From the moment of our arrival in Transylvania I had one goal in mind, to visit the Szekely Fortified Church at Szekelyderzs (Darjiu, Romania). I first discovered the church while researching the trip my wife and I would take to Eastern Transylvania and Szekely Land in the months prior to our departure. Photos of the fortified church gripped my imagination. It was like nothing I had ever seen before. The bare, white washed fortification walls looked impregnable, the church sequestered inside it an angular presence full of sharp edges and blunt battlements. It was a stunning slice of architectural austerity. Every part of the complex was of the essence, not a single inch of space was wasted. This was where I wanted to go in Transylvania, everything else became secondary. I soon learned that seven fortified churches in Transylvania have been designated as UNESCO World Heritage Sites, but Szekelyderzs Fortified Church is the only one Szekely rather than Saxon in origin. This tidbit of trivia made my urge to visit almost uncontrollable. It was one of a kind. I had to go there, I had to see it. Szekelyderzs was to be the Holy Grail of the trip to Transylvania.
The Road To Inspiration – Village of Szekelyderzs
Positively Pastoral – Self-Sufficient In Szekely Land
Visiting the church became a singular goal, to the point that I planned our travel itinerary with it primarily in mind. Accommodation was selected in the nearby small city of Szekelyudvarhely, mainly because it was within half an hour’s driving distance of Szekelyderzs. When we first entered Szekely Land on a Thursday morning, the sun was burning bright and the sky above covered in a blanket of blue as puffy clouds floated on the horizon. After a single stop to tour a historic salt mine that had been converted into a surreal underground theme park at Sovata, I vowed to continue onward until we arrived in Szekelyudvarhely. This meant skipping a stop at the beautiful village of Farkaslaka (Lupeni, Harghita County, Romania). It was there that I noticed a group of cars parked at a cemetery within easy walking distance of the highway. Groups of people were making a beeline to pay homage to one of the Szekely’s most famous writers, Aron Tamasi, who was buried there. I promised that we would return but knew otherwise. At that moment nothing was going to get in the way of getting to Szekelyderzs.
We arrived just after 1:00 p.m. in Szekelyudvarhely and quickly checked into our accommodation. There was still plenty of time in the afternoon to visit Szekelyderzs. The goal was within reach. And thus, our final journey to the village began with a drive along a slim, but well-maintained road. It wound its way through lush meadows and hills fringed with scattered forests. The landscape was positively pastoral, broken only by an array of atmospheric villages. This part of Szekely Land was a world unto itself. A few kilometers after leaving Szkeleyudvarhely it was hard to imagine that such a city existed anywhere nearby. The villages we passed through looked self-sufficient and stand alone. They were connected only to the surrounding landscape. Lushness, greenery and overgrowth prevailed. There was a way of life here that I imagined had never changed. I knew this was an illusion. These villages had been buffeted by a torrent of geopolitical tempests during the 20th century. Their residents had weathered such storms by adhering to traditions, which the many tip wells and wagon carts symbolized. A stubborn resistance to time and change was a perceptible trait in this land.
A Model Opportunity – Reconstruction of the Fortified Church at Szekelyderzs
Glowing In The Sunlight – The Impossible & Impregnable
After a few more curvy kilometers we suddenly arrived at the village of Szekelyderzs, a place filled with the romance of a decaying world. Everything in the village looked older than its age, the houses were weather beaten, the road crumbling and a single grizzled resident sat by the roadside. He leered ominously at us when we drove by. The only notable exception to these less than desirable atmospherics were the great white walls that surrounded the fortified church glowing in the sunlight. They looked both impossible and impregnable. We pulled just off the roadside onto a patch of dirt which doubled as the parking area. Upon leaving the car, I immediately noticed a notable absence of noise. The village was silent, save for the intermittent bark of a random dog hidden somewhere behind fences that fringed so many of the homes. I immediately set myself to snapping a photo of the fortified church rising above the walls, but the height was too formidable an obstacle. Whereas in the past these walls withstood the Tatars and Turks, now they repelled the photogenic eyes of starstruck travelers.
Thankfully the point of entry was free of obstruction. Strangely enough, it was also free of people or docents. The only thing here to greet us was an entrance way at the very bottom of a bell tower that stretched towards the sky. We were soon inside the walls, peering up at the massive church that had been previously hidden from view. The building dwarfed its surroundings, taking up much of the interior. Along the church’s exterior we soon spotted a woman who paid us little attention. She was feverishly beautifying the grounds closest to the church walls. Placing flowers in the fertile summertime soil. Two girls soon appeared on the grounds as well. They looked to be sisters, one of high school age, the other much younger. The girls were called over by the woman and began helping her. I decided the woman must be their mother.
On the inside – The fortified church and bell tower at Szekelyderzs
A Local Guide – The Power of Mutual Comprehension
After a few minutes the older of the two girls walked over to us and introduced herself in Hungarian. She turned out to be the local guide. I held out little hope that she would be able to speak English. She began to converse in Hungarian with my wife who would then translate. When I made a couple of remarks, she looked at me, nodded in understanding and began to speak in English. I was taken aback. Her English was still a work in progress, but she was able to converse with me rather well. Having the guide services of an English speaking Szekely was a rarity. This tour was going to be better than I could have ever imagined.
Europe Between East And West 