Extreme Turbulence – Satu Mare’s Tumultuous Past (The Lost Lands #12)

When I started researching the Treaty of Trianon’s effect on Satu Mare, it felt like I had inadvertently opened a pandora’s box of problems. Trianon was bad for the city, but so were many other things during the first half of the 20^th century. Satu Mare was affected by numerous catastrophes between the end of the First and Second World Wars. Invasions, occupations, communism, fascism, toxic nationalism, shifting borders, vanished empires, Hungarian, Romanian, German, and Soviet Armies. The city kept switching hands. From the Austro-Hungarian Empire to Hungary to Romania, then back to Hungary, and finally part of Romania, Satu Mare was handed back and forth. At times, it was a chip between demagogues and dictatorships. The situation in Satu Mare went from bad to worse to awful between 1918 and 1945.

After World War II, the city’s shifting geopolitical fortunes finally settled down. Unfortunately, communist Romania was not any kinder to the citizens of Satu Mare. Ethnic Hungarians were not trusted and treated in discriminatory fashion. The regime flooded the citizens with Romanians, but they did not fare much better. The Ceausescu government held all of Romania’s citizens in contempt and treated them with utter disdain. The apparatchiks and security services made out like bandits at the expense of everyone else.

Survivor – Satu Mare

Holding Pattern – Murmurs of Discontent
With the collapse of communism in Romania at the end of 1989, it looked like Satu Mare’s fortunes would finally take a turn for the better. The city had weathered extreme turbulence for seventy-one years. Perhaps it could now enjoy a bit of prosperity. Many of its citizens did this by migrating abroad.  The opening of Romania’s borders sent thousands of Satu Mare’s citizens fleeing westward in search of better job prospects. Between 1992 and 2021, Satu Mare lost 40,000 people. Joining the European Union in 2007 did not stem the flow of outward migration. Since then, Satu Mare has lost 17,000 of those 40,000. The phrase, “cannot win for losing comes to mind” when considering the past one hundred years in Satu Mare.

The conflicts and consternation of the 20^th century have left deep scars. Judging by past performance, who would dare think Satu Mare might get better. The best that can be said is the situation in Satu Mare has stabilized. It is neither poor nor prosperous. Economically the city is stuck in between. This holding pattern presents an upgrade from past experiences.
While researching the city, I began to wonder how any place could have survived all the cataclysms that struck it. I have seen this film before in other parts of Eastern Europe and it still manages to frighten.

Repeat performances do not make it any easier to contemplate. I have spent time in many Romanian cities asking myself how those horrors could happen in the place where I was standing. One of the most unsettling experiences is to be in a city where the people are going about their daily routines without so much as a murmur of discontent, then to think about how it was radically different only a few generations ago. Normalcy feels like a success in such places. The people might not be rich, and they might not be poor, but they are now able to earn a livelihood without fear of recrimination or reprisals from their government. Daily life may be dull, but that dullness is liberation from the past.

Daily reminder – Administrative Palace in Satu Mare built during the Ceausescu era
(Credit: Andrasfi1027)

Scripted – Role Playing Games
It has often been said that people can get used to anything, but I am not so sure anyone in Satu Mare ever got used to the continual geopolitical upheaval that befell the city. I imagine that many tried to get on with life and ignore politics. The problem was that they might not have been interested in politics, but politics was interested in them.  The amount of contortions a citizen of Satu Mare did to avoid being on the wrong side defied the laws of physics. To say the situation was fluid in Satu Mare for almost thirty years states the obvious. How did people manage to survive among so much tumult? They had to be extremely clever or conniving, very lucky or totally anonymous.

War was a different matter altogether. Impossible to ignore because of its lethality. Interestingly, war in Satu Mare did not always mean shots were fired. War might mean being targeted for one’s ethnicity, class, political affiliation, or religion. Depending on the period, being a Hungarian, Romanian, German, or Jew made you a live target. Being an aristocrat, fascist, socialist, or communist was the same. Definitions of who was an enemy of the state changed along with regimes. The insanity of it all meant just minding your own business could make you a target.

Everyone was given a label. This was also true during the Austro-Hungarian Empire, but the outcomes were rarely lethal. Neither were they done to destroy livelihoods. All of that changed after the First World War and the postwar peace process. Trianon was an agent of change that exacerbated matters. Division along ethnic lines pulled people even further apart then they were in Austria-Hungary. Divide and conquer, then subdivide and conquer again and again. The interesting thing is that whatever the regime, the same thing kept happening. The German Jewish Philosopher Hannah Arendt was right when she identified that Nazism and Stalinism were more alike than they were different. Satu Mare suffered at the hands of similar offenders. The ideologies changed, but the script stayed the same. 

Normal upbringing – City center of Satu Mare (Szatmarnemeti) in 1907 (Credit: Fortepan)

Radical & Benign – The Real Revolution
Those who were savvy or malevolent switched from one side to the other when regimes changed. This phenomenon was reminiscent of the famous quote in Giuseppe Di Lampedusa’s novel, The Leopard, “Things will have to change in order that they remain the same.” And that is exactly what happened again and again until the cycle was broken. The only truly radical change in Satu Mare was one that in retrospect seems to be the most benign. This was the post-communist period that started at the end of 1989 when Satu Mare began its move towards relative normalcy. It was the first time since 1914 that a sense of moderation returned. The worst was over, but Satu Mare’s deeper history demonstrates that the city has suffered through terrible periods of warfare and calamity prior to the 20^th century.

Coming soon: The violence and chaos that occurred in Satu Mare from 1918 to 1945 was exceptional, but not unprecedented. There have been other calamitous times in the city’s history. In some of those cases Satu Mare was the target, rather than collateral damage. Invasions led to devastation and occupation. Such cases are not well known for a simple reason, they occurred hundreds of years ago and are obscured by more recent cataclysms. Satu Mare’s deeper past led me to wonder why it was prone to upheaval on numerous occasions. First and foremost, the city is not unique in the annals of Eastern European history. The region has suffered wave after wave of invasions by outside forces attempting to assert control. The invaders had a habit of sweeping all that stood before them. The Hungarians were successful in doing this at the end of the 9^th century. Three and a half centuries later, they were on the receiving end of another rampaging horde.

Click here for: Seeds of Separation – From Szatmar To Satu Mare (The Lost Lands #13)

Ghosts In The Darkness – The Jews of Satu Mare (The Lost Lands #11)

The Treaty of Trianon is the seminal tragedy in the modern history of Hungary. There are no blessings in disguise or trying to look on the bright side of Trianon for Hungarians. Silver linings do not exist. There is only a void. One that has been filled by over a century of mourning. Sometimes, I wonder if Hungarians will ever get over Trianon. Or more precisely whether their politicians will allow them to. Trianon is always good as a vote getter. The treaty’s uses and abuses allow politicians to burnish their nationalist credentials. While communism and fascism have very bad names for the deadly role they played in Hungary and the rest of Europe during the 20th century.

