The late July day was another scorcher. Much of my holiday in Eastern Europe had been hot but this day was the hottest yet, probably hitting 40 degrees. My travelling companion and I had been sightseeing together in Brasov, Romania for 2 days but on this day planned to go our separate ways: he to Bran and I to Sighisoara.
Sighisoara is a medieval fortress town in central Romania. I caught the train there and, after arriving, found my way to an open air market. There were many stalls and peasant women selling locally-grown fruit and vegetables. The massive watermelons particularly caught my eye and I had to buy a bag of juicy-looking cherries. Part of the thrill was making the purchase in patchy Romanian and making contact with a local person.
I made my way up steep, dusty alleys and lanes into the old fortress itself. Sighisoara is a maze of unmade streets and alleys, sheltering under the ancient embattlements. Perplexed, I stood looking for a while at my guide book when a man, who I thought was local, opened his gate and motioned me inside his property. He turned out to be Italian and knew no English but the contact was heart-warming and added to the atmosphere of the day. We managed to communicate by pointing at the map in my guide book and I showed him where I hoped to get to. He, in turn, allowed me to walk through his house to get to the lower part of the town I was attempting to find.
On leaving the town, I decided to walk by the river to get back to the train station. There were large willow trees overhanging the river and there was a group of Romany people gathered in the shade under the branches. Some of the younger ones said something to me but I did not know the words from my Romanian phrase book.
After spending many delightful, albeit hot, hours in the town, I caught the train back to Brasov. It was a 2 level, double-decker train and I whiled away the long journey sitting next to the open doors, dangling my feet over the edge. The scenery was unrelentingly flat and pastoral, full of sunflowers and sweetcorn. There were more exchanges with Romany people from that train: several families joined the train for a few stops and I made eye contact with one of the children who smiled at me. The train overheated on the journey and had to stop many times. I was not too disappointed, however, as it gave me more time to drink in this rich cultural experience.
Sighisoara is a medieval fortress town in central Romania. I caught the train there and, after arriving, found my way to an open air market. There were many stalls and peasant women selling locally-grown fruit and vegetables. The massive watermelons particularly caught my eye and I had to buy a bag of juicy-looking cherries. Part of the thrill was making the purchase in patchy Romanian and making contact with a local person.
I made my way up steep, dusty alleys and lanes into the old fortress itself. Sighisoara is a maze of unmade streets and alleys, sheltering under the ancient embattlements. Perplexed, I stood looking for a while at my guide book when a man, who I thought was local, opened his gate and motioned me inside his property. He turned out to be Italian and knew no English but the contact was heart-warming and added to the atmosphere of the day. We managed to communicate by pointing at the map in my guide book and I showed him where I hoped to get to. He, in turn, allowed me to walk through his house to get to the lower part of the town I was attempting to find.
On leaving the town, I decided to walk by the river to get back to the train station. There were large willow trees overhanging the river and there was a group of Romany people gathered in the shade under the branches. Some of the younger ones said something to me but I did not know the words from my Romanian phrase book.
After spending many delightful, albeit hot, hours in the town, I caught the train back to Brasov. It was a 2 level, double-decker train and I whiled away the long journey sitting next to the open doors, dangling my feet over the edge. The scenery was unrelentingly flat and pastoral, full of sunflowers and sweetcorn. There were more exchanges with Romany people from that train: several families joined the train for a few stops and I made eye contact with one of the children who smiled at me. The train overheated on the journey and had to stop many times. I was not too disappointed, however, as it gave me more time to drink in this rich cultural experience.
1 comment:
After Libby's comments, I bit! Great writing.
This line - It was a 2 level, double-decker train and I whiled away the long journey sitting next to the open doors, dangling my feet over the edge.
Sounds precariously thrilling (Gretchen would say dangerous)! Ah - the rambling life.
The 40 degrees and hot caught me off guard until I remembered Celsius.
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