Segovia and Avila, Spain

We left Madrid today finally after getting caught in ring-highway hell for well over an hour. Did I mention that Madrid is a HUGE city? Well, somehow we made it onto the correct highway and my blood pressure finally settled down, and we were off toward the snowcapped mountains of Castilla y Leon. As a castlephile, I was excited to see Segovia's castle, which was the model for Disneyland's castle. Upon seeing it we were disappointed to find it appearing as fake as Disneyland itself. It's very pretty, but it is clear that it is a modern (1892) reproduction, rather than an historic castle.

However, we were not disappointed by Segovia's fantastic Roman aqueduct. It was built at the end of 1st to early 3rd century BC by the Romans during their occupation of the Iberian Peninsula to bring water from the Frio River (about 18 km away) to the city, requiring an elevated section in its last 1 kilometer (0.6 mi) from the Sierra de Guadarrama to the walls of the old town. This elevated section, largely dominating the nearby scene, is supported by an engineering marvel of 166 arches and 17 pillars in two levels. It is made of 400 large, rough-hewn granite blocks, joined without mortar or clamps. Its maximum height of 100 ft is found at the plaza of Azoguejo.

Segovia had a cute old town, and we were psyched to see our first smaller Spanish town. On to Avila.

We arrived in Avila astounded by the perfectly preserved, tall city walls that completely surrounded the old town. Wow, now this is the medieval Spain that I had been dreaming about!
We checked into our charming little hostal, which was inside the walls for only $52 a night, and then took to climbing up to the city walls. For a few dollars you can walk along the 11th century walls and peer into the valley below. Later we found a nice bodega (wine bar) where we got our first taste of the tapas scene.

Madrid, Spain

We started our 2007 vacation for real when we flew from London into Madrid, the capitol of Spain, and a massive city of 3.2 million. We rode the metro into the city center and walked for hours throughout the city. Above is the Plaza Mayor; the scene of multitudinous events: markets, bullfights, soccer games, public executions, and, during the Spanish Inquistion, "autos de fe" against supposed heretics and the executions of those condemned to death.

We spent quite a bit of time exploring The Palacio Real, the largest palace in Western Europe. The top picture is me hiding in one of the gardens while Lindso is trying to take an artistic picture.

We didnt find too much exciting Madrid nightlife, which apparently doesnt start until after we usuually go to sleep. We did find a nice small restuarant to relax in. On the way home, the real fun began. We had to take the metro back to our hotel, which was as far from the city center as one could go on the metro line. Usually I plan all our metro connections and Lindso just follows along. This year she decided to learn how to read a metro map and plan our journey for herself. Just then a train pulls up and Lindso announces that this is our train and she walks over and gets on it. I thought I would be a smart-ass and pretend that it was not the right train (it was) and not get on until the last second. I timed it a little too late. The doors shut and Lindso was gone and I was left behind. Not a bid deal for me, I knew how to get home and could just catch the next one in 10 minutes. However, I had no idea if Lindso really knew how to get back to our hotel. If she didn't, we were in deep trouble, because there is no way she was going to just happen upon it in a city of three million, and we had no cell phones.

I hoped she would get off at the next stop and let me catch up. She didn't. She had hoped I would stay put, and she caught a train back to where she left me. I had already gone. Now, both of us figured we just needed to get back to the hotel, and hope the other one could do the same. After 30-40 minutes I arrived at our hotel to find no Lindso. I told the desk clerk our situation and asked her to make Lindso stay at the hotel should she arrive, and then I went out to wander the streets of Madrid looking for her. It was a good 10 minute walk from our hotel to the metro station, so I could at least wait for her at that station. Thankfully, she was only a few minutes behind me and we met in the street just outside the hotel! We no longer mess around with getting seperated on international transportation.

Lucaya, Bahamas

My parents and I met up in Freeport, Bahamas. Freeport is a city on the island of Grand Bahama, located approximately 100 mi east-northeast of Fort Lauderdale, Florida. Freeport proper has 26,910 people. We visited the International Bazaar near downtown Freeport but spent most of our time at the Port Lucaya Market Place in Lucaya. The weather was unseasonably chilly the weekend that we were there, certainly not beach weather.

We went for a walk along this beach near our hotel. It had beautiful white powdery sand, much different than the grainy thick brown sand of Maui. All the beachfront activities were closed due to the 60 degree weather.

Being a former British Colony, Bahamanians speak English, and drive on the left.

