Hi friends and family,

For those of you who are asking, we will be getting to the opening soon, probably in the next installment. It is a long and pretty amazing story.

Brasov, where we just left (in our emails), Sighisoara, where we are going to, and Sibiu, where the Brukenthal Museum and the exhibition is located, are all Saxon towns. This is a history I was completely unaware of  until coming here. Saxons (Germans) were brought into Romania around 850 years ago by the Hungarian kings to help protect the mountain passes from Tatar and then Turkish attacks. The Saxons thrived until a Tatar invasion which left only 100 people alive in Sibiu. After this they fortified their towns. In an organized Germanic fashion they assigned each guild to build a tower and a section of wall around their towns. The guild was responsible to defend that section of wall and tower during attacks. So Sighisoara and Sibiu had the Ironsmiths tower, the Shoemakers tower, The Bakers tower, the Tinsmiths tower, etc., etc. I think Sighisoara has almost all its towers still intact.


The Tinsmiths' Tower and part of the defense wall, Sighisoara

Skipping way ahead, and I almost left this out because it is so depressing, but during WWII Romania sided with Germany. The Nazis came in and with the assistance of the Romanian government, carted off and exterminated hundreds of thousands of Jews and thousands of gypsies. As the Russians were advancing and the war began to turn, Romania changed sides and Antonescu made some effort to save the remaining Jews. Around 400,000 Jews in the Southern part of Romania were saved; the ones in the Northern part of Romania, under Hungarian control, were already gone. Too little, too late, Antonescu was executed after trial. I don't know where he was tried, perhaps at Nuremberg?


Furriers Tower, Sighisoara

After the Russians marched into Romania, they rounded up most of the able-bodied Saxon men and women (even though they had been living in Romania for over 800 years) and sent them to camps in Russia and to work in the coal mines where most of them starved to death. The ones who were left behind or managed to survive were stripped of everything, even citizenship. It's been a bloody mess here for a long, long time. Thus today the Saxon towns have very few Saxons left in them.


As for the Romanians, they seem to be descended from a mix of Roman settlers (my book says they were mostly Greek and Arab, but also Roman) and Dacians. Dacians were a mixture of different Asiatic nomadic tribes, similar to the Huns who settled Hungary and the Bulgars who settled Bulgaria. They look mostly European these days. A most helpful young woman at our hotel in Sibiu proudly said she was 100 percent Romanian; yet she has light blonde hair and very blue eyes.

Romania also has a sizable Hungarian population, and the Roma or gypsies.


Ropemakers Tower, which now houses the cemetary caretaker

Sorry, that was pretty depressing. Man's inhumanity to man (and everything else) seems to know no bounds. Fortunately, most people seem to be decent and kind; we just don't always have the gumption to stand up to the bullies. There is a reason why I am giving you this history, which will become apparent later.

When we were in Sighisoara (just overnight) we shared our dinner table with a Berlin producer and a Budapest actress who were making a movie in Romania about a Saxon man coming back to Romania. Some of these Romanian Saxons are slowly returning to Romania, mostly to Transylvania, which is the mountainous, forested country where (I think all of) the Saxon towns are.



The Clock Tower and Entrance to the Citadel - Sighisoara

I'm going to sign off with something a lot more light-hearted. We pass these horse-drawn carts frequently on the Romanian roads. I doubt an hour goes by without us seeing several of them. It's hard to get a good photo, though, as we generally whiz past each other. We saw an amazing cavalcade of about 8 of these wagons, all filled with colorfully dressed Roma yesterday. No good photo.


More later, I hope. We are leaving our good internet connection now, our super comfortable hotel in a northern Romanian spa town.

Love,

Era and Don

Hi friends and family,

These exotic names in the title are all locations in Romania.

We have had 2 additional "taxi" drivers in Romania, both were on the very dull side, both were named Igor; you know the type. The first one we ended up with as our train pulled in very late to Brasov, and he was a buddy of the man at Information, or perhaps a local charity case acquaintance. He had a car about as big as a postage stamp, not a taxi, and managed to get us to a hotel in my tour book, which fortunately had a room. The second one took us to the wrong location out in the countryside where we were supposed to pick up our rental car. Fortunately, we didn't have our luggage with us and managed to get to our car rental by running alongside the freeway for a short block or so.