Nationalism also led to mass bloodletting, but it has a better reputation. It is not hard to understand why. Nationalism can be a force for the greater good as it unites disparate strands of society together to support the nation. That feeling of togetherness can be intoxicating. On the other hand, nationalism can fuel extremism and lead to the exclusion of non-dominant groups such as ethnic minorities. This happened all across Europe during the first half of the 20th century, including Hungary. The Treaty of Trianon was one of the events that added fuel to the fires of extremism. The consequences were felt most acutely by Hungarian Jews.

Never forget – Holocaust Memorial in Satu Mare (Credit: Eladkarmel)

Soft Targets – An Internal Threat
In the wake of World War I and Trianon, Hungary was beset by a blame game. Someone had to take the fall for what happened. The search for scapegoats was on. These could no longer be the national minorities since Trianon took them away. Romanians, Slovaks, Serbs, and Ruthenians were on the other side of new borders. The states to which they belonged provided them with protection. Before the war, these minorities were almost half the population in Transleithania, the Hungarian administered portion of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. When Hungary’s borders were shrunk by Trianon, the only sizable minority groups left in Hungary were ethnic Germans, Jews, and Roma. The Germans in Hungary (referred to as Swabians) were de facto protected by Germany, which despite losing the war came out of it as the most powerful nation in Europe. The Roma were not viewed as a threat due to their nomadic nature and distinctiveness of their culture.

Jews were in the most precarious position, as they had no patron anywhere else in Europe and nowhere else to go (Israel did not exist until 1948). Zionism was only really getting started. On the other hand, antisemitism already had a long history in Hungary. By the early 20th century, Jews held powerful positions in business, politics, medicine, legal affairs and culture while the landed aristocracy had experienced a commensurate decline in their fortunes. This coalesced with pre-existing anti-Jewish attitudes. Losing social status as Jews rose through the professional ranks was more than many aristocrats could stomach. Hungarian Jews were scapegoated and viewed as synonymous with socialism and communism. In a post-Trianon environment marked by resentment, Jews were an easy target. The Second World War put another target on their backs. 

On the verge – Crowd awaiting entry of Hungarian troops after Satu Mare becomes part of Hungary again in 1940 (Credit: Fortepan)

Hate Crimes – A Change In Fortunes
Between the wars, antisemitism was a fact of life in Hungary. The same was true in Romania. Jews in both countries were increasingly treated as outcasts. Thousands were taken away as forced laborers. The Jews of Satu Mare had the added problem of being stuck in the middle between Hungary and Romania over the contested lands affected by Trianon. When Satu Mare came back into the possession of Hungary due to the Second Vienna Award in 1940, the Jews who lived there had grounds for a bit of optimism. They had enjoyed a golden age in Austria-Hungary. Prior to World War I, the Jews dominated many aspects of Satu Mare’s economy. A fifth owned local trading and industrial companies were owned by the city’s Jews. Jews were 40% of Satu Mare’s lawyers and half its doctors. 70% were connected to banking and industry. They had played an outsized role in the city’s economic and cultural development. But this all happened before Trianon poisoned everything. Hungary had been changed forever by the treaty.

Now Satu Mare’s Jews found themselves back under Hungarian rule. This turned out to be a life saver, but only for a few years. Whereas Jews in Romania were under genocidal attack starting in 1941, it would take longer for their dire situation in Hungary to manifest itself. Their fates had been delayed, but only by a few years. When Satu Mare returned to Hungary, its Jews suffered under discriminatory laws, but at least they were not in German occupied areas of Europe. Hungary was intolerant, but not outright murderous. That all changed on March 19, 1944, when Germany invaded Hungary and met very little resistance. The days of Satu Mare’s Jews were numbered. Even though 90% spoke Hungarian, this did them no good. Suspicion and hatred surfaced with a vengeance. German occupation exacerbated these tendencies. It did not take long for the Hungarian authorities to make themselves clear about their intentions. Jews all over the country were targeted for extermination.

Lost world – Jewish family in Satu Mare before the war
(Credit: Memorial Book of the Jews of Satmar)

Lost Lives – Six Trains From Satu Mare
City administrators in Satu Mare were intimately involved in making sure Jews were denied their rights. They saw to it that the city’s Jews and those from the surrounding area were confined to a ghetto beginning in late April. Hungarian gendarmes helped round them up. The ghetto grew in size to approximately 20,000. The speed with which the arrest and deportation of Jews to the death camps occurred was breathtaking. Six transports were arranged to carry them from Satu Mare to Auschwitz. Jews all over Hungary were experiencing the same thing.

The first train left Satu Mare for Auschwitz on May 19th carrying 3,006 Jews. The last one left less than two weeks later on the first day of June. That final train carried 2,615 Jews. A total of 18,863 Jews were sent to Auschwitz of whom 14,440 were murdered there. In other words, three out of every four Jews from Satu Mare were murdered in Auschwitz. Those who managed to survive did not return to the city for long. They soon left for Israel. Today, only 34 Jews live in Satu Mare.  

Click here for: Extreme Turbulence – Satu Mare’s Tumultuous Past (The Lost Lands #12)

Losing Proposition – A Sense of Dread In Satu Mare (The Lost Lands #10)

When I locate Satu Mare on the map I get a vaguely ominous feeling. A dark premonition that something terrible has happened there. I guess you could say that about any place in Eastern Europe from 1914 – 1989. So many bad things happened in this part of Europe that the region’s reputation precedes itself. While traveling through villages, towns, and cities in the region, I have often looked at older people and wondered what horrors they witnessed, what suffering they must have endured, what survival mechanisms kept them alive. There were few worse places to be in the world during the 20^th century. World Wars I and II, along with their aftermath, were an extremely lethal time. Satu Mare was in the eye of the storm multiple times. Amid the violence, the Treaty of Trianon and concept of the lost land beyond Hungary’s borders looks mild by comparison. That is deceptive. Trianon stirred conflict and hatred that was among the forces that led to deadly conflict. Those times have now passed, but the memory and legacy of them remains strong.

Before the storm – Synagogue in Satu Mare early 20th century
(Credit: Brück & Sohn Kunstverlag Meißen)

Shared Suffering – A Not So Distant Past
When I first began travelling to Eastern Europe a decade ago, it was not uncommon for family, friends, and other acquaintances to ask me if it was safe to travel there. I would respond by saying that it was much safer than America or western Europe. I often added that they should go for a visit to see for themselves. This suggestion elicited looks of concern. The conversation would usually move on to other topics after that. I found it easy to understand why they were concerned. Their opinion of the region was grounded in relatively recent history. The Cold War, and prior to that the World Wars. To allay concerns about traveling to the region, perhaps I should have mentioned that Eastern Europe was certainly safer than it was from 1914 – 1989.  An unimaginable succession of horrors took place in every country. Eastern Europe has this period to thank for its less than savory reputation today.

