Dracula Tour 2001 Recap:  We're Vlad We Went!
by Jon Westcot

	"It was a dark and stormy night . . . ."

	Well, that's not quite true.  Sunday, 28 October 2001, was 
actually a beautiful day, with relatively few clouds in the sky.  
And night, by its very nature, is inherently dark.

	Still, there was something in the air . . . an intangible 
aura of electricity, of excitement, of anticipation.  It swirled 
around our small group as we waited outside the Lufthansa ticket 
counter for the rest of our fellow travelers to join us, 
touching each person there, shouting silently of the fun that 
awaited us on the other side of the Atlantic.

	In Transylvania.

	Shortly, all those who were about to embark on this eight-
day journey to Dracula's homeland had arrived and we all were 
introduced to Danny and Charles, the organizers of the tour.  
Charles was going to be making the trip with us this year; Danny 
will be going again in 2002.  Both gentlemen impressed me with 
their interest in the horror genre in general, with their 
knowledge of Dracula lore in particular, and with their obvious 
passion for this tour they had devised.

	One of the key words for this year's Dracula Tour has to be 
"change," or, more accurately, "flexibility."  Until a few days 
before we left, we were slated to fly on SwissAir.  However, due 
in part to the horrific events of 11 September, SwissAir went 
bankrupt and we found ourselves flying with Lufthansa instead.  
However, other than a heightened degree of security in and 
around the airport, there was very little sign of apprehension 
or uneasiness about flying that I could detect.

	The flight from New York to Frankfurt, Germany, was 
uneventful, as was the flight from Frankfurt to Bucharest.  
Unfortunately, there really wasn't any way for those of us on 
the tour to mingle with our fellow travelers until we had 
arrived in Bucharest, passed through Customs, and boarded the 
large motor coach that would be transporting us from site to 
site during our stay in Romania.

	Before we left the Bucharest airport, we met the native 
members of our tour -- our guide, Radu, and our driver, Stephan.  
Charles and Radu encouraged us to exchange currency in the 
airport, as future opportunities to do so might not offer as 
favorable an exchange rate.  We were also admonished to not give 
any money to any panhandlers or beggars we might encounter since 
doing so could be compared to pouring blood into the ocean -- 
the first person to receive money would notify the others of his 
good fortune and soon the place would be swarming with beggars.  
This proved to be timely advice, as several of us were 
approached as we walked some ten or twelve yards between the 
airport and the bus.

	Once all of the luggage had been gathered and we had 
boarded the bus, we set off for our first destination:  Brasov.  
We stayed in the Hotel Aro Palace, one of the finest hotels in 
all of Brasov.  The hotel was quite an example of old-world 
elegance, from the large and open lobby to the nicely appointed 
restaurant.  Of course, there were several aspects of our hotel 
stays that would require some adjusting on our parts.  For 
starters, the beds were rather, um, small, shall we say.  As it 
was explained to us, it is somewhat rare to find a king-sized 
bed in Romania, or anywhere in Eastern Europe; we made do with 
two twin beds, and, even then, my feet hung off the end of the 
bed in several of the hotels.  The beds were also quite firm, 
more like understuffed futons than the mattresses to which most 
of our group were accustomed.  More than one person commented 
that the beds invoked memories of being at camp rather than 
being in a hotel.

	Another adjustment we all found ourselves making concerned 
the toilet paper.  Even though we had been warned that Romanian 
toilet paper was rougher than its American counterpart, no 
amount of forewarning or coaching could have prepared us for the 
truth.  If you want to experience for yourself firsthand what 
Romanian toilet paper is like, go to any party store and buy a 
role of crepe paper, pull off a hunk, and use that.  It was 
amazingly stretchy stuff and not perforated at all, but it did 
manage to, ahem, get the job done.  Several of the more craft-
oriented among us actually brought some Romanian toilet paper 
home for use in various projects.  I guarantee you that no one 
who sees an item made with this material would ever guess its 
true origins.

	After we checked in to our rooms and had a short time to 
relax and freshen up, we gathered in the restaurant for dinner.  
Overall, I found our dinners to be the best meals we had on this 
trip; breakfasts were by far the worst.  Dining in Romania 
introduced us to yet another raft of changes.  To the best of my 
knowledge, there is no such thing as a "free drink refill" for 
any beverage, water included, anywhere in Romania.  In fact, 
water was usually served from a bottle and was frequently 
mineral water.  Most restaurants offered a good selection of 
pork dishes, a number of chicken dishes, but only a few beef 
entrees.  Bread or rolls were usually provided, but butter was 
an extra item on the menu that needed to be ordered.

	The nice part of this first dinner was getting the 
opportunity to chat with some of our fellow tour members.  My 
wife, Eileen, and I had dinner this first night with Phil and 
Beth, adult siblings from Florida.  It was nice to talk about 
our various interests, what we hoped to see on the tour, what we 
did back home, and so forth.  

	Sadly, the remaining scheduled activities for the night -- 
a midnight tour of a nearby cemetery and a seance -- were 
canceled due to rain.  Several members of our group decided to 
go out on their own and explore a different sort of night life.  
We didn't join them, though, as we were both still rather tired 
from the flight; we also knew that we were going to have a 
fairly early start the next day.

	We awoke on our first morning in Romania and made our way 
down to the restaurant for breakfast.  I don't believe that any 
of us -- other than Charles, perhaps -- were prepared for some 
of the items that awaited us on the breakfast buffet.  Cold 
cuts.  Hard fried eggs.  Sliced tomatoes and green peppers.  Raw 
bacon.  Yes, raw bacon.  Other than cold toast, raw bacon was 
one item that I believe was common to every breakfast we were 
served.  (A word to the wise -- pack a jar of peanut butter and 
a couple of bags of dried fruits in your suitcase; you'll be 
glad you did.)  There were other items, though, that weren't 
quite as foreign to us (all puns intended), including a wide 
selection of pastries and several hot and cold cereals.  Sadly, 
this was the only breakfast that featured these items.

	Our first stop for the day was the town of Bran where we 
were to visit Bran Castle.  The castle itself is situated atop a 
small hill and was originally built in the late 14th century to 
help defend the area against the Turks.  Contrary to popular 
belief, this castle was not built by Vlad Tepes, although he was 
imprisoned there for some time.

