A Whole Lot of History in One Day

We had no disco bass during the night, and instead woke to a beautiful sunrise over the mountains visible from our hotel room.  That view was FAR preferable to the loud red that dominated our room.  As was the case throughout our visit, the breakfast was excellent and hearty, but this hotel had a special table set aside with local specialties.  In particular, homemade liverwurst (in which I way overindulged), a special pate made with eggplants and peppers (in which Katherine may have overindulged), and several special local cheeses.  One, in particular, was very unique.  We tried it and loved it before we knew what it was, which was probably a good thing.  It was a sheep-milk based cheese, which had a unique flavor, as the grass in the region reportedly has it's own special taste.  On top of that, it is fermented and aged inside actual sheep stomachs.  Once set and ready to eat, the outer stomach is removed, resulting in an oval-ish shape for the chunk of cheese.  It was, luckily, outstanding cheese, but I'm glad we ate it before we knew exactly what we were tasting.

We started the day at the ASTRA outdoor ethnology museum, which was walking distance really from our hotel.  It is the largest outdoor museum in Europe and has traditional dwellings and structures from across Romania, which have been relocated to the museum grounds.  There are more than 400 structures across almost 250 acres, and the place is immense.  It was a good opportunity for us to get a glimpse into the varied cultures of the different areas of the country -- from the windmills of the Danube delta to the mountain huts of the high Carpathians.  It was an absolutely perfect, crisp and cool Fall-like morning and we really enjoyed our walk through the park, even if we only got to see a small slice.  

Traditional Gate at Entrance to ASTRA Park

Series of Windmills from Different Areas of the Country

Windmill from Danube Delta Region

I think we found our retirement cottage...

Many of the homes had traditional furnishings inside

Our large bus for only 16 of us

Back on the bus, we made the drive to the small city of Alba Iulia, which is famous for the Alba Carolina fortress at its center.  The ride was long enough that we got a good overview of the history we were about to see, as it spanned multiple centuries.  Alba Carolina began as a fortified outpost for the Romans in the 200's AD, became the seat of the Roman Catholic Church in the High Middle Ages, was then capital of Transylvania in the 16th and 17th centuries, before becoming center of the Eastern Orthodox Church in the 1700's.  There was also a short-lived peasant uprising in the late 1700's against Habsburg rule, which is commemorated with a memorial; Ceausescu often compared himself to the leaders of this rebellion, when he claimed to be standing up to both the East and West.  In 1918, it was the site of the unification of Transylvania into the new modern country of Romania.  A few years later, in 1922, it was the site of the coronation for King Ferdinand I and Queen Marie.  A church was built for the coronation, and we would later visit their castle at Bran -- known nowadays as Dracula's castle.

Countryside on the Way to Alba Iulia

All of these historical activities were concentrated within the star-shaped battlement that comprises Alba Carolina.  The outer walls and distinctive shape have survived all of these centuries, and even portions of the ancient Roman roads are still visible.  There are Catholic, Orthodox and Lutheran churches within the walls, which helped highlight both the history but also the religious coexistence which we'd see throughout our trip.  K and I had a wonderful lunch in a restaurant built into the outer fortification walls; my meal -- a layered crepe creation, baked in the oven, was truly memorable.

Crossing the Old Moat to Enter Alba Carolina Battlements

Inner Gate to Alba Carolina, with busts of King Ferdinand and Queen Marie

Orthodox Church Built for Coronation of Ferdinand and Marie in 1922

Interior of the Coronation Cathedral

King Ferdinand

View Back to the Outer Gate

Former military barracks where treaty unifying modern Romania was signed.

Remnants of the Roman Roads in the Forum

Gate on the far side, with monument to uprising against the Habsburgs

Attempts To Beautify Communist Housing Blocks

On the way back to Sibiu, we stopped at our first so-called fortified church, and also our first UNESCO world heritage site.  I lost count of how many such sites we would visit, but it easily exceeded half a dozen.  We learned that, by tradition, churches (particular Lutheran churches) were built on the highest ground of every settlement.  As the Ottoman Empire expanded, on top of regional squabbles as the Austro-Hungarian Empire solidified, the Romanians started to fortify their churches against invaders.  In addition to protecting the churches themselves, the new fortifications also became refuges for local townspeople, who would "simply" move into the structures during times of strife.  Invariably they were walled, with additional buildings inside to provide shelter, schools, storage for all the townspeople. They were essentially designed to allow life to continue relatively unchanged within the walls, when they were under threat.  The majority of the fortified churches we visited were from the Saxon people.  As such, they almost all had everything in the German-language.  The church we visited on this day was in the tiny village of Calnic, which had been a majority ethnic-German settlement until the early 1990's.  After the fall of communism, almost all the remaining villagers emigrated to newly unified Germany.  

