Opposites attract… the same two American tourists: Part 2

Our first two destinations could not have been more different. Turkey was lavish, loud, colorful, full of uncomfortable accommodations and annoying people. It was hot and full of must-see sights. Romania was simple, austere even, quiet, gray, there were perfect accommodations and generous people. It was cold, but full of family.

We arrived to the tiny airport in Cluj-Napoca, Romania and were greeted by Fuddy’s friend, Ali, and her husband, Tibi. They brought us to their car (that they made fun of for its size every change they got) and drove us to their flat in the city.

First Translyvania sighting!

When we got their home, we took our shoes off at the entrance and Ali searched through a bag of slippers for us to wear inside. “That’s so nice of her! And kind of weird…” I said to my sister later that night. Fuddy had been to Romania once and told me it was actually a sort of social tradition ("a kind of must"says Ali). Almost every home has slippers for people to wear inside when they take off their shoes. Every home we went to in Romania, did, in fact, have slippers for us to wear inside. They take that Chinese no-shoe rule to a whole new level.

Ali and Tibi insisted we sleep in their bed while they slept on the coach. This was only our first taste of the unassailable Romanian hospitality.

The next day, Ali had to work, but Tibi got the day off, so he drove Fuddy and I to some of his favorite places. First we went to Salina Turda in the city of Turda (pronounced like Tuer-dah, stop being a 5-year-old), which is a huge old Salt Mine that was created in 1075. Since 1932 it has been a tourist destination and used for children with Asthma to help improve their symptoms. Tibi explained that was the reason why the biggest area of the mine had a ferris wheel, mini gold, bowling and row-boats, among other kid-friendly features. At the end of the visit we went to the gift-window (I can’t bring myelf to call it a gift shop) and Tibi let us each pick out a souveneir he insisted on buying us. This is when we started to call Tibi 'Dad'.

Getting to the Salt Mine through a seemingly-never ending tunnel

Rudolf Hall in Salina Turda (Salt Mine of Turda)

Official Goonies section of the mine. Ok, maybe not "official"

Fuddy and I in the Salt Mine


Mini Golf section of the Salt Mine, of course


Supposedly real salt, but I didn't lick it, so I can't be sure...

Next we did a short impromptu hike to Cheile Canyon, a beautiful canyon near the Salt Mine. The pictures look fake; it was so perfect.

We got Tibi’s favorite for dinner, Kebab. We knew we would get our fill of authentic Romanian food soon, so we were fine with it, especially since it was delicious and in a cool underground cave. At night we went to the town center to look around then to Ali and Tibi’s their friends for drinks and the tried what I can only describe as the Romanian equivalent to moonshine, made by one of their friends. This stuff was ROUGH. 

Freezing on top of a mountain in Cluj.

National Opera house in Cluj

A real ram in the nativity scene... that you could pet like a dog.
This beats the sheep in the Brussels nativity scene.


Fuddy and in front of St. Michael's Cathedral and the
statue of Mathias Rex, former king of Hungarian Empire


Orthodox Cathedral of Cluj and Christmas lights!


Gymnastics in Romania! I had to. It's like a pilgrimage
for anyone who has ever done a back-tuck.

The next day was Christmas Eve, so we drove through numerous adorable villages to Ali and Tibi´s hometown, Simleu Silvaniei.

Adorable Romanian Village

Ali and Tibi tell us this is normal Romanian traffic behavior


A village in Romania that is really famous for onions...
This is their onion statue.

We met Ali’s mother and sister, ate some lunch (but Ali’s Mom made us take a shot of irish cream whiskey first- NOT the delicious Baileys kind, the hard-romanian-life kind), walked around and saw everything there was to see in their town, then to Tibi’s parents for a Hungarian Christmas Eve dinner (his mother is from Hungary). Fuddy and I were left confused and feeling more foreign than ever a lot of the time when Ali and Tibi were visiting with friends and family. Listening to Romanian was perfectly fine with me, though, and I could actually understand some of it! It is like a mix of French, Spanish and Italian; it may even be my new favorite language (sorry Spanish!) After dinner, we returned to Ali’s to open our presents. We were excited to have one present each that Fuddy brought from home (Thank you Auntie Karen!), and we so very pleasantly surprised when Ali gave us presents as well.

Ali's mom, Fuddy, Ali, Oana (Ali's sister) and me at Ali's

Supposedly there is hidden treasure in this mountain. Oh, Romania.

After that was when the fun really started. In Romanian villages there is a special tradition wherein groups of friends go from place to place, sing Christmas carols, are invited in (because everyone knows everyone else in these villages), fed, given a whole lot to drink, then go to the next house. It's like Halloween, except you sing instead of say "Trick or Treat" and you get alcohol and pork instead of fun size skittles. Don't worry, kids get in on the action too, they go around, sing, and get the equivalent of $2 a house... which they probably use to buy alcohol. We went to six houses and finally got to sleep at about 5 AM. The ironic part is I used to WAKE UP at 5 AM on Christmas to be the first to see what Santa had left. It's funny when your life goes full circle. 

At one of the many homes in which we ate and drank on Christmas Eve

One of the many Christmas Eve traditional spreads we encountered.

There was some lovely cultural confusion during the night but our favorite was when Tibi’s friend (I forget his name, so we will call his Dracula, since we were in Transylvania) asked how to say “noroc” (the Romanian word for “cheers”). Before we could answer, he guessed “church” and I decided to tell Dracula that yes, it was “Church.” We drank to church for the rest of the night (and the rest of the euro-trip), appropriate since it was Christmas day. Our second favorite part of the night was when one young guy shut everyone up and asked Fuddy from across the room:

“Excuse me, I just heard you are 30 years old. And you are not married? Why?” He said it not with disdain, but with genuine confusion and concern. 

Thank god Fuddy has adequate self-esteem. As you can see, Romanians do not tip-toe around feelings, as we Americans so, but I would not have it ay other way; it’s refreshing.

We awoke on Christmas at about 2 PM and had some MORE pork and clementines. Pork and clemetines were the theme of the holiday season for us- every meal, every day. Good thing we aren’t good kosher jews. We napped afterwards, as if we needed any more sleep, then went to where Ali and Tibi had their wedding to meet up with their friends and have drinks. 

Fuddy and I with "DAD" at the location where he and Ali had their wedding

"Dad" and I!! 

What did we do Christmas night? We went to a club in a random village, of course! It looked like a barn or warehous from the outside, but was FULL inside. It was fun but SO smoky, with absolutely no emergency exits (problematic, but clearly we got out alive). When our eyes started to burn so much from the smoke that we couldn’t keep them open, we knew it was time to go.

Fuddy and I sober on Christmas day.


Fuddy, Ali, and I... less sober on Christmas night. 

Ali, Fuddy and me at the club on Christmas

We drove back to Cluj the next day and talked about politics the whole way, including Tibi’s swine-flu conspiracy theories that actually held some weight, American greed, the communist influence and quality of life in Romania, and a bunch of other heavy topics. He was a surprisingly good debater for having such rudimentary English skills and hardly any chance to practice (...and I continue to feel inadequate with my own language skills). We got back to Cluj, packed, and headed to the airport to say goodbye to Ali and Tibi. Before we left, Dad gave us some candies for being good. Saying good-bye to Romania was certainly a lot harder than bidding adieu to Turkey.