	Walking through Bran Castle, I was impressed by a number of 
things.  I found the architecture to be marvelous.  The castle 
is being restored, but it was still in a remarkable state of 
repair, even owing to the relatively recent addition of electric 
lights to the facility.  We went through almost every place 
above-ground in the castle; I don't know if there was any way to 
tour the extensive underground passages, but it would have been 
interesting to see them.  Of course, if these passages were 
anything like the "Secret Staircase" we climbed, I'm not 
positive I would have been able to navigate through them, as I 
am 6'6" tall.  The Secret Staircase was extremely steep and 
narrow; both of my shoulders were brushing the sides of the 
passage as I ascended.  I also noticed that many doorways were 
rather short, which made sense -- there was little to be gained 
by making the doorways any larger than absolutely necessary for 
one person to pass through; the smaller they were, the easier 
they would be to defend.

	At the base of the castle was an open-air bazaar.  It was 
here that we found the wonderful buys that previous tour reports 
have raved about.  Many of the vendors sold what appeared to be 
hand-made wool sweaters, and these garments could be purchased 
for an incredibly low price compared to what similar sweaters 
would cost here.  The vendors offered other hand-crafted items, 
such as plaques and woodcarvings, as well as more tourist-
oriented items, such as t-shirts, banners, and pictures.  We 
could easily have spent an hour or more at the bazaar, but our 
time there was short.  We were told, though, that we would be 
visiting other bazaars later in the tour and that it wasn't 
necessary to pick up every item we wanted to bring back with us 
at this one location.  However, as it turned out, the bazaar at 
Bran Castle was about the only one we visited, and many of our 
group did not obtain the gifts or do their Christmas shopping as 
they'd hoped.  But, nothing ever really goes one hundred percent 
as planned when one is "on an adventure," and we all tried to 
remain as flexible as possible.

	After we left Bran Castle, we headed back to Brasov for 
lunch and a bit of wandering.  Our time there was rather 
limited, though, as we had a long drive ahead of us.  Sadly, 
there wasn't any true tour of Brasov provided, so we missed out 
on seeing things such as the Black Church in depth; we did take 
a quick jaunt through the town by bus and Radu pointed out some 
of the more famous (or infamous) landmarks.

	Following lunch, we gathered back at the hotel and boarded
the bus.  Our next stop on the tour was the town of Bistrita,  
some five-plus hours away from Brasov.  To help the time pass 
more quickly, Charles and Radu fired up the on-bus VCR and we 
watched the 1931 version of "Dracula."  (Some might consider this 
the only version, but I'm a bit more open-minded than that.)  
Following the movie, Charles slipped on his "tour director" hat 
and told us a bit about himself.  Then, starting at the front of 
the bus, he had everyone on the tour introduce themselves as 
well, using the thinly-veiled ruse of "letting the bride and 
groom know who would be attending their wedding."

	Wedding?  Did I forget to mention that two brave and 
intrepid souls were taking this tour as part of their wedding 
ceremony?  Yes, Chuck and Tina were to be married on Hallowe'en 
as we partied the night away at the Hotel Castel Dracula, high 
atop the Tihuta (formerly Borgo) Pass.  Having a wedding occur 
as part of the tour was a first for Charles, but I suspect that 
it won't be the last, especially for those couples who enjoy the 
macabre.

	As person after person made his or her introductions, 
Charles would add a comment or two to keep us all in high 
spirits, even suggesting several people who could perform roles 
in the ceremony.  And, when it was my turn to make my 
introduction, Charles interrupted me to proudly announce that I 
was the winner of the first trip giveaway that had been done.  
(You see, I'd entered a contest at http://www.horrorfind.com 
and, of all the people who entered, my name was drawn for their 
"Ultimate Grand Prize" -- a trip for two to Transylvania.  Once 
again, I extend my most heartfelt and humble thanks to Charles 
and Danny of International Tours and Events, and to Mike Roden 
of HorrorFind.com; guys, this vacation was something Eileen and 
I will remember for the rest of our lives.  But I digress.)

	After we'd all made our introductions to the bride and 
groom, Charles began his infamous "Penny Auction."  He'd brought 
a number of items with him to auction off, some more collectable 
than others, and everyone quickly got into the spirit of the 
event.  Bidding started, of course, at one penny, and would then 
progress upwards from there.  We were free to jump to whatever 
price we felt might secure the item of our dreams (or 
nightmares, as the case may be), but we were cautioned that 
someone else could outbid us, even by just one penny.  There 
were many interesting items to be had; I was lucky enough to 
secure the winning bids on two items, a biography of Boris 
Karloff that was signed by his daughter, Sara, and a set of 
audio tapes of a radio play version of "Frankenstein" that 
Universal Studios commissioned and had broadcast to coincide 
with the release of their movie version of "Frankenstein."  
Other items that were auctioned off included DVDs, VHS tapes, 
books, jewelry, and even some "Vampire Condoms."

	Following the successful completion of his "Penny Auction," 
Charles started another movie, this time showing us the original 
"Nosferatu" (1922).  This movie ended just as we pulled in to 
the next stop on our destination, the town of Bistrita.  We 
checked in to the hotel and headed to our room.  For some 
reason, we had a ninety-minute wait before dinner, during which 
time both my wife and I managed to fall asleep, thereby missing 
dinner completely.  From what others told me, we didn't really 
miss much.

	The schedule for Day Four of our tour was rather open.  Our 
first scheduled event wasn't to occur until noon.  That gave us 
the morning to wander around Bistrita to look for deals on 
souvenirs.  Eileen and I bravely set out for the city center 
from "Hotel Yellow" (the kindest term our group used when 
referencing that place) and wandered around a bit, not finding 
much of anything.  We did encounter several bakeries, and we 
found their items to be of varying quality, ranging anywhere 
from outstanding to questionable.  We also somehow managed to 
latch onto a street beggar, a young girl who began to plead with 
us for help.  Of course, she was speaking Romanian.  "No," we 
firmly told her as we walked away.  She followed us, trying to 
show us a hand-written note -- also in Romanian -- that 
explained what she actually wanted.  No matter how hard we 
refused her, she continued to beg us for help; no matter how 
fast we walked, she walked faster . . . and often backwards.  It 
wasn't until we walked into a building that she finally left us 
alone, probably choosing to disappear because we'd accidentally 
walked into the local constable's office.

