On the road to Székelyföld. Currently passing through the golden brown valleys and rolling countryside that is Erdély in the Autumn. It’s probably one of the most picturesque places I’ve ever been to. Following the serpentine, sloping roads was just as exciting as it was beautiful, and at the same time I felt a degree of disappointment that we couldn’t spend more times there. I guess it’s better this way because I would never leave the hidden villages that occupy this area. We stopped at the top of one of the hills and I took a few photos. The colours are just so warm that I didn’t even notice the 8 degree cold outside.
I’m spending the next week with my father’s highschool friend and his family. They have relatives deep in Romania, in Székelyföld, who apparently live in a small village. I’m really looking forward to it; I’ve heard lots of nice things about that area from everyone who’s been there.
On the way we decided to take a newly built highway, it currently spans about 50km but we saved a bit of time. Unfortunately it meant we bypassed Kolozsvár, a city I’ve heard lots of great things about and have been wanting to visit for ages. The highway ended at the foot of the most dilapidated city I’ve ever seen before, Turda. There had been a massive war in Turda in 1940 and it almost still seemed like the aftermath. Every building seemed to have a wall that was about to collapse, and I even saw a group of gypsies hacking away at a building with sledge hammers. Everything that was made or built recently looked like it was thrown together, and it was a matter of swerving from one side of the road to the other to avoid the massive pot holes that covered the face of the road.
We passed a ridiculous amount of Gypsy Castles on the way too, massive 5 story mansions with silver roofs, arched windows and statues of lions.
They were the tackiest pieces of work I’ve ever seen. Weirdest thing was that hardly any of them were finished, and you could see that they were living the normal gypsy lives they were used to on the bottom floor, or out the back in a thrown together shack. My Dads friend told me they had been in the unfinished state for years, and a big 2003 in silver letters at the top of one of them confirmed this.
This raises a lot of questions, and it would interesting to find out what exactly is going on, although I’m fairly certain I already understand…
Anyway, once we passed Turda we again entered the beautiful rolling country side, this time passing through the unique Székely villages. There was quite a difference between these villages and the ones out closer to Hungary. None of these villages had the Romanian flag displayed on every single lamp post, and every shop or building that had writing on it, had it first in Hungarian, and second in Romanian. A lot of the time things were only displayed in Hungarian, and as we got further into Székelyföld it became evident that only the official signs were written in Romanian. Even the advertisements on the side of the roads were in Hungarian. Rovás Írás was also used on a number of signs and buildings to my surprise. The interesting thing about Székelyföld was the houses. Although they were all typical looking village houses, they all had such beautiful gates. These gates, the Székely gates (Székelykapuk), were carefully hand carved with different patterns and motifs. This combined with the breathtaking hills and golden brown patterned trees had my face pressed against the window the whole way there.
We eventually arrived in the village of Oroszhegy, next to Székelyudvarhely, when the cows came home. Literally. It took about 20 minutes to drive a hundred meters down the street. It was a massive laugh though.
Once we arrived where we were staying, we were greeted with open arms and open bottles of pálinka.
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