Hărman, Romania

When we asked what there was to see around Brașov, other than Peles Castle in Sinaia, we were directed to the fortified church at Hărman. I had to think a while as to what I might expect. Fortified, in my head, means walls. Lots of walls. Lots of high walls. And it didn’t disappoint.

It’s strange to see such a massive nod to antiquity in the middle of a living town. Hărman doesn’t have the feel of an old town (in the narrow street and cobblestone sense), nor has it the trappings of a modern town – it sits somewhere in between.

The 13th-century Romanesque church was inspired by Cistercian architecture, or so I read. I had to look that one up as it was something I’d not heard of before. It’s a style influenced by Bernard of Clairvaux, a Cistercian abbot who was of the opinion that excessive ornamentation was a distraction, a distraction from prayer. By definition, Cistercian architecture is ‘simple and utilitarian’.

And yes, the Church of St Nicholas is all that and more.

What passes for ornate is simple, too. Floral paintings and oriental carpets mark the expensive seats. The cheap seats, the women’s benches added in 1753, have no backrests. These simple pine benches were where married women sat – whatever the fashion was in the day, it didn’t allow them to lean back

It’s a lovely spot, so different from the Baroque-style churches that would follow. The inscription over the arch in German translates, I think, as Jesus Christ yesterday and today and the same forever. A familiar feeling came over me, like when in Nova Scotia. I knew then that I was in Canada and yet there was so much of Scotland around, it bordered on confusion. This time, I knew I was in Romania but kept tripping over German.

The walls are not just walls. They feature a series of rooms on three levels. Walking around the top and peeking through the slatted windows gives some sense of fighting off the enemy. It wasn’t difficult to imagine what life might have been like back then. As always, when I’m in the middle of tangible age, I marvel at how things were once built to last. If anyone knows what the H.M. Birck means, do tell.

The walls of the original chapel are painted with scenes of eternal salvation heavily skewed towards immortality. Six centuries old and still there.

As with Brașov, the German presence is written into its history. The town began to flourish in the early 1200s with the Teutonic Order moving in and bringing German settlers to mark their territory.

The Teutonic Order is a Catholic religious institution founded as a military society c. 1190 in Acre, Kingdom of Jerusalem. The Order of Brothers of the German House of Saint Mary in Jerusalem was formed to aid Christians on their pilgrimages to the Holy Land and to establish hospitals.

Today, though, Germans make up only 1.2% of the population.

All hell broke loose in Transylvania in the early 1600s,  a response to Prince Gabriel Báthory seriously annoying the Ottoman sultan Ahmed I. Báthory wasn’t playing ball, forging alliances with the Habsburg Mattias II, and attempting to take over some Ottoman lands. The Ottomans christened him Deli Kiral (the mad king). When they invaded Transylvania, Hărman was the only commune able to defend itself. Those walls did the job.

Báthory didn’t fare well – he was dethroned and assassinated.

Check this video if you’d like to see more.

We wandered the town in the hope of finding a restaurant open but it seems as if things don’t get moving until the afternoon.

No matter.

If you’re in Brașov, taking the time to visit Hărman is worth it. Despite being the main attraction, it doesn’t have a touristy feel. The simplicity, the workmanship, and the tangible strength of it all are fortifying – they made my spirit stronger.