	We made our way back towards "Hotel Yellow," only to find 
that the bridge that spanned the small river along the hotel was 
filled -- literally filled -- with school-age children.  At 
first, I began to worry that our street urchin had summoned the 
rest of her group, but, as we drew closer, we saw that they 
were, in fact, children from a school on some sort of field 
trip.  They kept staring into the river and making notes.  When 
we crossed the bridge, I looked over to see if I could spot what 
it was they appeared to be studying -- fully expecting to see a 
body floating there -- but I never did figure it out, and no one 
there seemed to speak any English.

	Following our morning walk, we boarded the bus and headed 
off for the famed "Hotel Coroana de Aur", or "Golden Crown 
Hotel," for lunch in the "Jonathan Harker Salon."  The hotel did 
not exist in Bram Stoker's time, even though he placed Harker 
there; the hotel was built subsequent to the release of 
"Dracula" to capitalize on the book's popularity.  The "Jonathan 
Harker Salon" was created to cater to tourists who wished to 
"follow in Harker's footsteps."  Costumed waiters served our 
meal that afternoon, which was based in part on what Harker was 
served -- robber steak, which turned out to be skewered cubes of 
pork, beef, small sections of sausage, onion, and green pepper.  
That was not all we were served, of course; the actual lunch 
consisted of six or seven courses, starting with a small snifter 
of "Dracula Zaubertrank" or "Dracula Elixir," a very strong, 
very red plum brandy.  The restaurant was decorated with a 
number of stylish Dracula-themed paintings, as well as with the 
more traditional menagerie of stuffed and mounted birds, wild 
game, and even what appeared to be a very put-out housecat.  It 
was an interesting and entertaining meal -- I especially enjoyed 
watching the candle nearest us ignite its candlestick 
decoration, creating a ball of flame nearly a foot high -- and 
many people posed in the Dracula garb that was provided to us.

	Our lunch had barely begun to digest before we got back 
onto the bus and returned to the hotel, something most everyone 
was anticipating.  No, not because we were getting to spend more 
time in that "wonderful" establishment, but because we were to 
spend the next three hours getting ready for that evening's 
costume party -- and wedding -- at the Hotel Castel Dracula.  
Some people needed only a short time to prepare, while others of 
us needed the full three hours (and could have used a couple 
more hours as well).

	Ah, Hallowe'en in Transylvania.  For a true Hallowe'en 
buff, Dracula fan, or Master of the Macabre, there really isn't 
anything else quite like it.  But, for most Romanians, October 
31st isn't all that special a day.  They don't really celebrate 
Hallowe'en, at least, not in the way we do.  In fact, most 
Hallowe'en decorations that we saw were actually displayed for 
the benefit of "the American tourists" visiting the area, not 
for the locals.  Therefore, our group certainly received more 
than our fair share of looks, stares, disapproving glances, and 
heads shaking in disbelief as we made our way out to the bus for 
the hour-or-so drive from Bistrita to the Tihuta (formerly 
Borgo) Pass and the Hotel Castel Dracula.

	The trip up to the hotel was uneventful.  We watched most 
of "Return of the Vampire" as we drove along, our way lit by 
both the headlights of the bus and by the rare full Hallowe'en 
moon (a VERY special treat, I assure you).  While we watched the 
movie, I overheard a number of people talking about the hotel 
and wondering why, at the last minute, we were unable to stay at 
the Hotel Castel Dracula.  The explanation for that change was 
not forthcoming, though, and wouldn't truly be learned until the 
next morning.

	From reading the previous tour reports, as well as reading 
what little was printed in the tour books on the Hotel Castel 
Dracula, we were all expecting a fine evening.  The meal was 
said to be lavish, the basement of the hotel reportedly housed 
"Dracula's Vault," a miniature haunted house, and a midnight 
bonfire was planned that would feature ghost stories.  Plus, we 
all had the wedding to attend.

	The highlight of the evening was most certainly Chuck and 
Tina's wedding.  These two had been planning this for fourteen-
plus months, and, even with all that planning, much of it was 
left up to chance.  They took a big gamble that those of us on 
the tour who were not part of their actual wedding party would 
be both like-minded enough and open-minded enough to appreciate 
a wedding in the middle of their Hallowe'en party.  Fortunately, 
their gamble paid off.  Everyone on the tour seemed to be 
supportive of Chuck's and Tina's plans, and I know that many of 
us were honored to be part of their union.

	The wedding itself was anything but what one would consider 
typical.  Tina entered the room to the eerie strains of "The 
Wedding March" played on an organ (although not nearly as eerie 
as the version I used to overdub the sound on my video of the 
wedding); A priest from a nearby monastery, who spoke no 
English, performed a traditional Romanian wedding; three 
Romanian nuns sang a traditional wedding blessing; Chuck and 
Tina exchanged their own personal vows; Charles offered his 
blessings to the happy couple, providing a glass for Chuck to 
crush in the Jewish wedding tradition.  All these disparate 
traditions and beliefs came together, though, and made for a 
moving ceremony, and I felt honored to be in attendance.

	The rest of the evening had its high points and low points.  
We learned that there would be no midnight ghost stories around 
the bonfire; in fact, the bonfire was going to be held much 
earlier in the evening.  The planned tour of "Dracula's Vault" 
was canceled.  The local DJ couldn't quite understand why no one 
wanted to listen to his seemingly exhaustive collection of Cher 
songs; he was particularly fond of "Gypsies, Tramps, and 
Thieves," which he kept trying to play after every third or 
fourth song.  And the large meal that I'd read about had been 
replaced by a buffet of -- you guessed it -- odd sliced 
sausages, rather tasty breads, strange cheeses, more tomatoes 
and green peppers, and fresh fruit.  Many people went home 
hungry that evening, as most of us had already grown quite tired 
of sausage and sheep cheese.

