A Week on the Road, Part Two

For the sake of easier reading, I'm going to break up the second half of the trip into 3 separate posts, one for each subsequent day. So, here we go again...

Wednesday, February 7th

I woke up around 9am. Julie fixed oatmeal and coffee for breakfast. Again, what hospitality the weary traveler receives! After breakfast, Dani came by and we all walked through town on our way to the Sighet Memorial. I was struck by Sighet's religious diversity given its relatively small size (about 45,000). The town has many churches of different denominations: Romanian Orthodox, Ukrainian Orthodox, Jewish, Roman Catholic (Hungarian), Greek Catholic (Uniate), etc. The old center of town contains a lot of Austro-Hungarian architecture, interspersed with a few communist relics.

The Sighet Memorial is a museum located inside of a former prison and turned out to be more impressive than I had imagined or expected it to be. Surprisingly (after all, it was once an actual prison), it is located right in the center of town. Officially, it is a memorial to the victims of communism not just in Romania, but throughout Central and Eastern Europe as a whole. The exhibits reside in what were once prison cells. You must walk in and out of the cells as you make your way through the museum, an effective technique in creating a solemn atmosphere. You can't help but be constantly reminded that you're in a former prison. Sighet was an especially notorious prison that housed "High Value" inmates such as pre-WWII politicians, intellectuals and other individuals of influence that were opposed to the communist regime. Two of Romania's most important pre-war leaders died in their cells at Sighet, Iuliu Maniu and Gheorghe Bratianu.

Back in '05, a student at Hogas told me about the Memorial and since then I had always wanted to visit it. I've read extensively about Romania's communist past and the visit was a rewarding experience for me, especially because I was able to share it with Dani. He's 28 and although he was a boy at the time, he remembers the final years of communism quite clearly, especially the events of December '89. His father was, and still professes to be, a communist. As we walked through the museum it was interesting to hear his opinions and perspectives and to observe him, as a Romanian, digesting the exhibits. One thing that struck me was how many times he said, as we walked through, "I didn't know this" or "Nobody ever taught us about this". Such ignorance is pervasive in Romanian society and exists deliberately, due to shame, guilt, self-preservation, etc.

This is why the Sighet Memorial is a special and important place, an honest window into the past, backed by documentation and the will to preserve history, no matter how horrible it was. The biggest mistake the communists made was to document everything. They incriminated themselves. Thus, the existence of the Sighet Memorial justifies the actions of those who dissented against the regime and undeniably exposes the criminal actions of the period 1948-1989. I imagine that walking through the Memorial is quite cathartic to many generations of Romanians, those who are willing to confront the past, come to terms with it, and accept the truth. I'll surely visit again someday.

Upon returning, Julie fixed a nice lunch and we three spent the rest of the afternoon talking and watching a movie. Later on that evening we went to Casa Iurca, arguably the nicest restaurant and pensiune in town. It has a traditional, rustic decor and the woodwork, distinct to the Maramures region, is impressive. I had a ciorba (Romanian-style sour soup) with sausages and cabbage, a style distinct to the Maramures region. It was the first time I had had this kind of ciorba and I really enjoyed it. After the ciorba we came home, played cards and enjoyed a bottle of "Lacrima lui Ovidiu", or "Ovid's tear", a sweet wine aged in oak barrels for five years. We called it an evening around midnight.

Photo Highlights:

Welcome to Sighet, where signs like this come in handy.
Especially when you're...

...near the train station.
Yes indeed, that's the train station back there.

No, this is not the locomotive I came in on. Although that would've been pretty cool. Maybe I could have shoveled some coal into the engine burner?

The entrance to the Sighet Memorial. They've done an excellent job of modernizing the building, while still retaining the original architectural elements. That's the front door as it was when the place was an actual prison.

Great logo.
A combination of the E.U. stars and a circle of barbed wire.

Again, another view of the front of the building as seen from across the street.

The victims of communist terror.

Inside looking out towards the street from the ground floor. That window can be seen from the outside in the photo before the previous one.

Iuliu Maniu's cell.

A 1947 cover of Scanteia, the Romanian Workers' Party (PMR) newspaper and central political organ of the communists. Check out those three dudes at the table. Criminals.

The interrogation room. A box within a cell.
"Confessions" were solicited here.