Lucaya is a prototypical tourist trap. Lots of stuff for sale. Nevertheless it was a fun getaway with the folks. We had great Greek food and Bahamian beer. We jumped in the hotel hot tub. We took a tour of run-down Freeport town. It was neat to be in a foreign culture, just an hour plane flight from the US.

Santorini, Greece

Next, Dan and I took the ferry to Santorini island, population of 13,600. Santorini is essentially what has been left from an enormous volcanic explosion in 1500 BC which destroyed the settlements thereon and led to the creation of the current geological caldera. Its spectacular natural beauty along with its eminent nightlife make the island one of Europe's top tourist hotspots.

I consider myself a decent amateur photographer with no real skills other than knowing what angles and in what light to shoot things. The unbelievable color of the ocean and the whitewashed buildings in Santorini will make anyone look like a star photographer. The two pictures above are probably my favorites of anything I've taken.

This is me at Oia about 30 seconds after sunset. The cliffs behind me afre nearly 1000 feet high! We stayed in Fira, the main town, and as in Mykonos, traveled around via moped. We rode all over the island, and hit the great red sand beach on the far side. We also watched the USA versus Italy World Cup match here. It was fun to be in Europe during the World Cup. Every TV in the whole continent has the game on, and you can almost hear the game continuously as you walk from store to restuarant to bar. There were some seriously dejected Brazilians in the streets the night they lost.

Mykonos, Greece

Dan and I took the train from Athens to the port city of Piraeus, and boarded a huge ferry bound for Mykonos. We stopped off at a couple of other islands on the way, and they all looked great, and we were psyched to get to Mykonos. We would not be disappointed. Mykonos is a lot of fun. We rented mopeds and rode all over the little island, racing each other on blind turns, and generally being idiots. After the huge crowds of Athens, this place was like a big playground. We found that there are only three colors that people paint buildings. All are whitewashed on the sides. Some houses have azure roofs, and churches have red roofs. The white buildings against the black volcanic rock and the crystal blue mediterranean water is quite a sight. We saw lots of sheep, goats and mules. As we zipped from beach to beach, we interrupted at least on couple of nude sunbathers.

Dan on his bad-ass scooter that hauled us up the hills.

The first day we went to Paradise Beach. This place was unlike any beach I've ever been to. In the US, we like our beaches to be quiet and idyllic. Perhaps there are some kids yelling and playing in the surf, but may people will just read a book, or try to sleep in the sun. Not so at Paradise Beach. This place had not one, but two, dance clubs absolutely blasting techno all day and night. Dan and I had to shout to hear each other from five feet apart. We quickly gave in and ordered some crummy Mythos beers. Around 6pm, the sunbathers abandoned the setting sun, and moved from the umbrellas back to the techno club. One bar had clearly overpowered the other by sheer decibels, and so we bellied up at the bar of Paradise Club. The club was giving free shots to any girls who would get up and dance on the bar, and there were plenty of takers. We tipped the bartender well enough that he started giving us all his "mistakes". The MC was a skinny Greek guy wearing nothing but a thong with an elephant face on the front. He cavorted around the bar like some sort of cross between Pee Wee Herman and Zoolander. We named him Elephant Boy. Occasionally he would shout out to the different nationalities at the bar "Australia, let me hear you?" And the Aussies would scream. "Italia, where are you?" More Italian screaming. Finally Elephant Boy attempted, 'USA, are you here?" Dan and I gave a small yell. No other Americans were in attendance. Other people laughed.

Finally at 9pm, we needed to get some dinner, and left Paradise Beach to ride the scooters back into town. Only mine would not start. We had no choice but to double up on Dan's moped and ride Dumb-and-Dumber style up some really steep hills back to town. We laughed so hard I thought I might wet my pants just like in the movie. We were lucky to arrive alive.

Mykonos is the best!

Athens, Greece

From Istanbul I flew directly to Athens, Greece, the birthplace of democracy. I was really excited to get to Athens, possibly more so than any other destination I've ever been to. The sight of the Acropolis is recognizable to the majority of people on earth, and is an amazingly well preserved relic of ancient history. I arrived in Athens a few hours before my friend Dan, who was meeting up with me here for a week of travel together. I took Athens sparkling new metro from the airport to my hotel. When I exited the metro, there it was, looming above just a few blocks away, the Acropolis! It was all I could do to restrain myself from running up to it and exploring every inch immediately, I knew Dan would want to do the same in a few hours.
Athens is a huge city of 3.8 million, and much of the city is just packed apartments, honking car horns, the mosquito buzz of mopeds, and grey-brown smog. Yet rising above all that, 512 feet above sea level, is the shining whiteness of 2500 years of history, visible from anywhere in the city.

