Friday Five: Cities in Transylvania

Piața Mare, Sibiu

As most of you will know, I have recently returned from two weeks in Transylvania. The main purpose of the visit was so that Him Outdoors could compete in the World Age Group Duathlon Champions (he came fifth, which is such an excellent result that even he is happy with it!) but of course I managed to get in some serious tourism. Here are the highlights of the cities (some of them were towns but let's not get bogged down in definition) we explored. 

Five Cities in Transylvania:

1. Brașov: Located in the centre of Romania and surrounded by the Southern Carpathians, Brașov has a population of 253,200 making it the seventh most populous city in the country. It was a walled city and, despite a fire which destroyed much of the fortifications, some of the gates are still in existence. It has a vibrant central square, one of the narrowest streets in Europe, an abundance of churches, a Hollywood-style sign on top of Mt Tâmpa (accessible by a by a cable-car), and a great cafe, restaurant and bar scene. Historically, the city was the centre of the Burzenland, once dominated by the Transylvanian Saxons, and a significant commercial hub on the trade roads linking the Ottoman Empire and Western Europe. The Saxon merchants obtained considerable wealth, exerted strong political influence, and their influence on the architecture of the city is still evident. 



Brașov from above

2. Cluj-Napoca: Two fabulous squares lined with cafes and restaurants, a family-friendly park for promenading and boating on a lake (we also saw group zumba and people strung out in hammocks), an evident rave scene, and a well-frequented botanic gardens are among the highlights of this vibrant city with a strong student vibe (evidenced in a number of excellent craft beer bars and a couple of microbreweries). A stunning mix of Gothic and Baroque architecture combine with Communist-era Brutalist buildings, which tell their own story alongside the statues of various political and religious figures. The National Museum of Ethnography exhibits feature stuff like mills, looms and folk costumes, and a startling collection of scary-looking icons on glass, while the stadium appears positively futuristic from the top of Cetațuia Hill. 



Restaurant scene in Cluj-Napoca

3. Sibiu: Encircled by the remains of medieval walls and towers, Sibiu is known for the Germanic architecture of its old town. It is also known as The City with Eyes due to the iconic eyebrow dormers on the roofs of the houses, whose initial purpose was as a ventilation system, but legends say they were built to frighten the people and make them believe they were being watched. There is not one; not two; but three piața, and from the top of the Council Tower one can see six church spires. In 2007 Sibiu was the European Capital of Culture, and it has many museums and art galleries, including the ASTRA National Museum Complex (a 96-hectare open-air museum with a focus on ethnography) and the Brukenthal National Museum (in which every other picture is Crucifixion this or Annunciation that, or a still life with a dead rabbit). The city straddles the Cibin River via the Bridge of Lies - rumour has it if you tell a lie while standing on the bridge it will fall down. 



Eyes on the Bridge of Lies, Sibiu

4. Sighișoara: Listed by UNESCO as a World Heritage Site, the city is a popular tourist destination for its well-preserved walled old town, with multiple towers marking out the fortifications. It's relatively small with 164 houses in the city, most of which are over 300 years old and are considered historical monuments. One such is the birthplace of Vlad Țepeș, otherwise known as Vlad III or Vlad Drăculea (but not Vlad the Impaler), one of the most important rulers in Wallachian history and proof that one person's war criminal is another's national hero. I mean, sure, he committed acts of unspeakable cruelty and mass genocide (boiling people to death and driving spikes into their heads were favoured pastimes) but he defended Romania from invading Turkish hordes, so, you know…



Part of the fortifications of Sighișoara

5. Târgu Mureș: Proving that not all cities in Transylvania have beautiful buildings and bustling squares, there is a substantial component of Communist-era architecture here, as many of the original buildings were demolished by the communist regime of the 1970s. It is surrounded by beautiful forests and bucolic country vistas where farmers scythe the fields by hand and storks perch atop telegraph poles to build their enormous nests. Restaurants are copious and offer a range of dishes from hearty meats in creamy cheese sauces to some of the best vegetarian food I have ever tasted, garnished with edible flowers. Guide books may complain that the fortifications are over-restored, but they are used frequently for shows and celebrations, with a bar in the walls and atmospheric lighting at night. Ethnically, it has one of the largest Roma populations of any city in the country and the remainder are roughly equal Romanians and Hungarians with a smattering of Germans and Jews. The Palace of Culture is a remarkable building in the city centre richly decorated with mosaic panels and stained glass windows. The art within is equally incredible with a the Romanian and Hungarian collections being exhibited on separate floors. 