An exhibit room dedicated to the victims of agricultural collectivization. It is estimated that over 80,000 Romanians were imprisoned for opposing this policy, many of whom died while incarcerated. Others were summarily deported, sent to labor camps, or murdered.

A propaganda poster of the PMR. Translation - Top: "Long live the 1st of May, international day of solidarity for those that work." Bottom: "Long live the Romanian Workers' Party, avant-garde of the working class, the leading force of Democracy in Romania!" Right. Notice the dude on the right-hand side of the poster.
It's a Stalin look-alike dressed in a Romanian peasant outfit.

A view from the top floor.

Ahh yes, here he is in all his glory, flanked at the top by the Roman Emperor Trajan on the left and the Dacian King Decebal on the right. Of course, he's benevolent, loves children and is always surrounded by doves of peace. What would Romania have done without the one and only Nicolae Ceausescu?

Nicu and Elena. Profess your undying gratitude and love to them.
Do it now!

A shot from one of his megalomaniacal cult of personality rallies, a souvenir from his early 70's trip to North Korea. I've talked to people who had to participate in such charades as children.

I love this shot. 1956. Budapest during the Hungarian Anti-Communist Revolution.
Stalin being used as a pisser (W.C.). Awesome.

Me in the back courtyard of the prison. Behind me is the barb-wired wall and a guard tower. To my left (your right) is a wall with victims' names engraved in it.

A view of the wall and prison from the inner courtyard.

A sculpture dedicated to the victims.

Dani and Julie enjoying lunch.

Ciorba de varza acra cu carnati de casa (Romanian sour soup with cabbage and homemade sausages). Tasty.

A Week on the Road, Part One

I was on winter break a few weeks back and decided to hit the road. My travels took me to Zalau, a city in northwest Transylvania and then on to Sighet, the northernmost city in Romania. Sighet, located in the region known as Maramures, straddles the border with Ukraine. I managed to hop across the border and spent an interesting afternoon in Solotvyna, Ukraine before heading back home. The following is my travel journal, accompanied by some photographs and video clips. I’m going to present this journal in two parts. Part One is Saturday, February 3^rd through Tuesday, February 6^th. Part Two will be Wednesday, February 7^th through Friday, February 9^th. Enjoy.

Saturday, February 3rd

I left Codlea around 8am and waddled over the ice to the Brasov maxi-taxi. I waited in the cold for about an hour at the Brasov train station with the pigeons. There were some shady characters there that morning, a lot of Gypsies and guys who looked like they had spent all night in the bar playing slot machines.

I took the 5 hr. 15 min trip to Cluj on the Accelerat train. Of course, the compartment was burning hot and all the while there was a snowstorm outside. Romanian trains are “temperature control challenged”. In fact, all of Romania is this way. Anyway, the route went north out of Brasov through Covasna County, an ethnically Hungarian area. Outside the bathroom window, I heard Hungarian being spoken while we were stopped at a little village station about an hour down the road, Cristian. It’s nice scenery on the route up through Sighisoara and on to Cluj- rolling hills, little Hungarian villages, forests, etc.

Got off at the Cluj train station and found a maxi-taxi to Zalau. Shitty weather. Really wet snow, fog, etc. We took the route northeast out of Cluj into Salaj County. Again, nice rolling hills, tidy little villages and a modern road as well! We descended through the fog into the valley where Zalau sits. I got off right in front of Puck's bloc. Emily, Jaime and Danielle were already there. We went out for pizza with about 10 vols, most of whom were from my group. We went to Allan and Autumn's place after that for a party with about 20 volunteers and a few Romanians. I played Euchre all night and went 3-1. Not bad, but I had to withstand a loss in game four to a guy from the new group who was being pretty obnoxious. I beat him once before though. Whatever. Drank some of Allan's home-brew apple wine. Not bad actually, though my standards have dropped during my time here. I admire his effort. Headed back to Puck's around 3am.

Super Bowl Sunday, February 4th.

I emerged from my sleeping bag around 9:30am after a fitful (and cold) night's sleep on my camping pad. We were all treated to some coffee and ham, egg and cheese sandwiches from Puck. He's got a really nice place and the kitchen is big, sunny and fully equipped. Linda, Puck, Emily, Danielle, Jamie and I all ate breakfast together and chatted. It was enjoyable. Jamie, Danielle and Emily headed back to Petrosani around 1pm. I jumped in the shower. The hot water was a godsend. I was exhausted at that point, which was good because Puck and I popped a couple of sleeping pills around 4pm and set the alarm for 10pm. We got up, brewed some coffee, started cooking and at 1:00am it was on!

