Cameron’s Travels

After filming more than 100 episodes of Rick Steves’ Europe, Rick and the crew have seen most everything…until they got to Romania. While we wound up with a great show, the crippling red tape didn’t make things easy.

I want to be clear that we worked with dozens of exceptionally gracious, helpful, and capable people in Romania. Sadly, they all seem to be trapped in a ridiculously dysfunctional system. They tried to help us — they really did. At every major sight, the tourist authority would dispatch little delegations to greet us: guides, local tourist board representatives, big-name hoteliers, and so on. But at the end of the day, all of them answered to a higher power that seemed to relish saying “no.” Our contacts’ main function seemed to be commiserating with us when things fell through.

The tourist authority was over the moon that Rick was going to film in Romania. But they were also nervous. Apparently, another American travel TV personality filmed a show in Romania a few years back, and it did not go well. We were told that the presenter — known for employing his sharp tongue to call it like he sees it — grew so frustrated with bureaucratic snafus that he decided to take it out on Romania itself, producing a show that made the country seem like a miserable wasteland. The tourist authority was terrified that Rick, too, would present Romania in a negative light. And so — as if to guarantee the very thing they feared most — they gradually tortured us by trying to (subtly and not so subtly) exert control over the project.

Their paranoia bred paranoia in us. The night before we arrived in Romania, I got a call from the tourist board. Due to a “clerical error,” we had been assigned a guide who would accompany us at all times. He explained that this mistake was only just discovered, the guide had already been booked, and it was impossible to cancel. Rick — who remembers traveling here during the communist era, when any visiting foreigner was assigned a “minder” to report their activities to the authorities — wondered whether this “tour guide” was only there to keep us in line.

It turned out that he was a great guy, and that it really was just a mistake…probably. However, because we had already arranged our own, trusted local guides all over the country, our government-provided guide had literally nothing to do the entire time. We began brainstorming errands we could send him on, just so he could feel useful. (He was.)

The biggest headaches came along with Europe’s biggest building: the Palace of Parliament, which was built to accommodate communist dictator Nicolae Ceaușescu’s ballooning ego. It was a must to film the palace’s jaw-droppingly vast and opulent interior — a priority we had made explicitly clear to the authorities months before we arrived. They repeatedly reassured us that all was being arranged.

But then, something happened. The night before we were to film, we found ourselves being told by the honcho of the tourist authority that we probably wouldn’t be allowed official access. It was suggested that we show up anyway, buy a tourist ticket, and send our cameraman in with the regularly scheduled tour to film it on the fly. It wasn’t ideal, but it could work. It had to work.

The next morning, we were greeted by a half-dozen tourism officials. As instructed, we bought tickets for the official tour and lined up. But then, moments before the tour began, we were told that the authorities were onto us. To keep a low profile, we decided to send only our cameraman, Karel.

Karel hung his DSLR around his neck and headed inside to “play tourist.” Rick, Simon, and the entire delegation waited nervously outside, hoping Karel could get the shots we needed. But just a few minutes later, Karel walked out the door. “I got kicked off the tour,” he said apologetically. Nothing could be done.

We decided to bail on the parliament and began filming other sights around Bucharest. A few hours later, as Rick was filming an on-camera with the parliament in the distant background, my phone rang.

“I am sorry to say there was a misunderstanding,” came the voice of our tourist authority contact. “But we have now obtained permission, and you may go film at the parliament.”

We didn’t buy it. “Are you sure we have official permission to film?”

“Yes.”

“With our big camera?”

“Yes.”

“And with our tripod?”

“Yes.”

“Complete access?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Do we have to tag along with a tour?”

“No, you may go wherever you like. They will provide you with your own guide. In fact, do not go to the tourist entrance. Go to the parliamentarians’ entrance. ”

Still skeptical, we hopped a taxi back to the parliament to be warmly greeted by a literal red carpet and a press secretary. Sure enough, we had the run of the place. Talk about a turnaround: from being kicked to the curb, to VIP treatment…in just a couple of hours. (And the Palace of Parliament segment turned out great.)