Before we left Brasov, which is a very nice old Saxon town, we walked around the city center (where we saw the priest) and took a ski lift type cable car up the hill. Stalin once had this hill denuded so that he could spell out his name in giant letters - no ego problems there - but the trees have grown back and there is a giant Brasov sign at the top of the hill now. This is what it looks like from the back.



Before walking back down to the city through the woods, we were warned that a bear cub had been spotted on the trail the day before and advised that if we should meet one or its mother, drop what we were carrying and run in the opposite direction. That would be up the hill. Thankfully we didn't run into any bears as our legs were very wobbly after just walking down the hill.

Maria Coffino, who we met shortly before we left for Romania, and who is the only person we knew of (before coming here) who is at least partly Romanian, strongly advised us to drive into the mountains surrounding Brasov. This was a lovely drive, past Vlad the Impaler's castle, aka Dracula, and then up a very unlikely looking road, incredibly rutted and pot-holed, with many of the protective side barriers missing. In fact, Don was convinced that we must be on a wrong road, that it must be someone's private road to their farm. We persisted and were very glad we did. It was getting late and we didn't have a place to stay. The pensione Maria recommended was full, booked for a wedding. We wandered up to a house with a small sign "Pensiune Mamina" (Grandmother) and struck gold.


This truly is a beautiful area; it looks like parts of Switzerland. Nick and Paula (or Mamina) couldn't have been nicer or more welcoming. They fed us copious amounts of stuffed cabbages (delicious), sausages, pickles, bread, and when we couldn't eat all Mamina had served us she moaned in distress "You no like, you no like, OOhhh, you no like my food." It took a great deal to assure her that her food was absolutely delicious, but we were very full. They also brought out the home-made wine, home-made tuinca (tastes like grappa), home-made brandies, see picture below. Nick and Mamina posing with 3 water bottles, not containing water.


More later. We've got to go, and don't know when we'll see another good email connection.


Love,

Era and Don

Oh, I knew I shouldn't have eaten those pancakes on top of the schnitzel, the goulasch and the stuffed cabbage. And why did I drink all that palincka? Burp.


(Photo credit: Ms. Deborah O)

Love,

Era

p.s. Can you read the letters on the umbrellas? They say "Kronstadt" (the German word for Brasov) " Probably the Best City in the World." Don looked at that and commented, there seems to be some room for doubt in their mind.

Good-bye, Budapest.

Went to one of the owner's favorite cafes for breakfast: 2 cappucini and 2 very tasty cheese croissants. Total bill: less than $5.



We got into a cab and were whisked to the Ferigheny Airport. Luckily, no traffic. The traffic can be brutal in Budapest. Waited on the runway for an hour, for no discernible reason. Malev Air, Hungarian National Airlines, who are actually highly rated.

Landed in Bucharest's Otopeni Airport. My plan was to take the train directly to Brasov and not go into Bucharest, which I've heard has not much to recommend it and is snarled with traffic. I had been indirectly told in email by the Romanian Tourist Agency that I could do this, but when I think back on it, they never directly said I could catch a train at the airport. So they didn't actually lie when asked the direct question because, guess what? There is no train that comes even close to Otopeni Airport. So we had to take a cab into the boiling cauldron of Bucharest traffic. The driver seemed to have about 6 girlfriends, Don was convinced, because he was on his cell phone constantly while making death defying driving maneuvers which I would never, ever consider doing outside of a nightmare. Fortunately, he didn't get us into any accidents; especially fortunate as his seat belts weren't working.

Got to the train station with not much time to spare. We purchased 2nd class tickets as Frommer's said that they saw no difference between 1st and 2nd class on Romanian trains. Don't know if that's true, but we did meet the most interesting people on the train. I actually met and spoke with a young man for quite some time who told me he was Tatar and Roma (gypsy). I admit I was startled to hear that he was Tatar. I think of them as galloping across the Hungarian plains during the middle ages, living in their saddles, and maniacally attacking everyone in sight. All these fortresses we've been looking at were built to defend against these people. I figured they had all returned to Mongolia centuries ago or intermarried, leaving only a faint genetic whiff in the Eastern European makeup. This young fellow told me that no, there were actually quite a few still living near Costanta on the Black Sea coast, still keeping to their old religion (not sure what that is) and still speaking their language. He, Jonnie, was very intelligent, interesting, well-spoken, in English, no less, and worked for a nonprofit in Romania who helped the Roma people when they were discriminated against. I would guess that might be just about all the time, but I could be wrong. He said he is very busy in his work here.

