Targoviste
Hitting the road again. Though I think there is a mountain pass south through Transylvania from Bran the GPS tells us to head north then over the Carpathians and then south towards Targoviste and Bucharest. Given our luck with roads we elect to follow the GPS instructions.
It takes us along the base of snow capped ski resorts, and up mountain roads that are a series of switchbacks straining the four cylinders of our trusty Corolla. Once we hit the peak of the ridgeline it’s a two hour descent into Targoviste. The road is nonstop Roma (gypsy) villages along a river. Horses pull carts with gypsies piled into the back; Javier and I succeed in conversing with one another for the drive using nothing but quotes from “Borat.” There are only about five lines of dialogue that we remember about gypsies from the movie so it’s really just a repetition of the same lines every five minutes or so. “Give me your tears gypsy or I will take them,” somehow never got old.
Nicolae Ceausescu (“chow-chess-koh” at least as we pronounced it) ruled Romania as dictator from 1965 as the General Secretary. “General Secretary” is the Soviet term for “brutal dictator.” Things like “most Stalinist” and suppressing standard of living to promote the growth of the executive are attributed to him. On 21 December 1989 in Bucharest he gave a speech to a large crowd assuming they were loyalists, but the people were anything but and had enough by then. They stormed his residence, the military swept him and his wife Elena to Targoviste for a brief “trial” at a school and executed both on Christmas Day in the courtyard behind the school. Javier wanted to visit. I’d never heard of the guy.
We pull in Targoviste around 3:30. Javier hasn’t had food or beer in two hours so before we try to find out where the execution site is we have to stop and take care of sustenance. We find Towers Pub, with the curious slogan “Probably the best pub in town!” The Targovistans really aimed high with that one. “We’re great - maybe?” Once we’re inside and hook up to wifi I look the place up on TripAdvisor, one comment has this endorsement: “agreeable.” I’ve had nothing but pork variants for days so I opt for a salad with a Romanian beer called Ursus. Javier gets some beef dish with polenta. Polenta is everywhere in eastern Europe, and though I think it’s not bad with the usual sour cream that comes with it, Javier isn’t a fan. The beer isn’t as good as the Silva we had in Bran, but it’s nice enough (agreeable). Javier can’t stomach the beef - it’s coated in salt. Though he does discover that the polenta actually absorbs some of the salt, there’s only so much beef wiping that a mound of polenta can take and he barely eats anything.
We ask the waitress where the Ceausescu museum is. According to The Internet, there is a museum at the execution site showing the exact setup from the mock trial. The waitress tells us it’s just two minutes down the road. Javier has a friend in Bucharest that confirms some directions “Head down the road, past the tower and antennums, and then it’s at the police station.” We walk down the road, pass a large stone medieval looking tower and some antennas, but we can’t find a museum. We try entering a park, no luck. We see a school along the way, maybe this is it? No luck. We go to a coffee shop to get directions. The interior of the coffee shop magically opens up into this grand salon with marble columns, rich red curtains, tons of natural light, and a bar in the middle with large sitting rooms to either side. There are two other patrons in the place. There is a Bruno Mars look alike (including outfit) serving as barista/bartender and two young Romanian girls that if we saw at night we would assume were prostitutes based on the way they were dressed. Maybe they were prostitutes and this was a brothel/coffee house, it would explain the swanky decor. We ask them “Where was Ceausescu killed?” and they seemed disappointed, and they don’t know the answer. We head back to the car, Javier flags down a cab and asks where the museum is and we get basic directions.
After a five minute drive we feel that we are close, we pass another tall medieval tower and a hub of communications antennas. Javier explains, “oh, that’s right ‘antennum’ means multiple antennas so that’s what my friend meant.” He doesn’t believe me when I tell him “antennum” is not a word. We ask a random lady on the side of the road where Ceausescu was killed and she points down the road and says “Gendarmes.” Down the road is a police station, we park in front and start walking in assuming the former school we’re trying to find has since been converted to a police station.
Two cops out front spot us and without even asking point us across the street to a nondescript building saying “Ceausescu.” We apparently continue to stick out wherever we go. No matter, we found the place and that’s the important thing. Who needs maps these days? We got where we wanted to go and all it took was an hour of wandering around.
Turns out the hour really would have helped - the museum closed thirty minutes prior to us arriving.
There is a guy talking on a phone outside as we approach but he doesn’t speak English and so it’s not readily apparent that the museum is closed. Without knowing what his wild gesticulations are meant to convey we continue to the entrance where a small middle aged lady comes out and says the museum in closed. We ask if we can quickly look around, that we travelled all the way from the US just to see this place. She has no idea what we’re saying, but looks to the first guy and says something before turning back to us and saying a series of words that we eventually take to mean “Seven Lei to enter.”
Lei is the Romanian currency, of which we have none. We have tons of Moldovan lei though, so we offer to pay in Moldovan lei. She apparently understands this much but protests, “Moldovan lei!! Why Moldovan lei???” Javier offers to pay in US dollars, she refuses “Romanian lei only.” Javier offers to pay with euros (we don’t have those either so I’m not sure what he’s going for). No, Romanian Lei only. I do what I always do in these situations: smile politely. The lady looks to the cell phone guy but he just looks back at her. Finally she says “ok” and we go inside without paying.
We think that all she’ll let us see is the execution site for a minute or two and she’ll shuttle us off but instead she gives us the full tour. She doesn’t say anything, but takes us to each room including their quarters during the trial, the trial room, and room full of phones. One of the phones on a table is red and I get Javier to snap a photo of me talking into it pretending Commissioner Gordon is on the other end. We switch places and Javier does a dramatic pose for a photo that manages to knock all the phones off the table. She stops showing us rooms after that and leads us outside. Javier manages to get his coat caught on a sign nailed to a wall and breaks in half. We are literally the worst guests this place has ever had, except for Ceausescu maybe.
There is a wall outback where Ceausescu and his wife were shot by firing squad. Reportedly the executioners intended to kill them separately but the wife insisting on going together. The wall is pockmarked with bullet holes and two large silhouettes on the ground show where they fell. A twenty-four year rule come to an unceremonious end over a four day period.
Back to the car, enter Bucharest in the GPS, and off we go.