The Parthenon was completed in 431 BC, making it 2437 years old at the time of my visit. It has had an interesting history over the years; the Parthenon replaced an older temple of Athena, called the Pre-Parthenon or Older Parthenon, that was destroyed in the Persian invasion of 480 BC. Like most Greek temples, the Parthenon was used as a treasury. In the 6th century AD, the Parthenon was converted into a Christian church dedicated to the Virgin. After the Ottoman conquest, it was converted into a mosque in the early 1460s. On September 28, 1687, an Ottoman ammunition dump inside the building was ignited by Venetian bombardment. The resulting explosion severely damaged the Parthenon and its sculptures.

The ladies pictured above are descendants of that Ottoman Empire. They were here on a tour from Istanbul. I was wearing my newly purchased "Turkey" shirt, which was a foolish gaffe on my part. Turkey and Greece have chilly relations. They currently have divided the island of Cyprus between them, and a wall and soldiers separate the two cultures. Wearing a "Turkey" shirt to the Acropolis is the equivalent of wearing a Red Sox jersey in Yankee stadium, or perhaps a "Viva Fidel!" shirt at the Republican National Convention. I should have known better. In this case it turned out OK. I was besieged by a group of middle-aged Turkish ladies who were thrilled to see a strange American wearing their country's colors. They wanted pictures with me, and they tried to convince me to get on their tour bus with them, the lady with the big white hat even promising me that I would like her daughter back in Istanbul.

Above is the "Porch of Maidens" on the Erechtheum, built in 407BC. The statues on this temple are the best preserved on the Acropolis.

The Temple of Hephaestus, in central ancient Athens, Greece, is the best-preserved ancient Greek temple in the world, but is far less well-known than its illustrious neighbour, the Parthenon. It was built in 449 BC on a site with a commanding view of the Athenian Agora.
We found a tortoise basking in the sun between 2400 year old marble columns. Athens has small pockets of ruins all over the city. One can walk around, turn a corner, and bump into huge arches and columns at any moment.

When we tired from looking at marble, we headed to the Plaka for dinner. The Plaka has hundreds of restaurants with outdoor seating, great for people watching, listening to the street performers, and for being hassled every 6 minutes by some child selling some worthless object in mass quantities. When we were there the item of choice was a set of magnetic balls that make an annoying clicking sound when clasped together. There were literally a hundred street urchins hawking these things that any parent would take away from their child within the first hour. Still, we enjoyed Athens; very walkable, safe and clean. The sight of the Parthenon lit by floodlights at night was just amazing.

Istanbul, Turkey

Today was big travel day. I took a bus from Plovdiv to Istanbul. I was assured that the bur ride was only six hours. This was correct; they simply failed to mention that we would also spend three hours at the Bulgaria/Turkey border. The bus was very comfortable; we even had a "flight attendant" lady who would occasionally hand out juice boxes and moist towelettes. I simply wasn't prepared for the ordeal at the border, since my previous 8 border crossings on this trip had been quite painless and quick. Not so here. We disembarked from the bus and everyone went to sit in the shade. Eventually Turkish guards came and searched the bus top to bottom. Then they searched all of our luggage. Several times the took alcohol out of peoples bags and smashed it into a trash bin. This took hours. Just when we had all boarded and it looked like we could continue; our "flight attendant" informed me that, as an American, I needed to purchase a Turkish visa to get in, and pointed me to a toll booth. I ran over paid a reasonable $20, got a sticker, and we were off. Next to me at the booth was a Canadian woman who was none too pleased to find out Canadians had to pay $65 for a visa. As soon as we crossed the border at Edirne, I saw a huge mosque. I guess the Turks get stuck at the border too and don't want to miss prayer time.
After a couple more hours we arrived in Istanbul, a massive city of 10 million people! As we neared the outskirts of the city, there were people everywhere, picnicking in the median strip of the highway. Whole families in their Sunday Best (or Friday Best as is the case in the Muslim world) were enjoying the only piece of green grass to be found in their tightly packed Istanbul suburbs.

