several dozen streets, all closed to traffic with cafes and restaurants on both sides and awnings and seating in the middle of what used to be the street. There are several of the streets that have cobble stones, but most of them are norrow with board porches where dinners eat and sightseers stroll. But nearby these cafes I have also seen tremendous poverty.


I have already tried two of the restaurants and four of the dishes that Radu recommended. Sarmale- wonderful meat stuffed cabbage leaves, with polenta and sour cream. Ciorba de Burta is a smoked bean soup. I ate at Caru'Ce Bere. They advertise "probably the best food in town." A take off of a beer ad that I have seen used in other places. Caru'Ce Bere is large and beautiful beer hall type building, all in decorative woods with a Bavarian flavor. There was a great band there that night. A violinist and accoustic base player went though a steam of tunes, all done with passion and competence.


At Vatra I had Ciorba de Burta (Tripe soup), rich and delicious- lots of cream and butter in the soup along with the tripe. Then my main course was Tochitura, a delicious red sauced stew with several different kinds of meats, delicious. Last night I had some form of beef boilded on a bone, servered with polenta and delicious horseradish. I don't think that they have a word for vegitarian in Romanian.