	Even with those disappointments, I have to say that the 
highs of the evening far outweighed the lows.  Charles, being a 
DJ himself, began a pretty strict supervision of the music, and 
the selections greatly improved.  (There was a rumor floating 
about that Charles grabbed the local DJ's Cher CD and scratched 
it into unrecoverable unplayability, but that has yet to be 
confirmed.)  People had a chance to talk -- well, shout, really 
-- with one another, get to know each other better, and take 
photos of everyone in their fabulous costumes.  There was 
another party going on at the hotel that evening, but I believe 
that most people from it eventually wound up at our party, as we 
were really doing our best to blow the roof off the place.

	For me, the real highlight of the evening -- outside of the 
wedding, of course -- came from seeing the costumes we all wore.  
This group collectively rose to the challenge, presenting some 
of the most creative, imaginative, wonderful costumes that I 
have seen in ages.  We had a plethora of vampires milling about, 
as would befit any Dracula Tour.  Vampire victims were popular 
as well.  Various other undead creatures joined with their 
vampire brethren.  Quasimodo put in an appearance, as did a 
couple of Grim Reapers and numerous Goth-inspired denizens of 
the night.  Gomez, Morticia, and Wednesday Addams were on hand 
for the festivities, as were Erik, the Phantom of the Opera, and 
the love of his life, Christine.  A Cheerleader from Hell was on 
hand to shake her pom-pons and lead cheers.  And, most 
impressively, a pair of Nosferatu-style vampires moved eerily 
through the crowd, their blue veins showing through the pale 
translucency of their bald heads and skin.

	Looking at all of the amazing costumes, I felt slightly 
sorry for Charles; it was going to be difficult to pick one 
winner for the various costume categories.  But, pick them he 
did (with some able assistance from Eileen and Rita).  Stephen 
was chosen as the Best Dracula.  The Fannings were chosen as the 
Best Ensemble for their dead-on recreation of The Addams Family.  
When he got to the category of Best Transformation, Charles 
wound up declaring it a tie between Doug and Christine since we 
all had difficulty recognizing either of them.  I was quite 
surprised (and flattered!) to hear that Charles picked me for 
Scariest Costume as Erik, the Phantom of the Opera, in his 
Masque of the Red Death costume.  The Sexiest Costume went to 
Else for her Cheerleader from Hell.  And, without a doubt, the 
Best Overall Costume award went to Robert and Mireya for their 
incredible transformation into the Nosferatu couple.

	Members of the local and Swiss press were on hand and 
visited our party room frequently, taking what seemed to be 
hundreds of shots of all of us in costume, using both still and 
video cameras.  It was an amazing bonus to find, two days after 
the party, that a full-color photo of Robert and Mireya was 
printed in the Romanian paper, even if they did refer to us as a 
group of "crazy Americans."  If the fun we had on Hallowe'en 
represented crazy, then I'm not certain I'd want to be sane.

	We were greeted on the fifth day of our tour to a somewhat 
overcast and hazy sky, but that cleared somewhat.  The first 
order of business for the day was to travel back up to the 
Tihuta Pass and the Hotel Castel Dracula to pick up Chuck and 
Tina, who, by prior arrangement, had secured the bridal suite.  
It was not mandatory that everyone travel back to the hotel that 
morning, as the bus would return to Bistrita to pick up everyone 
else, but a few of us wanted to see what the Tihuta Pass -- and 
the hotel -- looked like in daylight.

	Driving through Bistrita, I was struck by the number of 
street vendors selling flowers.  In places, there was hardly any 
curb or sidewalk visible.  Radu explained that November 1st -- 
All Saint's Day -- was a national day of recognition in Romania.  
People bought flowers to place them on the graves of their 
family, friends, and even strangers.  It would be the exception, 
rather than the norm, to see a grave without some kind of flower 
or plant on it for the next few days.

	Radu also explained what had happened with our previously 
planned stay at the Hotel Castel Dracula.  It seemed that a 
large group of Dracula Society members from England had come in 
and booked the entire hotel, some one hundred thirty rooms.  
This large booking allowed them to dictate to the hotel staff 
what would and would not be done there on Hallowe'en.  It was 
this group who changed both the time and the content of the 
bonfire, and who closed "Dracula's Vault."  To my surprise, I 
learned that they only used twenty-eight of the rooms they'd 
reserved.  They even caused a great deal of unnecessary grief to 
Chuck and Tina, who arrived to find that their long-booked 
reservation "could not be found."  It was only after Tina 
practically had a breakdown that the hotel staff "found" their 
fourteen-month-old reservation.  Later that morning, I asked 
Charles about this problem with the British group.  While he did 
acknowledge they were responsible for many of the changes in our 
plans, to his credit, Charles never once bad-mouthed them or 
speculated as to their motives.  I personally believe they felt 
threatened by the tour that he and Danny have devised and are 
actually afraid of the competition; if this is true, it is a 
testament to the success and quality of Charles's and Danny's 
tour.

	When we arrived at the hotel, Radu told us we would have 
around twenty minutes or so to look around and take pictures.  
There was a small bazaar there -- only four or five booths, 
really -- which some of our group visited.  I instead chose to 
visit a very small graveyard that was barely one hundred yards 
from the hotel.  As Radu had mentioned, I found most of the 
graves to be decorated with flowers.  I don't know if this was 
an actual cemetery or if it was simply a small collection of 
gravestones and vault covers that had been placed there as 
"atmosphere" for the hotel.  I suspect that it was an actual 
cemetery, though, as I didn't see any obviously staged 
tombstones.

	We returned to Bistrita to pick up the rest of our group; 
from there, we were off to Sighisoara, Vlad Dracula's 
birthplace.  The center of Sighisoara is a well-preserved 
example of medieval architecture and life, with a tremendous 
clock tower serving as the most prominent landmark.  We were 
able to climb up the tower and walk around its perimeter, which 
provided an incredible view of the town.  The buildings were all 
tall and narrow, pressing in against one another, practically 
forming miniature fortresses.  The streets in "old town" were 
extremely narrow and inaccessible to automobiles; they were 
practically inaccessible to pedestrians as well!  And be 
forewarned: most of Europe is built "vertically," with lots of 
stairs and tall buildings because of the hills.

