Beautiful Sighisoara

Saturday, July 7, 2007

Sighisora will always be for me the precious love story I was blessed to share within its walls. However, I would be remiss if I did not write something of the loveliness found within this town on its own merit. Despite the construction and current upheaval in the town, it is a shining jewel of a city, the ‘Pearl of Transylvania,’ calling tourists from Romania and beyond for good reason. It is one of seven fortified Saxon cities in Transylvania, two of which, Brasov and Sibiu, I have already written about. The villages were settled in the 12^th century in agreement with Hungary to guard the passes from Tatar and Ottoman raiders in exchange for favorable market rights. The Saxons constructed the seven fortified cities and then in the villages built fortified churches, large enough to shelter and protect all the members of the village in times of siege. The historical strategy has left for us a countryside rich with heritage and history and beautifully decorated with fortresses, churches, turrets, and lovely towns.

Sighisoara is the only remaining inhabited medieval citadel in Eastern Europe, one of the many reasons for its popular appeal. In the 15^th century the walls surrounding the city were fifteen meters high and flanked fourteen defense towers. Of these, nine are still standing to this day, each named for a particular guild – the Bootmakers’ Tower, Tailor’s Tower, Tanners’ Tower, Ironsmiths’ Tower, etc. The town had a rich history of German artisans and craftsmen, at one point boasting fifteen guilds and twenty-five handicraft branches. With trade contacts that ranged from the Netherlands to Persia, Sighisoara became one of the first Transylvania settlements to gain the status of a town in 1517 and legal autonomy.

The town is inextricably tied to Dracula folklore being the birthplace of Vlad the Impaler, the historical figure on whom Bram Stoker’s book was based. The town gave shelter and support to his father from 1431-1435 in his efforts to gain the Romanian throne. There is a division in Romania between those who want to exploit the Dracula legend and its connection with Transylvania to bring in tourists and those who prefer their country be recognized for its beauty and historical value rather than a legend of an immortal, nocturnal, blood-sucking monster. At one point there were talks and plans of a Dracula theme park though they were eventually, and thankfully, dropped. I believe Transylvania has more than enough redeeming qualities to offer tourists without resorting to luring them with vampire lore. At the same time I believe there could be a compromise between the two that is more realistic and healthier than an absolute opposition of Dracula tourism or a downward spiral into a land filled with tacky fang-tooth t-shirts and black capes hanging in every store.

While riding the buses and trains through Bulgaria and Romania, I read a wonderful book called The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova.  It is an incredibly well-written book, her first. If she has more in her like this, she will, I think, be a literary great for future generations. Her skill for metaphor and visual imagery is breathtaking. The book follows the path of an historian (actually three generations of historians) searching for the true burial place of Vlad the Impaler. She weaves within this search for historical truth a modern day vampire tale, though ever so subtly. The weight of the book explores the historical dynamics throughout the Balkan peninsula, carrying the reader through Budapest and Istanbul, across the mountains and monasteries of Bulgaria, and, of course, into Transylvania and Wallachia (now both part of Romania). It seems to me the book illustrates best the way Romania could approach Dracula tourism, with an awareness ‘he’ exists, both Dracula the legend and Vlad the historical figure, but with a focus on what the land stands for, its history, its people, its traditions. Vlad the Impaler did undoubtedly gruesome things, but he is also in some ways responsible for the Romanian Saxon villages of today still being Romanian or Saxon and not Ottoman. He may have been cruel but he was extraordinarily clever and adept at fighting others with their own ways. We still struggle with these issues today, do we not?

Anyway, back to the story of his birthplace…. The Clock Tower which watches over the small square at the center of the citadel is Sighisoara’s most honored landmark. Unique among the towers, it served as the main gate to the citadel. Originally built in the 14^th century, the roof was restored in the Baroque style after a fire in 1676, with the colorful tiles that adorn it added near the turn of the 19^th century. The clock was installed in the 17^th century and features two groups of figurines that alter between day and night, as well as figures for each day of the week. The clock mechanisms have been updated over the years and still function today.

A few steps from the clock tower sits the Monastery Church originally built in the Gothic style in 1289 but rebuilt twice since. Next to it stands the Town Hall, constructed in 1885 in a neo renaissance style. It seems to me a bit out of place amongst the simple charm of the citadel. I prefer the slightly worn, loved look of the old buildings like the one that houses NGO Sustainable Sighisoara, which works to preserve the heritage of Sighisoara and promote sustainable tourism. The long narrow unpaved streets (which once were, and hopefully with the efforts of the NGO will again be, cobblestoned streets) are bordered by small, simple houses in pastel pinks and greens and occasional ochre hues, giving the town a lovely, simple air.

Wanderers can circle the citadel, following along the old wall and its individually designed towers. At 3:00 as one faces the clock tower, opposite the citadel from the Catholic Church and Sustainable Sighisoara, begins the Schoolboys Stairs. A covered wooden structure built in 1642 with 173 steps leading up to the School on the Hill. You can almost hear the shouts of school children and imagine the secretly stolen kisses across the centuries on the long stretch of stairs. The school was originally built in 1522 but replaced with a neo-gothic building in 1901. Behind the School on the Hill sits the aptly named Church on the Hill. It is considered the most valuable historical monument of the town. Begun in the 13^th century in the gothic style, it took almost 200 years to complete. Unfortunately the frescos of the 15^th century were destroyed by overzealous reformers though some have now been restored. It seems the battle for historical preservation has been waged in Sighisoara for centuries.

Next to the church a beautiful cemetery creates a maze of walkways along the ridges of the hill. I spent over an hour walking its grass covered paths, admiring the views of the countryside, and wondering about the thousands of people buried there. On one of the ridges lower down stood two tree covered rows of identical headstones on child sized plots. I couldn’t imagine what disaster had taken so many children at once. Then, reading the headstones, I realized they were graves of soldiers from World War II. The ones whose bodies presumably never made it home. There were two long rows of the matching headstones, perhaps forty, all from this one little town, all young men, cut down in the prime of their life. I don’t understand war. I will never understand war.

The clock tower still serves as a gate of sorts with the road that passes beneath it leading to the “lower” town below. I saw little of the lower town except the main street lined with small shops and stores and little quaint restaurants, giving it that small town feel. The main road winds around to follow the river Tarnava Mare. The most impressive structure in the lower town is certainly the Orthodox Cathedral which sits alone in majesty alongside the river. Built in the Byzantine style and painted black and white it is a stunning contrast to the deep blue Transylvania sky. I paid my respects, as I do to all gods I pass, saying a prayer for the struggles in the heart and hearts of this lovely town.

I loved Sighisoara, for many reasons. It is the first place in two years of chosen homelessness that I have thought to myself, here I would happily build a life, here I could make a home.