I am not immune from having my opinion about the region affected by its 20^th century history. I find it insanely fascinating and terribly frightening.  Even I still wonder from time to time what unspoken horrors might still be lurking in the region. The Ukraine-Russia war confirmed some of these fears. Nevertheless, the region today is incredibly peaceful by 20^th century standards. Crime rates are low, except for corruption which continues to plague the region. It was a different story in the not-so-distant past, where when things went bad, they only seemed to get worse. Romania had some of the worst experiences. As did Hungary and Austria-Hungary. On a much smaller level, Satu Mare suffered multiple tragedies. Whomever held Satu Mare or Szatmárnémeti got more than they bargained for.

Making a historic stand – Synagogue in Satu Mare (Credit: Vyografu)

The Wrong Place – The Wrong Time
Ethnic cleansing, the Holocaust, invasions, and military occupations, Satu Mare experienced the worst aspects of humanity.  In that respect, Satu Mare is no different than many other places in the hinterlands of Eastern Europe. Scratch beneath the surface in these lands and a tragedy begins to unfold. Losing the lands of Historic Hungary is considered a tragedy by Hungarians. The Romanians who gained them had cause for celebration at the time. The backlash for both sides was soon to come. But what about those caught in the middle of this geopolitical tug of war. Those were the Jews of Satu Mare. They lost something infinitely more valuable than their lands. They lost their lives.

In one of the most insidious ironies of the Holocaust, the Jews of Satu Mare were latecomers to the Holocaust. The clock was turned back twenty years when the Second Vienna Award in 1940, arbitrated by Nazi Germany, gave Satu Mare (and northern Transylvania) back to Hungary. Overnight, Satu Mare was turned back into Szatmárnémeti once again. Population exchanges between Hungary and Romania ensued. The city’s ethnic composition was recalibrated to what it was in 1910 (90% Hungarian and 6% Romanian). The two ethnic groups were headed in different directions, albeit temporarily. They were placed in their own separate spheres of influence. This was the preferred way to keep Hungarians and Romanians at arm’s length. They were divided and left in relative isolation from one another, Even then, it was still too close for comfort. 

Looking back – Group of Jewish friends in Satu Mare in the early 20th century
(Credit: Memorial Book of the Jews of Satmar)

Conflicted Interests – The Slow Track To Oblivion
As for the Jews of Satu Mare, they found themselves protected from the worst excesses of the Holocaust for most of World War II. Hungary kept control of the lands they ruled for much of the war. The 12,360 Jews (24% of the population) in Satu Mare, a quarter of the city’s population, were relatively safe for the time being. At the same time, they were on the slow track to oblivion. This could not have been lost on some of them who had lived through the interwar period. Hungary’s defeat in World War I and the chaotic aftermath changed everything. Hungarian Jews had been the focus of discriminatory laws since 1920.

Long before the Nuremberg Laws, the Numerus clausus in Hungary was the first interwar law in Europe limiting the number of minorities in the professional classes. Though the law did not explicitly state Jews, that was who the law was aimed at. The harsh terms inflicted by the Treaty of Trianon on Hungary played a part in the discrimination suffered by Jews. Many in Hungary blamed the Jews for the calamity of the communist government which took power in 1919. It was led by Bela Kun, who was Jewish, as were over half of the Soviet commissars in his Hungarian government. When Kun’s government was toppled after less than six months, the counter-revolution was swift and brutal with Jews being among the most prominent targets of the nationalists. This was a preview of the Holocaust to come in Hungary, the lost lands, and Satu Mare.

Click here for: Ghosts In The Darkness – The Jews of Satu Mare (The Lost Lands #11)

Following The Bouncing Ball – Rediscovering Satu Mare (The Lost Lands #9)

Satu Mare (Szatmárnémeti) is only anonymous to those who have not been there. I discovered this while researching my itinerary for the lost lands beyond Hungary’s borders. I went looking for the legacy of Trianon and instead found reminders that familiar things are much closer than they seem. Sometimes the familiar appear as unexpected guests. Like a bit of latent magic, I discovered connections to the city while filtering faces and names through my memory. Trianon would have to wait, first I had to follow a bouncing ball to and from Satu Mare.

Taking one for the team – CSM Satu Mare in action

Wandering Eye – Spot On A Map
What did I know about Satu Mare? That was the question I asked myself after placing it on the itinerary. My answer was not much. Satu Mare was a blind spot in my travels across Eastern Europe. I came close to it on numerous occasions, but I always tried to ignore it. There was good reason for that. Satu Mare was not on the way to anywhere I was going. I did not feel that it was worthy of a detour. In the Crisana region, Satu Mare was obscured by the sparkling gem of Oradea (Nagyvarad). It was also off the beaten path to Transylvania. The latter has such a magnetic attraction that it literally pulled me across Crisana without giving Satu Mare much thought. To be honest, if it was not so close to the Hungary-Romania border, I would probably never have noticed this mid-sized provincial city on the map. Satu Mare was a world within a world. My experience with Romania consists of Bucharest, Transylvania, Oradea, and Timisoara. Precisely in that order. Everything else is just a spot on a map denoted by various sizes of font. Satu Mare caught my eye because of its size. A detail that led my eye to wander its way. I did not think much else of it. And why would I?

Satu Mare does not have name recognition outside the region where it is located. Further confusing matters, another city an hour’s drive east of it goes by the somewhat similar name of Baia Mare. Telling one from the other, without visiting either, is difficult. Satu Mare would have been just a place on the upper left-hand corner of a Romanian map if not for a single memory. The kind of forgettable secondary interaction I have witnessed countless times while traveling. It baffles me that I can recall this one. Perhaps it was a bit of delayed destiny. I would like to think that every interaction has the potential for deeper meanings. That certain connections are waiting to be discovered. If not in the moment, then weeks, months, or even years later. There are innumerable interactions lodged deep in my memory that remain there until reactivated. I have no idea why some of these interactions come back to me, while others fade into oblivion. Maybe it has something to do with the intersection of memory and belief.

Hot shots – CSM Satu Mare

Keeping Score – For Love Of The Game
My lone experience with Satu Mare did not come in Romania, nor anywhere in Eastern Europe. Instead, it came in the Netherlands at the only place in that small, soggy, and prosperous country I have ever visited. A decade ago, I was waiting on a delayed flight from Schiphol Airport in Amsterdam back to the United States. This was the second of three flights on my journey home. The first leg had been an early morning flight from Budapest. On that flight, I noticed an athletic young African American woman wearing basketball gear. Like the other passengers she looked bleary eyed. Checking in at 6 a.m. can do that to anyone. We all had a long day ahead of us. With nothing else to do other than wait for a boarding call, passengers began to make idle chatter among themselves. The usual banal exercise to pass time. Airports are full of strangers either staring listlessly forward or engaging in talk therapy among themselves. Misery finds plenty of company during delayed departures. It is a sublime sort of meet and greet where you can hardly remember a person’s time within ten minutes of them telling it to you.