	Under the clock tower and just off to one side was the 
Torture Room Museum.  The museum consisted of two very small 
rooms, the larger of which was no more than ten feet square, but 
with a very high, very black ceiling.  The color, it was 
explained to us, came from soot from the fires built in the room 
to torture prisoners.  Near a small trap door in the wall 
opposite the main wall, Radu pointed out several faint carvings 
in the brick.  One inscription he translated for us said 
something to the effect of, "I fear today is my last day on 
earth."  Even though we'd been surrounded by history all week, 
it was the sight of this torture room that drove home to me the 
fact that we were looking at places where atrocities we had only 
heretofore read about were actually carried out on a daily 
basis.  There is a tendency to romanticize the past, to make it 
seem more idyllic than it really was; places like the torture 
room serve to stand as a stark reminder that "the good old days" 
weren't always so good.

	On the opposite side of the citadel from the torture room 
stood the Church of the Dominican Monastery, a massive building 
that, unfortunately, was not part of our tour.  Charles did tell 
us, though, that the area in front of the church where a wide 
sidewalk now ran used to be a cemetery of unmarked graves.  
During the first Dracula Tour, this area had been dug up in 
preparation for the construction of the sidewalk and bones were 
scattered everywhere.  The locals, being quite superstitious, 
would not touch the bones, so they just lay about in small 
piles.  Charles and Danny, though, gathered up a bag full of 
bones and brought them home.  I marveled that they were able to 
pass through Customs with them, but Charles said that Customs 
had not been a problem.

	After we toured the torture room, a small performance had 
been arranged for us.  A local group of actors put on a 
recreation of a witch trial (all in Romanian, of course, with a 
helpful translation provided by Radu), which started off back in 
the torture room.  There, on a rack, hung "the witch," who was 
already quite bloody and bruised.  They were trying to force a 
confession from her and were using various means so to do, 
including flogging her (quite realistically, I might add) and 
tightening the rack's winch.  Finally, she confessed to her 
crimes -- more likely, she simply told the inquisitors whatever 
they wanted to hear just so they'd stop beating her -- and she 
was dragged back to the street outside of the clock tower where 
a judge was to decide her fate.  Just as he was about to 
sentence her to death, a local man stepped forward and offered 
to marry her, thereby saving her from her fate.  All in all, the 
presentation was very interesting; although I didn't understand 
one word of it, Radu explained the gist of the proceedings to 
us, and even that wasn't really necessary, as the actors' body 
languages and actions told the story without the need for words.

	Following the trial, we broke for a bit to shop, explore on 
our own, or eat.  There were only a couple of shops still open 
at the time, so most people opted to eat.  We first tried to get 
a seat in the Dracul House restaurant, the actual birthplace of 
Vlad Dracula, but the small room we entered was nearly full and 
a rather rude woman actually closed the door in our faces!  Not 
really wanting to walk down the hill to a pizza place, we spoke 
with Radu and Charles, who immediately went into the restaurant 
to figure out what had happened.  As it turned out, the room 
we'd tried to enter was only one of five rooms in the 
restaurant, so there was plenty of space for us all to sit and 
get some dinner.

	It was still early in the evening when we finished dinner, 
and most of us were ready for the next event on the schedule -- 
a nighttime walk through a cemetery.  To get to the German 
Cemetery, though, required that we climb the Covered Stairway, 
some 172 steps up the side of the hill.  Even though we arrived 
well before the scheduled closing of the cemetery, we found the 
front gates locked.  Even the rear gates had been closed for the 
night.  But Radu, equipped with his trusty cellular phone, 
managed to secure our entry.

	Walking through the cemetery was an incredible experience.  
Many of the tombstones we saw were quite well preserved, almost 
unnaturally so.  From what I could tell, this stemmed from the 
treatment they received.  Family members appeared to come by 
from time to time and clean the tombstones, or decorate them, or 
even detail the engraved letters with black, gold, or red.  And, 
since this was All Saint's Day, nearly every grave had some sort 
of flower or decoration on it.

	As we walked along the path, I noticed that one side of the 
path had been lined with stones, possibly to keep the side of 
the small hill in place.  Then, as the flash from someone's 
camera briefly lit the area, I thought I saw lettering on these 
large stones.  With a start, I realized that they weren't just 
stones, but were tombstones.  I asked one of our group who had a 
flashlight to come over and light these stones up so we could 
look at them more closely.  When the light was from the front, 
the engraving could not be seen, but, when the flashlight was 
held at the edge of the tombstone, suddenly, much of the 
engraving was visible.  It was kind of like having a portable 
rubbing kit that didn't actually touch the surface of the 
tombstones.  I pointed out my discovery to others in the group, 
including both Charles and Radu, who had never noticed that 
these retaining stones were actually tombstones.

	We left the German Cemetery and headed back down the 
stairway, past the clock tower, and went to our bus.  The drive 
to our hotel was short -- less than five minutes -- and most of 
us, especially those of us who went up and down that long 
staircase, were more than happy to check into our rooms, curl up 
on our short, flat beds, and fall asleep.

	Waking up on the sixth day was somewhat difficult for me, 
as my left leg was still sore from a cramp I'd received while 
ascending the Covered Staircase to the cemetery.  But, as I 
began to remember the events planned for the day, I grew excited 
and quickly forgot about the pain in my leg.  We were about to 
embark on two firsts for the Dracula Tour itinerary, and I was 
looking forward to both events.

	The first event of the day required us to travel to the 
town of Sibiu.  It was our plan while there to visit the massive 
Evangelical Church, first built in 1300 and added to many times 
since then.  This church hosts the largest organ in all of 
Romania, comprising over 6,000 pipes.  We were not there for a 
concert, though; instead, our destination lay behind the narthex 
of the church, for that is where the burial vaults are located.  
The stonework on the vault seals and on the various decorations 
throughout the church was amazing and beautifully preserved 
since it was all indoors.  Two vaults there held special 
interest for our group.  The first vault was of Prince Mihnea 
the Bad, one of the sons of Vlad Dracula, who was murdered just 
outside the church.  Surprisingly, this vault cover was rather 
plain, with its predominant feature being a rather shallow, yet 
intricately carved cross.

