I’m always keeping an eye out for interesting places to visit. Sometimes it’s something I read, sometimes it’s a recommendation from another traveler, and sometimes it’s an itinerary that makes me stop and think, Hmm… that sounds interesting. Romania was one of those places.
The more I looked into it, the more interested I became. Medieval towns, colorful Saxon villages, fortified churches, castles, mountain scenery, and winding roads through Transylvania—it sounded like the kind of trip I’d enjoy. As it turned out, my 10 days in Romania exceeded my expectations.
Throughout the trip, I joined local guides in several cities and historic sites. Their stories and historical insights added context I never would have gotten on my own and helped bring many of these places to life.
My journey began in Bucharest, Romania’s capital. Often called the “Little Paris of the East,” leafy boulevards and Belle Époque buildings stand alongside stark Communist-era blocks. It’s maybe best known for the colossal Palace of Parliament, one of the largest administrative buildings in the world, but I quickly discovered there was much more to the city than that. Hidden Orthodox churches, lively cafés, elegant bookstores, and neighborhoods with their own distinct character made it the perfect place to begin my trip.
This is Part 1 of my 10 Days in Romania journey, covering Bucharest and the first stops through Transylvania. Part 2 continues deeper into Transylvania, with salt mines, Saxon towns, mountain roads, and the scenic journey back to Bucharest.
Days 1–2: Bucharest — Old Town, Palace of Parliament, wandering, parks, cafés
Day 3: Sinaia & Bran — Peleș Castle, Bran Castle, evening in Brașov
Day 4: Brașov — walking tour, Black Church, Council Square, hike up Tâmpa Mountain
Day 5: Rupea & Viscri — citadel, Saxon village, traditional lunch, on to Sighișoara
I landed in Bucharest late in the afternoon and checked into my hotel near the city center. After a long travel day, it felt good to freshen up before heading out for my first evening in Romania.
I didn’t have much time to explore—just a short wander through the neighborhood before dinner at Caru’ cu Bere, one of Bucharest’s best-known historic restaurants in the Old Town.
The interior was beautiful—stained glass, carved wood, and ornate ceilings—and it felt like stepping into another era.
That night, dinner meant mămăligă—traditional cornmeal—topped with a runny egg. If you know me, you know I’m very particular about eggs, especially runny ones, so I mostly worked around that part. Still, I actually liked the mămăligă. It was simple, hearty, and far more filling than I expected.
After dinner, I debated whether to call it a night or keep exploring. The city outside was buzzing and definitely tempting, but after a long day of travel, I decided to save my energy for the days ahead. There would be plenty of time to discover Bucharest tomorrow.
My first full day was all about exploring Bucharest, a city that feels like several different places layered on top of each other.
Like many European capitals, you can see the layers of history as you walk through Bucharest—elegant Belle Époque buildings from its “Little Paris” days standing alongside massive Communist-era blocks, hidden churches, leafy parks, and walls covered in graffiti. It felt like several different versions of the city existing at once, which honestly made it far more interesting.
Romania’s Communist past under Nicolae Ceaușescu still felt surprisingly close. One story our guide shared stayed with me. During the Communist years, people often had to be careful about what they said and whom they trusted, because neighbors could report them to the authorities. Seeing Bucharest today—full of busy cafés, conversations, and people simply enjoying everyday life—it was hard to imagine that this wasn’t ancient history but something many Romanians still remember.
Starting in the Old Town, the cobbled streets revealed layers of history with every turn, but one of the highlights was stepping inside the Romanian Athenaeum.
From the outside it was beautiful, but inside it was even more impressive—marble staircases, gold details, sweeping murals, grand curved balconies, and a domed ceiling that made the whole place feel more like a palace than a concert hall. It was one of those places that made me stop for a minute and simply take it all in.
Not far away stands the University Foundation with its statue of King Carol I, near Revolution Square—a place still deeply tied to the events of 1989 and the fall of Ceaușescu’s regime.
One of the highlights of the day was touring the Palace of Parliament. Built during Nicolae Ceaușescu’s rule, it’s one of the largest administrative buildings in the world, and even standing outside, its sheer size is hard to grasp.
