M-whY

Getting there should've been no problem, except I was caught in a daydream as the train approached the station. I snapped out of it about five seconds too late, five seconds after we started rolling again.

"What town is this?" I asked the guy sitting across from me, with whom I had had a brief exchange in english earlier.

"Sighisoara."

My expression revealed my predicament, and the whole compartment and I shared a laugh.

So I turned around at the next stop and approached Sighisoara from the other direction. The woman running the hostel seemed surprised to see me - I must've been her first guest in a while - and had the entire dormitory all to myself. I locked my bags to the bedpost anyways out of habit and set out for a look around town.

I don't think I've ever felt more out of place; I received as much attention as an naked chick in a fraternity would. I attracted glances from everyone. A Romanian girl across the street whispered something to her friend, and both of them smiled at me as I crossed to their side. A couple kids circled me laughing, then poked me with branches until their parents told them to stop. I'm sure they found me as curious as I found them.

Sighisoara's primary attraction is its citadel, visible from anywhere in town. I had a bagful of these baked treats common in Romania before passing the gate. Cheap, and packed with all sorts of delicious fillings, they're so good. It's too bad the internet hasn't evolved to the point where I can upload one for the world to sample. Sights I can share though, like the bust of Dracula within the citadel walls, and the building the Impaler was born in. Dracula's crib, if you will. Nowadays it houses a souvenir shop and a restaurant.

I remember traveling distances to eat at a particular place before. Before Krispy Kreme franchises began appearing everywhere, me and my friends would sometimes drive half an hour just to get some donuts. Harold and Kumar did the same for those little White Castle burgers too. So I have no shame in admitting I pretty much came all the way out here just to dine at Casa Vlad Dracul.

I knew I was having dinner early, but I didn't expect to be the only patron. From the varied menu, printed in several different languages, I selected 'Chicken legs cooked in Dracula's oven.'

"How was it?" asked the attentive waiter after I had finished.

"Good!" Food fitting for the three-star establishment that it was. And it set me back less than US$10.

On the way back to the hostel, I had a dog chase me for half a block - I even appear exotic to the animals here. No other backpacker showed up, sparing me snores and loud breathing for a night. Guaranteed peace and quiet, I tucked myself in and slept like a baby.

Thanks to everyone for their support and comments! Knowing people are reading keeps me motivated to continue the updates!