	The second vault of interest was that of Valentini Frank, a 
Romanian scientist and physician.  His cover was quite 
elaborately decorated with a large bas relief figure of a robed 
and bearded man, angels, a family coat of arms, and was 
encircled by an inscription.  The reason this vault was of 
interest, beyond the artistry that went into the creation of its 
cover, is that Valentini Frank is believed to have been used, at 
least in part, by Mary Shelley to create her character of Victor 
Frankenstein.  As it was explained to us, Shelley had a number 
of paramours, one of whom was from Sibiu, and it was he who told 
Shelley about Frank's life and the various experiments he was 
rumored to have conducted.  It was interesting to discover that 
the paring of Dracula and Frankenstein's Monster actually has an 
historical basis.

	Following our tour of the church, we were given an hour to 
shop or eat an early lunch, which was strongly suggested since 
the next part of our trip would take several hours and Radu did 
not want to stop along the way.  Several people from our group 
made an immediate beeline for a nearby "farmacie" to look for 
throat lozenges and other cold relief aids.  Others of us walked 
around, searching in vain for a restaurant.  The square in Sibiu 
was quite large and I was surprised that there wasn't a 
restaurant visible.  Still, after some diligent searching, we 
found a place to eat and descended upon it.  Knowing our time 
was short, we tried to order quickly, but the waitresses were 
remarkably inattentive.  One member of our group, feeling 
somewhat adventurous as well as feeling the time crunch, decided 
to order steak tartare, thinking to himself, "What could be 
quicker to serve than raw beef?"  He, of course, was the last 
one served, and his plate was a masterpiece of culinary artistic 
expression, which, we speculated, was why it took so long for 
his meal to arrive.  Even with all of the delays, we weren't 
more than about ten minutes late.

	Our next stop on the tour was at the Poienari Citadel.  
Previous Dracula Tours had not stopped here, and even Radu, our 
native guide, had not been here in fifteen years.  The Citadel 
was built in 1459 by Turkish prisoners and served as a fortress 
for Vlad Dracula and his family.  It also provided the Romanians 
with a nearly unreachable point of defense in guarding the 
entrance to the Arges Valley.  Sadly, the Citadel is now in 
ruins; a great deal of it slid down the mountain in the late 
1800s.  What remains is just a shell, really, of what used to be 
there, but it is still fascinating to see.

	Reaching the Poienari Citadel proved to be quite a 
challenge.  Just about the only way to reach the site is to 
climb a long, winding staircase.  "Long" may not even be a 
descriptive enough term for this staircase; neither is 
"enormously, incredibly long."  The staircase -- which, of 
course, was not there when Vlad Dracula was having the place 
built -- is around 1,500 steps.  I'm not sure why, but climbing 
this staircase reminded me of M.C. Escher's drawing, "Ascending 
and Descending."

	Several thoughts came to mind as I slowly made my way up 
the staircase.  I marveled at the sheer effort it must have 
taken to build something like a fortress at the top of this 
mountain.  According to Radu, the staircase we were on was not 
here when he last visited the Citadel some fifteen years 
previous; at that point, it was simply a path.  That made the 
accomplishments of the Turk prisoners all the more remarkable.  
I can only assume that everything required to construct the 
Citadel was carried up there, from bricks to lumber, from mortar 
to iron, even food and water.  And, frequently, I found myself 
wondering just what in the world possessed me and led me to 
think I could make this climb.  I was certainly not in shape for 
such a task, but I felt that, as long as I took frequent breaks 
along the way, I would be fine.  Ha!  My leg, which had acted up 
climbing a mere 172 stairs in Sighisoara the previous evening, 
started to balk almost immediately at this latest assault on my 
sedentary lifestyle.  Still, I pressed on, telling myself that 
this might be my only chance to see this site.  

	Less than fifty or so feet from the Citadel, I encountered 
one obstacle that nearly ended my trek -- a wooden bridge across 
a rather narrow but deep chasm.  I'm not a big fan of heights, 
and the wood boards on the bridge did not look all that solid to 
me.  Visions of every cinematic bridge accident began to replay 
themselves in my mind.  Fortunately, I was also reminded of the 
comedic line, "I don't mind falling so much; it's that sudden 
stop that I hate." I also knew that everyone else had crossed 
the bridge without incident, but there was still the chance that 
their passing had weakened the structure just enough . . . .  I 
screwed up my courage, told myself that I had not come this far 
up the side of this mountain just to stop here, and crossed the 
bridge, being very careful to step only along the steel support 
joists.  And, with that, I was at the base of the Poienari 
Citadel.

	To be honest, there wasn't much left of the Citadel -- a 
hallway, one good-sized room with a doorway, a couple of turret 
sections, and an exterior wall along two sides -- but it was 
still an imposing, foreboding place.  Most of our group walked 
around silently, almost respectfully, examining what remained of 
one of Vlad Dracula's fortresses.  As in Sighisoara, I again 
felt a definite connection to the past.  We weren't standing in 
a recreation of a castle; this wasn't something put here by 
Disney or Universal for our entertainment.  This had been 
someone's home.  People fought and died here.  And now, 
centuries later, here we stood, in awe of their accomplishments.  
Seeing the Poienari Citadel was, for me, one of the absolute 
high points of this tour, and I hope that Charles and Danny keep 
a visit to it in future itineraries.

	Heading down the mountain was much easier than going up it 
had been.  But, oddly, it seemed to take longer to go down than 
it had to go up.  As we descended, we encountered a Romanian 
soldier who was stationed there; apparently, there was a 
hydroelectric plant nearby that this soldier was guarding.  
Whether he thought we were some kind of threat or not, I'll 
never know; personally, I think he was just bored out of his 
skull and saw the opportunity to have some fun at our expense.  
Radu and he spoke at length, and the soldier then followed us 
down the mountain to the bus.  Several people had their picture 
taken with him, and he was given gifts (bribes, perhaps?) of 
cigarettes, a lighter, and a bottle of beer.