I was considering a conversation with the woman because I wondered if she played basketball professionally. My main interest was where she might have played college basketball in America. I grew up in the heart of college basketball in North Carolina’s Tobacco Road. Unfortunately, I did not speak up in time. A fellow passenger started talking with her first. Their conversation answered my question. When asked where she had been in Europe, the woman replied, “Satu Mare.” This elicited a predictable “Where’s that?” from her inquisitor.  It turned out that the women played professionally on a team in Satu Mare. I knew that basketball was popular in parts of Eastern Europe such as Lithuania and the Balkans but had no idea that women’s professional teams were in Romania. The woman was asked what she thought of Satu Mare. She replied that the city was nice and so were the people. She was heading back to America for a break. The same listlessness everyone waiting on the flight felt soon ended the conversation. 

Ernie Grunfeld – The shooting star of Satu Mare

Hoop Dreams – Starry Eyed Surprises
I did not envy the basketball player in her chosen profession. She had to travel far from home to earn a living. While the world of professional sports looks glamorous, the reality is very different for those who play professionally. Athletes spend an inordinate amount of time living out of suitcases and in strange places far from family and friends. The allure of travel wears off when you must do it for a living. Sport at its highest level takes such a high degree of dedication that professional athletes spend most of their time either practicing or resting. Her team, CSM Satu Mare, was just one more stop on that woman’s career ladder. She ended up being the first person I ever came across who had spent time in Satu Mare. I imagined it was not much of a basketball hub, but later research revealed an even deeper and more famous connection to the game.

Ernie Grunfeld, who starred at the University of Tennessee and played professionally for the New York Knicks, was born in Satu Mare to parents who survived the Holocaust. The family emigrated to the United States in 1964. Grunfeld’s basketball skills took him just as far. I can recall watching Grunfeld play during the 1980’s for the Knicks. He went on to have a long career as a professional basketball executive. I was astonished to discover he was from Satu Mare. A couple of basketball connections to the city were one of those improbable instances that feels like destiny. Strange things happen when you believe.

Click here for: Losing Proposition – A Sense of Dread In Satu Mare (The Lost Lands #10)

Breaking The Habit – A Satu Mare Story (The Lost Lands #8)

Habit is a powerful force, perhaps the greatest force that governs our lives. It has been said that humans are creatures of habit. That truth cannot be emphasized enough. Habit brings order to the chaos of a world that constantly threatens to upend our lives. It acts as a source of comfort and security. Familiarity sets us at ease. Do the same things, the same way long enough, and habit becomes second nature. Habit is something you can rely upon. Friends and family may come and go, but habit remains with us for as long as we adhere to it. Habits are so comforting that they are hard to break. I discovered this as I planned the next stop on my itinerary for the lost lands beyond the borders of Hungary. I was left with a choice, go to either Transylvania or into the unknown.

The railroad to Satu Mare (Credit: ticsung)

Easy Ways Out – Paths of Least Resistance
Travel should be the antithesis of habit. It is supposed to take us away from the dullness of our daily routines. Travel should help us get outside of ourselves and our self-contained worlds long enough to experience something exciting and new. Travel is supposed to be an adventure, not a repetition. And yet I know from experience how habits can influence travel. Waking up in a strange land, among unfamiliar surroundings, where I cannot speak more than a few words of a foreign language sends me fleeing back to the familiar. 

When I am fearful, a habit of taking the path of least resistance begins to govern my actions and decisions. While planning the itinerary, I found myself mentally falling back on habit not long after crossing the border into Romania. I began to veer towards a preexisting pattern. First, I would cross the border at Letavertes-Sacueni like I did six years ago, take a rural highway to Alend, then wind my way up and over King’s Pass into Transylvania. This route was identical to the one I had taken six years before. I was semi-consciously following my own footsteps. The route did not excite me, but it was familiar and safe.

Once in Transylvania, I would have familiar choices for my other destinations. Cluj, Sighisoara, Sibiu, and Targu Mures, all cities I had visited before. I thought each place would help me learn about the Treaty of Trianon’s legacy. On those initial visits I was not focused on Trianon. Now I would be, with the added benefit of understanding what travel to each city entailed. This could make a potentially difficult journey much easier. I was practicing the art of self-delusion. A return journey comforted rather than intrigued me. This reminded me of returning to where I grew up. The luster might have worn off, but I would find contentment. That is what I wanted to believe. I hardly ever go home because I outgrew it long ago. The familiar went from being fascinating to unfathomable. Everything looks the same and has somehow changed. The same would be true in Transylvania.

Still, I tried to convince myself otherwise. I told myself that Transylvania was the most obvious choice to investigate the lessons of Trianon. It was the largest region of the lands Hungary lost. Hungarians went misty eyed, got angry, or became sullen (sometimes all three) when talking about it. What would a journey in search of Trianon be without Transylvania? Counterintuitive and shocking. Both of those appealed to me. Impulsively, I turned away from Transylvania. It was like walking away from a beautiful bride at the altar. I felt powerful rather than powerless. By defeating the urge for Transylvania, I was ready for a real adventure. There was still one other mental barrier to overcome.

A distant figure – Statue in Satu Mare (Credit: Elek Szemes)

On The Contrary – Coming To Crisana
I have never cared much about what other people think, but my sudden turn away from Transylvania led me to believe that in the future I would be forced to justify this journey to others. Someone would ask me, “What did you think of Transylvania?” My reply would consist of a blank stare, averting the eyes, and muttering, “I did not go there.” That would be followed by a deep and penetrating silence from my interlocutor who would silently be saying to themselves, “Are you kidding me?” Going to Transylvania is like marrying a millionaire. You might end up regretting the relationship, but the memories will be worth it. Nevertheless, I pride myself on doing the opposite of what is expected. My mother has told me on numerous occasions that I enjoy being contrary. The idea of resuming my contrarian persona energized me. I wanted to break my habit and set myself free.

I now contemplated Crisana as my new destination in Romania. I had been there before, but never spent a single night in the Romanian part of the region which encompasses the northwestern part of the country. My experience in Crisana consisted of a day trip to Oradea, passing through Arad on the train, and traveling across the region to or from Transylvania. Crisana has been mostly a place on the way to somewhere else. It had never captured my imagination the way Transylvania did. This time I vowed to not let my less than enthralling previous experiences with Crisana stop me from going there. There was one place I longed to investigate there. The city of Satu Mare (Szatmárnémeti).

Icing on the cake – Dacia Hotel in Satu Mara (Credit: Roamata)

Relegation Zone – Sitting In The Corner
Satu Mare means “big village”.  Picking it over the land beyond the forest (the literal meaning of Transylvania) was not an auspicious beginning. I knew a great deal about Transylvania, I knew nothing other than some demographic statistics about Satu Mare before and after Trianon. At least this was something to go on. The city surely had much more to offer. Satu Mare’s relative anonymity is nothing new for places in Romania. Like everything else in the country (except for the capital Bucharest), if it is not in Transylvania, then foreign tourists do not go there. Satu Mare’s location does nothing to help it. The city’s location in the northwestern corner of Romania does nothing to help it. Satu Mare is a regional transport hub of great value to local and regional travelers. It is not a destination for tourists, but it just might be for travelers. I intend to find out.

