Vlad to the Bone

Holy fuck, I'm in Transylvania. Land of rolling green hills, gothic castles, and Vlad Tepes - more commonly known in Romania as Vlad the Impaler for his habit of making human shish-kebabs out of minor law transgressors. You might know him as Dracula. I learned a lot about the man, the myth, the legend. For example, contrary to popular belief Dracula did NOT suck the blood of his victims. He sipped it from a port snifter while enjoying cuban cigars (made from actual Cubans). For an alternate view of the history I suggest the 1972 film Blacula, starring William Marshall. Romania is an awesome country and I learned to party like the undead. Our first stop was the small village of Sighisoara, purported birthplace of the aforementioned bloodsucker. The house where little Vladdy was born has been converted into a steak joint. For an authentic experience I suggest sinking your teeth into a rare cut of beef. Above the local residence sits a beautiful walled citadel; home to cobbled streets, an ancient clocktower, and a wide assortment of craptacular Dracula schwag. An uninspiring tour guide tried to tear down the Dracula myth so I bit her in the neck. Surprisingly, the tour ended soon after. Back at the hostel someone magnanimously produced a bottle of absinthe and the party was on. Before we knew it, night gave way to dawn and several of us turned to dust. The rest just vomited. The next morning we somehow made our way to the village of Brasov. The town wasn't too interesting but it was a great base for touring the local castles. Perched high up in the mountains of Sinaia was the spectacular Pele's Palace. There was no soccer memorabilia but the interior sported a treasure trove of intricately carved wood work that would give a beaver a hard-on. It also had a room filled with hookahs. Without a doubt my favorite castle in Europe. Next stop was the infamous Bran Castle of Dracula legend. Once again, our guide tried to separate man from myth. I'm really disappointed that an entire country is in denial of its patently obvious heritage. My dwindling spirits were buoyed on exiting into the square surrounding the castle, which was filled with local Dracula supporters and enough vampire merchandise to crush several small school children. The final stop on our tour was the Rasnov Citadel. The best aspect of this ho-hum citadel sitting precariously atop a high hill was that the bus took us straight back to the hostel. We finished up our Brasnov experience by downing a bottle of Vampire Brand Romanian vino. Good stuff, but a little heavy on the Romanian. As we left Romania, heading for Budepest, the train slowly screeched to a halt in the middle of nowhere. The dilapidated shell of a station had but a few patrons mulling around waiting for the train...about a half dozen giant chickens. None got on and the train continued on its way. I love this country.