	From Poienari Citadel, we headed to the town of Curtea de 
Arges where we stayed for the night.  The hotel in which we 
stayed seemed to be quite popular; that evening, it was hosting 
a group of professional soccer players and a large business 
convention.  The restaurant in the hotel was good, if a little 
slow, and we were invited to wait after we had finished our 
dinner to attend a presentation of traditional Romanian dancing.  
Oddly, the dancers only performed two brief dances, one by the 
women in the group and one by the men, before they scurried out 
of the restaurant.  Several of us speculated that they had 
another gig to get to elsewhere in town.

	After our meal, and especially after the long climb in the 
afternoon, just about everyone in our group was exhausted and 
ready for bed.  Never before on this trip had these odd, flat 
little beds felt quite so comfortable.

	On our penultimate day in Romania, we boarded the bus and 
headed back to Bucharest for our final day of activities.  By 
this point in the tour, many of us had come down with a cold or 
sore throat and, collectively, our energy was down.  What better 
way, then, to liven up folks on a Dracula Tour than with an 
impromptu tour of a cemetery?  A few kilometers outside of 
Curtea de Arges, we stopped and went into a small roadside 
cemetery.  A chapel stood at the back of the cemetery, and a 
number of locals were in attendance, paying their respects to 
their departed loved ones.  As we had seen elsewhere, flowers 
had been placed on most every grave.  Many tombstones had a 
small opening at their base, or a small metal box attached 
somewhere near the bottom, where lit candles could be placed.  
Etched photographs were common on the tombstones as well, 
showing the deceased when they were younger and in their prime.  
Some photographs were of infants and toddlers; that was sad to 
see.

	My wife got into a conversation with an elderly woman who 
was standing near a grave.  Even though the woman spoke no 
English, they were able to communicate in bits and pieces since 
my wife knows some French and Spanish, and she found that many 
words were similar to Romanian.  The woman was there to honor 
and visit her husband who had died two years previous.  I found 
it amazing that they were able to carry on a conversation, and I 
was also impressed that this woman seemingly sought out my wife 
as the one person with whom she could share her grief.  This 
turned out to be one of the most special moments of the entire 
trip for Eileen -- she was so touched.  Beth had also walked up 
and joined them, and, together, they shared a little piece of 
someone else's heart and life.

	Frankly, I was rather ashamed of our group's behavior in
the cemetery.  While many of us walked through the place 
respectfully, others ran about, cavorting and carrying on, with 
apparently no thought to the fact that the place on which they 
were playing was someone's grave.  And I couldn't help wondering 
just what the local people thought of our behavior.

	As I walked back to the bus, I noticed that we had stopped 
quite near a roadside mile marker (or, I guess more 
appropriately, a kilometer marker).  I had seen these all along 
the small, two-lane roads that had served as our main 
transportation arteries throughout Romania, but they had always 
seemed to be on the opposite side of the bus from where I was 
sitting and I could never get a good, clear photograph of them.  
I found these markers fascinating because, to me, they all 
looked like small tombstones.  I even commented to Charles, "You 
know, you just gotta love a country that uses tombstones for 
mile markers."

	Next stop: Bucharest.  Radu took us on a brief driving tour 
of the city and pointed out a number of historic landmarks and 
buildings, such as the enormous Palace of Parliament, second 
only to the Pentagon in total surface area.  He also pointed out 
that much of Bucharest has been rebuilt following bombings 
during World War II, an earthquake in 1940, and another massive 
earthquake in 1977.  Frankly, I was amazed that any of the older 
buildings were standing at all.

	After our whirlwind tour of Bucharest, we headed north out 
of town towards Snagov Lake to our final historical destination, 
the Snagov Monastery.  The monastery is somewhat inaccessible, 
as it is located on a small island.  The importance of this site 
to our tour was obvious -- the Snagov Monastery is where Vlad 
Dracula's body is entombed.

	Various stories exist about Vlad's death.  Historically, 
Vlad Dracula was executed in 1476, his body beheaded; the head 
was sent off and, supposedly, the body was buried at the Snagov 
Monastery.  The tour books state that, when Vlad's tomb was 
opened to exhume the body, it was found to be empty.  However, 
the locals tell a different tale.  They say that many believed 
that Vlad Dracula was a "strigoi," a Romanian term for spectre 
or ghost . . . or vampire.  It was said that a strigoi was a 
creature without a soul and, before it could leave this life, it 
had to steal a soul from the living.  If a strigoi were buried 
before it accomplished this task, its body would, over time, 
turn into a horse.  As the locals explain it, when Vlad's tomb 
was opened, inside they found the headless remains of a horse, 
and the vault was quickly resealed.  Whether the tales were true 
or not, there was certainly a documented historical connection 
between Vlad Dracula and the Snagov Monastery, as he had 
commissioned the construction of many of the buildings on the 
island as well as a bridge that no longer exists.

	Now, the only way to reach the Snagov Monastery is by 
rowboat.  We were ferried across to the island, four or five at 
a time, by one lone woman who made trip after trip to get all 
thirty-plus of our group onto the island.  The monastery itself 
consists of several brick buildings, plus a smaller house with a 
fenced-in area for various livestock.  The exterior of the main 
monastery building has recently been restored, and is a 
wonderful-looking construction of brick and mortar.  The 
interior, wherein Vlad's tomb resides, is still being restored 
and a great deal of scaffolding has been erected to allow 
artisans to work on the elaborate paintings and frescoes that 
cover the walls.

	Vlad's tomb was surprisingly plain, looking basically like 
a poured concrete slab in the floor.  A framed painting of Vlad 
that sat atop this slab served as the only decoration and 
identification for the purported contents of the tomb.  Once 
more, that feeling of quiet awe, of connecting with history, 
seemed to envelop many in our group.  Visiting this tomb was a 
proper and fitting ending to the tour, bringing the historical 
trail to an appropriate conclusion.

	However, visiting the Snagov Monastery was not the last 
event planned for our tour.  We had two more things to do before 
we flew home the next day.  The first was to pay a visit to the 
Bucharest Mall, as many of us were still looking for various 
items to purchase for gifts.  Unfortunately, we were only given 
just under ninety minutes at the mall, and that time had to also 
include getting something to eat.  Malls are pretty much 
universal entities, I've noticed, wherever I've gone, and this 
one was no different, but it did allow us to see a more 
contemporary Romania and its people.