In our compartment were 2 college students, also from Costanta. The young woman was absolutely gorgeous as well as sweet and the young man played basketball professionally for a Romanian team while also attending college. These two bright and attractive people laughed long and inordinately at our jokes (so not sure how bright they actually are), but fell into the pattern of making some moderately snide comments about the gypsies. I tried to tell them that in the next compartment was an intelligent, very nice man of gypsy heritage, but it just seemed to glide right past them. They couldn't hear or consider it.

I also met an old Romanian mountain man, who lived way high up in the mountains with bears, a few wolves and many foxes. We had no language in common, but a woman on the train kindly translated for us.

All this in a 3 hour train ride. I think I'm going to like Romania.



Priest, reminiscent of St. Francis, feeding pigeons in Brasov Square.

Love,

Era and Don

Dear friends and family,

For those who were not sure, that was not Don practicing for a new vocation upon a move to Venice; that last photo was produced through the amazing Photoshop skills of our friend, the mysterious Ms. Deborah O.





We agree with everyone who has been here and told us about it; Budapest is a great city. We feel that we barely had enough time to dip our big toe into it. There are fantastic buildings, beautiful bridges, great food, plentiful cafes, great museums, lots and lots to see. It reminds us of exploring Paris and London for the first time in the late 'sixties (in and just out of high school - we're not that ancient yet), before these cities were totally cleaned up and pristine, when they were still sooty and a bit crumbling, when the streets were not yet packed with tourists, and when prices were a lot less.


There was some serious money here at one time. Luxurious, highly decorated buildings in varying stages of entropy. Luxurious, completely renovated palaces side-by-side with bullet-ridden buildings.

Spent the good part of a day at the mammoth Budapest Fine Arts Museum. They have some wonderful Velasquez and many other works. There was literally almost no one there (see below).


Our apartment, which continues to be a joy and refuge to us, is in a small court with an old church and many trees, at the foot of a narrow (almost) walking street filled with great cafes. At the end of the street and a bit to the left is the also mammoth Central Market Hall, half French covered market and half Oriental bazarre. From the outside it looks very Hungarian, I guess. I do not yet have any expertise in Hungarian architecture.


Central Market Hall, Budapest. It's huge, but looks mammoth in this photo

(outside of market)

We ate at a restaurant which specializes in good Hungarian wine from its many wine-producing regions.


Era looking quite pleased that she's about to chow down on some salmon with porcini and gnocchi. Don has a duck breast in a Hollandaise sauce with a dish made of layers of pastry and vegetables. No dieting here.

Waundering the little streets, we went into an art gallery and met a very nice Finnish man (Ari) who dealt in antiques and was also showing works of prize-winning Hungarian art students. He sponsors students in the visual arts and music by providing scholarships. He is working on opening an art center with teaching facilities outside Budapest with some Finnish backers. Apparently, the Finns cannot understand Hungarian without studying it, but the grammar is similar. The next day we ran into Ari with some Finnish friends on the Liberty Bridge.


Era on Liberty Bridge

Climbed to the top of the citadel, one of the high hills on the Buda side of the Danube. According to one of my guide books, Budapest was once located on the great Hungarian plains, but after being attacked one too many times by Tartars, Turks and other invaders, the city was relocated to its present site on a high protected hill. The views at the top were stunning, but we didn't have long to enjoy them as the clouds rolled in, the heavens got active and we had a thunder and lightning storm. Just that morning, we had gone back to the apartment to get my sunglasses as the day was so bright. After huddling under the stone gate of the old citadel, we decided to brave the rain with our smallish umbrella, which Don hurriedly purchased for $5. We ended up getting hopelessly lost and almost completely drenched. We somehow managed to come down the wrong side of the hill, lose sight of the huge Danube River and wander into some residential and uninteresting business areas. By the time we got back to our apartment, Don was feeling a little chilled, so we decided to get warm and take it easy.

It's not all smooth, dry sailing on the road.

Love from

Era and Don

Dear friends and family,

We thought we were incognito, but our friend, Deborah O., unbeknownst to us, managed to get this shot of Don playing gondolier.

