Brasov, September 5 & 6, 2024

 It’s 11:03am, and our seatmate cracks a Heineken. We’re on the train from Bucharest to Brasov, rolling past dry forests and incredibly poor villages. Andra said during the tour that much of the country was poor due to communism, and the countryside hasn’t had the chance to recover in the ways the city has. We see a few goats, some cows, and very brown cornfields. At every turn, the unoiled car hinges sound like donkeys braying.

View from the train

A ticket-taker comes through and makes an announcement in Romanian and many people sigh. Jason and I look at each other, and Heineken asks if we understand. When we say we don’t, he kindly translates for us that apparently a train ahead caught fire, and it’s delaying other trains. We’ll have to pause for some time at a stop not far ahead. When we do, he points out the bathrooms, and tells us we have plenty of time to stretch or get a drink if we want one. “The conductor has left, and I do not think they will leave without him!” he jokes.

We chat with him and our other seatmate, an older gentleman, for a time. A woman comes over and asks us if she can change her phone at our table: her seat doesn’t have a charger. She leaves it with us while she wanders the platform, and this easy trust and camaraderie is so warming. To be honest, I got pretty jaded in Bucharest: the taxi drivers are crooked, every third shopkeeper tried to keep our change, cars didn’t slow even a little for people in the crosswalks, there are political ads for a leading far right politician everywhere. 

There are good things to see, though. 

• Red-tiled roofs poking out from treetops
• A field of purple crocuses
• Hay stacks with unusual stick braces that seem strangely sentient
• A spotted dog running alongside the train to bark
• A picture of the Virgin Mary in a shed

Brasov is much more our speed. We’re staying in a hotel that was built in the 1500s (Casa Wagner, if you want a recommendation), and it’s right on the historic square. Some rooms look out onto the bricked plaza or bell tower; ours looks out onto the peaks and pinnacles of other red-tiled roofs. We are on the third floor, all the way at the top and under the eaves. 

There’s time to catch an Uber and go to the town of Bran, where Bran’s Castle is. Romanians and nerds on the internet are quick to tell you that Bran Castle is only tangentially related to Dracula (the book/vampire) or Vlad III (aka Vlad Țepeş aka Vlad Dracul aka Vlad the Impaler). Bran Castle was built in 1377, but never home nor likely even host to Vlad III. (Some historians think he may have visited there, and possibly imprisoned there, but more recent scholarship seems to largely dispute both claims.) But since 1997, Bran Castle has marketed itself as “Dracula’s Castle,” and reaped the benefits of tourism. 

I guess this makes me a nerd on the internet.

In any case, the castle is cool. From the winding little town full of restaurants, hotels, and little fruit stalls, you walk up a cobblestone marketplace selling all kinds of tacky souvenirs. Once you cross over into the castle grounds, you can walk the park below the castle high up on a cliff, or you can buy a ticket and walk up up up the steep pathway to reach the castle. 

Fruit and garlic for sale in Bran

Incredible signage for the restaurant

Bran Castle

Famous knocker

Inside, the castle is a warren of white-walled rooms and historic furniture and clothing displays. There’s very little in the first part of the tour that talks about Vlad III or the Dracula connection. Then there’s a second, super hokey section that shares several creatures from Transylvanian and Romanian folklore. My favorite is a darkened room in which a dummy reposes in a field of fake flowers while a big screen tv plays a looping video of three moroaică (ghosts? lady vampires?) women dancing in white dresses. Their hair is very 1990s. 

Excellent signage 

The tower as seen through a window

Bran seen through a castle window

The signage called these women Iele or Lele, and said they are also known as The Beauties. They are seen on spring or summer nights, and float above the ground. Seeing them can foretell disaster