The Long Migration

I was initially a little disappointed in Romania. Potentially this is because all my expectations of its culture and people were based on repeated viewings of Young Frankenstein and Rocky Horror Picture Show. The reality turned out to be less humorous and seemingly devoid of singing transvestites in tight leather. Bit of a letdown, really, but maybe I just didn't go to the right places.

However, my overall enjoyment and impression of Romania skyrocketed once we got to the mountains. Urban Romania (at least Arad, where we previously stayed) had a sort of Renton vibe to it. Or, to my Oregonian friends, a Woodburn vibe. Neither of the aforementioned cities in the States, though, have close to the justification for their vibe that Arad does.

Arad has been repeatedly conquered and reconquered for the past five hundred years (Mongols, Ottomans, Nazis, Soviets), and recently experienced a violent revolution. So one can't really fault it just because its streets are a little grubby ( Renton on the other hand, seriously needs to get its shit together ), but I digress.

Dem mountains ...

We've been staying at a bed and breakfast in a village built into the foothills of the Carpathian mountains. Our host gave us a bottle of homemade plum brandy. It is what, in the States, we would refer to as 'hooch', although that doesn't quite do it justice. Regardless, it never occurred to me at any point in my life that I would someday find myself in the mountains of Transylvania sipping on Romanian moonshine. Henceforth, however, I think I will endeavour to do it more.

I get the impression that while lower Rumania was busy getting pillaged for a few centuries, people in the mountains just kept on keepin' on. When Axis-allied Hungary was occupying Arad, this village was cutting hay by hand and raising sheep. When the Soviets rolled in with tanks and let everybody know they were communists now, this village was still just cutting hay by hand and raising sheep. I looked out the window yesterday while eating breakfast and noticed that there were people outside ... cutting hay by hand and raising sheep. It's a refreshing change of pace from the general hubbub present at many of our stops.

We did, however, take a brief sojourn down the mountain yesterday back into tourist country to see Dracula's castle (yes that Dracula). Other than the whole 'impaling people on sticks' thing he wasn't really all that bad of a guy. Turns out he's actually a folk hero in this neck of the woods for apparently doing an exemplary job defending Transylvania and sticking it (literally) to the Turks when they invaded.

On the subject of Invasions: the herd will be invading Slovakia this evening, pending a very long road trip. Today is our one long day of driving. At least, our one 'planned' long day of driving. Munich showed that these things do not always planned. Even assuming we don't get held up by many sheep herds in the road, it's already shaping up to be a very long drive indeed. I think I will do my part to make the 9 hour drive more enjoyable for my herdmates by singing.

I'll start by melodiously inquiringly if any of them know what a fox says ...