I’m back, y’all.
After a little over two weeks, I’ve finally recovered from my jet lag and started my first days as a member of Radio Romania International’s English Division. I intended to post more in my first week here, but the unusual sleep schedule, exhaustion and stress of tuition payment (ugh) prevented me from doing so.
Or maybe it’s just well-sharpened skills of procrastination. Believe me, it’s a habit I’m determined to erase by setting aside time each day, exclusively for writing.
If learned anything from my days in print journalism, it’s that writing is like a muscle. You must exercise daily if you want your story-telling to stay sharp, engaging and coherent.
I have returned to the Internet with more solidified goals for what I want to create and share in this space. Beginning next week, my posts will be more consistent and discuss more scholarly and observational topics, stemming mostly from my job at Radio Romania. But more on that later. Patience, my lovelies.
But before, I divulge the details of my first week in Bucharest, let me share about my weekend trip to the high altitude respites of Brasov and Rasnov.
Unlike the bustling city of Bucharest, towns like these offer a clearer picture of what the majority of Romanians experience in their own backyard. Though Brasov is popular as a vacation destination, its ski resorts, souvenir vendors and convenience stores, I found, are belied by the centuries of history witnessed by the snowy Carpathian peaks.
When I saw white, Hollywood-esque letters that spelled out “Brasov”, it struck me as extremely odd sight. I wouldn’t have imagined that a place like Brasov could evoke the artificial feel of a Hawaiian resort or a cruise ship stop where you can buy overpriced trinkets in two-mile spread of shop fronts.
For my history buffs, I’ll mention that I was a stone’s throw away from Bran Castle, the notorious fortress likely used by real-life Dracula, Vlad Tepes.
Here’s a map for reference:
Per the invitation of my aunt, whose home I will stay in until Saturday, I made a three hour trip last weekend with my family, mostly curious to see how Romanians spend their holiday in the snow. Sadly, we would be disappointed as the strange slew of “false spring” weather pursued us up the winding roads of Brasov. When Friday morning dawned, the only precipitation we saw where a few stray snowflakes falling out of a cluster of thick, grey fog that swathed the mountain like a blanket.
Besides tiny patches of ice, I spent the first morning watching Cristian shred down the practice slopes that turned into a slush of mud and snow within hours of opening.
I toyed with the idea of skiing for the first time, but the lure of warm soup and grilled meat hung heavy in the air, and I soon abandoned my more adventurous side in the pursuit of a hot lunch. I’m convinced that mountain air does, indeed, make you hungrier and burn more calories.
If the slopes of UT’s campus are considered steep, then Brasov makes them look like anthills.
Still, I began to worry that the leisurely atmosphere would prevent me from experiencing the more remote regions of Romania, something I had enjoyed so much during my first visit in 2012. Sure, Brasov is no Arctic desert, but the land itself has a reputation as a threshold of countless ethnic groups and traditions long before the Roman Empire’s occupation in the 1st century AD. Needless to say, my inner historian longed to go searching for evidence of this storied past, not just simply stare at some mediocre snowfall.
So when my aunt and I decided to venture up to Rasnov’s Citadel, only a 20 minute drive away, my hope (and curiosity) were rekindled.
As I said before, this blog is not a textbook on Romanian history. So, I’ll just show you what I saw when we reached the top of Rasnov’s Citadel, mixed in with some punchy captions.
There’s no way to capture the Citadel’s stunning vistas, but these should give you an idea:
One thing that I found incredible about this site were the documented numbers of people that passed through or used this Citadel for military and domestic operations. The Romans, most notably, fought the Dacian forces for occupation in the 1st and 2nd centuries, taking full advantage of the bird’s-eye view from the surrounding mountain range. Much, much, later in World War I, forces from the United Kingdom, Germany, Austria, Russia, Ukraine, Singapore, Bulgaria, Serbia, U.S.A., France, Italy and Thailand resided in the Citadel’s walls, adopting the same strategy as the Romans — take the higher ground, enjoy a longer survival.
I managed to get a short nap late that afternoon, preparing my stomach for a meal at a traditional restaurant praised for its adherence to Romanian cuisine and tradition. My cousins were tired and ready for bed, so it was just me, my aunt and uncle, Bryan, left for the evening.
I can’t recall all of what I ate, but I can tell you that Romanians cook with love and everything about that experience was, well, warm. Admittedly, some of that might have been from the bear skin decor, ceiling-high hearth or glasses of palinka that we drank after each course.
Palinka, for those wondering, is a clear liquor made from fermented prunes and is served before meals to aid digestion. It is the equivalent to Romanian moonshine in the States, but it tastes much, much better.
It looks like this:
I’m no “foodie” or serial Instagramer, so you’ll just have to take my word for it when I say that the “flaming chicken” covered in garlic sauce was one of the most divine things I’ve ever consumed.
Take note, America. When it comes to the full dining experience, the Europeans know how to do it right. And they’ve been doing it for a loooong time.
As the three of us digested our food, my uncle turned our conversation into his comments on Bucharest’s evolution as a Westernized city. A topic, as you know, that is central to my study and work this semester.
As a lawyer and insider in Bucharest business, my uncle has witnessed firsthand how the country has changed since the early days of the nation’s push for democracy. In fact, his decision to settle in Bucharest was largely due to this “dazed and confused” atmosphere that followed the fall of Ceausescu. The economy and political system were in shambles, poverty was rampant and he knew, alongside his colleagues, that establishing sturdy legal foundations for business would bolster national confidence as Romania struggled to get back on its feet again.
At the time, he described Bucharest as a city filled with people that read like characters in novels of Ernest Hemingway, all set the remarkably similar world of post-World War I Paris.
Bryan has always been voracious reader and gifted conversationalist, but in discussing these similarities, I remembered that this was why Romania is so fascinating to me — and why it warrants more attention from world than it receives.
Even in a fifty year isolation, Romania has retained centuries-old traditions that are still celebrated throughout the country: Sibiu, Constanta, Brasov, Bucharest or Bulcovina region. Yet, the Romanian city-dwellers have transitioned, albeit slowly, into a capitalistic, commercialized space that places them in league with Western European nations who have enjoyed the benefits (and failures) of such a system for years.
As Bucharest continues to develop, my uncle predicts that, sadly, this attachment to the Old World will dissipate. The risk is, of course, a natural one as the city is exposed to more opportunities to expand commercial and international influence on the global stage. In fact, he’s already begun to see such change since his arrival here in 1996.
Quaint mountain villages are transformed into ski resorts, hotel are built into cliff sides, historical sites and trails attract thousands of tourists, and even the beloved waiters at our restaurant (who so graciously served us palinka), now only play a limited selection of songs for paying customers. And in hearing my uncle’s reflections, a realization surfaced.
I may want to explore Romania’s old stomping grounds, but it is crucial to remember that the nation’s momentum seeks to move beyond the past, so marred by oppression and violence. As a journalist, I receive a front row seat to this process and, in my eyes, it is a privilege to document the minute changes that, in time, will tell the story of a nation in recovery.
Still, I cannot deny how refreshing the nation’s Old World elements are, and I can only pray that the people retain this cultural thumbprint.
Materialism and single-minded pursuit of wealth is often a symptom of the American Dream, and there are so many lessons that Westerners can learn from the Romanians — a people who, from my limited experience, are unafraid to place loyalty to family above any profit or personal gain.
The adventure continues, so stay tuned for a post about my job in Romania’s first public radio station, Radio Romania.
For now, I’ll say: Nupta buna! Good night.
An American In Bucharest 