Recognized more for the status of its Olympic gymnasts than for any monumental contribution to the social, political or technological arenas, Romania today remains a nation of many contrasts; a series of contradictions making it elusive yet concurrently predictable.

Its people, cynical about a revolution that failed them, nonetheless eagerly embrace the occasional visitor with the sincerity and hospitality suggestive of a lifetime of camaraderie. Despite such displays of genuine congeniality, they persist in holding the Gypsies, one of Romania’s several ethnic minorities, in open, unabashed contempt, assigning to them enough stereotypes to pale even the most ardent racist. Trendiness and a sense of fashion – cellular phones holstered to belts like some cheap Wild West prop or sharing the ever present pack of smokes – are maintained in an economy yielding a monthly income that, by most Western standards, would hardly satisfy as a daily wage.

Flanking urban landscapes cursed with the thumbprint of decades of socialist architecture and choked by the noxious contaminants of irresponsible industrialism is a precipitous, craggy countryside giving way to rolling hills and expanses of grasslands and plains. Charming peasant villages and medieval citadels are garnished with the aroma and freshness of sweet-scented, springlike air. Absent high-tech grocery chains of chemically infused and geometrically perfect inventory, colorful markets offer a plethora of crafts, wares and fresh produce; a pleasurable alternative to congested plazas and featureless streets.

As the stage of one of modern Europe’s more theatrical revolutions, one undeniably fueled by the martyred students memorialized in its University Square, today’s Bucharest is a grim and impersonal city of over 2 million. The occasional classically designed and imposing edifices of government buildings do little to belay the blandness of Romania’s capital. Hardly the pearl of Eastern Europe, Allied bombers can scarcely be assigned full responsibility for brutalizing this former “Paris of the East” to its present jumble of concrete, ill-placed medieval cathedrals and acres of crumbling apartment blocks.

Tree-lined boulevards and well-manicured parks and promenades are a deceptive introduction soon betrayed by the consequences of a building program designed to showcase Bucharest as ” the first socialist capital for the new socialist man.” This undertaking, the ill-conceived notion of Romania’s deposed leader of 25 years, Nicolea Ceausescu, has stripped the city of the resplendent allure enjoyed by many of its European counterparts. Tens of thousands suffered the loss of their homes, churches, monasteries and synagogues through a self-aggrandizing plan that exhausted the coffers of an already economically challenged nation. Centuries-old parishes and neighborhoods, surrendered and razed, accommodated the development of what are nothing more than urban drags of racing traffic, weed-choked esplanades, randomly spouting fountains and canyons of government buildings and strip mall-type retail shops.

Palace of hubris

Perched atop the summit of this heap of architectural socialism is what is undeniably the climax of Ceausescu’s hubris; the Palace of Parliament. In stately prominence at Bulevardul Unirii’s western end, its presence is enhanced when approached from this 21/2-mile main artery of Bucharest’s city center. Considered by many to be a $3 billion eyesore, it is a magnet to a sparse but constant parade of international curiosity seekers. Impressive in its grandeur, if not for its waste and ostentatious design, this monolith is known less for housing state and administrative facilities than for its irrational excesses and extravagances. Lavish marble galleries, elegantly appointed conference halls, gold-leafed ceilings, 4,500 crystalline chandeliers, a theater, and offices and apartments numbering into the hundreds help define a building second in size only to the Pentagon.

The opulence of Ceausescu’s socialist vision has been reduced to $5, 45-minute tours and embarrassed and fidgety government officials attempting to rationalize a relevancy for this dinosaur. Glaring mockingly at the palace from Bulevardul Unirii’s eastern end, as if a monument to his folly, is the physical manifestation of Ceausescu’s downfall. Known locally as “Hiroshima,” its solitude and eeriness nearly eclipse the extravagance of the boulevard’s western end. This partially completed cultural center is a snapshot of Ceausescu’s grand design, frozen in time by an indifferent government and a nation bled dry.

