How big a part does the FOMO phenomenon play in our travel? Is it possible to get too much of a good thing? I thoroughly enjoyed my visit to the fortified church at Hărman and wondered what I’d be missing out on if I didn’t go see another one at Prejmer.
I searched online to see if anyone had expressed a preference, citing THE one to visit if you were tied to time. Not that we were. We had all day. I read lots of accounts but got very little change when it came to opinions.
FOMO – fear of missing out. That’s not something I’m usually prone to. I figure these places are not going anywhere and I can always come back. It’s not like when I started travelling first. I’d be up at daybreak, hitting the streets to make sure I ticked everything – and I mean everything – off my list of places to see and things to do. God forbid that I’d have to admit I went to Paris and didn’t see the Eifel Tower. It was exhausting. And I was a lot younger.
Nowadays, my pace is more measured. And my choice of what to do is more discerning. So, did I really need to see that second fortification at Prejmer?
Yes.
I wanted to compare.
Again the product of the Teutonic Knights. Again dating to the early 13th century. Again built in the Early Burgundian Gothic style (a new term on me for Cistercian architecture).
Prejmer is the largest fortification in this part of the world, bigger than Hărman. With its 12m-high walls, it repelled the Turks more than 50 times, falling only once when the knights had run out of drinking water and were dehydrated. It was built to last.
It has a completely different feel to it. The entrance fee is higher. There’s a machine at the gate where you get your tickets rather than a friendly face as in Hărman. The shops (more than one) serve up handmade crafts for tourists eager to take home a piece of Romania that will look so out of place in their city apartment.
It felt too composed. Too ordered. Too new/old.
In fairness, had we come to Prejmer first, I might have a different opinion. But I’ll never know.
The passageways in the walls were a class above Hărman. The stone walls and floors and timbered ceilings screamed of history.
The 12m-high walls, too, were on a different scale. Physically Prejmer beats Hărman; it is more impressive. But the soul is missing.
Ah, she’s being fanciful, I hear you say. And maybe I am. But Hărman gets my vote.
The church was worth the money. It still holds services in winter, something I’d like to come back for. It’s home to the oldest triptic in Transylvania dating to the mid-15th century.
![Church interior showing a triptych altarpiece, the oldest in the province, dates to around 1450; the main panel is joined to side panels painted on both faces, on two levels. The entire piece depicts scenes from the Passion of Christ. The Crucifixion is the central subject,[1] four times the size of the other panels, over half this panel is gilt. The front side panels show the Washing of the Feet, the Last Supper, the Flagellation and the Judgement of Caiaphas; the rear has the Weeping Women, the Entombment, the Resurrection and the Myrrhbearers. The figures are simple and reduced to their essentials, their movements restrained or even statuesque, their clothing unruffled. The backgrounds are cursory, with the interiors showing only slight attention to geometric perspective. The colors are vivid, with the reds given a particular glow by the gilt background.[4] The artist is unknown but was presumably trained in the Viennese school.](https://anyexcusetotravel.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/11/20240903_140925_resized-773x1030.jpg)
The original plan of the church dedicated to the Holy Cross is a Greek cross (cross with equal arms), its centre is a square of 6 x 6 m, the arms of the cross consist of a 6 x 6 m beam and an apse, formed by five sides of an octagon.
The western arm, extended in the 17th century, is a cross. It is 15 m long and enclosed by a straight wall. Four pillars form the central beam, which opens with four early Gothic arches to the four arms of the cross. During the renovation in the 1960s these pillars and the tower were dismantled stone by stone and a reinforced concrete pillar was erected, after which the pillars and the tower were rebuilt with the existing stones. These pillars support the vaults and the 39 m high central tower.
I missed the Stone of Shame. Back in the day, thieves and adulterers were tied to the 28kg stone by the south door in prime viewing position for all passing by to ridicule them. It was last used in 1855.
I also missed the organ of death, a medieval wooden instrument with five shotguns on each side that turns – the precursor to the modern-day machine gun perhaps.
Like Hărman, Prejmer seems to be centred on the fortress. It’s a quiet spot. With an unusual war memorial.
It’s also the birthplace of Herta Wilk, a remarkable woman who after a 4-year stint in a forced labour camp in the Soviet Union, returned to Romania to pioneer different ways of teaching. During her lifetime (1918-1992), she worked to preserve the crafts of the region, training as a potter and publishing tomes on Transylvanian-Saxon linen embroidery.
So, Prejmer or Hărman? Hărman gets my vote. But just in case I’m wrong, best to visit both.
5 responses
The stone of shame and the organ of death… surely the next two Harry Potter books?
I’ll ping JK and share your ideas 🙂
I had to re-open the Harman post, and still have both of these open, side-by-side, for comparison of similarities and differences, both obvious and nuanced. I particularly enjoyed reading them in proximity, and seeing that no matter how similar, these buildings are wholly different. Thanks again, Mary!
Definitely not a case of ‘seen one fortified church, seen ’em all’. The vibes were completely different.