Inside, we walked through room after room of marble, chandeliers, giant carpets, and enormous halls. Everything felt oversized. Whether you admire it or not, it’s impossible to ignore the statement the building was meant to make.
Later, after the tour ended, I spent a few hours exploring on my own, which is always one of my favorite parts of a trip. I love having time to wander without much of an agenda and see what I stumble across.
One of my first stops was Cișmigiu Gardens, the city’s oldest public park, where green benches circle shaded walkways—a welcome contrast to the heavy government buildings and grand monuments from earlier in the day.
From there I wandered to Cărturești Carusel, the famous multi-story bookstore inside a restored 19th-century building. White spiral balconies, glass ceilings, and books everywhere—it felt a little overwhelming in the best possible way. I love bookstores, and this one was incredible. I could have happily spent much longer there browsing.
After leaving the bookstore, I continued wandering through Bucharest’s Old Town, stopping often to admire the architecture and all the little details that are easy to miss if you’re not looking up.
One of my favorite stops was Stavropoleos Monastery—small, quiet, and beautiful. Even before stepping inside, I was drawn to the painted frescoes covering the exterior walls. Inside, nearly every surface was covered with frescoes, while the beautifully carved wooden iconostasis immediately caught my attention. Given how busy the surrounding streets were, the monastery felt surprisingly peaceful.
Walking between all these beautiful places, though, I was also struck by how much graffiti covered other buildings—not murals, just random tags and scribbles. It gave the city a rougher edge that contrasted sharply with the grand architecture and historic churches. Bucharest felt polished and messy at the same time, which honestly made it more interesting.
By the end of the day, it was clear I’d only seen a fraction of the city. Another day—or even two—wouldn’t have felt excessive, especially with so many neighborhoods still unexplored.
The next morning, I’d leave the capital behind and head north toward Transylvania, trading busy city streets for castles, mountains, and smaller towns.
The next morning, I left Bucharest and headed into the Carpathian Mountains, stopping first in Sinaia to visit Peleș Castle. Sitting at the base of the mountains, it looked exactly where a castle like this belonged.
Built in the late 19th century as King Carol I’s summer residence, Peleș Castle is one of Romania’s most impressive castles. What made it especially interesting was how many different styles blended together inside. Room after room shifted between German Neo-Renaissance, Italian Neo-Renaissance, Neo-Baroque, and even touches of Louis XIV style. Somehow it all worked without feeling overdone.
I was drawn to the details—painted murals on the exterior walls, carved wood balconies, towers, and stained glass that made the whole place feel more like a storybook palace than a royal residence.
The interior was packed with ornate wood carvings, detailed ceilings, stained glass, hidden doors, and hallways that seemed to lead endlessly from one room to the next. It’s often called one of the first “modern castles” in Europe because of how advanced it was for its time.
From Peleș, I grabbed a quick lunch and then continued to Bran, home to the famous Bran Castle—better known to most tourists as “Dracula’s Castle.”
I’ll be honest: the outside was far more impressive than the inside. Sitting high on a hill with steep red roofs, stone towers, narrow windows, and fortress-like walls, it looked exactly how you’d imagine a castle in Transylvania should look. From the outside, it absolutely delivered that dramatic Gothic atmosphere, and as evening settled in, it felt even moodier.
The inside, though, felt much more crowded and far less memorable. The lines were long, the rooms were packed with tourists, and after seeing the detail and beauty of Peleș Castle earlier that day, Bran just didn’t feel nearly as impressive. It leaned heavily into the Dracula mythology that made it famous, and at times it felt a little like a tourist trap.
What surprised me most was learning that Vlad the Impaler—the real historical figure most people connect to Dracula—never actually lived there. Bran Castle became tied to the Dracula legend more through tourism, appearance, and later storytelling than real history. He may have passed through or possibly been briefly imprisoned there, but it was never really his residence.
Later in the trip, I learned more about Vlad’s stronger historical ties to places like Târgoviște and Sighișoara.
That said, it was still worth visiting for the setting and architecture alone, and I’m glad I saw it. But if I’m being honest, I probably could have done without the crowds and would have preferred visiting one of the places more directly connected to Vlad. Bran felt more like the idea of Dracula than the real history behind him.
That evening I arrived in Brașov, one of the most charming towns of the trip.