I didn't know quite what to expect from Istanbul. I had been to Turkey once before, and so I was not afraid of it being a conservative Islamic culture; but I was surprised to see how European the city is. It definitely feels like any other major European city, except there are noticeably fewer women on the streets; and those that are out are usually in head scarves. I rode a modern metro to the Sultanahmet district, where I was awed by the sights of old Constantinople. The Aya Sofya, pictured above, stands opposite the Blue Mosque, pictured below. These two massive, beautiful buildings are separated by a palm lined park and a large fountain. The scene is breathtaking. I sat for a long time and watch birds flying in and out of the towering minarets. Near sunset, I heard the muezzin call for the first time. After dark, a light show lit up the blue mosque, accompanied by a free theatre production, not in Turkish, but in French. Nearby a restaurant featured real whirling dervishes spinning around and around in a trance-like state to the fascination of tourists and Turks alike.

The Aya Sofya (or Hagia Sofia as it is spelled sometimes) is a world treasure of history. It was a cathedral, later a mosque, now a museum. It was the largest cathedral in the world for nearly a thousand years, until the completion of the Medieval Seville Cathedral in 1520.
The current building was originally constructed as a church between 532 and 537 on the orders of the Byzantine Emperor Justinian. It was the religious focus point of the Orthodox Byzantine Empire for nearly 1000 years.
In 1453, Constantinople was conquered by the Ottoman Turks and Sultan Mehmed II ordered the building to be converted into a mosque. The Islamic features - such as the four minarets outside, the mihrab and minbar - were added over the course of its history under the Ottomans. It remained as a mosque until 1935, when it was converted into a museum by the secular Republic of Turkey.
I was really looking forward to going inside the Aya Sofya, but alas, it is closed on Mondays, and I had to leave early Tuesday morning. Instead I toured the Blue Mosque, pictured above. It is "only" 400 years old, and had an amazing central prayer room.

This gentleman gave me an excellent shoe shine, as well as directions to the Sultans Palace.

I walked the streets of Sultanahmet district for hours, including the famous covered bazaar. After a couple hours, I got used to the incessant pressure from every store owner I passed. Turkish businessmen don't settle for window shopping, they want to drag you in. Time after time I heard, "Hello, my friend, where are you from?" No matter what response you give, the guy has been there, or knows someone from there. So, after a couple hours I started answering "Istanbul." "Right here, born and raised." That got some laughs. I actually bought a few small items and met some interesting people. With one young man working in a t-shirt shop; I sat down and discussed the war in Iraq for a while. He felt that America should get out and go away, but he doesn't bear ill will to the many servicemen he has met that travel through Istanbul. In fact he said he would like to join the US Army himself. He heard that an unskilled person can make almost 30,000 dollars in the Army which is an unbelievable amount of money.

I enjoyed Istanbul immensely, and for the first time on my trip, was very bummed that I didn't have more time to explore.

Plovdiv, Bulgaria

After a scenic five hour bus ride, in which we saw miles of farmland and men driving wooden carts pulled by horses and donkeys; we arrived in Plovdiv. Plovdiv is the second largest city in Bulgaria at 350,000 people. It's main street, pictured above is a wide thoroughfare with shops and restaurants. In the evenings it was full of families, and throughout the day the outdoor cafes reverberated with the cheers of men watching the World Cup on portable TV's. Josh forced me to sit and watch the thrilling showdown between England and Burkina Faso.

Here I saw one of my first glimpses of Soviet style sculpture. From what I've read many older Bulgarians have a fondness for the good old days of the Warsaw pact, and being able to rely on Soviet subsidies. I understand that times were particularly tough here right after the breakup of the Soviet Union. For now, things seem to be growing and thriving, with lots of construction and western brands moving into the shelves.

Josh and I had a beer next to a Roman ampitheatre (early 200's AD) that has been well-restored and is used weekly for concerts. Plovidv has Roman ruins all over, including a Roman stadium (late 200's AD), that has been uncovered beneath the main street! In America they probably would demolish all the surrounding buildings and make it a national park, but in Bulgaria they just re-routed the street around either side of it and put a plexiglass barrier around it for easy viewing.
I enjoyed a run along the Maritsa River and up a big hill to the foot of a massive sword wielding statue atop the "Hill of the Liberators". I think every town should have a big statue of a guy holding a sword aloft in victory. Even the towns that have never fought in anything much. It just looks cool.