Click here for: Following The Bouncing Ball – Rediscovering Satu Mare (The Lost Cities #9)

Standard Deviation – Demographic Discoveries In The Crisana (The Lost Lands #7)

I was never very good at math. I struggled with geometry, never made it past Algebra II, and recoiled at the thought of trigonometry. That is why I made sure my studies at university avoided any higher-level mathematics courses. Where I did excel was with statistics, but not the kind taught in school. I learned to love them at a very young age. One of my first memories as a child is learning to read by studying box scores in the sports section of newspapers.  This engendered a lifelong love of statistics. I find them very useful for making historical comparisons between peoples and countries, especially in Eastern Europe. Demographic statistics are a source of infinite fascination. One of the first things I did after beginning to travel in Eastern Europe was to study the demographics. Population numbers and the proportion of different ethnic groups can be extremely revealing. These numbers were one of the ways I first came to understand the Treaty of Trianon and its enduring legacy. 

Having it both ways – A sign at Satu Mare Railway Station (Credit: Waelsch)

Simple Minds – Following Along
I can think of very few things more exciting than trying to decide where to go next on a journey. Anticipation builds as I search for my next port of call. This act of travel can be summed up by that Dickensian title, “Great Expectations.” Answering the question, “Where to go next?” sends my imagination into overdrive. In such moments, anywhere seems possible. Nonetheless, choosing a place to go can be a daunting task. That is the case when it comes to visiting the lost lands beyond Hungary’s borders. The size of the area lost by Hungary due to Trianon was considerable. It feels like traveling in another country. In this case, six countries (Austria, Croatia, Romania, Serbia, Slovakia, Slovenia, and Ukraine). Many of these countries are not contiguous, making the logistics of travel more difficult. This is why I am planning an itinerary with maximum flexibility built into it.

Itineraries tend to take the adventure out of travel. The standard ones list the places, dates, and times for visits. In essence, they are a stop-by-stop guide providing up to the hour information about where and when a visit will occur. I have always found these types of itineraries to be restrictive. They confine the traveler to a specific time and place. On the first day, I will be here. On the next day, I will be there. Itineraries are a simplistic, yet helpful way of organizing a trip. They are a case where the destination matters more than the journey. When the traveler is constrained by time an itinerary is the best practice. When the traveler has more time than plans, an itinerary can prove detrimental to serendipity and spontaneity. The two things that adventurous travelers crave.

When I travel in Eastern Europe, I only have a rough idea of where and when I want to visit a particular place. I will book accommodation at my first and second destinations. After that, the journey takes on a life of its own. My itinerary for the lost lands has also begun to take on a life of its own. My destination after the Letavertes-Sacueni border crossing is unique because it can be reached from the comfort of an armchair. This allows me to examine one of the Treaty of Trianon’s most important legacies with a few keystrokes.

Language lessons – Trilingual sign on the Directorate for Agriculture and Food Industry in Satu Mare (Credit: Waelsch)

Numbers Game – Demography Is Destiny
Locating where I am going to on a map is only the starting point. A signpost that then points me to my ultimate destination, cyberspace. The digital rather than physical world is my next port of call. I am adding a stop to my itinerary for data analysis. This will help me grasp the effects of Trianon on ethnic groups in the lost lands. The cumulative weight of history can be measured by the demographic changes that occurred after Trianon. These changes are usually expressed in a macro format. For instance, by looking at the proportion of ethnic Hungarians in Romania prior to Trianon and then in the decades after it took effect leading right up to the present. Raw numbers can be revealing. Demographic data is fundamentally different from the usual measuring sticks for Trianon. Those mostly focus on high level political maneuvering and lead to questions like, “Did the treaty inadvertently lead to World War II? The answers are difficult to enumerate. Voting patterns can help provide some answers, but political history habitually focuses on leaders rather than the masses who felt Trianon’s upheaval most acutely.

There are other ways to measure Trianon’s legacy using hard data. Some statistics are more revealing than others. One of the most cited statistics is the amount of territory lost/gained by Hungary and nations such as Romania. This is an important figure, but it does not tell us much about the millions of people affected by Trianon. A better system of measurement involves demographics. The question that comes to mind is how many Hungarians were left in Transylvania, southern Slovakia, Vojvodina, or the Burgenland post-Trianon. Decade by decade the numbers show a progression that speaks volumes. Demography is said to be destiny. There is no better example than the lost lands post-Trianon. 

Descending order – Population of Satu Mare by ethnic composition

Descending Order – The Trianon Effect
Satu Mare is one of the larger cities in the Crisana region. Located a short distance from the Hungarian border in northwestern Romania, it is a city I have yet to visit. I am adding it to my itinerary both digitally and physically. The digital component consists of demographic data that provides a snapshot of the population’s ethnic composition from 1880 to the present. Starting in 1910, a decade before Trianon. Hungarians dominated the city. Satu Mare was 91% Hungarian and 6% Romanian. The aftermath of World War I when the Romanian Army occupies Satu Mare prior to Trianon results in an uptick of the Romanian share of the population to 15% in 1920. That increases to 28% by 1930, while the Hungarian percentage drops to 57%. Then comes the onset of World War II as Hungary regains control of northern Transylvania and parts of Crisana. The city’s ethnic composition reverts to where it was in 1910. This is the high tide of ethnic Hungarians in Satu Mare.

Then comes the cataclysm of the lost war and communism. By 1970, Hungarians have become a minority for the first time. This coincides with the rule of Nicolae Ceausescu, and his regime’s policies that relocate Romanians to urban areas. By the end of Ceausescu’s reign Romanians are still in the majority. Even in the relatively prosperous period since then, the percentage of Hungarians has slowly decreased. They either left for Hungary after the border reopened or for better economic opportunities in other parts of Europe. The numbers do not lie. Trianon’s effect on ethnic Hungarians in Satu Mare has been substantial. The history of Hungarian and Romanians in the city can be followed from a single chart. Analyzing these numbers is more than an exercise in demography, it is a lesson in history.

Click here for: Breaking The Habit – A Satu Mare Story (The Lost Lands #8)  

Ghosts In The Room – Transylvania In Hungary (The Lost Lands #6)

My first confrontation with the lost lands beyond Hungary’s borders concerned Transylvania. This confrontation did not take place high in the towering mountains, deep within dark forests, nor beside sparkling lakes. Instead, it occurred within the borders of Hungary. Any foreigner who spends more than a few weeks in Hungary will discover that Transylvania is all around them. A ghost that enters the room anytime there is a reference to Transylvania. The connections are unavoidable. The Treaty of Trianon could take Transylvania away from Hungary, but it could not take Transylvania out of Hungarians. I learned this from first-hand experience.

