I was left alone on my first day in Cluj to wander the streets. My host, Zoltan, had to work. It was his last day of work since the next
day was the Romanian national holiday, which celebrated its independence from
Hungary. For ethnic Hungarians like
Zoltan, it was a bit of a weird holiday, but since they got a day off of work
all the same, they didn’t mind. In
Transylvania, there was a large minority of Hungarians, who were Magyar in
ethnicity and Catholic in religion, whereas the Romanians were descended from the
Roman people and were Orthodox. “It
feels like a Friday though,” Zoltan shared.
“We don’t have to work for four days.
So I’m taking my sister to Italy this weekend for her birthday. The computer maintenance guys though hate us, since we all keep talking about a Wednesday being a Friday.” It was nice hearing that, it reminded me of
when my brother took me to Las Vegas. It’s
always good to spend some time with the kinsfolk, though not too much lest you
end up at each other’s throats, too many conversations ending in bitter discussions on
politics and religion that have more conflict in the fact that one youth can’t
forgive the other for breaking his toys when they were younger than the actual
discussion itself.
Usually, when couchsurfing, the traveler can get tired of people just offering coffee or a drink, or saying that "I'm sorry I can't host you, but we can meet for a coffee!" But the traveler can't be too judgmental, since even the coffee drinkers can provide some daily entertainment and conversation. It had been a long lesson learned from my time in Paris. I went about meeting other couchsurfers to keep myself entertained in-between my walkabouts of the city of Cluj. Cluj, with some 300,000 people, isn’t a small town by any means, but the city center is still small and easily walkable. When I say small, I’m comparing it to Prague or Vienna.
Compared to other Balkan and Carpathian
cities and considering Cluj’s relative size, the city center is an old metropolis
filled with Baroque, Gothic and Romanesque buildings. In its old towns, Western Romania has some of
the more interesting architecture, since they were constantly being transferred
to the various powers of Austria, Hungary, Serbia, the Ottomans and their own independent
rulers – every period contributing significantly to the atmosphere of the cities. In Timisoara, the old town square, Union Square, is known for
its 12 visibly different styles of architecture.
At Capriccio, a fairly basic, corporate style café, I met Timea. She was throwing a couchsurfing party later
that Friday and after I sent a text about getting some coffee or beer, she
invited me there to hang out with her and her friend. Her friend was a writer and after she heard
that I was a student of Russian language and culture, she threw in that she had
a huge interest in learning Russian. “But
the alphabet’s so hard!” she lamented. “You
don’t think Russian is hard?”
“When I first studied Russian, I thought it was hard,” I told her. “But when I started studying the Georgian language, I became convinced that Russian was easy.”
The two girls went back to school and I wandered around the city some more. I got another response from a couchsurfer, Andreea, to meet at a place called l’Atalier. Her friend for the most part, sat at the bar, away from us. She was wanting to go home as soon as possible. In the meantime, Andreea discussed to me her love of bubbles and how she became an entertainment manager there at l’Atalier. “There was one wedding I was in,” I told her, trying to think of anything to do with bubbles, “where – you know the part where the people line up and throw flower petals as the bride and groom walk past to the car? – instead of flowers, we blew bubbles.”
“That’s amazing!” she said. “I’m going to have that at my wedding. If I ever get married. Which I’m in no rush to do.”
“Do you like bubble baths?” I asked.
“No.”
“Why not? There’s lots of bubbles in bubble baths.”
“Because I’m afraid I’d never get out.”
Her friend came in and joined us. Iulia sat down. She was tall, thin and with brown curly hair, wearing grey sweat pants and a green sweater. Heavy bags hung underneath her eyes. “I hate winter,” she said. “I just want to hibernate until spring.” We talked and shared origami skills. Andreea made a bird, I made roses and Iulia made a tulip. When Zoltan got off work, he came and joined us, but by then Andreea and Iulia were already heading out. Zoltan sat down and ordered a beer.
“I love this place,” I said, looking around. “The furniture is really clever, it’s all just cardboard. I think I’m going to do this for my house,” I told him. “I mean, that’s free. You just pick up a ton of cardboard from hardware shops and grocery stores. These tables and chairs are all pretty strong; it’s such a great idea.”
“Yeah, it’s a great café,” he agreed.