I grabbed dinner at Da Vinci, an Italian restaurant with outdoor tables overlooking the square. Dinner was excellent, and afterward I wandered a little longer, enjoying the evening atmosphere and watching people gather in the square. After a full day of castles, it felt like the perfect place to end the night.
I started the morning the same way I ended the night before—wandering through Brașov’s old town before meeting up for a guided walking tour.
Brașov sits right in the heart of Transylvania, surrounded by the Carpathian Mountains. Founded by Saxon settlers in the 12th century, it became an important trading post between Western Europe and the Ottoman Empire. You can still see that history everywhere—in the old walls, watchtowers, narrow streets, and colorful buildings lining the main square. It’s a small, walkable city, with mountain views seemingly everywhere you turn.
One place I probably would have walked right past without a guide was Strada Sforii, one of the narrowest streets in Europe. Originally built as a passage for firefighters between Poarta Schei and Cerbului Street, it dates back to the 17th century and measures just over a meter wide at its narrowest point. It’s the kind of place where you instinctively turn sideways if someone is coming the other way.
We also stopped at Sinagoga Neologă Zion, Brașov’s Neolog synagogue, built in 1901 for the city’s Hungarian-speaking Jewish community. The red-brick exterior already stood out, but the interior was even more striking, with ornate details and beautiful stained glass. From what I understood, there was once a much larger Jewish community here, even in a city so closely associated with its Saxon roots.
By the end of the tour, I felt like I had a much better sense of Brașov as a whole—its history, layout, and how everything fit together. Before we split up, our guide shared a few suggestions for the afternoon, and then we were off to explore on our own.
From there, I wandered toward Catherine’s Gate (Poarta Ecaterinei), the last remaining original medieval city gate in Brașov. Built in the 16th century, its four small corner turrets symbolized the city’s right to administer capital punishment. It looked exactly like the kind of gate you’d expect to find in a medieval town.
As I walked, I passed a little shop called Filipici selling covrigi—Romanian pretzels that seemed to be everywhere. I grabbed a couple and headed over to Council Square (Piața Sfatului), the heart of the old town, with the old Council House (Casa Sfatului) standing in the center.he center.
I found a spot to sit, snacking on my covrigi and taking it all in. Flocks of birds kept gathering along the roof of the Council House, lifting off all at once, circling above the square, and then settling back down again. It was oddly mesmerizing, and I ended up sitting there much longer than I intended just watching it happen.
And those covrigi? Delicious. I could see why there were always lines outside the bakeries.
Not far from the square stands the Black Church (Biserica Neagră), the largest Gothic church in Romania. From the outside, its scale is impressive—massive stone walls, a tall clock tower, and the darkened exterior that gave it its name after a fire in the 1600s.
From there, I walked over to see some of Brașov’s old defensive towers. The city was once protected by thick walls, bastions, and watchtowers built by the Saxon guilds, with each guild responsible for defending its own section.
These days, Brașov is known as both a historic city and a gateway to hiking trails, ski resorts, and the surrounding mountains.
I decided to hike up to the famous Tâmpa Mountain Sign—Brașov’s version of the Hollywood sign, sitting high above the city and visible from almost everywhere below. During our morning guided tour, the guide gave us a gentle warning to keep an eye out for brown bears, which are known to live in the forests around the area.
Thankfully, I didn’t run into any on the trail, though I did see several later in the trip along the roadside. They were much larger than I expected. Unlike the black bears we’re used to at home, these were European brown bears, and seeing them up close made me understand why locals take them seriously.
After taking in the views from the top—which were fantastic, by the way—I rode the cable car back down. You can take it both ways, but I always like to earn at least part of the view, so I was happy to hike one direction and save my knees on the way back.
Once back in town, I wandered the cobblestone streets, passing little shops, cafés, wine bars, and old pastel-colored buildings with wrought-iron balconies and worn facades. It was the kind of place where it was easy to keep walking without any particular destination in mind.
At some point, I found myself at Luca, another bakery selling fresh covrigi. Don’t even ask—of course I bought another one.
I ended the evening with another excellent dinner, this time at Mado Café. By that night, I was already a little disappointed we were only staying two nights. Of all the stops so far, Brașov was one of those places that just felt good to be in.