Veliko Tarnovo, Bulgaria

I left Bucharest late this afternoon by train to travel further south to Bulgaria. I shared a compartment with these fine Romanians. I sat silently in their compartment somewhat embarrassed at having intruded upon their space, as they were clearly all traveling together. They chatted amongst themselves in Romanian for the first half of the 5 hour trip. Finally halfway one of them asked me in English if I was American. It turned out that they are doctors and were on their way to a conference in Bulgaria and three of them spoke decent English. I asked them some questions about Romania, but mostly they grilled me about life in America. Many Americans have the idea that Americans are disliked in most other countries. Ive never found that to be true. Most people dislike America's foreign policy of using our military and economic power to shape their countries policies to fit America's interests. Many dislike our President. Few will hold that against an individual American though, and most everyone wants to come to America at least to visit. I had a great conversation with these folks, though I felt embarrassed when they began to ask questions like how much was my vacation going to cost me, and how much do doctors make in the U.S.

Veliko Tarnovo was my first stop. I met up with Josh here, and we travelled through Bulgaria together for the next four days. Veliko is a town of 70,000 and was the capitol of the Bulgarian Empire from the 12th to the 14th century. Above is the Tsvaravets fortress, the primary stronghold of the empire. It is well preserved and tourists have free reign of the grounds. In fact, we were free to climb up a crumbling 13th century stone stairwell to the top of one tower, with a 60 foot fall to certain death looming beside the stairs. There was no guardrail. There was no sign indicating whether it was safe, or unsafe, or to "use at your own risk". Apparently Bulgaria doesn't have an overly litigious society like the U.S.

The views from the fortress were stunning, and due to a passing rainstorm and a lack of tourists in general, we had it all to ourselves. The fortress would have hundreds of people all over it if it were located in England or France. In Bulgaria it remains practically undiscovered.

Above is a picture of the the art inside Tsaravets.

Bulgaria is unbelievably inexpensive. Josh and I had a dinner and put away a massive number of beers for a grand total of $18. For breakfast we had a banitsa, a delicious fresh baked bread filled with cheese, for 30 cents. Two banitsas is enough to fill you up for hours.

Also, almost no one in Bulgaria speaks English. Ive had no problem getting by in any of the previous stops on the trip. Romania had the fewest English speakers thus far, but I could always find someone who would look around for an English speaker to translate. In Bulgaria, when I would say in Bulgarian "Hello, I'm sorry, I do not speak Bulgarian, do you speak any English?" people would just shrug their shoulders and ignore me. We never found any English menus at restaurants, and the fact that Bulgarian uses the Cyrillic alphabet makes it completely indecipherable.

I'm not so arrogant as to expect people in other countries to speak my language, but English is so prevalent all over Europe, that you do become accustomed to expecting people to understand it. As such Bulgaria was a complete shock to us. We simply could not complete the most simple conversations like buying a bus ticket or ordering a meal.

Upon leaving Veliko we needed to catch a cab to the bus station. Should be simple enough, however, we could not make the driver understand "Bus station Zug". He drove us to the wrong bus station, then drove us to the train station, at which point we gave up and got out to catch a different cab. The only problem is that the next train was not due for over an hour, so there were no cabs waiting. There was one cab actually, but he had just started on his lunch, and refused our fare. We had less than 20 minutes till our bus ( the only bus of the day) left for Plovdiv. After asking random people on the street to give us a ride, I finally had to bring out the big guns. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a 10 lev note (about $7 U.S.) held it into the air, and shouted "Bus Station Zug, Ten Lev! Who wants it?" The cabbie did. He jumped up from his table, had the waiter save his unfinished lunch, and he drove us to the bus station straightaway. I love Bulgaria.

Bucharest, Romania

I made my way via a $2 cab ride back to the Brasov Train station. My cabbie spoke English and had driven a cab in Chicago. He tried to convince me to let him drive me all the way to Bucharest for $25. While it seemed a reasonable fare for such a long drive, I opted for a 4 hour train trip instead, at the extremely cheap price of $6.
The ride to Bucharest brought me out of the green hills and mountains of Transylvania, down into the hot, flat, dusty plains of southern Romania. For the first time in the trip this year, I felt some truly hot weather. Bucharest is a big, loud, bustling city of 2 million. The scene outside the train station was shocking chaos. Cars were furiously honking. The pedestrians packed on the sidewalks were moving purposefully, all doing their best to pretend to not see the legless woman scuttling along in the gutter begging for change. Some stopped to examine the lineup of people selling bizarre selections of goods; one woman selling cartons of individually wrapped men's underwear all size small, another selling a mountain of black socks, another selling some unrecognizable food.
Once a got a few blocks away from the train station the city quieted and became managable. Bucharest has some wonderful green parks and lakes. The city is relativley clean and attractive considering the drastically lower economic level of Romania compared to my previous stops.

