Lazarea, Romania heading north

I drove my rental car north into the Carpathian Mountains, direction Ukraine. The roads got more and more rustic, the countryside more and more natural, wild and breath-takingly beautiful.

The roads were terrible, unkempt, full of dangerous potholes and frequently the side of the road suddenly no longer existed. Cars, semi trucks, vans, horses and carts, horses and buggies, cows, wild dog packs, old people, children all shared the road. 40 kilometers an hour was top speed. 

Just before the town of Miercurea Ciuc, where the Romanians make their excellent Ciuc beer (pronounced chook), I ran into the meanest, nastiest hail storm I have ever experienced in my life. Golf ball-sized hail rained down upon us. I couldn't pull over as I couldn't see and I knew that there were deep ditches along either side of the road. I thought my windshield would break! 

I eventually made it into Miercurea Ciuc only to find the streets filled with water. One in particular had water half way up the door of my car. Knowing the plethora of potholes that must be hidden under the water, I struck up the courage to keep going.

I made it to the town of Lazarea, or Gyergyoszarhegy in Hungarian (try saying that 10 times fast!).

The northern part of Romania was often under the rule of Hungary throughout the ages. This is evident in the buildings which are brightly colored and wooden. There are many Hungarian dishes served in the restaurants.

My guidebook told me that there were a couple of decent hotels and bed and breakfasts in Lazarea. I drove around for an hour, finding absolutely nothing. Aside from the main street, the others were dirt and mud. The village was utterly charming. There were no people with cell phones, no satellite dishes on the homes, no cell phone service and Internet ... pft, what is that! 

I managed to speak with people in a mixture of French English and a lot of sign language. Everyone was incredibly friendly and helpful. 

Someone had just gotten married and the church let out. I stopped two very old ladies on the side of the road. Their faces were a crack and crevice filled map of their lives, their eyes bright and cheerful. They wore black and were thin and slightly stooped as they used their canes for support.

I asked them for a Pensione (bed and breakfast) and they gestured left. Then one of them excitedly reached her hand into the car and tapped my Lonely Planet Guide Book where it boldly said ROMANIA. She tapped it and herself, it, and herself and then pointed at me. I understood and said, "France." "Oooohhh," she cried, "Francia, Francia!!" She and her friend were so happy, clapping their hands. It was a lovely moment.

Here is a view from the Pensione that I found tucked away in the mountains near the village. 

I was awakened by the clop, clop clopping of horse hooves the next morning, I leaned out the window and saw this.

Gorgeous. I haven't slept that soundly in months if not years.

Voila! Gros bisous et a demain!

Love, Charley