From Queen Maria's humanitarian efforts to Vlad the Impaler's "art," Romania's history has it all.
By CAROL PEREHUDOFF
Published December 18, 2005
BUCHAREST, Romania - "The museum is closed," a woman tells me in the foyer of Bucharest's National Art Museum.
"Why?" I ask. "It's only 3:30."
"Special occasion," she says as a guard sends three Italian tourists packing.
If I wasn't welded to the idea of seeing the museum's famed collection of icons before, I am now.
"But I'm only in Bucharest for one day!" I cry.
Amazingly, she relents. "But you have to be out by 4."
Before she can change her mind I charge up the stairs and enter the galleries, where I'm surprised to find a full contingent of guards. What they're doing in a closed museum is a mystery to me. But because I'm not paying their wages, I relax and enjoy having the Romanian art treasures to myself.
The icons are magnificent: St. George on a gray horse, St. George on a beige horse, and once, St. George with a pink castle in the background.
But best of all are the frescoes. Huge slabs of faded, haloed saints and royal figures, on moody blue backgrounds with scarlet robes and glittering gold.
My favorite is a regal-looking character named Mircea the Old. Who was he, I wonder? The historical Romanians I know could be counted on the foot of a three-toed sloth: deposed and deceased dictator Nicolae Ceausescu, Vlad the Impaler (a.k.a. Dracula) and Olympic gymnast Nadia Comaneci.
Feeling it's time to learn more about Romanian history, I leave the museum and head for the gargantuan Palace of Parliament. It feels almost as empty as the closed museum, albeit on a much larger scale.
In fact, it's said only the Pentagon is a larger government building. A project of Ceausescu, the Palace of Parliament was a huge drain on this country's finances, and people went hungry while rooms were lavishly decorated in marble, crystal and gold. Which is just one of the reasons Ceausescu was executed during a popular uprising in 1989.
The next day I take a train north to the Transylvanian city of Brasov, a medieval town with rows of pastel merchants' houses, an old-fashioned square, women in kerchiefs and a big black church named, appropriately, the Black Church, after a fire covered it in soot in 1689.
I'd like to stay longer, but my quest to seek out Romanian historical figures leads me to Bran Castle (otherwise known as Dracula's Castle), 16 miles southwest. I'm on the trail of Vlad Tepes - the real Vlad the Impaler, born in 1431 (as opposed to novelist Bram Stoker's fictional neck-biter of 1897).
Shuffling along with a group around the towers and spires of the 14th century Bran Castle, I'm confused by the fact that our guide, Mihai, avoids mentioning Vlad at all.
"This is Queen Maria's study," he says as we enter a tasteful room. "Maria was the granddaughter of Queen Victoria. She married Ferdinand of Romania in 1893 and came to the castle in 1922."
Who the heck is Maria? I want to hear about Vlad.
Outside, the lush Carpathian Mountains glow in a late autumn sun. A man in a horse cart clops by. Considering this is Dracula's castle, there is a distressing absence of gore.
"What about Vlad the Impaler?" I ask Mihai. "I know it's a myth he lived here, but didn't he attack the castle? Wasn't he imprisoned here for three months?"
"Yes, yes, I suppose so," Mihai says. "Now, here is Queen Maria's bedroom."
"What about Vlad?" I ask eagerly. "Where did he sleep?"
Mihai looks pained. "You know," he sniffs as we walk down a twisting staircase, "in Ceausescu's time it wasn't even allowed to mention the name Dracula."
"Why?"
"Because Vlad was an important symbol for Romania and shouldn't be used for anything so silly" as the fictional vampire.
Mihai has a point. The real Vlad maintained law and order in turbulent times and he did repel the invading Ottomans. But he did it by impaling them - it's even said he liked to arrange groups of impaled corpses in arresting designs.
By all accounts, Queen Maria was much nicer. She volunteered as a Red Cross nurse during World War I and attended the Paris Peace Conference afterward to gain back territory Romania had lost.
A plaque on the wall tells me more. In 1385 the castle came under the ownership of Mircea the Old, Prince of Wallachia. I know him, I realize: It's my favorite fresco in Bucharest's museum.
Like Vlad, he fought against Turkish expansion and was an art lover to boot, although his means of creative expression fell more to restoring monasteries than arranging impaled corpses.
Best of all, Mircea was Vlad's grandfather. Suddenly these people are coming to life in my mind.
I head back to Bucharest, still no historical expert, but at least with the addition of Queen Maria and Mircea the Old, my tally of famous Romanians now uses up all the fingers on one hand.
Carol Perehudoff is a freelance writer living in Toronto.
IF YOU GO
For more information on Romania visit www.romaniatourism.com or call their New York office at 212 545-8484. Rail Europe (www.raileurope.com) offers a Romanian Pass from $99; a bus must be taken from the town of Braov to Bran Castle.