Looking more like the victim of an air attack, the abandonment of what might have been an elegant plaza has been left a slag heap of decaying materials and heavy equipment. Thousands of steel reinforcing rods, standing erect in an expanse of concrete like reeds in some urban marsh, and a partially completed, now crumbling building dominate a site ever hopeful for the return of workers from what has been an indefinite lunch break. This scene of indifference to the Ceausescu legacy is complemented by hawkers within yards of the Palace of Parliament irreverently peddling books with ghoulish post-execution photos of the late dictator and his wife. The irony of profit from the memory of the man responsible for so many of Romania’s social and economic woes is scoffed at, met with a sneered “So what?” at its mention.

Lacking the captivation, romance and aesthetic appeal of many European destinations, Bucharest is rarely a destination but more typically only a stopover for those arriving by air and in transit to other Romanian destinations. Anticipating the expenses inherent with travel to London, Paris or Berlin, with an exchange rate of 25,000 lei to the dollar and a floundering economy, will leave one with heaping wads of cash to be eroded at a luxuriously slow pace. Although accommodations whose names and rates are readily recognizable to Western visitors are one option, a junket through some of Bucharest’s narrow, back streets will reveal tired albeit humble and inviting offerings of clean, modest rooms, shared baths and a Spartan breakfast for as little as $13 per night.

This affordability extends to the many dining possibilities, allowing ample opportunity to sample traditional Romanian fare. With a pint of beer as low as 3,500 lei, or about 14 cents, it is enough to tempt even the most virtuous and, at the very least, makes for an evening of inexpensive entertainment.

Charming Transylvania

Pastoral charms garnishing the serenity of peasant hamlets; cobbled lanes punctuated with shops and galleries threading through medieval towns and villages, and Saxon cathedrals spilling classical recitals onto ancient squares and into parish neighborhoods beckon visitors to the central province of Transylvania. A refreshing relief from the noise and congestion of Bucharest, its appeals are made even more accessible by the development of rural tourism and more inviting by the genuine warmth and hospitality of its people.

The dubious reputation Transylvania unwittingly earned as the setting of the 19th century novel “Dracula” is a marked contrast to its tranquil market towns and placid rural settings. Most destinations are reachable for no more than a $5 train fare.

Relics from a soot-encrusted Eastern Bloc past, clunky passenger trains begin their forays back through time as they creek away from Bucharest. Their windows into forgotten worlds witness decades peel away with the passing of each mile.

Ennobled by hardships long ago discarded by the Western world are communities of families whose daily lives were our worst Y2K nightmares. Women hustling sacks of produce on and off trains at each stop, physicians paid in liquor and chickens if at all, markets where farmers weigh their harvest on antiquated scales amidst a din of trading, gold-toothed Gypsies peddling piles of worn shoes, streets shared by cattle, sheep, horses, an occasional automobile and old men hauling wagons of straw, kerchiefed and craggy-faced grandmothers bent beneath bundles of sticks while creeping down winding dirt paths and precocious schoolchildren eager to impress with their English illustrate the survivability of indifference to the trappings, luxuries and conveniences of a more modern age.

The village of Moeciu is tightly nestled in a valley of smooth, eroded hills in southeastern Transylvania. In this truly idyllic setting one is provided simple, clean accommodations for little more than $10 a night while enjoying the hospitality of a peasant family.

Traditional food is enhanced when prepared and served with the expert attention of those who have cultivated and harvested the ingredients from their own livestock and fields. Ciorba, a vegetable soup with ingredients uncontaminated by the dulling effects of dyes and preservatives offers a powerful flavor and is likely to precede an ample lunch of bread, meats and cheeses; all made more satisfying by the modest price of $4 to $5. The popularity of tuica, a type of plum brandy, is suggested by its production in nearly every household and its generous availability to every guest. For about $2 and sufficient space in carry-on baggage, a liter of this inviting beverage can offer a seductive complement to a photo album when reminiscing about a Romanian sojourn.

Dracula’s castle

Clever marketing and historical embellishment have yielded one attraction sparing the nearby village of Bran from irrelevancy. Bran Castle, more popularly known as Dracula’s Castle, is trumpeted as having been the occasional residence of Vlad Tepes, the 15th century Wallachian prince from whom the Dracula character evolved. The fact that he neither built the castle nor probably ever stayed there does not discourage a parade of tourists to this 14th century icon. Lacking the boasting rites afforded by cavernous banquet halls and chambers, dimly lit scuttles and colossal retaining walls enjoyed by its Arthurian counterparts, Bran Castle is comparatively unimpressive. Well-preserved and imposing from its perch, it has spawned a market for stamped, embossed or engraved images of Vlad on everything but plastic lobsters.