While much of Eastern Europe is doing well these days, Romania still struggles. Throughout our shoot, we got to know many wonderful Romanians grappling with a system that simply doesn’t understand how to function. When pressed, many locals deny that this is an artifact of Ceaușescu’s brutal rule (embodied by the opulent palace that he literally starved his people to build). But, given the success stories I’ve seen in so many other formerly communist countries, and the number Ceaușescu did on poor Romania, it feels like they protest too much. Are they in denial? Or still trying to hide the damage that was done?

Thanks to the help of many fine individuals, we came home with 30 glorious minutes of TV celebrating the beauty of Romania. On my scouting trip, several locals quoted a cryptic saying: “Romania is a beautiful country…what a pity it’s inhabited.” I’m charmed by Romania, and couldn’t understand where this cynicism came from. But after dealing with the red tape of filming a show here…I have a new appreciation for the unofficial national motto.

This is part eight of my “Behind the Scenes” blog series about Rick Steves’ Europe Season 9 — now airing nationwide (check your local listings). You can also watch the Bulgaria and Romania episodes for free. And in case you’re in a gift-giving mode, the brand-new, 10-episode Season 9 DVD is currently on sale in our Travel Store.

Romania is a big, fascinating country with an epic story. Fitting the entire thing into one 30-minute TV show was a scripting challenge — and filming it was a logistical challenge. The Romania shoot included glorious scenery, extremely helpful local guides, and more fascinating opportunities than we knew what to do with…but it also came with some unique headaches. (More on that in my next post.)

On our first evening in Bucharest, bigwigs from the national tourist authority threw us a blowout welcome dinner. Knowing that Bucharest’s nightlife scene is legendary, Rick and I had designs on filming the after-hours al fresco bars and cafés. But producer Simon and cameraman Karel weren’t necessarily sold on working after dinner, and proposed that we try to fit it in the next night instead.

After a long and decadent dinner of Romanian food — and drink (the plum firewater, țuică) — we stumbled out of the restaurant and found ourselves in the middle of an energetic, open-air cocktail party that sprawled for blocks in every direction. As we began our wobbly walk home, Simon and Karel’s eyes got wider and wider as they took in the lively scene. I could practically see their TV-production gears kicking into motion. With a wordless glance and nod, they set up their gear and began shooting the scene. It’s not smart to drive while tipsy. But apparently filming while tipsy can work out just fine…and they got some great stuff for the show. (Best of all, it wound up raining the next night — making us relieved we’d grabbed the outdoor nightlife while we had the chance.)

Romania offered serendipity to spare…but not always the serendipity we wanted. On past trips to Romania, I’d been struck by the bizarre scenes that play out along the side of the road. For the script, I’d brainstormed a montage called “Roadside Romania” — a collection of whatever slices of life we’d come across: Horse carts hauling car parts. Roving packs of dogs. Humble peasants on the shoulder of a highway, selling everything you can imagine — from produce to homemade cheese to appliances. Someone sitting on a little three-legged stool, chopping wood, right in the middle of the main road through town.

We had our camera cocked and loaded, ready to shoot whatever we saw. But then…nothing. We saw plenty of strange stuff, sure. But it just wasn’t right for TV, or it appeared at moment when we were rushing to the next location, or the light made it too hard to capture. By the end of the shoot, we were stressing ourselves out trying to hunt down spontaneity. Finally, we realized that serendipity is, by definition, un-plannable. Our script was already overstuffed. “Roadside Romania” got left by the side of the road. (But if you wind up driving through Romania someday, I promise: You’ll find it right where we left it.)

That mission did, however, result in some great footage we were able to use elsewhere in the show. On one gloriously sunny day, as we zipped between Transylvanian castles, we spotted a shepherd out in a verdant field, tending his flock, in a timeless scene. We pulled over and chatted with him, and he was happy to let us film him.

