{"id":187876,"date":"2015-09-07T15:14:09","date_gmt":"2015-09-07T13:14:09","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/loudavymkrokem.cz\/?p=187876"},"modified":"2026-06-05T21:06:18","modified_gmt":"2026-06-05T19:06:18","slug":"romania-national-hobby-sitting-staring","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/loudavymkrokem.cz\/en\/romania-national-hobby-sitting-staring\/","title":{"rendered":"Romania #2: The National Hobby \u2013 Sitting and Staring"},"content":{"rendered":"On the road from Pitesti to Targu Jiu in Romania, I noticed it for the first time. We were driving through villages that were essentially rows of houses lined up along the main road \u2013 no centre, no village square, nothing that visually defines a village. We wondered why there were no side streets; everyone lived right on the main road. But we soon understood why.\n\n
\"Ornate
The gate is the most important part of the house. Note the benches.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\nOne village on our sat-nav gave way to the next, yet it felt like we were driving along one endlessly inhabited road. Perhaps only twice did we break free and manage a few minutes above 50 km\/h. And that’s when we first noticed it.\n\nWhy fix the old when it’s easier to build something new right next door?<\/b>\n\nPeople sat on benches in front of their beautifully decorated gates, watching the main road. Never mind that behind those gates lay an overgrown mess scattered with rusty rakes, tyres, eyeless dolls, and the vine-covered remains of a car. Sometimes behind the gate stood a crumbling, uninhabited house, and behind that crumbling house rose a brand-new modern dwelling. Why bother fixing the old one when it’s easier to build a new one right next to it? We were baffled that even the new houses were never quite finished. And above all \u2013 why are there so many half-built homes in Romania? The answer is simple: as long as a house isn’t completed, you don’t have to pay property tax.\n\nBut what fascinated and unnerved us the most were the gazes. The gazes of people sitting in front of their homes, watching us. Mum, dad, daughter, son, grandma, and grandad. Every pair of eyes turned in synchrony toward our passing car.\n\n \n\n \n\n
\"People<\/a>
Even in Transylvania, people sat and stared.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\nWhat are they mulling over? Who’s already come out to sit today, who hasn’t yet, who’s finished their work and who’s running behind? Or maybe they’re not thinking about anything at all \u2013 just watching to see whether some odd car might drive by, perhaps carrying two blonds from Central Europe.\n\nAs we later discovered, sitting and watching is a national custom here. Individuals sit out, or entire families, depending on how many people live in the house. Living on a side street would be a punishment \u2013 you’d have no idea what’s happening on the main road. That’s why no side streets existed in these parts. Not having a spot to sit in front of your house is an absolute tragedy in rural Romania. The main Romanian national hobby is sitting and staring.\n\nIn the cities, this hobby has been overtaken by fitness centres and caf\u00e9 culture. But in the fairytale town of Sighisoara, we did see a family drag folding fishing chairs out to the main road at five in the afternoon and sit there watching. To truly feel the weight of those gazes yourself, though, you need to head to the countryside. In towns, it was a rarity.\n\n
\"Staring<\/a>
In some villages, those stares didn’t exactly make us feel welcome.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\nAnother national rural hobby is tending to the gates, which are often genuine works of art. We’d see people come out in the morning and lovingly care for them. Which made the jungle lurking behind them all the more puzzling.\n\nThe Tourist Centre of Gnome Village<\/b>\n\nAn hour before Targu Jiu, as the sun caught its most beautiful golden hue, we reached a village. I immediately forgot its name \u2013 perhaps I never even noticed it \u2013 but I certainly noticed the sign announcing a “tourist centre.” This tourist centre turned out to be Gnome Village. Like a border market back home, stalls selling wooden spoons, furs, and garden gnomes in every possible pose and expression stretched through the entire village. All of it bathed in the gorgeous golden tone of the slowly sinking sun, which broke through above the village while the surrounding area hid beneath thunderclouds. We stopped and went for a stroll. Absurdly poetic \u2013 the sky torn open only above Gnome Village, the rest shrouded in a dark purple, lightning-lit gloom. The sun illuminated this shrine of kitsch like a holy place. It was a sort of divine romance with garden gnomes. We drove off with the first drops of rain.\n\n
\"Garden<\/a>
Gnome Village<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\nWe arrived in Targu Jiu at dusk. We had an address from Booking.com<\/a>, but it led us straight to a government office. We wandered through the darkness that had long since fallen over the town.\n\nWisely, Luk\u00e1\u0161 had printed hotel addresses from Google as well, since they differed from the Booking.com<\/a> ones \u2013 but this address wasn’t right either. Foresight didn’t help. It looked hopeless. We wanted to call the hotel for directions, but the moment we stepped out of the car, a smoking Romanian man took us under his wing. In broken English, cigarette dangling from his lips, he asked if we needed help.\n\n“Do you know where the Enigma Hotel is?” The Romanian nodded, repeated the hotel name, and used his hands to explain which way to go. He finished with: “See, hotel Enigma.” And gestured that there’d be a big sign.\n\nOn our first attempt following his directions, we got lost. But after mentally replaying what he’d probably been trying to say, we did finally reach the Enigma Hotel. We’d actually driven past it several times already and couldn’t believe we’d missed it. It was the only modern building in the area, and it was perfectly lit up at that.\n\n \n\n\n
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