Mystical setting – King’s Pass in Transylvania

Deep Roots – Acts of Remembrance
One thing I have noticed while traveling in Hungary is the constant presence of Transylvania. Talk to a Hungarian about the Treaty of Trianon and Transylvania will be the first region in Historic Hungary mentioned, and likely the only one. This is just the beginning. In Debrecen’s train station as I perused the hardback picture books for sale, I noticed the photos were of cities, villages, castles, and historic sites in Transylvania. I would need an extra set of hands to count all the used bookstores in Budapest that feature the three volume Erdely Tortenete (History of Transylvania). Walking down the street, I notice a sticker affixed to a car with the outline of Historic Hungary. It makes apparent that the largest region lost due to Trianon was Transylvania. At the magnificent neo-Gothic Hungarian Parliament building, the Szekely flag flies beside the entrance. An intentional act of remembrance for the Hungarian speaking minority that still guards its autonomy in eastern Transylvania as fiercely as it guarded the Kingdom of Hungary’s borders beginning in the Middle Ages.

Walking through the bowels of Nyugati (Western) Station, I heard the Szekely anthem playing. Driving through the countryside of eastern Hungary I noticed numerous Trianon monuments, most of which mention Erdely (Transylvania). The obsession with Transylvania extends to literature and far beyond Hungary’s borders. While reading Bram Stoker’s Dracula, I learned that estate agent Jonathan Harker lands in a Budapest hospital after barely surviving the blood thirsty excesses of Count Dracula. Furthermore, the Count claims Szekely ancestry. During my first visit to Budapest in 2011, I noticed three thick volumes on the shelves of what would become my favorite bookstore in the world, Bestsellers. The books were the Transylvania Trilogy by Miklos Banffy, a Hungarian aristocrat who was heir to one of Transylvania’s most famous families. Banffy managed to outdo his ancestors in literary achievements. An incredible writer and storyteller, Banffy’s books have gained fame well beyond Hungary’s borders. They express the deep-rooted connections between Hungarians and Transylvania.

For the record – The three volume History of Transylvania

Paying Tribute – In The Grip of a Vision
In Kispest, one of Budapest’s downtrodden former industrial districts, I happened upon the Wekerle Estate, a Transylvanian inspired housing project. The estate was the work of architect Karoly Kos who was born in Timisoara (Temesvar) but spent much of his life in Transylvania. He brought the latter’s aesthetics with him to Kispest. The estate is prized property in an otherwise nondescript district. In Hungary, I have enjoyed meals of Koloszvari-layered sauerkraut, the name recalling Transylvania’s largest city. The dish originated in Oradea (Nagyvarad), rather than Koloszvar, but both cities were lost due to Trianon. Szekely inspired residents can be found both inside and outside the capital. A taste of Transylvania is never far away.

Even Romanians cannot escape from Transylvania in Hungary. For instance, Vlad Tepes (Vlad the Impaler) a name that lives in infamy to all but Romanians who view him as a national hero. While reading a biography of Tepes, I learned that his ferociousness did not intimidate Hungary’s most famous king Matthias Corvinus, who held Vlad under house arrest in Visegrad (along the Danube Bend north of Budapest) for a decade. Speaking of Corvinus, he was born in Koloszvar (Cluj). His exploits as King of Hungary from 1458 – 1490 gained him statues on both Castle Hill and Hero’s Square in Budapest. Corvinus is the most famous of a long list of Hungarian heroes who hailed from Transylvania. It is impossible to overstate the grip that Transylvania has on Hungary.

Some might call the Hungarian connection to Transylvania the product of historical roots, others a fetish, I would call it an obsession. One informed by passion, romanticism, sentimentalism, and depression. Hungary has a perpetual case of post-traumatic stress disorder arising from the Treaty of Trianon. Transylvania is one of the main causes, and certainly a consequence of that disorder. It is considered by far the greatest loss that Hungarians have suffered in modern history. Right up there with the Mongol Invasion (1241-1242) and the Battle of Mohacs (1526) as seminal national disasters. Unlike the older historical events, the loss of Transylvania is still playing out today. Anyone who has visited Transylvania knows why Hungarians feel its loss so acutely. Quite simply, there is no place like it in Europe. The landscape is stunning, and the history matches it. Much of that history involves Hungarians.

When the Ottoman Turks occupied Hungary for most of the 16^th and 17th centuries, and the Habsburgs imposed themselves on northern Hungary, Transylvania retained its autonomy. The principality paid an annual tribute to the Ottomans and was largely free to run its own affairs. This set off a Golden Age under the rule of Gabor Behlen, a renaissance in the land beyond the forest. For Hungarians, this preserved their essence at a time of great peril. In turn, this led to Hungarians viewing Transylvania as the purist part of their historic lands. An older book on Transylvania I have on my shelf sums this up in its title, “The Other Hungary.”

Flying high – Szekely flag at the Hungarian Parliament building in Budapest
(Credit: Derzsi Elekes Andor)

Misty Eyed – A Sentimental Journey
The deep sense of connection Hungarians have to Transylvania made its loss a national catastrophe. It was like losing a part of themselves. Discuss Transylvania with a Hungarian and their emotion is palpable. I recall one man who told me about his visit to a mountain top in Transylvania. As he contemplated the beauty before him and his Hungarian ethnicity, he became misty eyed. I found such sentimentality disconcerting. Transylvania is a life force in Hungary. No wonder the national psyche was traumatized by its loss.

Click here for: Standard Deviation – Demographic Discoveries In The Crisana (The Lost Lands #7)

All The Right Places – The Other Side of the Border In Crisana (The Lost Lands #5)

Entering Romania at the Letavertes-Sacueni border crossing as the first place on my itinerary for the lost lands is deliberate. Few foreigners (other than locals crossing the border) pass this way. Obscurity can act as a stimulus for curiosity. I am more than glad to travel halfway around the world to drive along secondary roads in provincial hinterlands. You never know what you might find in the middle of nowhere, and that can include yourself.

On the other side of the border – Sacueni Train Station (Credit: Petr Stefek)

Satisfying Curiosity – On The Road
Several years ago, I was accused by someone I was traveling with of wanting to stop and look under every bush. The remark was fueled by my habit of stopping mid-journey to investigate anything historical, even if it was of minor interest. Reflecting on that remark led me to recall another complaint levelled against me long ago by a relative. As a child, I was chastised on a car journey for talking non-stop and asking all kinds of questions. Fortunately, my grandfather was along for that ride. No one enjoyed a good story more than he did. My questions inevitably led him to provide answers and connect it to a personal story. When a man lives to be ninety-four, he has quite a few stories that are worth retelling. Many of my grandfather’s stories I had heard numerous times. I was always glad to hear them again. They stimulated curiosity. He also had core beliefs about travel. My grandfather used to say that if you ever want to really see a place stay off the main highways. They were built for speed, not sightseeing. I keep that in mind wherever I travel.

History and travel lead me to questions in the search to satisfy my curiosity. Sadly, I no longer have my beloved grandfather along to provide answers. I am largely on my own. That has never stopped me from searching under every bush out of curiosity in the hopes of finding something of interest. This is one of the main impetuses for visiting the lost lands beyond Hungary’s borders. The journey started with a question. What can I find on the frontiers of Historic Hungary that will help me understand the Treaty of Trianon’s legacy? I have read plenty of articles and books about the politicking that led to the treaty, but book learning has its limits. Almost everything I have read about Trianon deals with negotiations for the treaty. After it is signed, the treaty rarely reappears until the beginning of World War II as Hungary manages to reoccupy southern Slovakia, northern Transylvania, Transcarpathia, and Vojvodina. By war’s end, all those territories have been lost. Trianon is once again the law that divides the land. The history of Trianon does not end in 1945, it only seems that way.

