Sighisora, Transylvania

Sighisora, Transylvania

But, unfortunately, not like you might think.

Wednesday was our first day in Transylvania, full moon rising and a thick fog rolling in. So far, so good, right? We get settled in our little hostel room and hear a big commotion outside. On the front porch steps, a lady at our hostel is freaking out on two policeman. We walk outside to see what’s going on and she turns to us, to replay her drama in full, wild-eyed, crazy lady form.

“A boy followed me up here. I set my bag down when I got to the kitchen and he just picked it up and stole it!!”

Now, I know I should feel sorry for her, because, yes . . . a thief stole her stuff. But, she left her bag unattended? Even for a second? That’s seriously negligent on her part, especially if she noticed that someone was following her. I didn’t feel sorry for her. At all.

“I just want my Iphone and passport back! I don’t even care about the $2000 Euros!” she keeps screaming at the top of her lungs. Two thousand Euros and she left her bag unattended? Are you kidding me? I don’t even believe her anymore. The policemen both looked like they’d stopped listening a long time ago.

We needed to get to an ATM and get some cash for the week, so we walked down the quaint cobblestone streets of Sighisora, Vlad Dracul’s birthplace, taking it all in. It’s a super cool, incredibly intact midievil village. Suddenly, people are yelling and screaming and an obvious tourist chases a young man, catches him and drags him back up the street. There’s an elderly woman flat on her back on the aforementioned quaint cobblestones, not moving. Someone yells, “Call the police!”

Well, I just happen to know where there are two policemen – they’re back at my hostel. So we run to get them. They’ve already gotten away from the crazy lady, though. At this point, we are just hungry and super confused. Is this town safe? Is the thief down the street the same one as the crazy lady’s bag snatcher? Crazy lady is mumbling, “That gate must never be unlocked ever again!” She follows us down the street, presumably to see if the detained thief is the same perp as the one who took her bag.

Matt and the card-eating ATM, the next morning.

Matt and the card-eating ATM, the next morning.

The elderly woman is still laying on the street, her hand bloody. The police arrive, the same two from before. We figured we weren’t helping by hanging around gawking so we went to find an ATM.

And then the Bank of Transylvania’s ATM ate Matt’s debit card. All of this happened in the span of one hour. But you know what? Everything is cool. We didn’t get mugged. We didn’t do anything silly like, oh, leave our Iphones and 2000 Euro laying around for a gypsy child to steal. We can make do without the card, although not having it is just sort of a pain in the ass. We tried to get our bank to fax a letter to the Bank of Transylvania to release the card to us, but no one wanted to accept written liability. So we had the bank cut up our debit card.

Crazy lady started yelling at the hostel owner at 8:00 AM the next morning, just like I predicted she would, which was kind of entertaining. Crazy lady got escorted out by the police, screaming, “No one will ever stay here again!! All of your stuff will get stolen from here! You’ll see! It will happen to you too!” The hostel owner, a sweet lady with a thick Romanian accent kept shrugging her shoulders and saying, “She’s crazy. Depressed or something.”

Hey remember a couple of posts ago how I was complaining that nothing interesting was happening? Transylvania delivers, y’all.