When we asked our guide if we could pay the shepherd a small amount to thank him for his cooperation, he said that what he really wanted was cigarettes. As non-smokers, we couldn’t hook him up. But later that day, I found myself buying several packs of smokes to have on hand for future interactions. It turns out we never had use for them — and I was happy to throw them away the night before I flew home.

I felt it was essential to include a segment on Romania’s sizable Roma population (sometimes called “Gypsies”). If you wanted to film a muckraking exposé on Roma living in terrible conditions here, it would be easy: Impoverished shantytowns lie on the “other side of the tracks” from many towns and villages. But, in addition to acknowledging the challenges that come with having a large Roma population, we felt it was important to also teach something constructive about Roma culture.

This topic turned out to be radioactive for Romania’s official tourism industry (which, to my disappointment, has utterly failed to constructively serve the many travelers who come to Romania curious to learn more about Roma culture). Fortunately, our excellent local contact for Transylvania, Daniel Gheorghiţă of Covinnus Travel, is adept at serving his clients who, like us (and presumably our viewers), would rather learn more about the Roma than simply dismiss them as some sort of unsolvable societal “problem.”

Daniel brought us to meet Emil, the kind and well-spoken paterfamilias of a Roma family living on the outskirts of a workaday village. Like many Roma, Emil’s family earns a living as constructive members of society by making use of a traditional Roma craft (in their case, metalworking). As we spent the morning getting to know Emil’s family and filming their lifestyle, we got a little choked up at having this remarkable opportunity to use our bully pulpit — public television — to humanize an often-misunderstood population, and to prod our viewers to go beyond knee-jerk “Gypsy” stereotypes. It’s easily one of my favorite segments in the show.

We shot all of the big tourist cliches, of course, including Bran Castle — where we had to toe a fine line of explaining that, while this castle is famous for its ties to Dracula, it actually has no real ties to Dracula. Awkward.

But our most vivid memories came on the rugged and impossibly remote northwestern fringe of Romania — Maramureş, my vote for the most authentic and vivid traditional culture anywhere in Europe.

Many people here still live much as their ancestors did in the Middle Ages. Of course, they do have modern conveniences — cell phones and, for some, cars — but their day-to-day lifestyles have changed little.

While we obviously hope to show a positive view of Europe, we don’t want an artificially prettied-up one. Dropping in on a humble local family of weavers in Maramureş, we were greeted by the gregarious daughter. While we were setting up, she disappeared for a few moments, then reappeared wearing a pristine, starched traditional outfit. We kindly asked if she’d mind changing back into what she’d been wearing when we met her. She graciously obliged, and thanks to that, that segment in our show feels real rather than staged.

To open and close the show, Rick had a mental image of exactly what he wanted: Delivering his lines from a horse cart trotting down a country lane. It was a tall order, but Simon and local guide Teo were on the case. While Rick, Karel, and I shot b-roll around the region, we sent Simon and Teo ahead to find the perfect place and the perfect cart. As we were wrapping up, we got the call: The horse was ready.

We drove to the location and explained to the farmer exactly what we envisioned. Our new friend (in his typical little Maramureş straw hat) worked hard to make us happy — he even asked his wife to sweep the porch behind him while Rick addressed the camera. It worked out perfectly, and when we wrapped, we enjoyed gathering around to show the horseman the result of his hard work, on the tiny viewfinder on Karel’s camera…shaded by his hat.

The horse cart was one of the final bits of Romania we shot. After a long week of hard work, we captured the best of that fascinating country on film. Coming up are two more in-depth tales from our filming in Romania.

This is part six of my “Behind the Scenes” blog series about Rick Steves’ Europe Season 9 — now airing nationwide (check your local listings). You can also watch the Bulgaria and Romania episodes for free. And in case you’re in a gift-giving mode, the brand-new, 10-episode Season 9 DVD is currently on sale in our Travel Store.