After breakfast, I met up with my guide and made my way to Rupea Citadel, a former fortress set high above the surrounding hills. From the drive up, it was easy to see why it had been built here—the views stretched in every direction, and the location alone made it feel like a stronghold.
The location was stunning, but the citadel itself was impressive too. Its layered, fortress-like shape climbs upward in terraces, with thick stone walls, inner courtyards, and winding stairways connecting the different sections. From a distance, it almost looks like the hill itself turned into a castle. A lot of it has been restored, which is obvious, but it still gives you a strong sense of how imposing it must have been centuries ago.
The weather that day couldn’t have been better—bright blue skies, sharp sunshine, and clear views that made everything feel even more dramatic. I loved wandering through the old stone passageways and climbing higher for different viewpoints.
One of my favorite parts was standing near those tiny narrow openings in the walls—the small lookout windows soldiers once used to watch for approaching enemies. Looking out through them at the rolling green landscape below made it easy to imagine how important this vantage point once was.
After leaving Rupea, we stopped at the fortified church in Bunești. The church itself was simple, but what I found interesting was how much history still felt present inside. The worn wooden pews, some marked with names and dates, seemed to tell their own story about the generations who had worshipped there. It felt less like a museum and more like a place that had been part of everyday village life for centuries.
Lunch was at Café Artizanat, where baskets of homemade bread arrived first, followed by a spread of traditional village dishes.
As a vegetarian, I was served mămăligă cu brânză și smântână—polenta with cheese and sour cream—which ended up becoming my go-to meal throughout much of the trip. By this point, I was actually starting to like it. Turns out the polenta was never the problem—it was the runny egg that came with my first bowl back in Bucharest. Simple, filling, and comforting, it became one of those dishes I was always happy to see on the menu.
The houses here have that classic Transylvanian Saxon style—pastel-colored facades, steep tiled roofs, thick walls, and large wooden gates hiding long courtyards behind them. Walking through the village felt peaceful, and I found myself slowing down and simply taking it all in.
As we walked through the village afterward, our guide pointed out the house owned by King Charles III. Long before becoming king, he developed a fondness for this part of Transylvania and purchased a traditional Saxon home here, helping support preservation efforts in villages like Viscri. Looking around, I could see why he was drawn to it.
From there, we headed to Sighișoara—one of the best-preserved medieval towns in Europe and a UNESCO World Heritage site (two in one day)—where we’d be spending the next two nights.
Founded by German craftsmen and merchants known as the Transylvanian Saxons, it’s famous for its colorful houses, cobbled alleys, and the iconic Clock Tower rising above the old town. It’s also known as the birthplace of Vlad the Impaler—the historical figure who later inspired the Dracula legend—though the town itself feels far more like a fairy tale than a horror story.
Between the colorful houses, steep lanes, and flower boxes spilling over windowsills, I immediately liked Sighișoara. It was the kind of place that made me want to keep walking just to see what was around the next corner.
With a few hours of daylight still left, I dropped my bags at the hotel and headed straight back out to explore.
I immediately loved it. There were mural-covered buildings, bright houses painted in even brighter colors, little courtyards full of flowers, and winding streets that made you want to keep turning one more corner just to see what was next. It had that rare feeling of being both beautiful and still genuinely lived in.
Dinner that night was at Jo’s Pub, a colorful little place with outdoor seating that felt perfect for the evening.
From what I’d seen so far, I was already liking Sighișoara. There was something about the colorful houses, quiet streets, and medieval feel that made it seem both charming and completely livable at the same time.
And the best part was knowing we were just getting started.
The first half of my 10 days in Romania ends here, but there was still so much ahead—more time in Sighișoara, the famous houses with eyes in Sibiu, underground salt mines, winding mountain roads, and the long scenic drive back to Bucharest.
Continue on to Part 2 of my 10 Day Romania Itinerary for the next chapter of the adventure.
Hi, I’m JoAnne—writer, wanderer, and lover of places that surprise me. I’ve traveled to 60+ countries (and counting), usually with a camera in one hand and a notebook in the other. I’m drawn to mosaics, markets, and mountains, and I write to remember what moved me. When I’m not traveling, I’m working on my blog Travels Afoot, trying new creative projects, or planning my next adventure.