Calnic Fortified Church

Inside the Walls

Interior of the Calnic Church

For dinner this evening, we participated in an optional local farmhouse dinner. It was in a small farming village about five miles outside of Sibiu.  We learned that a burgeoning business has sprouted up for farmers to open their homes to "city dwellers" who want to get a taste of country life.  They pay to spend time living with or in the farmers' homes, and then help with farm work or chores -- and pay for that "privilege."  We saw a similar thing while we lived in Austria, and it seems to have really taken root in Romania.  With so many families forcibly relocated to cities under Ceausescu, there seems to be a yearning -- particularly among younger families -- to "get back to their roots."  Anyway, we rode to this small town, where a local family met us with horse-drawn carts, which carried us into the village.  We were met with a traditional welcome of bread and salt, as well as homemade Palinka (essentially moonshine made from plums).  We ended up being offered Palinka multiple times through the trip, and it never got any better.  Way too strong for either of us.  I will say, however, that the four older Romanian ladies on our trip LOVED it, and never passed up a shot...or bottle.  

Our "Chariot" to Dinner

After Being Dropped Off in the Village Center (note stork's nest)

Our meal comprised traditional Romanian dishes cooked by the wife of the farm's owner, and we ate in a room set aside for when they have city guests come to visit.  It was interesting to learn that even Romanians will admit that they do not have their own unique cuisine.  Rather, it is definitely a mishmash of dishes from the countries surrounding them, and reflects the various empires under which different parts fell at different times.  This night we had cabbage rolls, which were essentially Greek dolmades (stuffed grape leaves), but wrapped in cabbage.  The eggplant dish we had at breakfast, and again this evening, was a variation of Turkish baba ghanoush).  We also had during the trip local versions of  Hungarian goulash and Austrian Wiener Schnitzel, all slightly varied to the area.  The meal was hearty, and definitely "peasant food," but good.  Two local men played traditional music, too, while we ate -- an accordion and a saxophone.  Again, our Romanian traveling partners recognized many of the songs and -- well fortified with Palinka -- really enjoyed the little show.

In the Farm's Inner Courtyard

Appetizers at Dinner

I was seated across from the oldest of the Romanian ladies, and over the course of dinner, Annie shared the story of her family's escape from Romania in 1960.  Her family were Armenians -- surviving remnants of the Turkish genocide -- so they were already second-class citizens in Romania under the communist government.  Her father was a shoe cobbler, who had owned his own shoe factory until it was nationalized by the communists.  He refused to join the Communist Party and was repeatedly jailed and sent to work camps over the years for multiple (trumped up) infractions.  Annie said she lost count of how many times the Securitate would storm their home in the middle of the night and take away her father.  She said he would return three or six months later, usually emaciated, but that he "never broke" and he never really spoke about where he had been sent or what they'd done to him.  They would also regularly raid their home, to make sure he was not secretly making shoes that were not given to the government.  She told me of all the places her father successfully hid the shoes he made for others.  Anyway, in 1960 -- after years of applying for a visas to leave the country -- they were told they could leave, on the condition that they abandon all their property and pay the government a hefty "emigration tax."  They also had to renounce their Romanian citizenship and turn over their passports.  The only country that would accept them, as essentially stateless refugees with no paperwork, was Lebanon.  The extended family paid the fees, left everything, and moved to Beirut with no money, and speaking no French or Arabic.  Annie's father taught himself French, enough so that he could work.  I was not aware of this, but evidently shortly after being elected, President Kennedy opened our borders to refugees from the Eastern Bloc.  When that happened, an Armenian refugee agency in New York agreed to pay passage for the family to the United States. They would get them to New York, and then help them to a final destination, but nothing more.  They had to later apply for citizenship, as they were still stateless at that point.  Annie tells of their arrival by ship to New York.  They were met by an agent from the refugee agency, who said her father had to decide right there and then where they wanted to live.  Knowing no one in the U.S. and speaking no English, all he could think of was Hollywood, based on some movies they had seen while living in Lebanon.  He answered, "California," and they were given train tickets to Los Angeles.  To this day, the extended family all lives in/around Bakersfield.  They all taught themselves English and her father learned a new trade as a vulcanizer.  He even eventually opened his own tire-retreading business.  It was an inspiring story to hear, and her eyes welled up when she said a prayer of thanks for President Kennedy's decision to accept the refugees.