“And look at the girl to guy ratio here.” I counted. “It’s 8 to 1 in here. Fantastic. I love Cluj!”
“Yeah, it’s a great café,” he agreed.
From there, we went to get some shwarma and then on to a German bar where his friends were meeting. His friends were a collection of people from different department of his work, from sales to logistics managers. Everyone talked through the evening and drank their series of beers, preferring the moderately more expensive German beers (though German beers in Romania were cheaper than in Germany) to the cheap and inexpensive Romanian beers. “We came here to enjoy the beer, not to drink cheaply,” Zoltan said. The place was decorated like it was a Bavarian restaurant, though it didn’t serve any schnitzel and it didn’t play any German music. The music was a mix of 60s, 70s, 80s, 90s, 2000s, rock, funk, classic rock, rap, jazz, new wave – that is to say, anything that came out of Britain and the United States in the past thirty years. We went home, full of conversation and good beer, satisfied for the evening.
Usually, when couchsurfing, the traveler can get tired of people just offering coffee or a drink, or saying that "I'm sorry I can't host you, but we can meet for a coffee!" But the traveler can't be too judgmental, since even the coffee drinkers can provide some daily entertainment and conversation. It had been a long lesson learned from my time in Paris. I went about meeting other couchsurfers to keep myself entertained in-between my walkabouts of the city of Cluj. Cluj, with some 300,000 people, isn’t a small town by any means, but the city center is still small and easily walkable. When I say small, I’m comparing it to Prague or Vienna.
 |
| the main canal |
 |
| St. Michael's, the Hungarian Catholic Cathedral |
“When I first studied Russian, I thought it was hard,” I told her. “But when I started studying the Georgian language, I became convinced that Russian was easy.”
The two girls went back to school and I wandered around the city some more. I got another response from a couchsurfer, Andreea, to meet at a place called l’Atalier. Her friend for the most part, sat at the bar, away from us. She was wanting to go home as soon as possible. In the meantime, Andreea discussed to me her love of bubbles and how she became an entertainment manager there at l’Atalier. “There was one wedding I was in,” I told her, trying to think of anything to do with bubbles, “where – you know the part where the people line up and throw flower petals as the bride and groom walk past to the car? – instead of flowers, we blew bubbles.”
“That’s amazing!” she said. “I’m going to have that at my wedding. If I ever get married. Which I’m in no rush to do.”
“Do you like bubble baths?” I asked.
“No.”
“Why not? There’s lots of bubbles in bubble baths.”
“Because I’m afraid I’d never get out.”
Her friend came in and joined us. Iulia sat down. She was tall, thin and with brown curly hair, wearing grey sweat pants and a green sweater. Heavy bags hung underneath her eyes. “I hate winter,” she said. “I just want to hibernate until spring.” We talked and shared origami skills. Andreea made a bird, I made roses and Iulia made a tulip. When Zoltan got off work, he came and joined us, but by then Andreea and Iulia were already heading out. Zoltan sat down and ordered a beer.
“I love this place,” I said, looking around. “The furniture is really clever, it’s all just cardboard. I think I’m going to do this for my house,” I told him. “I mean, that’s free. You just pick up a ton of cardboard from hardware shops and grocery stores. These tables and chairs are all pretty strong; it’s such a great idea.”
“Yeah, it’s a great café,” he agreed.
“And look at the girl to guy ratio here.” I counted. “It’s 8 to 1 in here. Fantastic. I love Cluj!”
“Yeah, it’s a great café,” he agreed.
From there, we went to get some shwarma and then on to a German bar where his friends were meeting. His friends were a collection of people from different department of his work, from sales to logistics managers. Everyone talked through the evening and drank their series of beers, preferring the moderately more expensive German beers (though German beers in Romania were cheaper than in Germany) to the cheap and inexpensive Romanian beers. “We came here to enjoy the beer, not to drink cheaply,” Zoltan said. The place was decorated like it was a Bavarian restaurant, though it didn’t serve any schnitzel and it didn’t play any German music. The music was a mix of 60s, 70s, 80s, 90s, 2000s, rock, funk, classic rock, rap, jazz, new wave – that is to say, anything that came out of Britain and the United States in the past thirty years. We went home, full of conversation and good beer, satisfied for the evening.
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