As you can imagine, it was an emotional, up and down early morning. We had homemade taco dip, nachos and Heinekens to go with our live stream Internet broadcast from CBS. I was pumped and, after Hester's kick return, I thought that it was really going to happen. Alas, my dreams were shattered. I’ve got to give it up to the Colts though. They’ve got a classy coach, a great QB and a team that hustles. They deserve a championship. The Bears still need to plug some holes. I went to sleep at 5:15am disappointed, but not defeated. What a thrill it was to just be able to watch the game here in Romania!

Monday, February 5th

Got up at 10:30am. Puck was streaming ESPN on the laptop, so I spent my morning listening to how great Peyton Manning is and how much Rex Grossman sucks. In the Super Bowl, the winning QB always gets way too much glory and the loser simply gets dogged no matter what his performance or the outcome. However, Rexy deserved what he got. He was pretty awful when he just needed to be average. I ate more taco dip on top of scrambled eggs for breakfast. Mmm.

Puck took me on a walking tour of Zalau. It's the seat of Salaj County, a nice, relatively clean city of about 70,000, although nothing to write home about really. Highlights included: 1) the history museum with some Roman artifacts in the courtyard. It was closed. Bummer. 2) two public recreation projects created by past PC RO Vols: A park with swings, slides, etc. for kids and a mini-golf course made out of concrete and Astroturf; one useful, one not so useful. You be the judge. 3) A Romanian Orthodox church with, supposedly, the largest fresco of Jesus in Eastern Europe. I'm not sure if I buy this claim, but the interior of the church was stunning nonetheless.

That evening we went to Puck's favorite restaurant, Pizza King. It's a Hungarian-owned joint that he claims is one of the best places he's ever been to in all of Romania. However, he's concerned that they might not be able to stay in business because Romanians don't go there. Why? Because it's Ethnic-Hungarian owned of course. Good reason, right? No matter that it’s the best restaurant in town. Romanians boggle my mind with their unbridled, narrow-minded prejudice against Hungarians. They're lucky to have the Hungarian minority, a people that brought Western values and ideas to Romania. Alright, enough. I'll save that lecture for another day.

Pizza King was okay. I didn't eat pizza. I had some Greek chicken and potatoes. The next day was a travel day. I had another long road ahead of me. I had to prepare to go back to Cluj via maxi-taxi and get on the train to Sighet. The train was a "Personal" train, so I mentally geared up for the 6 hour, 28-stop trip from Cluj to Sighet. I hoped that I would be able to find a compartment with heat. More often than not the Personal trains are a nightmare, a real third-world travel experience.

Tuesday, February 6th

I slept like a rock. My first good sleep in 3 nights. I awoke around 9am to the smell of Puck baking peanut butter cookies for Julie. Like a big brother, he tries his best to take care of her, as he knows things are a bit rough for her in Sighet. I went down to the "Non-Stop" store at the bottom of Puck's bloc to buy some provisions for the trip up north.

I found a couple of decent apples and began to collect some stuff to make sandwiches. Bread, check. Cheese, check. Then came the meat cooler. I asked the lady if she had anything healthier than salami. I never realized just how many different ways one could make salami until I came to Romania. Dumbfounded, she stared at me for a few seconds. She replied, "We've got bologna". Aha, of course, how could I have forgotten the health benefits of bologna? I passed and asked if she had something made from chicken. "We've got ham." I settled for the fatty ham lunchmeat. Gotta eat, right?

Puck went to work. I made my sandwiches, took a shower and got packed up. I watched Euro News and read a bit while I waited to leave. Puck came back during his lunch break to walk me to the edge of town, where the maxi-taxis wait to take people south to Cluj. I took one last look around his apartment and couldn't help but feel a hint of that loneliness I experienced during the first year here when I lived alone. I hadn't felt that way in a long time, a sad depressing feeling.

For the first time in my life I felt a bit carsick as the maxi-taxi sped its way up, down and through the switchbacks on the way out of Salaj County towards Cluj. We were stopped twice by the highway police before we got to Cluj. I'm not exactly sure why, but each time the officer checked the passenger manifest (only the second one I had ever seen in almost two years) and various documents that the driver was carrying. Of course, the driver received a stamp of some kind and we went on our way. Romanians are obsessed with ink stamps. Nothing is legit without the "stampile". Anyway, the whole process is probably some EU thing, an effort to regulate multi-passenger transport, ensure that safety standards are being met, taxes are being paid, etc. This is a good thing, no matter how inefficient they go about it during the beginning stages. We were stopped twice over a distance of 80km. Once would have sufficed.