Love,

Era and Aldo (what the Italians call him)

Dear friends and family,

Venice is fairly unchanged in the last 10 years (we have been back at least one time since) and we don't really remember too well what it was like 30 years ago, except that it was shabbier and more smelly. The same beautiful buildings are still there in the same place, still beautiful and in a more or less frozen state of decrepitude (at least from 10 years ago), although I'm certain a lot of renovation and repair has been done over the years.


Bob Morgan, Ewa and Felicite could not have been kinder and warmer hosts. We are sorry we never were able to touch base with our friends Franco and Maria Ferrari. We heard from Susan Filter that they are going to Romania also. Maybe we'll run into them there!


Robert Morgan in his studio. (Don helped him document and color correct each of his paintings.)


On the Zattere.


Traffic jam.

We walked all over Venice; hardly ever choosing to take a vaporetto. It is such a pleasure for us to walk, especially in a city like Venice. The little streets and campiellos (small courtyards) are beginning to look familiar. I asked Bob, who has lived in Venice for probably 35 years, if he thought there were any little alleys or campiellos which he hadn't been through in Venice, and he said yes, although not many.


Era and Bob crossing by traghetto, with a somewhat reluctant gondolier.

We went to the Fortuny Museum today, our first visit there. The Fortuny dresses and fabrics were gorgeous. Also, they had an exhibition of samurai armor, always fascinating. I was interested to see them; curious to see the presentation. They had an impressive and very large collection of stunning armor on display. The colors melded beautifully with the Fortuny dresses, capes and hangings. A similar aesthetic. Bob told us that the Fortuny Museum used to be an art school, and that he had met Susan Filter there - long ago.

Our meals with the Morgans have been lovely mostly vegetarian and light suppers; a very nice counterpoint to our mostly heavy Italian pasta and sometimes meat lunches. Our last meal with them was quite amazing and elaborate: a roast guinea hen with a delicious, mouth-watering aroma and flavor, some beautiful organic cabbage, which Ewa had cooked with lots of fresh dill and lemon, baby potatoes, a salad, some of our Imagery wine which he had lugged from California.

We ate early as Don and I had to catch an overnight train to Budapest. I had read on TripAdvisor all sorts of people saying that whatever you do, don't take the overnight train from Venice to Budapest. When Don heard this, he immediately wanted to take it. Bob and others have been teasing us about thieves squirting knockout gas under the doors and through the keyholes, then rifling thru your luggage at their leisure. We also had to go to the ATM machine and gets loads of cash, as we have to pay for our Budapest apartment in cash (euros). Bob also regaled us with a story of visiting Poland and getting pickpocketed by a team of thieves on the bus. (I am typing this on the train right now, and I think Don and I will sleep on our valuables, although I'm really not that worried about it.)

Bob was so kind and insisted on accompanying us to the train station and carrying and wheeling my luggage. It involved wheeling to the vaporetto stop and then making a transfer. Don said he wanted to make sure we caught the train and didn't come back to stay with them for a still longer time.

On the train now in our little private sleeping compartment. Bob laughed when he saw our Hungarian train. He said they had forgotten to open the windows when they had to spit. Quite a contrast to the sleek Austrian train on the other side of the platform. Everything does look a little retro, but clean enough and neat. I stood as our train pulled out of Venice to salute the magical city. It's dark outside and our compartment does make a bit of a rattle. I just closed our door and the conductor admonished me to lock it. There are 2 bolt locks on the door and we are using them both.


No air conditioning or heat; thus the extra scarf as covering.

More later.

We did survive the journey to Budapest with life, limbs and worldly possessions more or less intact, although we were woken by uniformed guards numerous times in the middle of the night. The first was border control as we passed into Slovenia around 3 in the morning; then Croatia about 20 minutes later; then leaving Croatia about an hour and a half later; then Hungary about 10 minutes after that; and shortly following, another Hungarian official inquiring if we had anything to declare. No, surprisingly, we had not managed to pick up anything in Slovenia or Croatia. At each interruption Don's smile became broader and broader. He was so pleased at the absurdity of the situation. Sometimes he is really strange.


Our fabulously comfortable and luxe apartment in Budapest. Movie mavens (Era's movie group), note Leonard Cohen poster to the right.

Much love,

Era and Don