The sun had barely crested the top of Mt Tampa when I walked out of the door of my hotel to begin exploring Braşov. The city was hushed around me, especially in the old part of town where I was staying, and few cars interrupted my reverie.
The morning was cold and the gelid air nipped at my nose, which I wiped at with an old beat-up napkin that had somehow survived the laundry in my jeans pocket. I pulled my gloves from their hiding place in my jacket and was glad to have brought them with me, zipping up the two layered coats I was wearing in the process.
Nearby, I found that the Black Church, a Lutheran Church named for the black color the stone took on when charred in fire, was still closed. I realized then that I was probably too early for most of town. So instead I walked back toward the town square.
I found the Romanian Orthodox church there was already open, but in the midst of a liturgy, so I continued on.
Well at the northern end of the old center I could see a fortress standing well above the town and knew I wanted to visit. I looked it up and found it closed for renovations.
There seemed to be a theme, so I followed a small stream back to the south, vaguely in the direction from which I had come, but just on the edge of it all. It was then that I found the sign directing me to the White Tower. I climbed the steps, a steep sequence that tested my resolve, but I was committed.
At the top the view was OK, but not great.
But I found a path in the woods that took me yet further to the Black Tower, the second of a series of guard towers built around town in the middle ages when the Saxons ruled here. Similar to its counterpart, the tower was closed to visitors, but the view was much better.
I crossed the town then, stopping for an espresso and to visit the Black Church. The church was once Catholic, but has stripped of much of its finery.
On the opposite side of town, at the base of Mt. Tampa, I found the cable car, reminiscent of the car P and I took in the Dolomites back in September.
Swaying gently from side to side, we glided upward toward the top of the mountain, where I expected a beautiful view. The thing is, there is only one spot where a visitor can get a beautiful view here, at the headhouse, and we weren’t allowed to tarry for photos. Otherwise the only thing to do at the top is drink and smoke (which is big here).
I didn’t have my hiking gear, but the ticket agent for the cable car had said the hike was easy, so I decided to walk the 2 miles down. I knew that the trail made a loop, and found that one direction was marked by a red triangle and the other a yellow. I followed the yellow.
Occasionally, I heard stirring in the woods, which worried me a bit that perhaps there were bears or boars nearby, as I have found frequent references to them, but I never saw anything other than a few small birds and my fellow hikers.
I expected that somewhere along the way I would stumble across a nice view of Braşov, but this never materialized. Instead, about a third other the way down I found a spectacular view from opposite side of Mt. Tampa, with the pale blue mist of late morning still clinging to the other mountains to the east.
As the hike continued on I gradually grew warmer, shedding my jackets and the gloves with them. At the bottom of the mountain, I found lunch.
And this had been a great way to start my first day in Braşov.
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