Forewarned is forearmed. This one is long.
Back in May, Ryan and I, plus Scott and Anna (two of Ryan’s friends from his days of teaching in China) embarked on a journey through Romania, Serbia, Greece and Turkey.
Over the course of our trip we collectively took nearly 1700 pictures wandering through museums, churches and mosques, hiking o’er mountains, fields and cities and experiencing the nuances of the doner/gyro/kebap.
What follows are some of the highlights:
We started our trip in Veliko Turnovo, a city in Bulgaria Ryan and I have oft visited, but was new to Scott and Anna. We ambled around the Tsarevets Fortress, which was even prettier in the summer and I had the chance to catch up with my friend Tamsin from my CELTA course.
We had some struggles trying to determine where we could purchase tickets out of Bulgaria, but with the help of a kindly security guard, we were able to secure our fare for the next part of our trip... Romania!
We spent our first night in Romania in Bucharest, indulging in some absolutely fabulous sausages and beer at Caru cu Bere. I had heard it was a restaurant not to be missed and I must also offer two enthusiastic thumbs up for a delightful culinary experience. We didn't linger long in Bucharest, though, as the next morning we were off to Brasov in the Transylvania region.
Of all the places we visited, Brasov emerged our unanimous favorite. It was beautiful. It was quaint. It had tasty beef fajitas.
While in Brasov we visited Rasnov Fortress and Bran Castle. The latter is frequently linked with Dracula although Vlad Tepes (the bloodthirsty prince upon whom the fictional character of Dracula was based) only visited his cousin there once. The "real" Dracula's Castle is Cetatea Poienari, located in the highest peaks of the Fagaras Mountains. Although we were intrigued, it's very challenging to reach and ultimately we deemed it too expensive for a visit. We’re on a budget here, people.
Anyway, we were ultimately quite satisfied with the castles we did see despite a few initial challenges in getting there. We had boarded a mini bus arranged by one of the local hostels, along with a group of about 15 other travelers. As it turned out, our driver didn’t truly know where he was going. To further complicate matters, he understandably didn’t speak a lick of English. Apparently he also had plans for the afternoon that did not include taking a bunch of tourists to Romanian castles, so he spent some time trying to find another driver to take us. (We sort of guessed at this part, though, since he drove us to a huge parking lot filled with other buses and promptly left us alone for about thirty minutes while we tried to figure out if we were being abandoned, cheated out of our money or worse. Here I must thank the producers that gave us such cinematic masterpieces as Turistas and Hostel. Bravo, gentlemen. Bravo. Thank goodness there were a lot of us and it was daylight, that's all I've got to say... Yes, I do have a runaway imagination, thank you... but c'mon! We were in Transylvania!) While we waited for everything to get sorted out, one of the American guys on our bus entertained us all by offering some super helpful Romanian phrases he was in the process of learning from a guidebook. Translated they were, “Here! I am in possession of my own needle!” and “I have hepatitis!”, and “I have been raped; my belongings are in order!” Undaunted, our new friend happily shared the last phrase with our driver who'd been unsuccessful in his endeavor and was at this point grudgingly driving us to our destination. This earned a hearty laugh and he cheered up considerably for the rest of the trip.
Over the course of the next two days, we further explored the sites of Brasov, including The Black Church, Schei and Ecaterina's Gates and Rope Street, supposedly the narrowest street in Europe. We foolishly (but delightedly) hiked about in a thunderstorm atop Mount Tampa and found some hauntingly beautiful cemetaries. Ryan and I even got a romantic evening alone.
Yes, Brasov was great, but we wanted to see a little of Bucharest too, so after three amazing days we caught a morning train to the capital of Romania. We were headed out of Romania on another train that evening, so we did our best with the limited time we had in Bucharest, traipsing over 10 miles of city pavement.
It was fun, but at the end of the day, we were tired and excited about heading for the next country - Serbia.