I arrived at the Cluj train station around 2:45pm and bought my ticket to Sighet. The price was about the equivalent of $7.50. Cluj is a cosmopolitan city, but its train station leaves something to be desired. A perpetual construction zone, it lacked a warm place to sit and wait. I had to walk outside and about 100 yards away to the small adjacent station in order to use a filthy toilet, for which I was charged 1RON, or about $.40.

I boarded “Personal” train #4110 bound for Sighet. To my surprise, I found a heated compartment that was relatively clean and only occupied by one other person. A six-hour, 28-stop journey lie ahead, out of Transylvania, through the Rodna Mountains and into the heart of Maramures.

Initially we had heat, but no electricity. We lost the heat about 3 hours into the journey, just when the temperature started to drop as evening set in and we gained altitude. However, the company of my fellow passenger, a 30-year old man from a small village outside of Sighet, as well as the scenery (albeit in the dark) kept me occupied, my mind off of the fact that we had neither electricity nor heat in our train car. We conversed for hours while we crept along, looking down on snow-swept villages tucked into forested valleys. I felt like I was on “The Polar Express” as we inched our way north through the snowy night. I hope to travel this route again one day during daylight hours and in the summertime in order to truly appreciate the scenery. Maramures is unique in its rustic, traditional appearance and culture, a time warp back 100 years or so.

Near the end of the journey we stopped near the Ukrainian border to change locomotives. My friend invited me outside to “stand on the ground in Maramures for the first time” while he had a cigarette. I stepped down into the snow and the first thing I noticed was the sign on the little train station building. It was in Romanian and Ukrainian (Cyrillic). Only then did it hit me where I was. We got back on. The train went backwards for a bit and then turned onto a route straddling the Tisza River, the only thing separating us from the former Soviet Union. “Look across the Tisza. Those are Ukrainian villages”, my friend said. We were so close, probably less than 300 feet away. Amazing.

We said our goodbyes and he got off at his village. Ten minutes later, around 9:30pm, I was hanging out the door of the train car as we pulled into the Sighet station. Julie and her boyfriend Dani, a Romanian English teacher, picked me up and we took a taxi to Julie’s bloc. Before Dani continued home, we resolved to meet in the morning and go to the Sighet Memorial, as he had never been. Julie had lasagna waiting and fed me well after that long trip. We stayed up talking until 1:00am.

Photo Highlights...

Romania's #1 Bears Fan. Bear down baby. Bear Down.



Super Bowl Spread. Yes, I'll have a Heineken.
Yes, that really is Tabasco Sauce.



A view of beautiful Zalau from Puck's balcony.
He lives in the nice part of town with the Hungarians.



Once upon a time there was a Roman outpost nearby called Porolissum, the northernmost limit of Roman Dacia. I didn't make it to the site, located about 12km outside of town, so I had to settle for some stones in the courtyard of the history museum.

PC RO and The Zalau City Hall proudly present...



A playground! Fun for the whole family. And we mustn't forget...



Uncle Sam's Mini-Golf.
Yes, that is really the name of this stellar facility.
Development work at its finest I tell you.
Lovely scenery, no?
I dare you to try to find a more challenging round of mini-golf in Romania.
I double dare you.



Bloc-land, Zalau style.



This monstrosity of a Romanian Orthodox Church (yet to be finished, as you can see) supposedly contains the largest fresco of Jesus in Eastern Europe.



There he is, floating above us in all his majesty. It's kind of hard to effect scale with this photo, but that chandelier is indeed gargantuan. Now, given Romanians' penchant for b*llsh*t, I can't say with confidence that this particular fresco of Jesus is indeed the largest in Eastern Europe. However, at any rate, it's pretty damn big. You have my word on that.

Stay tuned for A Week on the Road, Part Two. Coming soon to a Fenblog near you...

Iron Curtain Autos

Inspired by our friend the One Man Invasion's recent blog post "Death for Dacia", I decided to dedicate this post to all of the wonderful communist cars I've seen during my travels, both inside and outside of Romania. While trips in the near future will no doubt yield plenty more shots of these mean machines, I figured I'd give you a look at some pre-1989 rides from the Eastern bloc. After reading the Invasion's post, it seems to me that the E.U. may put a damper on one of my dreams.