Brutal reminder – Monument of the Romanian Soldier Monument in Carei
(Credit: Gheza Vida)

Drawing The Line – A Point of Interest
They say there is no substitute for experience. That is as true when investigating the legacy of Trianon as it is of anything else. There is a vast world of difference between political leaders, diplomats, and territorial experts at the Paris Peace Conference arguing for months on end about where to draw lines, fulfill promises, and somehow make the world safe for democracy compared to those who lived in the lands affected by their decisions. The Big Four (Woodrow Wilson, David Lloyd George, Georges Clemenceau, and Vittorio Orlando) would go back to their palaces, manors, and mansions after the peace conference. Their legacies were tied to what happened in Paris, but that was not the same as those whose lives were upended by the treaties. How a bunch of semi-arbitrary lines can come to define the lives of millions and set in motion decades of conflict defies reason. I got my first taste of this several years ago at Letavertes- Sacueni border crossing.

Freedom is a strange thing. “You don’t know what you got until it is gone” is more than a well-worn cliché, it is the truth. I felt this acutely while waiting at the Hungary-Romania border. I was temporarily delayed by the usual border checkpoint bureaucracy. Getting across took longer than expected for reasons that will forever remain mysterious to me.  When finally let loose, I felt like a free man once again. My senses were suddenly attuned to the surrounding landscape. The one thing I noticed was a border marker. I remember thinking, “So that is it.” All the consternation and conflict, the dismemberment of an empire and deadly consequences that it caused is represented by a concrete marker in a random field. It did not look like much, but history hardly ever does on those rare occasions when you are given an intimate look at the past. I imagined the marker should be larger and more provocative to symbolize its importance. 

Marking the spot – On the Hungary-Romania Border (Credit: Barry’s Borderpoints)

Stopgap Measure – Marking The Spot
At that point, I should have stopped the car and taken a photo. I had seen a lot of Trianon monuments in Hungary, what I had never seen was the real thing. The marker not only demarcated the border, but it also made history tangible. Trianon never seemed so alive to me until the moment I saw the marker. I thought to myself, “Is that all?” I did not stop at the marker that time because Transylvania beckoned. The most famous region associated with Trianon was several hours away by car. I viewed the Crisana, a region located in eastern Hungary and northwestern Romania, as a pass-through place. One worthy of curiosity, but not my time. That turned out to be a mistake. One I hope to rectify while visiting the lost lands.

Being close to the border offers a very different view of Trianon’s legacy than it does in Transylvania. In Crisana, the Hungary-Romania border is so real that you can see and sense it. Border markers are the most tangible item associated with it. Despite not stopping at the marker, it did make a lasting impression upon me. History is more than words, dusty documents, or black and white photos. It is a solitary marker that separates the winners from the losers. The truth can be revealing. This is the reason I go looking under every bush.

Click here for: Ghosts In The Room – Transylvania In Hungary (The Lost Lands #6)

Stepping Over The Line – Hungary-Romania Border (The Lost Lands #4)

A lightly trafficked road, farm fields interspersed with a few trees, a lone building set beside the road. This is the scene on an otherwise anonymous stretch of highway on the frontiers of eastern Hungary. The scenery gives no hint of what’s to come. Then the first signs appear for border control. Up ahead is a line all but invisible to the naked eye. That line has been the deciding and dividing geopolitical factor between Hungary and Romania for over a century. My anticipation rises as the car closes in on the border. The signs direct drivers to slow down and point to the proper lane. No border officer appears until the car comes to a halt. This is the experience that quickens my pulse more than any other while traveling. The expectation is that first there will be bureaucracy and then freedom. Everything depends upon a couple of officials I have never seen and will likely never see again. They are the gatekeepers to my future travels.

Remote control – Border crossing between Letavertes, Hungary and Sacueni, Romania

Initial Impressions – Locals, Lorries, & Limbo  
I love remote border crossings in Eastern Europe. They give me the sense that after wandering in a linguistic and cultural wilderness that I have finally arrived.  I define remote as any border crossing that is not along a major highway. Such border crossings are not hard to distinguish because they are in places few have ever heard of and fewer will ever go. They are mainly trafficked by locals and lorries. The highway will be two lanes until right before border control. This is the opposite of a heavily trafficked border crossing which has the look and feel of a travel plaza along a four-lane highway. There is a small army of serious looking border officers going about their business while masses of travelers wait in limbo. Delays can be lengthy and at busier times feel interminable. At remote border crossings officers take their work seriously, but they are less hurried in their processes and more relaxed.

Passing through the Hungary-Romania border always feels like an event to me. I get the sense that something important is about to happen. A remote border post causes my imagination to run wild. I would love to know how the officers feel about their jobs. What are their most dangerous and difficult duties? How are their interactions with locals from the opposite side of the border? In my more expansive moments, I can see myself working in solitude at such a post. Waiting for locals and wayward travelers to make the crossing. It is a thrill for me when the border officer comes out from a bland building. I try to put myself in their place. Meeting strangers who they only know by their documents and initial impressions. They are also standing on a historical fault line where the past is never far away. Their job is to make sure no one steps beyond the border line until they say so. 

On the line – Border crossing between Artand, Hungary and Bors, Romania

Going Remote – A Sense of Destiny
While working on my itinerary to visit the lost lands of Historic Hungary, it did not take me long to realize that Romania would be my number one destination. Transylvania loomed large in that decision, but in its shadow lies Crisana. A region that includes large parts of eastern Hungary and western Romania. The latter still has plenty of ethnic Hungarians, especially near the border. Crisana is where I will enter Romania. The question is exactly where to cross the border. The choice will be based upon prior experience and personal preference. One thing I loathe is navigating a major border crossing. The busiest crossing between Hungary and Romania is Artand-Bors. The city of Oradea (Nagyvarad) is only a 15-minute drive beyond the border. I have crossed by both bus and car here before. The crossing is heavily trafficked by automobiles and lorries on both sides. The hectic pace can make for an irritating experience. The frenzied activity at Artand-Bors is not how I want to start my journey to the lost lands. I would much rather find a quieter and more remote crossing.

The solitude of a lonely outpost appeals to me. That sent me searching for an obscure crossing. One where the border officers do their work in relative anonymity. Fortunately, I have prior experience with one of these crossings, Letavertes-Sacueni. It received my full attention as I considered whether to add the crossing to my itinerary. Letavertes and Sacueni are backwaters, out of the way places that do not lend themselves to tourism. The big advantage the towns have is their proximity to the Hungary-Romania border. That is why I am choosing this as my first crossing. Traffic is bound to be light, border control is efficient, and wait times minimal. One of the more interesting aspects of crossing the border here is that the towns which give the crossing its name play a minor role for the traveler. 