Belgrade was probably our least anticipated locale, but wound up being our second favorite due primarily to the kindness of its citizens. Although the city is slowly recovering from the days of Slobodan Milosevic’s rule and the atrocities of genocide, bombed out buildings still remain. We managed to take in a few museums on our first afternoon, and saunter down what is perhaps the best walking street in Eastern Europe. The next day Ryan and I went on our own to Skadarlija (the Bohemian quarter) and Zemun, before meeting back up with Scott and Anna to explore the Kalemegdan Fortress.
Belgrade has a gritty appeal and we would have liked to stay longer, but had to bid farewell after just a day and a half. Not just to the city, but also to Anna who had plans to participate in a Library Science class in Prague. Ryan, Scott and I, on the other hand, were headed to Thessaloniki to pick up my long-awaited visa.
I’d been to Thessaloniki before when applying for said visa, but didn’t really get to see much of it so I was looking forward to returning. A comparably upscale community on the Aegean Sea, Thessaloniki is quite pretty, possessing great seafood, gregarious people and, of course, ouzo. Ouzo is an anise-flavored liqueur and on our first night there I suffered a gross error in judgment regarding just how much ouzo is too much ouzo. The next day was not a good one and I would have liked to remain under the covers with the lights off... possibly even engaging in some quality private time in the bathroom with my head in the toilet... but instead - heigh ho - Ryan and I left Scott in the hotel room and journeyed to the Bulgarian embassy. It was a national holiday in Greece, but luckily the Embassy was open and after 5 months of waiting, I had earned my legal right to stay in Bulgaria for at least a little while. (Ah, gotta love irony…)
Anyhoo, the hangover gradually went away and we much enjoyed the rest of the afternoon walking along the path next to the sea and checking out the Archaeological Museum and ancient ruins.
That evening we hopped a train to Istanbul, Turkey. This was the city to which I was most looking forward, and although it took a few days to properly appreciate, it did not disappoint. Istanbul was by far the most touristy place we visited and everywhere we walked, people were inviting us into their shops and restaurants to enjoy their wares and cuisine. It’s a heady place and if I lived there for ten years, I would imagine there would still be much I would have yet to see and experience. We had but three days, and in that time we went to the Hagia Sofia, the Blue Mosque and the Topkapi Palace. We explored the Grand Bazaar and the Spice Market. We took a ferry across the Bosphorus to the Asian side of Istanbul.
My favorite part of the entire trip, though, wound up being when Ryan paid for me to experience the magic that is the Hamam (or Turkish Bath) at The Cemberlitas Hamam.
The Cemberlitas was erected in 1584 by the architect Sinan and still functions today as a double bath with separate sides for men and women. While there are numerous baths from which to choose, Cemberlitas made the most sense as it was a short walk up the street from our hostel and is purportedly one of the best in the city for tourists. Admittedly it was a bit confusing for me at first as the guy at the desk just handed me two tokens for my bath and massage, then pointed to the women's side, shaking his head when I tried to take a towel. I emerged in a small locker room area, where I presumed I was supposed to take off my clothes, but the only towels in sight were the forbidden ones at the entrance. I decided he must have been mistaken, and stealthily tucked one under my arm when he wasn't looking.
Leaving my clothes in the locker and wrapping the towel around my body, I made my way into the attendant cool down room. Immediately it became obvious this was going to be unlike anything I’d ever experienced. Lounging about on wooden benches were a bunch of topless Turkish women with towels around their waists, chatting and laughing. The second they saw me, one of them leaped up, ran over to me, and scolded me in Turkish, whipping off my towel leaving me standing – oh so sexily - in my underwear and borrowed rubber flip flops. Um. Okay.
Then they handed another smaller towel and sent me into the bath itself. It was breathtaking. Of course I was not permitted to bring in my camera, but if you pay a visit to the linked website above, you can get a glimpse of what my words can't do justice. Around the perimeter of the circular marble room were exquisite carved fountains trickling both hot and cold water. Arching far above was the domed ceiling etched with stars and circles, designed to allow a dim filtered sunlight to leak in, giving the room a lazy, sensual feel. And in the center was a large, elevated marble slab where a single, phenomenal looking naked girl lounged.
