A Birthday in Transylvania
Sometimes the best thing we can do isn’t more work or more self-improvement. It’s to take the trip and connect with something new, outside our normal realm of reality. A fresh set of eyes. Forget the usual routines, travel with a tiny fraction of the possessions we probably have far too many of anyway, and be unconcerned by normal life.
That’s what I did, and it expanded my sense of reality. I love London, but it’s not the life I want to live anymore. I dream of nature, not pubs on my doorstep. I dream of quiet, not sirens the moment I cross my threshold. I dream of fresh eyes, not streets I know by heart. London has great restaurants and history, but it’s also chaotic and crowded, and life is bigger than one small patch of land that claims to be one of the best cities on earth.
So where did I go in search of nature, peace and beauty? Transylvania. I’ve always had a deep love of Halloween and the macabre, and it happened to be my birthday, so what better way to celebrate than somewhere this cool?
What most people don’t know about Romania is how beautiful it is. Somebody has clearly been keeping that secret. The colour of the trees on the mountains, and the way the fog hangs over them, was unlike anything I’ve seen in the UK. The houses have gothic pitched roofs and are painted in terracotta, pale pink, mint green and dusty yellow. The history and myths are fascinating too, from Dracula to Vlad the Impaler, and the towns around them are beautifully ancient.
They also aren’t littered with big brands. There isn’t a Pret on every corner. There are still Western brands, but they don’t have a hold on every inch of the street. Everywhere in the UK can feel the same. Why do we accept that?
I loved every moment. I tried traditional Romanian food and really enjoyed it. I sampled the local beer, which was pretty good (I do love a sour). They still accept cash, and nowhere did I see “we don’t accept cash”. Food, drink and travel were all affordable, and everything was easy to navigate.
I’d been reading Dracula in preparation. Bram Stoker never visited himself, but I could picture Dracula climbing out of those windows, and the horse-drawn carriage winding up the steep hills to drop Jonathan Harker off.
One of my favourite discoveries was Peleș Castle, tucked away in the Carpathian Mountains. Built in the nineteenth century for Romania’s first king, Carol I, it was meant as a summer retreat, far from the heat and bustle of Bucharest. Perhaps the king and I had something in common: a desire to escape the city and surround ourselves with mountains, forests and beautiful architecture.
And what extraordinary architecture it is. With its dramatic towers, intricately carved interiors and German Renaissance influences, the castle looks as though it belongs in a fairy tale. Yet despite its romantic appearance, it was remarkably advanced for its time, with electricity installed in the early 1880s.
I don’t speak any Romanian, and no, I’m not Eastern European or Russian, although plenty of people try to guess where I’m from. It’s always irritating and amusing in equal measure. Maybe it’s the way I dress, or the blonde hair. Perhaps British people have a bad rap for dressing like slobs.
What fascinates me most are places with history and nature, and discovering things because they interest me, not because the internet might give me likes. I grew tired of that culture. We already spend too much time on our phones, and when we’re close to the end, nobody will be saying “do you remember how many likes that picture got?” Fuck that. That’s not living. That’s why I stepped back from X: my life is for living outside social media.
If you want to connect with me, you can hear me through my words, here on my blog, where I actually take the time to sit down and share. Less mindless consuming on apps that give us nothing back. More creating, and more of my own voice and experiences.
