Friday 6 November 2009

beerpires and wolves in romania







Back from a whirlwind weekend of bus-journeys and Dracula fettishing. To explain: we had the idea a while back to visit Translyvania, this idea merged with needing something to do on Halloween- and of course the two go together more perfectly than pumpkins in your window and we had organised a full-blown trip by Thursday. Full-blown as in, actually will blow people’s faces off by the effort it took to get there: 12 hours each way, and believe me, no matter how comfy the seats are it is impossible to sleep properly. As Katherine put it today- we need a holiday after the holiday.

So we went on the bus overnight and got into Translyvania sleep-deprived but slapped in the face by the cold wind from the surrounding mountains. Got to the lovely Rolling Stone hostel (with not one hint of a Keith Richards picture), got a place in the attic dorm and headed out to look around Brasov (one of the biggest towns in Trannyland). This consisted of wondering into a few graveyards, sussing out the most Halloween-inflicted bars for the evening, and climbing the hill to the watch-tower to get a stunning view over the town. I had to admit, crossing a wolf roaming through the town earlier in the day- (and I am sure it was a wolf as no wild dog would have a growl quite as scary), I was a little anxious that we would cross into some wolves and bears in the hills, but we were lucky enough to avoid them.

That night we started drinking at six in the first bar with pumpkin lanterns and American indie music, the next one which blurred into the first, the jazz bar with Jon Bon Jovi blaring out, and ending in a Jamaican Bar dedicated to the master Bob M. At this stage of course we were all completely out of it, it being about 5 hours after the first pint and little sleep, but after Katherine and I had made the eye at some Romanian boy dressed in archaic Priest wear he invited us all to a house party, and we would be losers to turn the offer down. So we followed the Priest to a dingy basement with one euro entrance fee. It was an exceptionally cool party with video projections and talented Dub DJs and I was so awed by the fact we had managed to enter such a place, in Romania, on Haloween, that we didn’t leave until about half-four. Of course by this point we were as half-dead as the vampires we were pretending to be, and beds were the only way forward.

The next day we were shoved out the hostel and went to Bran; the town containing the infamous castle of Vlad the Impaler- more commonly known as Dracula. The ride there was just as entertaining as the town itself. Driving through barren mountains, overtaking horses trundling gypsies in carts and being persuaded to enter the “Vampire Camping” site and “Wolf Supermarket” advertised on either side, it could not have fitted my conception of what Translyvania would look like more. Walking up to the castle was a sight- its looming gothic spikes and grey walls suited this particular weekend only, and the pathway up was littered with tack-shops selling ridiculous Dracula mugs, which I of course purchased. Inside wasn’t at all scary, and the poor translations of English were more laughable than moving- for example, Stoker died of the stroke. Being opulently Western we got taxis back to the hostel, and being not rich, we had to prepare ourselves for twelve disastrous hours on the coach.

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