Romania: untamed & extremely friendly
A gruff Romanian Shepard atop the mountains of Bucegi national park.
Romania is a paradise for photographers in Europe, offering something for everyone, no matter their genre. Seasonal changes bring vibrant, diverse colors for landscape photographers, with crisp whites and blues in winter and rich oranges in autumn. And the landscapes themselves are breathtaking in their own right, featuring some of the continent’s most stunning hikes, majestic mountains, and the Transfăgărășan Highway, which Jeremy Clarkson once called “the most beautiful road in the world."
For those drawn to architectural photography, the country’s capital is filled with imposing, concrete structures from the communist era, dominating street corners with their stark designs. Beyond the capital, Romania is dotted with countless castles, churches, and unique regional architecture, my personal favorites being the charming, colorful houses in Botoș and Șurdești.
But it’s travel and people photographers who truly thrive in Romania, thanks to two simple reasons: the people of rural Romania are both untamed and incredibly welcoming.
Romania is filled with the cultural curiosities that travel photographers seek—places where images can evoke more questions than answers. With over 80% of Romanians identifying as Orthodox Christian, the country offers many rich religious traditions to capture. There are the nuns and monasteries of Suceava in northeastern Romania, enormous Orthodox churches frequented by pilgrims who kiss artworks and altars, and, of course, the small, humble wooden churches that local Romanians take immense pride in. But it’s the small monasteries in Transylvania that fascinated me most.
These monasteries, whose outer walls are often adorned with 100+-year-old frescoes, sit on the edge of small communities, frequently accessible only via muddy mountain paths. When visiting Ciocanu Monastery near Bughea de Jos in Transylvania, I found myself halfway up a mountain path in the rain, covered in mud and burdened by my backpack. It was then I heard the rev of an engine and saw the friendly lights of a small brown car (I’m not familiar with car brands, sorry) pulling up beside me. The car happened to belong to the priest who oversaw the area; he was on his way to check in on the two monks who lived there. Seeing my wet predicament, he insisted I ride the rest of the way with him.
Upon arrival, the priest invited me to pray in the church while he prepared some tea and food. When I worshiping the monastery with my camera, I was invited to take shelter from the rain in the kitchen with the monks. They asked about my reasons for visiting Romania and where I planned to stay the night. When I mentioned I hadn’t booked accommodations yet and was considering hitchhiking to the next town in the rain, they informed me that a bed had already been prepared for me to stay the night and wait out the bad weather. How could I refuse? Although I’m not a religious person, I am someone who readily accepts hospitality.
For the next few hours, I learned about the lives of these two monks who had dedicated themselves to God and a life of relative solitude. They insisted on giving me gifts, preparing food, and making sure I felt welcomed and loved. It was that word, “love,” that they wanted most to spread; they hoped the world would feel and give love. Each of them, on separate occasions, expressed their wish that by helping travelers like me, I would carry that love forward and, regardless of my faith, share it to make the world a better place—even if just a little. Besides talking about love and acceptance, we discussed topics like politics, the war in Ukraine, and even Mel Gibson, who directed The Passion of the Christ and, according to them, could do no wrong.
Despite being part of both the Schengen Area and the European Union, Romania retains an indescribable wildness. While hiking the Bucegi Mountains near Sinaia, Transylvania, I had the pleasure of meeting a group of Roma picking mushrooms, mountaineers gathering wood for the coming winter, and numerous shepherds tending their sheep. Each encounter had an intangible quality—something both traditional and deeply genuine. In the Bucovina region of northeastern Romania, you’ll often see people in traditional clothing, typically adorned with floral patterns and large collars, especially near Zamca Monastery on weekends, a popular destination for weddings. While visiting the monastery out of personal interest, I was not only invited to observe a wedding but also asked to photograph some guests in their traditional attire. Though I would usually charge for wedding photography, I was far too excited to capture the beauty of their clothing to say no.
Romania has been an absolute gift for my photography, rekindling my passion for the art and providing countless opportunities to practice and grow. Even within this blog post, you can see my progress from the start of my visit to the end; it’s clear I’ve improved. And I owe this entirely to the warmth and kindness of the Romanian people, who welcomed me—and my camera—with open, untamed arms.
