Transylvania Sans Dracula

Last week was hotter than csípős paprika, and Burnapest's throng flocked to water in all its forms. A lesser known spot to cool down is this trickling beauty called Phaeton Cascade. It's not technically in Hungary -- it lies about 100 kilometers past the Romanian border -- but with a quarter of the population speaking Hungarian, you might never know it.
The waterfall is named after the Greek myth of Phaeton, the son of Apollo who wished more than anything to drive the ornery chariot of fire. As a half mortal he failed and plunged into the icy waters below. The name is fitting because the cascade resembles an icy beam of light falling from an insurmountable height.

The waterfall was tough to get to. It involved a tough trek up a steep grade of loose gravel, but it was well worth it. The top of the waterfall is the source of a clean mountain spring and the cool shower at the base will wash the sweat right away.
If you're unable to find the waterfall, there's a lot more to see in the area if you have a car -- travel in Romania is next to impossible without one. The Magyars call the region Erdélyi, and I call the horseshoe shaped range at the base of the Carpathians just plain beautiful. Grab a topo for Padis and explore yourself (you sure as hell won't find it on Google maps).

The Bear's Caves are close and they're easy enough to find. The caves are famous for their striations and the fact that a bunch of cave bears were trapped inside when the cavern collapsed tens of thousands of years ago. Another waterfall, Szerenad in Hungarian, is nearby.

There are several of pensions and cabins in the area and an internet search will lead you there. For the more adventurous, however, the only accommodations worth noting are the ones in the quaint bedrooms of a local's home. Here's a picture of our hosts:
This is Teréz Lőrincz and her daughter. Teréz doesn't speak a lick of English or Romanian, but that won't stop her from telling you -- through a set of silver incisors -- the deep-seeded and tumultuous history of Hungarians in Transylvania. It's been a black eye for Hungary since the end of World War I when the Treaty of Trianon left the country a fraction of its former glory. Nowhere is it felt more than in these guarded walls in the Romanian countryside.

For a a real glimpse of Hungary 50 years ago, step into Teréz's mother's room. Even though the woman died four years ago, her room and the adjoining "clean" room have been preserved better than the raspberry jam you get for lunch. Speaking of food, that's the real value of the weekend, which runs about 30 euros.

Breakfast: fried bacon fat, spicy lecso, homemade butter and cheese, fried eggplant and a nasty spirit steeped in herbs and onions.
Lunch: sandwiches and fruit, whew!
Dinner: green bean or cauliflower soup, fried veal, mashed potatoes, liver, onions, and, of course, lots of Palinka (this is the traditional Hungarian spirit. If you don't drink a little, you might get smacked with a stick by Teréz's husband Péter).

If you speak a little Hungarian and you want to give it a try, here's the number: 04-0745-496994