Originally posted on Sunday, July 20, 2014
We arose. The bus was the one who was late. As should be expected by now. Nine of us rode the self same bus to the Jesus Heart Chapel of Odorheiu, a pilgrimage to the various churches surrounding the countryside to which we felt some semblance of connectivity. Jesus Heart chapel was a tiny clover shaped building, rebuilt and painted over who knows to what extent. While there, I paid twice to the deposit box so that I might take a coloring book for my daughter. Then we piled back onto the bus so that we might visit the UNESCO site of a Fortified church, for truly what screams “peace” more than a fortified church. A fascinating story unfolded, the tale of St. Laszlo, in which the protagonist chased the invading villain to protect the innocent youthful girl, only to have his achilles tendon severed rendering him unable to defeat the invader single handedly. He had to rely on the small child which he intended to save to finish off the invader. As we explored the outer courtyard, we came upon the unmistakable evidence of a former inhabitant; the femur of a small child. Perhaps tossed aside carelessly, perhaps the result of rain and degradation. The near two dozen bone geeks began a full scale surface study, finding a half dozen teeth, a partial scapula, two vertebrae, and a few phalanges. Our guide, Csaba (pronounced Chabba) told us we were free to take the bones, but that they would be cursed. Pretty sure, but not completely sure that he was kidding. Following that we went to the Bogoz church, where many of our skeletal remains had been recovered. It was the day of baptism for a small child, and much of the community showed up, so we did not enter the church itself but did walk around the outside and descend into the small crypt accessible from the exterior.Then it rained. This threw the remainder of the day into limbo, the reenactment planned by Zsolt and company was cancelled, and so the day was concluded.
We returned to the hostel in order to rest up and prepare for a night of drunken debauchery. Funny thing about many places in Europe, drinking doesn’t begin at 8pm, or 9pm. Most of the crowd would not even begin until closer to midnight, which to be honest threw off my expectations. The group planning to go began drinking while getting ready, an activity I quickly joined in on. Being the first real huge night out for the group, everyone got dressed to the nines. I wore a tie and waistcoat. We made our way in synchronicity like an intoxicated amoeba to the bar, which was a converted courtyard to allow for smoking. Shortly after entering, we saw Csaba was there (strange walking into a bar in Transylvania and recognizing someone) and our party joined with his. At first awkward, but soon everyone was having a really good time. Apparently my being overly dressed with a tie for going out was a local indicator of being gay for some of the local men. “Are you gay? Because I ehh am not. I do not care if you are, I just don’t want ehh the wrong idea.” I laughed, to break his awkwardness, told him that I too was fine with it, but that no I was not, and pointed to my wedding ring (not that that’s the final end all be all, but I was hoping to reassure him). We began talking of music and travel, what I thought of Transylvania and the Hungarian language vs. the Romanian one.
As the clock inexhorably moved forward to 3am, some of the crowd dispersed, leaving the dancing crowd, and our sitting and drinking crowd. I spent the evening on Ciuc beer, talking to everyone in turn, and generally having a great time. One person in our group (who shall be referred to here as X) however came back from the dance floor with a look of controlled panic, and she returned to sit with us. Behind her came a rather large local man, who sat beside her and kept trying to put his hands on her. Another friend leaned over to whisper to me that the same man had already grabbed her ass earlier. X got up, said “Nem” clearly, which means No, and sat on the opposite couch. He moved beside her. Again she got up and moved across. He followed. He continued to try something with X, when she got up and said NEM clearly and one last time jumped to the other couch. Csaba didn’t seem to notice, or care (he was pretty drunk at this point too), and he was the only one of us who spoke Hungarian. So the meathead got up one more time to follow X. When he was directly across from me, I decided to speak in my own particular dialect. I kicked the coffee table my foot had been resting on so that it slid and pinned his legs against a chair, and I was on my feet ready to protect my friend before my brain could say “Wait, what!?”. I had height on him, and while I was drunk it was obvious he was further along than I. His face showed little sign of understanding or preparedness, yet from my perspective, his whole body became a myriad of strike zones, pressure points, and weaknesses. Before it went any further, Csaba jumped to his own feet to intervene, telling me that it was just some dumbass and it didn’t need to go further (which was totally right.) X and several others chose then to leave the bar, and I followed suit. X was visibly upset, as one would expect, as apparently the harrassment had been ongoing on the dance floor before she had returned to us. I maintained a weathereye on our stern, expecting a drunken Transylvanian meathead and his buddies at any moment. Then I saw a car slowly make its way up the road we were on. I stopped and turned to face the car, telling X and company to keep going to the hostel. The car stopped a couple of blocks away and the headlights went out. I could see the silhouettes of two people in the vehicle, but had no idea if they were the meathead and friends or not. I did not back down, but nothing came of it, and I doubt the occupants even knew or cared about the interaction. The car remained in its place, and we briskly made our way to the hostel. When we arrived, I felt flushed, exasperated, upset, and worried. Had we been followed? Unlikely after that. Would meathead show up? Again, unlikely yet I still felt hot under the collar. I stripped off my tie, and paced on the porch. Soon, Csaba showed up with the remainder of our group, and told me to next time let him talk to the idiot, so it wouldn’t escalate. Good advice, but I guess I am a typical American.
