Forgotten treasures of Transylvania
|
Day one So here we are on an early summer morning, taking the train from Bucharest to the heart of Transylvania. Our destination: Cetatea de Balta. We change the train in Blaj and at some point around noon we arrive in Cetatea de Balta. The road to the castle passes through this beautiful village, locals watching us from their porches with unhidden curiosity. We notice their broad straw hats, a traditional garment in this region and also a practical one: they plough the fields all day long under the burning sun. Where the village ends, the castle begins to appear in the sight. Perched on a hill and surrounded by an orchard, the castle is like a jewel: small but beautiful, with the main body extended with four round towers, it has been recently restored and it's now used by the Jidvei wine company. Somehow we find it a pity that the castle is not a museum, but anyway, it's better like this than a ruin. We take a tour in the orchard, admiring the castle from all angles, this Transylvanian Renaissance monument with a history lost in the legend. First time mentioned in 1197, it was rebuilt in the second half of the 14th century and then countless times rebuilt and restored. |
 Cetatea de Balta (Courtesy Mr. Radu Cerghizan) |
|
After a short pick nick in the beautiful orchard we head for the railway station, after visiting the old village church.
A train trip to Tarnaveni - where we fill up our food supplies - and then a hitchhike, and we are in Iernut. Obviously, Iernut is a town, far bigger than Cetatea de Balta and definitely not so atmospheric. So we decide to visit fast the castle, which we do. The Iernut castle hosts now a school and it badly needs restoring (this was in 1996, I don't know what's the status now). Not as beautiful as Cetatea de Balta, it is however an interesting spot, also due to the sculpture workshop nearby. Looking on the map, we couldn't find a camping, so we decide to hitchhike our way out of Iernut. But as the evening falls, there are too few cars on the roads in this little town lost in the middle of the Transylvanian Heath and so, we have no option but to camp somewhere in the fields nearby the town. But looking once more on the map we notice Iernut has train connection to Cluj. So we rush to the station where - lucky us - we have a train to Cluj, where we arrive exactly at midnight. |
 Iernut (Courtesy Mr. Radu Cerghizan) |
|
In the train we met four French wandering through Europe. They were heading towards the painted monasteries of Bukovina.
Together we go towards the camping beautifully located on a hill in Cluj. But to our surprise, we are not allowed to camp and the bungalows are all taken. Just one year before we had camped there on two different occasions. We learn that there is a legal litigation between the camping owners and the people claiming back their land (where under the communist regime the camping was built). Since it's too late for another train trip and we are anyway too tired, the only option left is to camp next to the Somes River, almost in the center of the city. (Which reminds me the trip to Apuseni Mountains a year before when, after arriving in Oradea and learning there is no train to Bucharest until next morning, we slept under the stars on the Cris River shore. The funny incident then was that at a certain moment we heard some noises followed by whispers and we realized we had occupied the sleeping spots of some homeless. They didn't mind anyway, and even bid us a respectful "Good night".) A summer rain begins, but my tent was already "operational", so the seven of us find shelter in my 2-persons tent for a while. Exhausted, we remembered the long day behind us - starting at dawn from Bucharest, visiting two castles and taking who knows how many trains and cars, finally arriving in Cluj - and then we fell in a deep rewarding sleep. |
|
   Bontida (Courtesy Mr. Radu Cerghizan) |
Day two Unzipping the tent, we are struck by the beautiful summer sun of the new day. No time to waste: after a short visit through the city together with our French friends we split - they heading towards the painted monasteries and we taking the train to a legendary place called Bontida. Bontida - an unforgettable place, a small cozy village spread upon the green hills and fields under the blue summer sky. Among sunflowers and cornfields, people working them wearing again the typical straw hats - we take the narrow unpaved road to the castle. Once arrived, the landscape is heart breaking: the castle is only a ghost, a ruin of once a true Transylvanian Versailles, and among the weeds and the ruined walls we can hardly imagine how this place might have looked like. A shepherd watches his sheeps as they graze the grass and weeds of once the ceremony court of the castle, surrounded by Baroque semicircular archways. Here and there a Russian inscription reminding the Soviet occupation during the second world war. Very little is preserved - some sculptures remind the former glory of this place. The few standing buildings, barely having a roof, stay empty and await a better faith. (As I write this I know the good news: in 1999, the World Monuments Fund placed Bontida on the list of the 100 most endangered monuments. A restoration workshop was opened and craftsmen and architects from several countries are restoring the castle.) Hoping to see this place under better circumstances, we head back to the train station. While waiting for the train, we pick-nick beside the railroad. It's such a silent, relaxed atmosphere in Bontida that we find it hard to leave it. But our train is here, so we continue our trip towards Dej, where we arrive late in the evening. Another summer rain begins as we walk the road towards Manastirea, a village three kilometers away. When we guess the first houses of the village emerging in the dark night, we descend a slope and we find ourselves in a middle of a field that greets us with its delightful mint smell. We put up the tent fast and we go to sleep thinking about what remained of the Bontida castle. |
|
Day three The morning sun wakes us up early and for the first time we see the landscape of the spot where we camped: we are surrounded by a natural amphitheater, steep slopes encircling our mint field, and on the slopes local children watching us with curiosity. It's not hard to imagine that tourists are an unusual sight in this remote village. We pack the stuff and we enter the village, the castle being easy to locate in this small place. We notice immediately the restored tower, its sharp roof pointing towards the sky, like a church spire. But for the rest - again ruined walls, weeds in the court - and we can't stop thinking about the contrast between the rich cultural heritage and the lack of funds and interest to preserve it. An old primary school teacher kindly gives us some historic details and he welcomes us in the school building, where he proudly shows us several hand-written copybooks presenting the history and the culture of the place. We bid him farewell and we walk our way out of Manastirea and back to Dej where we take the train to Bistrita, the main town in a region where traditions mix with legends - the most well known being the one of Dracula. After visiting the beautiful medieval Sugalete street and the Gothic cathedral - reminders of the Saxon community who settled here so long ago - we take the local bus to Prundu Bargaului, a small village in the thickly forested Bargau Mountains. We then hitchhike to Piatra Fantanele, where the new fortress-looking hotel was supposedly built on the spot of the former Dracula castle. Some locals tell us there are some ruins nearby - apparently the real Dracula castle - but we don't find them. Maybe they are part of the legend. Anyway, we don't mind. We can now relax, surrounded by the beautiful lush mountains. We find a cheap but good place to stay at the locals and we explore the surroundings: we are at the border between two provinces - Transylvania and Moldova - and magnificent landscapes open up in all directions. After another rewarding day spent in the mountains, we hitchhike back to Bistrita where we catch the night train to Bucharest. Among the countless castles of Transylvania - many of which lie in ruins and others have improper usage - we managed to see four. And it was a very rewarding experience. |