Sighișoara

It didn't take more than 10 minutes to notice how beautiful Sighișoara is. Surely, in Italy we have plenty of hilltop medieval citadels, but because one thing is pretty, doesn't mean others aren't. And this has a different feel, maybe that slavic atmosphere, with pointy towers and scaled roofs. Or maybe the cold temperature, which can't but make you think of people shutting themselves in at night, which actually happened. I explored the citadel streets at night and there was not a soul in sight.

Sighișoara, as many of you surely know, is Vlad Dracul III birthplace, the one that would have been later called Vlad Tepeș, Vlad the Impaler. In fact, the town is unfortunately dotted with vampire-themed tourist traps (the Vlad as a vampire thing is 100% Bram Stoker, here he's just a popular hero who defended Wallachia from Ottomans), starting from Vlad's alleged house, where a restaurant advertises its goods with very 90s Geocities-style bloody fonts. Skipped.

The clocktower, sitting atop a medieval gate, is beautiful and contains a very interesting museum, with a very interesting pharmaceutical section and a collection of several of the town guilds' items. Stuff from the guild of smiths, shoemakers, tinners, butchers, locksmiths, etc. The top overlooks the town and you can see the entirety of Sighișoara from it. Small brass plaques indicate the direction of distance of main cities and capitals. I am still thanking my unbelievable luck with the weather. Not a single cloud in sight. They're probably all in Vanadzor, Armenia (Sorry C.) by now.

At noon, you can see the clock mechanism in motion, inside, moving all sort of small figures, taken from the Zodiac.

Going up the hill, where the historical Biserica sin deal ("Church on the hill") sits, is the famous covered staircase, with wooden roof and walls. I didn't see it the first day, and for the better, because going around there's an amazing view, with one of the best sunsets ever. And since it was sundown in Transylvania, what better than a visit to the local cemetery? Mostly German and Hungarian people are buried there, guarded by flocks of... ehm, by murders of crows (surely put them by the Transylvanian Ministry of Tourism). I visited the Church the day after. Not as stunning as other orthodox churches, but interesting nonetheless. And there was a crypt! What else can I wish for?

The last evening, I met a Croatian and a Spanish guy in the hostel, while an Israeli guy joined us afterwards. After dinner, I ended up drinking wine and playing pool with the latter in a local (rather quiet) club. No Wicker Man scenes here. No one watched us, whispered us "Foreigners, leave at once!", told us we're in danger or even crossed themselves. Disappointing. Hollywood, did you lie to me?? Even worse, the radio played Toto Cutugno after a while and many locals sang to it. That was worse than a mob attack. After the club we went to a still open restaurant (he didn't dine) where a Zoolanderesque gypsy waiter, with a permanent raised left brow, sat us. While my companion ordered a pizza, I ordered a lichiu, which was listed as "plum dessert with cream". Expecting a slice of pie, I was quite flabbergasted when I got served a huge pizza with cream and plums. Don't get me wrong, it was GOOD, but I had gulaș just a hour or two before. I surrendered halfway. Romania - Giorgio, 1-0.

In the morning, after a quick breakfast, I headed to the bus station, where I met an old nice Romanian lady, speaking a perfect English, whom I shared the trip to Brașov with. As with old grannies all over the world, she was quite worried by me traveling alone, but I managed to reassure her. Brașov, here I come!