	Our last scheduled event of the tour was a dinner at the 
Dracula Club restaurant.  The restaurant was a short walk from 
our hotel, the Grand Bulevard, a wonderful example of European 
Old-World elegance.  To gain entrance to the restaurant, we rang 
the bell suspended outside the locked front door.  After a 
moment, a small window in the door opened, Radu announced us, 
and the door then slid aside, allowing us to enter.  All of the 
dining rooms on the first story had been reserved for our group.  
The dining rooms were decorated in the European lodge tradition 
of stuffed and mounted wildlife, although the number of animals 
lining the walls was pretty extreme.  The molding along the top 
of the walls was also decorated with various dried plants and 
other, less identifiable items.

	As we were beginning to enjoy our appetizers, the lights 
suddenly went out; candles on the tables provided the only 
illumination.  Strains of eerie music, faint at first, began to 
grow louder and more noticeable.  Charles, who had been to the 
Dracula Club previously, seemed to take particular glee in 
warning us to "Be ready; something going to happen any second 
now."  But it would be several minutes, though, before that 
"something" actually occurred.  Timed to a loud peal of thunder, 
Dracula made an appearance into our dining room, stepping 
quickly in from the darkness of the stairwell.  He had been 
coached somewhat on his lines, but he could have learned several 
pointers from our group.  For example, he did recite the classic 
line, "Listen to them, the children of the night; what music 
they make," in response to some howling wolves on the music 
track.  However, when offered something to drink from one of the 
tables, he did not reply with, "I never drink . . . wine."

	After he spoke to our group for a few minutes, he took Tina 
by the hand and pulled her to her feet, then, throwing his cape 
over her shoulders, led her downstairs.  A number of us followed 
them down to the lower level of the restaurant and watched as 
they crossed a narrow catwalk to a small room on the far side of 
the restaurant where Dracula then proceeded to "bite" Tina.  He 
released her a moment later and she returned to the waiting arms 
of her new husband, Chuck.  Dracula then came back and posed for 
some photographs, turning his back to us at one point to put in 
his fangs.  We returned to our dining rooms upstairs and ate the 
rest of our meal uninterrupted.

	Following dinner, I ventured back downstairs to take some 
more pictures and to explore a bit.  The stairwell leading to 
the lower level was lined with Dracula movie memorabilia, from 
photographs from various films to what appeared to be actual 
movie props.  In fact, coming out of the wall appeared to be a 
figure emerging from the brick; the figure was either made from 
molds used for "Bram Stoker's Dracula" or it was a tremendous 
replica.  There were several levels in the basement; one area 
resembled a pit, while another area looked something like a 
loft.  The decorations in the basement would have made Tomas de 
Torquemada or the Marquis de Sade feel quite at home -- there 
were numerous iron torture implements on display, as well as a 
plethora of preserved animal skulls.

	We left the Dracula Club fairly early that night and headed 
back to our hotel.  Some others stayed at the club much later, 
while others visited one of the nearby casinos.  We found the 
beds in this hotel to be among the most comfortable we'd 
encountered on the entire trip, and I don't attribute that just 
to the extreme fatigue we were feeling.  The rooms, too, were 
much nicer than anything we'd encountered; ours was quite large 
and appeared to be located in a round turret along the outside 
of the hotel.  And, finally, we were able to get a room cool 
enough to our liking.

	Our last morning in Romania found us tired, dragging, eager 
to get home, but still sad to be leaving.  Doing the things we'd 
done and seeing the sights we'd seen had worn us out, to be 
certain, but it had also primed us to want more.  A week was 
simply not enough time to explore the homeland of Vlad Dracula 
and partake of all that this land had to offer to us.  

	Going through Customs was a non-event, and I began to 
wonder about the necessity of arriving at the airport two-plus 
hours ahead of our departure.  We wound up waiting at the gate 
for nearly ninety minutes, and then for another hour or so 
because Frankfurt was fogged in.  This wait was a blessing to 
some, though, as they took the opportunity to catch up on some 
much-needed sleep, or, in some cases, on some much needed 
shopping at the duty-free stores.

	The flight back to Frankfurt was relatively short, as was 
our time in that airport.  Unfortunately, we spent most of it 
standing in lines, waiting to be searched or waiting to board 
the flight to New York.  It would have been nice if we could all 
have been together in a lounge or restaurant so that we could 
share with one another our thoughts about the trip, but the 
Frankfurt airport just didn't allow for that.  And, on the 
flight back to New York, our group was mostly scattered 
throughout the rather full plane.

	The previous Sunday, we began our journey as a group of 
strangers who happened to share, to varying degrees, a common 
interest.  By our first morning in Romania, we were on our way 
to becoming friends.  And, later that night, we had bonded into 
a group, a family. Charles had commented that it has been his 
experience that the people on every tour do at some point bond 
into a group, and that ours had done so faster than any other 
group.  I'm proud to have been a part of that.

	Once in New York, we made our way through Customs once more 
and through U.S. Immigration.  Some of our group dashed off 
immediately as they had connecting flights to make.  Others 
either had flights the next day or needed to make arrangements 
for different flights because of our delay in getting to 
Frankfurt.  Even though we were all getting ready to head back 
to our own lives in places all over the country, the one phrase 
I did not hear spoken frequently was "Good bye."  Instead, I 
heard a lot of things like "It was great to meet you," "We'll 
see you soon," and "Please stay in touch."  People were sharing 
hugs and hearty handshakes with each other, not as strangers or 
even acquaintances do, but as friends and family do.  Wishing 
our departing friends a safe trip home, I found myself marveling 
at just how close we had all become.  And that, I believe, is 
the best possible compliment I could extend to Charles and Danny 
on this tour.

	We walked outside the terminal and made our way to the taxi 
stand.  It was raining then, with a very strong wind.  "So," 
Eileen said, "have you given any thought to how you're going to 
start out your tour write-up?"

	I looked out at the swirling clouds and the rain being 
driven against the buildings and a sly, impish grin spread 
across my face.  "Yeah," I said, "it was a dark and stormy night 
. . . ."


Copyright c 2001, Jon F. Westcot II