Brașov, Romania

Brașov isn’t a city that was ever on my radar. We hit upon it by accident. Had my geography been better than it is, we’d have missed it entirely.

We were heading to a music festival in Nucșoara and a long-overdue catch-up with some friends. Initially, I thought we get the train to Cluj and rent a car from there, but the tracks were up in places and that didn’t work. A friend suggested flying into Brașov and driving from there. In hindsight, we could have flown into Bucharest at a more respectable hour and driven from the other side.

The 5 am fight is a killer. But it meant that we had plenty of time to faff around with the car rental, making sure to get full insurance. The reputation of Romanian drivers precedes them.

We drove straight to the festival (or as straight as possible on the hairpin mountain passes in this part of the world), saving the city’s delights for afterwards.

We usually stay in a city’s old town when we can. It’s more walkable, easier to navigate, and you’re in the heart of things. But parking was a problem. We wanted to base ourselves near the city and spend a couple of days checking out the surroundings.

Bolt is a godsend in this part of the world – it’s a form of public transport rather than a luxury. We did the 45-minute walk into town once before we copped on to the fact that it would cost less than a fiver to go by taxi.

Brașov’s main attraction is Biserica Neagra, the Black Church. It’s the largest Gothic building in the whole country and, if I can believe what I read, the largest Gothic church between Istanbul and Vienna. The blackness is credited to the damage it incurred in the Great Fire of 1689. I am so glad no one decided it needed a facelift. Inside is one of the largest organs in Eastern Europe – 4000 pipes – dating to 1839. The pews are fascinating in that the backs tilt both ways so you can sit facing the altar or facing the organ gallery. Originally, the two-way tilt was to make sure everyone could see the altar and the pulpit. Genius.

What makes it different from other churches are the painted pews and the 119 antique Anatolian rugs. This collection of carpets is a serious one – so much so that the windows have been fitted with UV filters to protect them. They were donated to the church by German merchants in thanksgiving for having survived their various trips abroad. I find that fascinating.

There’s very little by way glitter and gold. It’s more earthy. Solid. We lucked out. The organist was practising for a gig later that evening.

Brașov is one of the seven-walled cities of Transylvania. Only a few of the seven bastions built around the 15th century have survived. The city’s walls have long since been torn down to make room for the growing population. Dupa Ziduri  is where you need to head to, to see the White and Black Towers Turnul Alb and Turnul Negru and the Blacksmith’s Bastion. I was particularly taken by Poarta Ecaterinei, Catherine’s Gate, the only gate still standing. Built by the Tailors Guild in 1559, it belongs in a fairytale. Or does it? Its four turrets told anyone in the know that the city was autonomous and enjoyed ius gladii – the right of sword, as in it could invoke capital punishment.

There’s an element of movie stardom about the place. The street-level cafés and bars of the ornate baroque buildings that frame Piața Sfatului, the old town square, add a chicness. Legend has it that this is the very square that the Pied Piper led the children of Hamlin to. Of all the countries I’ve visited, Romania is the most fanciful, the most magical. Casa Sfatului, with its watchtower, known locally as Trumpteter’s Tower, adds to the mystique. From the top of this tower a few centuries ago, a lone trumpeter would herald each hour.

Towering above the city is Mount Tâmpa, accessible by cable car and by foot. At the top, the Hollywood-style sign advertises the city’s name and, when lit at night, can be seen for about 24 km.

Like most places, Brașov has its quirkiness, its legends. Strada Sforii (Rope Street) is one of the narrowest streets in Europe. At its widest, it’s just 4 feet. The story goes that lovers who kiss in this passageway will never part. Less of a risk than the whole padlock thing.

I suspect I may have been Jewish in a former life. I am drawn to synagogues. I find myself wanting to walk through places where Jews once flourished. I have a fear that people will forget the Holocaust. Like many European cities, Brașov once had an active Jewish population. And while today it’s a small community, it is surviving.

In May 1944, almost 150,000 Jews living in Northern Transylvania were deported to Auschwitz. Almost all were murdered. 240 Jews born in Brasov including 38 children perished in the Holocaust. Their names are carved on a stone on the grounds of the synagogue.

Unusually though, what is also commemorated here, is the growth of the Jewish community in the city today.

On the advice of someone who knows the city, we headed over to Prund-Schei, the city’s traditional Romanian quarter. Not too familiar with the history of the country, I had to wonder about a city in Romania having a Romanian quarter. The newer Poarta Schei (1827) was once the only way Romanians living here could enter.

It’s a lovely neighbourhood. The cobblestone streets. The dog-friendly cafés. The laid-back, cosmopolitan feel. Were I to live in the city, this is where I’d pick.

St Nicholas Orthodox Church, a mix of Gothic and Byzantine styles, presides over a fascinating cemetery that deserves a post of its own.

Next door, is the building that was the first school in the country – it’s now a museum. One I’ve made a note to go back to.

The museum also contains the first Romanian printing press. Only 39 books were made by this press, which is hardly surprising given the labour required, however the work it did produce included plenty more firsts. The first Romanian letter in Latin was produced by the press, the first Romanian schoolbook and the first Bible, which was printed on goatskin and had a cover weighing a hefty 7 kilograms (15 pounds).

Brașov is a lovely city. It’s very walkable and steeped in history. I’d happily go back as I’m sure we didn’t see the half of it.