Mosaic ceiling at the Palace of Culture, Targu Mureș

Courtroom Drama: The Appeal

The Appeal by Janice Hallett

Viper

Pp. 447

The tagline for this novel is “One murder. Fifteen suspects. Can you uncover the truth?” It is set in a country village, Lockwood, where “life revolves around two interlocking family dynasties... A person’s closeness to the alpha family – the Haywards – determines their social status.” Many of the villagers form the Fairway Players, an amateur dramatic society who are currently producing All My Sons. Martin Hayward is chair of the Fairway Players, his wife, Helen, is the secretary and leading actress, and their son-in-law, James, is directing the play. Martin and Helen raise an appeal for their granddaughter, Poppy, a young child with a rare form of cancer (or has she?) who needs unsubsidised drugs (or does she?). Everyone is dodgy, and there are affairs, blackmail, official work complaints, obsession, past secrets and mysterious circumstances, so when someone is murdered (over halfway through the book), it seems likely that anyone could have done it.

What elevates the novel above the usual run-of-the-mill cosy murder genre is the way in which the narrative unfolds through emails, text messages, newspaper articles and interview transcripts. A couple of law students, Charlotte and Femi, are assigned the case by their Senior Partner, Roderick Tanner QC, and they read through all the documents, trying to keep track of events, motives and alibis. Periodically they paste post-it notes asking pertinent questions or drawing attention to relevant information. Also every now and then they confer to recap events so far with text comments such as “Are you clear what happened at the Yogathon? Could you possibly summarise it for me? Please.”

It is an obvious device and one which the author subtly highlights. Isabel likes to email her every thought so that Sarah-Jane replies, “You were standing right here only moments ago. Why not just speak to me?” After being duped, one character tells another, “It seems there’s only so much you can know from letters. A man can hide a world behind words” and when Mr Tanner supplies extra information, he suggests, “As usual with this case, the meat is all between the lines.”

Into this milieu enter a couple, Sam and Kel, who have returned from Africa where they worked for Medicin Sans Frontiers and left under a cloud. There are scams from people claiming they want to invest in charities and offering quick returns on funds, and Tish Bhatoa, the woman supposedly providing the drugs for Poppy’s treatment, is also suspicious. Tish knows Sam and Kel from their overseas medical exploits, and precious African artefacts are mixed up with heroin addicts and a break in. The summing up ponders, “The African connection, and how something a world away can have such a profound influence.”

Isabel is on the outside and desperate to break in, to which end she joins the drama group and attempts to make herself useful by rehearsing lines with other actors and taking the minutes at committee meetings, but surely she can’t be as ditzy as she pretends. Actually, her version of the minutes are hilarious and a highlight of the book. After she has sent them out (complete with ruminations, recriminations and things that probably shouldn’t be repeated), Sarah-Jane reproaches her, “There’s all sorts of nonsense in there that we never even mentioned at the meeting. What’s more, it’s full of your opinions. That’s not the point of the minutes. No one cares what you think.” Working at the same hospital and eager to find new friends Isabel introduces Sam and Kel to the drama group, and she combines the interests of theatre and law, surmising, “A courtroom is very like a theatre. It has a stage, an audience and actors – it’s just the barristers know their lines while the witnesses improvise.”

The Appeal is an intriguing debut from an accomplished author. With touches of Agatha Christie in a modernist style, it brings a fresh perspective to the epistolary novel and to crime fiction in general. Clever and funny, it has quickly amassed a plethora of awards and is deservedly becoming a book-club favourite.