Thus began my contemplation of the age-old question posed by Hamlet (and loosely paraphrased here):
“To wear panties… or not to wear panties?”
That is, indeed, the question. I had pondered this ahead of time (Do I wear a bathing suit? Do I go completely naked? What? What?). Finally I had settled on wearing little sheer pink and white striped boy shorts – sufficiently cute and maybe a little frisky, but not ridiculously provocative or anything. But when I saw the cute naked girl, I questioned myself. I was hardly wearing granny panties or, like a turtleneck or anything, but still… I immediately felt a bit overdressed. Did I look like a prude? Was I supposed to go completely buck? Attempting to shrug off my concerns, I positioned myself on my towel on the slab across from the girl and closed my eyes, periodically opening them to contemplate the remarkable ceiling and wonder further over whether I should just suck it up and take my underwear off already. The young naked girl was summoned from the room to receive her massage, so I had some time by myself to just relax and listen to the water babbling quietly in the fountains. Then a middle-aged woman walked in (she was naked too, dammit), and I was thrown again into confusion.
What to do, what to do.... I decided not to puzzle over this particular issue anymore and…
Underwear off!
I lay there for a few moments, relishing just being nude. Ahhhh. This was the right decision. No doubt about it. Then I happened to look over and notice a sign painted on the wall written in several languages. It said, in rather firm black letters, “Please do not bath (sic) naked.” Annnddd...
Underwear on!
Then yet another naked (elderly) woman entered the room. This time, though, I didn’t question. The trio of naked ladies probably wondered about the gal who refused to get nude, but I rocked my panties, y’all.
Shortly thereafter a tremendously fat Turkish women entered the room wearing only a pair of skimpy black thong underwear. She laid me out on the slab closer to one of the fountains and dumped cold water all over me. At this time the hot young naked girl entered the room again and proceeded to sit very close by, watching this process intently. I found this a bit strange at first, but then I got caught up in the fact that a practically naked woman with pendulous breasts was scrubbing me all over with a loofah. Sorry to disappoint my male readers, but this was a new experience for me. She then filled up a pillowcase with soap and sort of squished it around, puffed it up and banged it down on top of me so bubbles flew everywhere, including up my nose. I didn't speak Turkish and she didn't speak English, but there was no miscommunication here. No! When she wanted me to turn over she just gave me a little slap on my ass.
After a thorough scrub down, a bucket of warm water was dumped over me, whereupon I was motioned over to one of the fountains. She had me sit on the floor between her knees while she washed my hair (and my face) with soap. Then, sufficiently loofahed and squeaky clean, I was permitted to loll about on the slab once more while I waited for my oil massage. And I then realized why the young naked girl had stared so closely when out of the corner of my eye I saw the elderly naked woman getting virtually smothered in suds. It was fascinating and I must admit it was really very hard to look away. Too bad. It would have been fun to have a story about the totally smokin' nekkid girl who tried to pick me up in the Turkish bath, but I guess it was just the novelty of seeing a human being completely covered in bubbles.
Eventually I was called in for my massage and found the masseuse to be both skillful and friendly. She also spoke a little English, making me relax a little more as I was able to understand what was required of me a little more clearly. Soooo... steam... bubbles... oil... all in all, I was very impressed by the experience. And really everyone should be as comfortable with their bodies as these women were. Not like I want to hang out in my underwear with my girlfriends every day, but still… it would be fun every now and then, yes? Uh… Ladies? Anyone? No? Just me then? Ahem… moving on….
I later read that it’s considered impolite to bathe naked in the Turkish baths. In the touristy ones (like Cemberlitas) the attendants often excuse the behavior because so many of the people who frequent the baths do wind up stripping down, not understanding that culturally it’s a taboo. So I’m very pleased with my ultimate decision to go against the grain and wear my panties after all.
It was a very full and satisfying few days in Turkey. You know how the saying goes, though. All good things must come to an end and the evening following the bath we boarded one more night train back to Stara Zagora. And although we had spent two simply amazing weeks on the road, we were definitely ready to be home again – back in beautiful Bulgaria.