This monument remembers those who died in the revolution in December, 1989. Dictator Nicolae Ceauşescu had led a brutalized Romania for 24 years. He turned Romania into a police state. He enacted disastrous economic policies, like forcing all of Romania's farmers to put down their ploughs and work in factories, causing a famine. He built the second largest building in the world for his palace, while his people starved and froze. Finally by 1989, the fall of the Berlin Wall propelled the Romanian people to have the courage to bring down his regime. Over 1000 people died in the month long revolution, with Ceausescu's capture and execution on Christmas Day 1989 ending the killing.

Above is a Dacia car. I'd never heard of the brand Dacia before, but in Bucharest, literally 50% of all the cars on the street are Dacias.

The People's Palace was built by Ceausescu in the 1984. It has 1100 rooms, and is the second largest administrative building in the world next to the Pentagon. To build it, Ceausescu destroyed one fifth of Bucharest's historic district. 28 Churches were demolished. The street leading up to it was widened by the mad dictator to make it one meter wider than the great Champs Elysee. The destruction of the peoples homes that had lined the street were of no consequence, nor was the fact that his palace's construction took up to 25% of Romania's GDP. So much marble was used that Romanians had to find other types of stone to use for gravestones.

Today it houses the Romanian Parliament, as well as the Museum of Totalitarianism and Socialist Realism.

Brasov and Bran, Romania

In Budapest Lindso and I parted ways. She caught a shuttle to the airport to fly back to Maui, and I caught the metro to the train station. I boarded a night train to Transylvania! I would be making a 10 hour train ride across Hungary, into Romania, through the Carpathian mountains and into Transylvania with a final destination of Brasov. This was my most exciting train journey yet. The train was pretty empty, and I had a sleeper compartment all to myself. I fell asleep in my little fold out bed to the clickety-clack of the tracks. I awoke briefly after midnight to show my passport to the Romanian border control. Around 5am I awoke to the sunrise over the foggy Carpathians. The landscape was green farmland, with many men walking along the road with fishing rods for some early morning angling.

I arrived in Brasov, a city of 300,000, early in the morning. A long walk through deserted cobblestone streets brought me to my hostel. This would be my first hostel experience, and though Kismet Dao was not the greatest hostel I'd see, it was comfortable enough at $12 a night.

Brasov has a picturesque old town. It also unfortunately has a KFC in the central square. Progress is coming quickly to Romania, as they enter the European Union in just six months. Construction is everywhere.

While in Brasov I slipped on some wet cobblestones and tore my jeans wide open. Since I had no other pants even remotely clean, I needed to buy a pair. As it turns out jeans are the only expensive item in Romania. I did get a chance to talk to the woman working at the clothes store and ask her what she thought of Bulgaria, as that was my next destination. "Oh, Bulgarians are awful, I do not like them." So I started asking her about Romania's other neighbors, following are her responses:

Hungarians; "I don't like them, they think they are better than us."

Ukrainians: " I don't like them, they drink too much and fight."

Serbians; "I hate them, they steal."

Moldovans; "They speak Romanian like us, but they are poor and dirty people."

Now I understand why there has been warfare in the Balkans for hundreds of years. I would find the same attitudes in each successive country I visited. Bulgarians hate the Turks, dislike the Romanians, and think the Greeks are too uppity. Romanians warned me not to go to Bulgaria, and Bulgarians told me I was lucky to make through Romania without being accosted.

On the other hand, everyone was helpful and friendly to me. They don't see too many Americans around here and everyone was interested as to why I was in Romania, and what I thought of Romania.

The second day in Brasov I caught a bus to Bran Castle reputed as Dracula's Castle. Bran castle is very pretty, nestled in the Carpathians. Dracula (Vlad "the Impaler" Tepes) was a real person who ruled Wallachia from 1456-1462. He was known for his brutal slaughter of the Turkish forces that bordered his lands, particularly by impaling them on posts along the road sides for miles. However, he was not a vampire, nor was Bran Castle his castle. He did spend two days in the dungeon here while a prisoner of the Hungarians in the 147o's. His original castle has been destroyed by time and the elements, so this well preserved 14th century castle is marketed as "Dracula's Castle". Fine by me, it was a fun tour.