Dracula's Castle ~ sort of
Not about to discount Vlad's impressive past, the guy was initiated into the order of the dragons as a kid for fks sake. But the lure of Bram's writing is such that when in Rome(aina) you kinda have to see the castle he chose for the setting. It was less than an hour by bus from Brosov. The sky was clear, the sun heated the air to nearly 90°, something didn't feel right. I half wanted cold, fog and mist to fill the air as we traveled south to Bran. Didn't happen. The town wasn't packed with goths, not a mohawk or spike to be seen.
The courtyard below the castle is actually quite relaxing. Expansive lawns dotted with ponds welcome visitors on the walk up the hill where the famed Castle rests. Our skip the line tickets were hindered by the two person wide stone staircase leading up to the entrance.
Most of the displays were about the actual people that lived there and Bram Stoker, the rest was sensationalism for die hard fans. We did however buy the torture chamber tickets. It's an add on and not sure if you could do it independently. Some seriously deranged minds spent quite a bit time thinking of new and improved ways to torture other humans mostly for "laws" that we're broken, but some just had to be for fun. There's the boot, which increasingly applies pressure to your calf so that you can't walk upright, the Spanish Tickler, which was just a rake used to burn and peel flesh and then there's the spike. It goes up and through. Gives a whole new meaning to bottoms up. Mind you the guilty were slowly lowered by ropes so the torture could last awhile. Alisa's favorite was a jacket which when worn allowed you to neither sit nor stand. This was coupled with a small prison cell which prohibited standing but allowed rats to freely enter to engulf their choice of appendages, night after night until the jacket was all that was left.
Glad we went ~ for once I just wish the weather would have been shitty.
Peles Castle
Took a train to Sinaia, an hour south of Brasov. We passed it on the way up from Bucharest. I noticed Peles Castle on the map as we came up and wondered how we would get there from the station. Alisa found a blog written by a couple, one of which carries an oxygen tank along. After doing the unthinkable, taking a taxi and deciding to walk 25 minutes straight uphill they finally succumbed. We took the first taxi we saw. (10 Liev ~ $5) The trip took less than five minutes thanks to the taxi driver's addiction to speed or meth, one of the two. It was steep, we only slowed for a dog running in front of us and I'm pretty sure if we weren't in the car it would have been tumbling over the ledge and falling on all the other day trippers making the hike.
Peles Castle was absolutely beautiful. The woodwork was mesmerizing. You would get lost in one panel's story only to be seduced by another. We hitched on the back of an organized tour and learned about the secret door King Carol I had built to escape, along with an oddly placed mirror. Turned out the king didn't want to kink his neck looking straight up at a fresco, so he had a mirror placed halfway up the wall to make viewing it easier. Besides that the tour group just made it harder to truly admire the beauty of the place. Sometimes they're unavoidable but we try our best to go independently.
I wondered who dusted all that wood.
Afterwards we walked up to Pelisor Castle, 200 meters away. It looked pale in comparison and was closed. But I noticed a dirt trail heading up into the woods and convinced Alisa to join me. It wasn't hard to do considering the forest canopy provided reprieve from the sudden downpour. We walked up what looked like an ancient trail. The stones were unkempt, covered in moss and turned sideways from erosion. As we crested the hill behind the castle, the trees opened just enough to see Peles backside. That's when I realized this castle was meant to be admired at all angles. There was even a clock facing the hill we were trespassing on. No tourists, no groups, no one but us and the sound of the rain finally letting up, dripping on leaves, rotting wood and my bald head.
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