Braşov

I’m sat at a kitchen table in the home studio of Manuela, an insanely talented, traditional Romanian artist when my pocket starts blaring with an ungodly tone. Manuela and I look at each other and it takes me a second to realise it’s my phone.

‘Extreme alert’ appears on my screen beside a big yellow hazard sign. Presumably nothing good follows that… I scan through seeing only Romanian and wondering what the hell is going on. The paragraph below is in English and the only word I make out at first glance is ‘bear’. Manuela looks over my shoulder and we both start laughing awkwardly as we piece together that there is a bear on the loose in the town. She tells me not to worry, she’s lived there a long time and has never seen a bear. I ignore the thought that there’s a first time for everything.

Manuela is a skilled artist and an art historian in her own right. She’s feisty, and funny, and charming as she talks me through the styles brought in by the Hungarians and Saxons and how these styles remained but the main motifs changed from foreign flowers and fruit like pomegranates to things found in Romanian gardens like tulips and daisies. She shows me beautiful dowry chests and ornate hangers and explains how they were made by carpenters who would come and live with you for two months while they made the furniture. She’s collected an incredible amount of history, mainly orally, and I find myself wishing she would write a book as she talks me through the variances in style from different regions

She guides me through painting my very own box in the traditional style and as we paint we discuss everything from women’s healthcare in Romania, Hungarian enclaves within the country, to the problems Romania is facing with Roma gypsies and how they’re manipulated to the whims of politicians. A noise comes from another room and she tells me we’re alone, it’s just the cats. ‘Not a bear then?’ I ask, only half jokingly.

I leave with an ornate box and a whole new appreciation for Romania, but it’s time once again to continue on. This time in an Uber to the station to avoid becoming bear bait. (It’s only now I realise how close I must have been when I was dragging my luggage through the streets of Brasov to reach Manuela’s house although all the huffing and puffing and eff words it took me to get me and my stuff to the top of the hill in the heat would probably have scared it off).

Just a few hours later I’m crammed into a stuffy top bunk on a hot sleeper train to Budapest. Unable to sleep and getting progressively hotter and sweatier, I’m starting to think maybe I should have taken my chances with the bear 😂Read more