Terraced citadels and shaded squares, arched and enclosed walkways, pleasant and atmospheric eateries tucked amongst towering medieval battlements, Gothic cathedrals and simple, time-honored dwellings highlight Sibiu and Sighisoara; two imperatives on any Transylvanian itinerary. Although both are burdened with gray and uninviting commercial and residential quarters, they are easily ignored and soon forgotten by turning a few corners and ascending ancient stairways. Transylvania’s incessant vigilance in identifying and exploiting any conceivable opportunity to capitalize on Dracula is certainly not lost on Sighisoara.

Unlike Bran, however, its charms extend well beyond the perpetuation of the myth. Purported to be the birthplace of Vlad Tepes, “Dracula,” what is said to have been his home until about age 4 exists now as an upscale restaurant and pub. Linen tablecloths and candelabra in an elegant setting are now the furnishings of the home of this once bloodthirsty prince. The much heralded tuica, a serving of ciorba and plentiful helpings of entrees served by an attentive wait staff could approach $7.

Sibiu, south and slightly to the west, expands on Sighisoara’s appeal. Fourteenth century and 15th century homes, museums and Gothic cathedrals mix with more modern eateries to form a perimeter of an expansive central square. A stately hotel with modern conveniences and a felicitous restaurant offers wood paneled rooms for $25 to $30 per night, including breakfast, and is within a short walk. Avenues, alleys and ancient staircases meander out from the square inviting visitors to explore and discover its less obvious enticements.

Bastion of Baroque

Absent the noble presence of Renaissance cathedrals, the regal air suggested by centuries of aristocratic protocol, Baroque masterpieces and great philosophical treatises of the Enlightenment, all coveted as bastions of Western civilization, or the swank Mediterranean resorts catering to the new royalty endowed by popular culture, it is hardly surprising that Romania is rarely targeted as a European destination. Offering little to appeal to prepackaged tours, Romania offers a nontraditional beauty that lies, in no small part, with the goodness of its people. For those who recall with teary-eyed nostalgia those halcyon days of “Europe On A Shoestring” guidebooks, Romania, for better or worse, continues to present that possibility.

Ignored by the new European community and alienated by an unresponsive and ineffective political system, Romanians are clearly humbled by their lack of global status and resigned to a future of limited options. Flattered by the occasional American visitor, they are eager to assist with English learned from Hollywood movies. Americans used to a Europe quick to condemn and poised to criticize will be refreshed by the positive and complimentary Romanian perspective. An American flag hanging in a pub represents “possibilities” to one college-age man able to encapsulate the sentiment of so many of his peers.

Despite the limitations imposed by visa costs and immigration requirements, perceived opportunities in the United States are a solution to a beleaguered nation beset by an economic tailspin. If strength in character, generous nature and genuine amiability are any indication of the nation’s wherewithal through seemingly limitless adversities, it is clear that Romania will enjoy a hard-earned, well-deserved place of rank in the European community.

If you go

Airfare will depend on season of travel, but expect to pay $800-$900 round trip.

Despite Bucharest’s reputation for petty thieves and pickpockets, there are no more here than in any city of similar size. First-time visitors to the city might be somewhat distressed and overwhelmed by the legions of stray dogs parading the streets and adorning monuments. For the most part they are quite apathetic, but beware! Some can be downright nasty.

Plan a loose itinerary in advance. Don’t waste too much time with tourist offices. The staff are generally pretty useless and know little more than how to count money and sneeringly point out the obvious. For rural tourism options, seek out ANTREC. They are well-known, have a modicum of professionalism and can be helpful when they want to be.

Train travel is clearly the most enjoyable and economical way to get around. Avoid trains marked “PERSOANE”; you could walk there faster.

Most important, get to know the people! More speak English than you might expect. They are interested, interesting, curious and very helpful.