Halloween in the city of Dracula

  We catch a train to Brasov that evening.  The trains are always late and at least 2 hours slower than they should be anyway.  It's dark and raining and the city lights sparkle in our sleepy eyes between the rain.

  We knew before we came that cannot stay in a hostel; they are all booked out by the Serbians.  It's the Serbian Christmas and for some reason they al decide to go to Brasov.  Meanwhile, we didn't have a host
yet. The only reply we'd recieved on couch surfing was a decline, and eagerly we'd replied:

'do you have friends who could help us? we don't want to miss Brasov and need a place to stay'.

  The lovely girl told us to come anyway, call her for a coffee, and we'd see what was going
to happen.  David and I wait in the rain for our internet chat friend, discussing possible options for the night; sleeping in the cinema, David becoming my hoe, training to Sinia, begging at a hostel...

  Chris takes us to her favourite bar; 'For Sale'.  She explains that she likes it because its warm and cosy and you can throw peanuts all over the floor.  We duck our heads through the entrance of a rackety wooden door and enter a dark smokey bar.  The roof and walls are hidden with notes and numbers pinned to them.  As I step over an uneven surface, the floor crunches.  Peanut shells make mountains across the floor.
  We order coffees (wanting to stay alert) and start with general conversation.  Chris doesn't seem to understand the situation.   I feel, and I start to believe that she'd told us to come simply so she could go out with friends.  Whatever, we remain relaxed (and meanwhile pull out my laptop and cross our fingers that something will fall from the internet heavens.
  I asked the bar tenders if they knew of anything we could do and they appeared blank and unwilling to help.  But then people begin to ask us questions.  These give birth to conversations, and soon there are many people leaning into our table as we discuss the world and politics and all that bar talk (we got a beer by now).  The bar tenders began to sit with us between working, and then the drinks began to appear before us! They started to play Bob Marley so we couldn't help but to relax
and before we know it the bar is closed with us warm inside it, (continuing the party) and David and I are offered numerous options for where we can sleep.  We stayed at the bar tenders house who is an epic fantasy nerd - and you must know I say that with the uttermost respect.  There were some exciting conversations.

a clouds journey to brasov city centre (hahaha)

drinking wine and cola!

The city of Brasov is even grayer by the day time.  In it's centre is a big mountain, and the citadel (the old city) is strangely hugging it's base.  The city is full of young people (due to the univercity), crowding the streets in noisy gangs.  The city's outer suburbs are made up of communist apartment blocks, but otherwise the houses are all very medieval.  THe streets are lined with a wall of houses, sqeezed side by side, each with compltely different shapes of a red roof, windows chimney, etc.  As the streets bend, so do the houses and their rooves, making them look one-sided.  Like a cardboard theatre set.

  The people suffer from the economy.  Chris couldnt afford to study so she worked in the Cheque Republic for a year.  Gabriel (who hosted us) worked constantly, two jobs.  He said that Romanians still feel the stress of communism, and thus work harder than other people for their country.  He was particularly stressed about work, and believed it was instilled in him by the old regime.  But for most people I met, they had the opposite approach.  Generally, the people aren't patriatic.
They don't support working for the government who seems to never have worked for them - they tell me that its the same old corrupted system stealing from the people.
  Cip was moving to Belgium the next day, where a friend had bought his ticket proposing a business idea together.  Otherwise, he'd dropped out of school and hadn't worked in ages.  Young people aren't motivated
to work because the pay is rubbish.  While food and everything costs the same as it used to (the same as germany for example) salaries are four times less.  The average salary is around 500 euro a month.
  But they work, inspired (I believe) by the strength and resisilience inspired by their parents (and the simple fact that they have to).
  The revolution was supported, as communism restricted the happiness freedom and development of the people, but it confused the generation who were raised in the communist regime.  The regime which taught them that they didn't have to strive for anything - they would automatically get a job and a house whatever they did and this ensured comfort. Stabilty. To suddenly have to have motivation.  To work for your self.  To  work for comfort and stability swept the ground from the feet of many Romanians.
  Most young Romanians I met had been raised by their mother and abanonned by their father.  Their mother raised them on such demeaning salaries, and many returned to University with their children in need of work.  It seems to me that the women survived communism far stronger than the men - who in many circumstances fled to other countries or now live alone.  The mothers don't show a wrinkle of weakness, it's inspiring.

the view!

we looked more like hobbits in my memory...

  Anyway so we woke up early so Gabriel could get out of the house and Cip took us on a tour of Brasov.  First, we wanted to hike up the mountain.  Like little hobbits, waddling through the cold, breathing our warmth out as smoke.  We wandered throughe the clouds.  The mountain wore a crown of clouds.  Hovering, circling the tip of the mountain like a guard.  We marched through it (and stopped to take some photos mid way!) and onto the mountains tip where we could admire the awesome city from above.  My oh my. I have the photos (above) to say the rest



So it's halloween in the city of Dracula, and after a night of carving out pumpkins in a pile of peanut shells at the bar, (we stayed at Cips that night) David and I head over to Bran to see Bran castle - like traditional tourists in Romania.
  Bran castle is all historical and blah blah but I fell in love with Vlad Dracule, or Vlad the impaler, a ruler from the 15th century.  The people were slack and robbers and the country was threatened by war on all borders.  This ruler fought off the Ottoman empire, and taught the people not to steal though all the man got was disrespectful nicknames and a book supposingly sugesting the man was a count vampire.


In the middle of our tour of the castle, it begins to rain.  I watch the rain with confusion.  It's falling so slowly. I wander if there is a lack of wind which I'm used to in Australia? I wander if I'm tripping - did I eat lunch? What did I eat today... have I drunk from any strange drinks?  I imagine that the rain is simply lighter, a really sparkling mist....then David comes running up to me
  "It's snowing!!!"
whhhhhhackkkkkkkkooooooooooo we begin to play in the very pathetic amount of snow falling, asking the workers to photopgraph us (who are totally confused by our excitement in the cold), holding out our hands and smiling like idiots
Romanians don't believe you when you say that you've never seen snow before ! 'so you've never skiied!??' they reply.  Well duh. (duh means yes in Romanian, but if you say it sarchastically they understand you too)

'step this way!'

its snowing!!!

writing my name with the peanuts !

the pumpkin i made!!!!!