Running the border – A train and car on the Romanian side of the border in Sacueni
(Credit: Kabellerger)

A Fine Line – Setup For Failure
I visited neither Letavertes (population 6,795) nor Sacueni (population 10,720) when I crossed the Hungary-Romania border there five years ago. From an ethnic standpoint, there is not much that separates the towns. Both are overwhelmingly populated by Hungarians. That is not surprising for Letavertes which is in Hungary. It is for Sacueni, where three out of every four inhabitants are ethnic Hungarians. There are twice as many Roma in the town as there are Romanians. I do not recall much about either town. Both places happened to be in the way of history in 1920 when the Treaty of Trianon took effect.

One thing I do wonder is why the border was drawn through this area. I have read extensively about the politics surrounding Trianon, much less so about exactly where and why the frontiers were drawn in a specific area. I assume that the lines on maps were informed by the opinion of “experts” at the Paris Peace Conference. Their on-the-ground experience with specific places must have been lacking. It makes little sense to put areas dominated by ethnic Hungarians on the edge of western Romania when Hungary was just over the border. Such points of contention were a recipe for strife. Both Hungary and Romania were being setup for failure. In retrospect, conflict was inevitable. 

Click here for: All The Right Places – The Other Side of the Border In Crisana (The Lost Lands #5)

The Land Before Transylvania – Crossing Into Crisana (The Lost Lands #3)

In January an academic conference on the Treaty of Trianon was held in Budapest. Though the 100^th anniversary of the treaty’s signing occurred in 2020, Trianon is still of such intense interest among Hungarians that the topic never fails to draw an audience. Of the nine presentations given at the conference, five were on relations between Hungary and Romania. This was not a coincidence. I have talked with many Hungarians about Trianon and heard a range of opinions. There is a sense of resignation in every Hungarian I have spoken to about it.  One told me it was the second worst thing to happen in world history, ranking only behind the Holocaust.

Another Hungarian told me she didn’t care about Trianon. That same woman mentioned that her surname came from a village in Eastern Transylvania where her family originated from. I looked up the village on a map and discovered that it was right on the pre-Trianon border between Austria-Hungary and Romania. One Hungarian told me the victorious powers were to blame for the treaty. They loathed Hungary and wanted to dismember the country. Every Hungarian seems to have an opinion about Trianon. The one place they most often mentioned while discussing Trianon was Transylvania. This is why I put Romania first on my itinerary for the lost lands beyond Hungary’s borders. 

The long view – Reformed Church & Ghenci village in Crisana (Credit: Ady Negrean)

Land of Confusion – Far From The Truth
Contrary to popular belief, Transylvania is not Dracula. Blood thirsty vampires do not lurk in the dark recesses of ominous castles. For centuries, vampires enjoyed legendary status among Transylvanian peasants. Bram Stoker took those legends and created a character that haunted the imagination of readers all over the world. Dracula and vampires are a distraction from the real ghosts of Transylvania. Those ghosts enter the room when Transylvania and Trianon are discussed. Hungarians and Romanians are haunted by the ghosts of Trianon. For Romanians, the ghosts are mostly friendly, For Hungarians, the ghosts are always tragic. As a foreigner, I find these extremes disconcerting. They remind me of a line in T.S. Eliot’s poem Ash Wednesday, “Wavering between the profit and the loss. In this brief transit where the dreams cross.” Dreams certainly cross the Hungary and Romania border. As do nightmares.

Listening to Hungarians talk about Transylvania can make you believe the region is right across the border in Romania. It is as though you could reach out and touch it. This is far from the truth. To get to Transylvania, one must first cross the Hungary-Romania border, then make their way across a land of confusion. This is the Crisana (Körösvidék) Region. I have yet to hear a single person call the region by that name. Transylvania literally translated means the “land beyond the forest.” Crisana should be known as the “land before Transylvania.” Crisana’s claim to urban fame is the beautiful city of Oradea (Nagyvarad). Though the landscape of Transylvania is nowhere in sight, Oradea is often wrongly placed in the region.

Splitting the difference – Crișana Region in Hungary and Romania (Credit: The Blue Mapper)

Caught In The Middle – Splitting The Difference

I did a Google search for the question, “Is Oradea in Transylvania?” The second result yielded by the search came from that long-trusted source of knowledge Britannica. The listing said, “Oradea | Cities, Transylvania, Hungary.” I guess the best and brightest are not always correct. Travelers will also be wrong footed by the open-source travel guide Wikivoyage. The second sentence of its Oradea entry begins, “Despite the city being one of the largest and most important in Transylvania…” For all those who decry Wikipedia as a less than trustworthy source, they might want to think again. The first sentence of its entry on Oradea points the reader in the right direction, stating that Oradea is “located in the Crisana Region.” It is also one of the most beautiful cities in the lost lands.

For the pedants among us, let us state for the record that Crisana gets its name from the Cris (Koros) River and its three tributaries. One of those tributaries, the Crisul Repede runs through the heart of Oradea. The boundaries of Crisana stretch into eastern Hungary and include the country’s second largest city, Debrecen. Crisana is as much a land unto itself as Transylvania. While it lacks the spectacular natural beauty found in the latter, it does include a multitude of landscapes from pastoral flatlands, verdant forests, and foothills that roll away towards the mountains. All of this is lost on the traveler who is entranced by visions of Transylvania. That is a shame because Crisana rewards those who let their curiosity guide them. There could be worse things than the Romanian part of Crisana being placed in Transylvania, but hardly more absurd ones. It is a wild exaggeration. Just how wild can be shown with a thought experiment. 

Natural setting – Sunset in Crisana (Credit: Adrian Padurariu)

Farmer Harker – Dracula In Crisana
Imagine Bram Stoker’s Dracula inhabiting a gloomy manor house surrounded by farmland. Rather than wolves, docile horses and wandering cattle doze in the surrounding fields. The only battlements to be found are stalks of wheat and corn. Jonathan Harker has come to help Dracula sell his estate to a ginormous agricultural corporation that lives off massive subsidies from the European Union. Dracula’s devious plan involves getting back at Harker who he sees as all that is wrong with the EU. Dracula blames Harker and useful idiots like him for ending the era of the wooden plow. Rather than a shadowy coachman coming to pick up Harker upon his arrival at the railway station in Satu Mare, a couple of Securitate agents driving a horse drawn wagon cart show up to collect him.

Much to his detriment, Harker discovers that Dracula sucks less blood than the summertime mosquitoes. Harker spends his time writing scathing letters back to the love of his life in London. The fact that the Count’s estate is not in Transylvania drives him nearly mad. How can this be the land beyond the forest when he has yet to reach it? Harker never notices Dracula’s sinister intent as he becomes obsessed with the vagaries of animal husbandry. Harker saves himself from an even worse fate by chasing the Count off the property and into Transylvania with a John Deere tractor. Everyone lives happily ever after. Such is life in the lost lands. I cannot wait to see what comes next in the land beyond the Hungary-Romania border. 

Click here for: Stepping Over The Line – Hungary-Romania Border (The Lost Lands #4)