You see, I have a vision to one day create a television program that would be the equivalent of MTV's "Pimp My Ride", but by only using automobiles produced in former communist European nations during the cold war era. Anything made before 1948 and after 1989 is a no go. East Germans would go crazy for Trabants with hydraulics. Czechs couldn't resist an old dropped down Skoda with ground effects. The Russians would be inspired to trick out their Ladas. And, of course, how could any Romanian resist the temptation to Pimp Their Dacia? Imagine the possibilities. Central and Eastern European Television producers, just call me.

A late 1960's Dacia 1100. You don't see too many of these babies around so much anymore.
A gem to be treasured.

An early 1970's Russian Lada. I prefer them in Racing Yellow myself.

A GAZ-24 Volga from Russia. This sexy thang was workin' the streets of Solotvyna, Ukraine when I spotted her. Check out that rear hubcap.

A late 80's Dacia 1410. On fire I say. On fire. Steel roof rack optional.

One of my favorites. The Trabant sedan from East Germany. The DDR had it goin' on back when these cuties were rolling the streets.
I want one.

A very classy Skoda from the former Czechoslovakia. Skoda is still around and they make quality autos for the European market.
I prefer this blue beauty myself though.

An Aro 4x4 from Romania. Most Aros are big 4-door models and are much bigger than this one. You don't see too many of these 2-doors on the streets.

An early 80's Dacia 1300. Loyal readers have seen this honey before.
Bringin' Sexy Back.

My first ride in a Dacia was in this very car. Victor's old 1984 Dacia 1310. "Auto Turism" at its finest. One for the ages. Please excuse me, I think I'm getting verclempt...

Another Trabant, this time in the family station wagon version. You just had better hope that your family's not so big. I see her everyday on my way to school. You can call her "Trabi".

Last, but surely not least, another vehicle on Romania's
"Endangered Vehices" list.
Mama Caruta. Her days are certainly numbered.

Hiding from "the Man"

Hello and welcome to the new, improved and (somewhat) undercover Fenblog. Why a new URL you may ask? Well, check out the message that we received from the "Home Office" in Bucharest today:


EMA Policy on Blogs and Websites. The EMA region has announced a new regional policy on blogs and websites. The key features of the new policy are:

• Vols (sic) must provide the country director with the URL (address)
• Vols (sic) must discuss the nature and content of their blog with CD
• CD will encourage Vols (sic) to require a password for access to blog

(CD does not have to be given password)

• CD/Program/CDU staff must monitor blogs regularly, (at least 3 times per month); position descriptions will be modified to include these responsibilities.

This policy has gone into effect, so Volunteers must adhere to it immediately.


Sorry, but I just can't do this. I could go on and on as to the reasons why, but I think that you, loyal reader, could manage a guess as to why. I protest this policy out of principal. So, I'm "in hiding" right now, hoping that Big Brother doesn't find me. If they do, I'll have to put the blog on hiatus until I finish. After that, I can open 'er back up without any potential repercussions.

All of of this is sad really. I find it to be supremely ironic that I am here in Romania (a country victimized for 40 years by a brutal domestic communist spy system), supposedly representing ideals that fundamentally go against this policy that is being implemented. I was encouraged to teach '1984' to my students last year and did so. I was then congratulated for successfully accomplishing this task. Something is seriously wrong with the picture here folks.

Washington does not want people, especially applicants and/or nominees, to know the realities of our lives around the world as we endure the hardships that come with working in developing nations. Simply put, somebody's trying to cover their ass and is willing to go to such unlawful lengths to do so. Technology is ruining their game.

I didn't want to believe it before, but we all (my colleagues around the world and I) truly are tools of American foreign policy. Contrary to what they want the public to believe, our lives are not all roses, far from it. I, for one, am not going to pretend that it is anything but what it it truly is. After all, doesn't the American taxpayer have the right to know what's going on with us? They foot the bill don't they? Don't I have the right to express myself freely and without consequence? It all stinks to high heaven.

As a result of my professional experience, I have the good fortune of knowing many people in the legal realm. Some at big firms, some work for the govt. and some are in academia. All are at the top of their respective fields. Here's a little excerpt from an e-mail I received from someone close to me, who happened to speak with a law professor and former general counsel for the organization I currently work for:

"he said that in his opinion such a policy is a prior restraint and is therefore unconstitutional. I won't get into what prior restraints are, but let me just say that courts are VERY opposed to them. He says that what they should do is simply nothing, and if their attention is ever brought to a truly inappropriate blog, that Vol (sic) should just be fired. His example of an inappropriate blog is if the blogger was making invective, outrageous, hotheaded accusations against the host government".

Clearly this is something I've never done. Nor have I ever read anything of the sort on a colleague's blog.

So, Big Brother, if you've read this beware. You may be playing with fire.

Stay tuned for the next post, a travel journal from my winter break...

Haiku Journal (22/01 - 28/01)

Monday, January 22, 2007

No school today
Tired from road and of them
Must use time for me.

Indoctrinated
Your denial is telling
What is in your past?

Wednesday, January 24, 2007

They say they love me
The teacher said I was right
It's hard to believe

The Rasnov Medieval Fortress

Last weekend, Ica, Victor and I took a little trip down the road (about 10 miles) to the town of Rasnov. Perched high above Rasnov is a 14th century Saxon fortress. Rasnov was originally called "Rosenauer" by its ethnic German settlers and inhabitants. The fortress was left to decay for many years until an Italian business man came along recently and bought it. It is undergoing renovation, the most recent of which are lights that illuminate the fortress. At night, one can see it from the road when driving from Codlea to Brasov.

The fortress is developing into a unique tourist destination and, in my humble opinion, is much more interesting than Bran Castle. A little town, or "burg", used to exist inside the wall of the fortress and its Saxon residents defended the area against Turkish, and sometimes Wallachian invaders. Invading armies had to get past Rasnov in order to get to Brasov when they came through the southern pass from the Wallachian plain. From what I know, they didn't have much success. This thing is one hell of a fortification. It would have been very difficult to lay siege to it.

Anyway, let's take a look shall we?

The view from the parking lot. It was a long, icy approach to the front door. I wonder how many Turks and Vlachs died trying to get inside?

Victor and Ica looking very Russian. It was chilly that day.

The path to get in. You can see the town down below in the background, backed by the plain. We live in an area called "Tara Barsei" or Barsa Land, which is a high plateau surrounded by various mountain ranges.

A view of Rasnov down below from the "front door". From the town, one can climb up a steep path of switchbacks to get to the fortress. However, we drove up the backside to get there.

A little info in English. The "feudal noblemen" were Vlachs from the south or, simply put, Romanians. Remember, this area was not officially part of Romania until after World War I.

Victor checking out some swords and battle axes. There's a museum inside the inner defense walls.

A suit of armor from the medieval era of battle. This one's a replica though.

Some 16th Century pistols. How about the one with the axe handle on it? Some insurance in case you couldn't load the gunpowder fast enough...

An old Romanian Orthodox Slavonic bible. Old Slavonic was (and I think still may be) the official language of the Orthodox church.

A view of the town and plain below from inside the inner defense wall. There are plenty of openings from which the defenders shot arrows, crossbows, harquebuses (big ass medieval guns), cannons, dropped hot tar, etc. Again, who in their right mind would try a frontal attack this thing?

Ica and Victor under the gate of one of the corner towers. I think that this tower was for observation and storage of arms.

Walking under the corner tower and out of the inner fortress into a large courtyard area that I think used to have a church in it, but I'm not sure. This area is exposed, but still located within the outer defense walls.

A view of the ruins inside the inner fortress. Up high is an observation point that gives a 360 degree panoramic view of the fortress and surrounding area.

A view looking south towards the foothills of the Bucegi Mountains from the high point of the inner fortress.

Another view from the panoramic high point, this time looking northeast down on the town and out towards the Barsa Plain.

Again from the panoramic high point. Here you can see the outer wall, buttressed by a gate and defense towers.


Click here for a video clip of the 360 view at the top:



An intimate look into medieval life in Southwestern Transylvania. Woe be the Turk who was captured. Ouch. Looks like the torture business was alive and well back in those days.









The guy down below dining amongst the field of impalees is none other than our hero Vlad "Dracul" Tepes. He liked to have company at dinner, preferably Turkish prisoners on stakes.

























I hope you enjoyed the tour. Visit the Rasnov fortress if you ever find yourself in the Brasov area. I highly recommend it.